Isolation

by Jenni Regan

  Tom was dubious that Rachel’s car would make it as far as Dorset. It seemed to have become even more rusty and decrepit since the last trip from the airport. It was a rare warm autumn day, and he opened the window, guessing that air conditioning hadn’t been invented yet when the car was made.

  ‘You Americans love your icy cold fake air, don’t you?’ Rachel joked.

  ‘I hate to make you look stupid, but I was not actually born in America. I’m still British through and through. Although, yes, air con is one of the modern miracles in life.’

  As they drove, Tom told her about a couple of road trips he had taken on wide, straight roads where you could switch on the autopilot and watch as mountains turned into desert right outside your window.

  Rachel was agitated; she had gone over her usual caffeine allowance already that day, but that wasn’t causing the jitters. The last time she had made the journey down towards her family home, she had been driving into the unknown, with the fear that her mother and daughter would reject her, yet again. Now, she knew her little girl needed her more than ever. This time she couldn’t wait to get there.

  They arrived in Dorchester around lunchtime. Neither of them wanted to eat after the huge breakfasts and nerves, but they didn’t really know where to start so they parked up and went in search of a decent café. They ended up in a Costa. They were equally relieved and horrified that such a symbol of globalisation had reached their home town. They both ordered a limp panini and yet more coffee and settled in at a table.

  ‘I guess we should make a plan,’ said Rachel, hoping that this was the point where Tom would take over. He duly got his pen and paper out.

  ‘We need to work out where Alice goes and who she speaks to,’ he stated.

  ‘I have no idea. Did she not tell you?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘No details. She always seemed to be busy and out having fun, but she never mentioned specifics. Let’s start with some facts.’

  Rachel laughed at him as he drew an awful stick figure with long hair in the middle of a page in his notepad and started some sort of diagram.

  'Hang on a minute, Tom. Shall I get you some crayons to colour this in? Are you going to draw your way out of this mess?'

  Tom ignored her and continued drawing. 'This is actually a well-researched way of getting the ideas flowing. It’s called a mind map. Now what do we know about her?'

  'You told me she lives in Bournemouth. Does she live alone or with other young people?'

  'She has a little one-bedroom flat, near the town centre. Apparently, she is the one to host the after-party when she and her mates go out drinking.'

  'Have you ever been there?'

  'No, but she only moved in there a couple of years ago, and I haven't been back from the States for so long—no reason to, really.'

  Rachel looked hurt, but then she hadn't exactly been inviting him over with open arms. He hadn't gone to her wedding or met her other children before now.

  'Here, she sent me some pictures a while ago.’

  Rachel looked at the pictures, which looked amazing if not a bit too perfect, almost like they had been lifted from an Interiors magazine.

  ‘I am surprised she can live there alone. I mean, most young people can’t afford to leave home these days. It’s actually nicer than where I live.’

  ‘Rents are much cheaper down here and apparently she got a really good deal from some old dear who didn’t know market rates. Remember, her job probably pays pretty well too.’

  'I know, I can't believe she is an air hostess! When I was at school, it was the height of sophistication, although I guess these days it is more serving lots of stag parties overpriced booze and dealing with pensioners trying to get their oversized bags in the lockers.'

  'She must work for one of the good ones like Emirates or even BA, as she always seems to be on long haul flights,' said Tom.

  'You mean you don't actually know who she works for?' Rachel asked with a frown.

  'Do you?'

  This shut her up.

  ‘Did she come and visit you in New York a lot then?’ she asked.

  Tom looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, no, I was always inviting her, but she never seemed to come through the States.’ He suddenly felt a bit foolish. He had been so caught up in his own life that he had never really pushed Alice on this.

  'Let's look through her Facebook again and see if she has any pictures of her in her uniform. I mean, whoever she works for must have realised she is not turning up for work, right?'

  Rachel looked through what seemed like hundreds of pictures of Alice's life. There was something strange about it.

