by Alex Lake
The detective gave you her spiel. She had it down pat. The usual thing.
Sincere apologies. Here on routine inquiries. Would like to have a look around. No suggestion you were involved, but have to be thorough. Sure you understand. No stone left unturned in an investigation like this.
You had not seen the girl since lunchtime. What if she awoke and cried out? You considered sending them away, making them get a warrant, but that would have aroused suspicion, given them the impression that you had something to hide. Then they would have been back with their warrant and reason to tear the place apart.
So you had to let them in. Had to take a risk. Had to trust that your plans – for you had planned for this, of course you had – would work.
No problem, come in, you said. Just got home from work, so I’ll be putting the kettle on. Thirsty work, mine. Fancy a cuppa?
You wanted to stall them. Keep them in the kitchen for a few minutes. Maybe you could make an excuse and leave – go and change, perhaps – so you could listen for signs that the girl was awake. Then you would have to send them away. It would take time for them to get a warrant. Time in which you could get rid of the girl.
Thank God an Englishman’s home is his castle, still.
It didn’t work. They refused the tea.
Very kind, but no thank you. We’ll just get on with it. Other people to visit.
Ok, you said. But you won’t mind if I do?
You needed something to keep your hands busy. You didn’t think your nervousness showed – your iron control was one of the things that set you apart – but it was useful to keep occupied, keep moving. It dispelled the nervous energy.
Not too much, though. That would be a giveaway.
They were there a long time. You heard them upstairs, in the attic, in the garage. They trampled across your lawn, into the shed, around the borders of your garden.
There was no evidence. The girl had never been there. She’d been in only two places. One was your neighbour’s garage, which they did not search, and the other was her hiding place.
Which was a good hiding place. It had fooled many people over the centuries and you trusted that it would fool many more.
Provided the girl was silent.
It was infuriating. She could wake up at any minute, but there was nothing you could do. Even when they were in the garden you could not act. You could not risk them coming into the house and catching you.
At one point they were in the room she was hidden in, no more than three feet from her.
Three feet. Thirty-six inches between disaster and triumph.
It was the closest you had ever come, and it was the closest you wanted to come.
Then they moved away. Found another room to search.
Eventually they were finished. The detective thanked you.
Neighbours away? she said.
You nodded. Somewhere abroad, I think. Or maybe Scotland. They might have mentioned the Highlands. I don’t see them much.
Hmm, she said. Well, thank you. And apologies again for the disruption.
Not at all, you said. No disruption at all. Whatever I can do to help. Such a tragic situation.
Then they were gone, with no idea how close they had been. Twenty minutes later the girl stirred and started to come round, started to mutter to herself.
This is becoming too risky. You have to act. You make up your mind.
Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow you use the girl. In the morning.
ii.
‘Tell him not to bother.’
Julia paused at the bottom of the stairs. The door to the living room was ajar and she could hear her mother-in-law’s voice clearly. Edna was using her self-righteous tone, a combination of angry disinterest and long-suffering martyrdom, and Julia guessed she was talking about Simon.
‘He only wants to pop in,’ Brian said. ‘See how things are.’
‘Then I’m popping out,’ Edna said. ‘It’s your choice, Brian. I’ve made my position perfectly clear. I don’t want to see him. Not after what he – and his wife – did to me.’
‘That was a long time ago, Mum,’ Brian said. ‘Maybe it’s time to move on? He did come all this way, after all.’
In her years in the divorce courts, Julia had seen more or less all the varieties of human weakness and folly that drive families apart: drink, drugs, spousal abuse, gambling, neglect, indifference, infidelity. Often the divorce was at the end of a long period of conflict and unhappiness caused by whichever combination of these was at play, and equally often, this period took its toll on the family members, and in particular, on the kids, who tended to react in one of two ways: to retreat, and try to ignore what was going on, or to play the role of peacemaker.
Simon, it seemed, had taken the former course; Brian the latter. And he was still doing it.
‘You don’t seem to understand,’ Edna said. ‘Long time or not, come a long way or not, I don’t care. He made his choice, Brian, and he has to live with it. And remember, he left you as well. Just like your father did. It was me who stayed, Brian. So if you feel it is appropriate to prioritize Simon in front of me then go ahead. Have him round to play happy brothers. But I won’t be here. And I will remember your choice.’
Julia heard someone place a glass or a mug on the coffee table. It was probably Edna getting ready to leave. She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, so she crossed the hall into the dining room and waited quietly.
A minute later, Edna left, slamming the front door behind her.
Julia stayed in the dining room. She heard a muffled conversation coming from the living room and went to look through the crack in the door. Brian was standing by the window, his phone to his ear.
‘It’s better if you don’t come,’ he said. ‘Mum’s just gone out but she’ll be back soon.’
There was a pause while Simon spoke.
‘It’s not like that,’ Brian said, his voice rising. ‘I agree with her. You barely contact me and now you want me to upset my relationship with her just to please you? No way, Simon. No way.’
Another pause.
‘She’s not manipulating me! She’s being perfectly reasonable!’
Julia shook her head. She was manipulating him, and not just into refusing to see Simon. She knew that Simon would accuse him of being weak and under Edna’s thumb; she knew that Brian would defend her, and the brothers would argue, further strengthening Brian’s reliance on her. What a bitch.
She pushed open the door and walked in. Brian turned to look at her.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I have to go. Bye, Simon.’
He put the phone down on the windowsill and glared at her.
‘What?’ he said. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
Julia smiled. She understood Brian a lot better now, and she felt