  'There are literally no pictures with her in them, apart from her profile picture. I thought young people were obsessed with selfies these days.'

  'How nice that your daughter is more excited about the world around her than she is about sharing her own face!'

  'But that's it. She seems to document literally every second of her life, but it is always her viewpoint and never her. I can't see anything about where she works, or any colleagues. I mean, she mentions a few captains she has apparently woken up with, but no real details.'

  'Maybe she doesn't like mixing business with pleasure. Let's have a look through and chart where she has been over the last few months to build up more of a picture.' Tom started another of his mind maps much to Rachel's delight.

  It was an odd combination. Mainly Europe, with France seemingly a favourite, but then she would throw in the odd view of a beach in Bali or South America. Rachel noticed that Tom looked upset as Alice seemed to have been in New York at least twice that year without going to visit him.

  'Well, it is definitely not Easyjet!' Rachel said.

  Tom looked worried.

  'Listen, don't be annoyed that she didn't come and see you. She was probably in and out of the country in hours.'

  'No, it's not that. It’s just that a lot of this doesn't add up. I mean, according to her Facebook, she is all over the place for a few weeks and then nothing for ages. There is no pattern to it. It makes me wonder if this "job" was perhaps a cover-up and that she was actually involved in something dodgy.'

  'What do you mean, like she was an international drug smuggler or something? Jeez, Tom, that is quite a leap to make. You have been spending too much time with criminals.'

  'I know it is probably stupid, but what if we are worried about the wrong thing? There is nothing to say she couldn't have flown off somewhere after I spoke to her. You never know, maybe she is languishing in some foreign jail or something. I don't suppose they allow Facetime in most.'

  Rachel actually brightened at this idea. True, it wasn't really what she hoped for her daughter, but if the choice was between Alice being in some morgue or being in prison, the captivity won out every time.

  'Let's go back to your silly drawing. What do we know about her friends or boyfriends?'

  'I know she was really popular. I mean, she has nearly 3000 friends, but I can't say I know who she was close to.'

  Rachel scanned desperately again through the feed. There were hundreds of entries about her being out in bars, restaurants, the cinema, but she never tagged anyone else, and again, the pictures all seemed to be of Alice's view of the place rather than a view of her group.

  'There does seem to be one man who was sniffing around a lot. He looks like a right twat though. Your daughter obviously has no taste, just like her mother!'

  Rachel tried to laugh, but after what she had told Tom the other evening, she was reading far too much into everything. Did he think that whatever happened to Alice was all her fault?

  He clearly realised what he had said. 'God, I'm sorry, Rach. I didn't mean any harm in that comment. This is all so new to me, and I don't really know what to say most of the time.'

  They both looked at the profile Tom had clicked on. It was a man a bit older than Alice, and he stood next to his car, waving a handful of notes while a massive joint hung from his mouth.

  'He looks
like that bloke you helped the other night, doesn't he?' Rachel noted.

  'I imagine there are probably hundreds of men across London who look like that. The car isn't as flashy for this one, so he obviously hasn't robbed enough grannies or sold enough weed!'

  'You never know, though; I mean, he is pretty much advertising his love of dope, and you did say you thought she might be flying around the world selling drugs.' Rachel was still clinging to this idea.

  'I hope that if she is a drug dealer, then she is at least a bit further up the scale than flogging grass to kids. I would hope that Alice would have better taste!'

  They had drawn a blank, and Tom screwed up his pretty map in desperation.

  'It is like every bit of her life is on there for us to see and yet we know nothing about her.'

  Rachel could see how frustrated Tom was, so she decided to try a different tactic.

  ‘Let’s start with Mum, then; she was always a creature of habit. If we can work out where she used to go, then we might find out what happened to Alice. That is, if she wants to be found.’

  After their unappetising lunch, the siblings took a trip literally down memory lane. They started at the house, which, as Rachel had reported back, looked very unkempt and abandoned. The rubbish she had seen last time even seemed to have increased and had been joined by a couple of mattresses and a burned-out motorbike. They guessed that it had now become the area’s communal dumping ground. They tried all the windows and doors, but it was like Fort Knox. Tom remembered that his mum had been burgled years ago and had therefore paid a small fortune for security. She may have been mean, but people stealing off her annoyed her far more than some silver-tongued salesperson flogging her unnecessary locks. Tom suddenly wondered if the house had been sold or if it was going to be knocked down. Either way, they wouldn’t have been told. He mentally added local estate agents to their list.

  Next, they drove to the local corner shop, although not local in city terms as it was still a good five-minute drive away. The walk had felt like hours when they were kids. They knew their mum had blessed the day that huge superstores had seduced the British consumers into spending away from the high street, but surely she must have needed the odd pint of milk? The woman behind the counter eyed them wearily. She was primed for the packs of rude, thieving kids that would be invading her soon. While Tom strode straight up to the till, Rachel grabbed him back and moved around the aisles, filling her arms with shopping. She had been in crappy retail jobs before and knew they should offer up something in return for information.

  When she finally walked up to the till, Rachel smiled and said, ‘Hi, so have you worked here long?’ The woman looked unnerved, as if she was not used to polite chit chat and was immediately suspicious of ‘outsiders’ in case they were trying to sell her something.

  ‘Me and my brother used to live round here; we are just having a good look around our old area.’

  With this new information, the woman looked a little more comfortable and even made eye contact as she rang up the random goods.

  ‘We are actually back because our mum sadly passed away. Don’t suppose you knew her? Josie, about five foot one with a big mouth and a permanent fag on the go?’

  ‘Oh yes, dear old Josie! I wondered what had happened to her. She used to pop in every Wednesday and Saturday for the lottery and chocolate. Always had an opinion, your mum!’

  Tom and Rachel smiled like the doting children they were pretending to be.

  ‘That’s strange because I usually know most of what goes on around here, but I hadn’t heard she had died. Was it recent?’

  ‘It was about a month ago,’ Tom said solemnly, not giving away the fact they didn’t actually know how or when she had gone.

  ‘I don’t suppose she ever brought her granddaughter Alice in here or sent her over to buy bits and bobs?’ asked Rachel, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

  ‘Oh yes, little Alice, she was the little plump one, right? Lovely young lady, always had good manners; she loved her sweets, that one!’

  ‘So, you know her?’ Rachel said with relief.

  ‘I used to, but I haven’t seen her for years. I presumed she had moved away. Josie never really mentioned her; used to complain about the unfit mother though. Right old junkie apparently!’

  Thankfully, the woman hadn’t put two and two together, but Rachel still bristled with this former label she would never shed.

  ‘So, you don’t know where Alice is then?’ said Tom, losing patience.

  ‘No, sorry, like I said, I haven’t seen her for years. Funny, she used to come in for her gran’s fags, but I haven’t seen her since she could legally do that!’ Tom thought about reporting this woman to the police for selling tobacco to underage kids but realised he had bigger fish to fry. They made their excuses and left with a cheap plastic bag full of snacks and vile-coloured drinks.

  It was much the same story everywhere they went. Most knew Josie and were surprised to hear she had died, and most also remembered Alice but hadn’t seen her for many years. That was understandable; after all, Alice had moved out around two years ago, and before then, what teenager wants to be seen with their ageing gran? The sad thing was that Josie herself seemed so forgettable. Those that had known her had a couple of good anecdotes about her, but no one had really missed her. They also had yet to meet anyone who had attended this apparently packed funeral.

  They had been to all the estate agents in town and none seemed to be selling the family home, nor had any of the funeral directors conducted the funeral. They still had a couple to visit, where the managers had been away. They had also not made it in time to the bank where they guessed their mum still banked; she was a creature of habit. Both feeling frazzled and emotional, they headed to the B&B where Tom had made a hurried reservation that morning.

  'Funny how a lot of my colleagues would queue up to stay in a place like this. They would think it was so quaint,' said Tom as they arrived at his door. Each room had its own character with ornaments and reproduction art on the walls. His room, number five, had a Da Vinci theme, although the Sunflowers definitely looked a bit droopy.

  They had been shown the breakfast room on arrival but were certain there would be no buffet in sight. Tom and Rachel had gone their own way for a couple of hours, as both had calls home to make. Rachel found she was nervous as she called her partner Dave. She had only left him that morning and yet it already felt like there were miles between them. She guessed that geographically there was, although the actual distance was not the problem. She knew she felt like this even in the same room.

  He answered after a few rings, sounding like he had just woken up.

  'Please tell me you are not sleeping at five in the afternoon?' shouted Rachel. She knew he would think she was overreacting. He was always blaming her for nagging him these days, but his whole routine had gone downhill since he lost his job.

  'Oh, hello to you too, babe. I was just having a little nap. I must have fallen asleep in front of the TV.'

  'I wanted to check that the kids made it to their dad’s alright,' she said bluntly, disappointment oozing out of every pore.

  'I guess so. I don't know, didn't you arrange for him to pick them up from school?'

  'Yes, but I thought you would at least call to make sure they are OK. They do have phones now after all.'

  'But you told me to take their phones off them before they went to school.'

  Rachel almost screamed at him. 'But I didn't mean today when I knew they would be going to stay with their dad for a few days. How am I supposed to check up on them now and make sure they are safe?'

  'I guess by phoning their dad like a normal human and asking to speak to them that way.'

  'You will have to go round there and drop off the phones.'

  'No bloody way. You have the car and it will take me an hour on the bus.'

  'God, you are so selfish. Do you really not care what happens to them?'

  'Rachel, I really
don't understand you. Most of the time you tell me I am too close, too nice to our children, and yes, how you love reminding me they are not my flesh and blood, and now you have suddenly become the overreactive parent. I don't know what I should do half the time.'

  He wasn't angry; he just sounded frustrated. She knew she shouldn't fly off the handle, at least not now while she was so far away. God knows what he might do.

  'Listen, why don't you give the kids a call on their dad’s phone tonight—you probably won't even have to deal with him—and then I will head over there in the morning. I can get my sister to give me a lift.'

  'OK, that would be good.'

  'How are things anyway? Have you sorted all the family stuff out or are you going to need a couple of days?'

  At this rate, Rachel thought it would take years to sort out this mess, but she told him she hoped to be back in a few days. Maybe, just maybe, she might sit the kids down then and tell them all about their big sister. That was if they could work out what had happened to her.

  Although the B&B offered a dinner service, they had made a mutual, unspoken decision that they would eat out when offered this choice. The smell of frying liver permeating the reception area would have swung it even without the claustrophobic tables and their starchy table clothes. They wandered over to a pub they had visited earlier that day, one they remembered from their own childhood. Back then it had been a proper pub with drunk men at the bar, but these days it was far more about the food.

  Without asking, Tom ordered a bottle of pinot at the bar when he grabbed menus.

  ‘Actually, I was going to have sparkling water,’ said Rachel as he placed it down on the table.

  Tom stood up to head back to the bar, but seeing the lovely looking wine changed Rachel’s mind, even though she knew she should stick to the water. ‘I was only joking!’ she said, grabbing him. ‘I think we have more than deserved this today’.

  She really didn’t want to drink, particularly because of what she had found out that morning but hadn’t yet shared with anyone. However, she was aware of how fragile and new their relationship was. She hadn’t seen Tom for so many years before this, all thanks to the family being torn apart by their secrets—well, by their mother really forcing them apart. It almost felt like they were at a job interview rather than estranged siblings trying to reacquaint themselves. She poured herself a small glass. She started by pretending to sip it, but it tasted so good she convinced herself that a couple wouldn't do any harm.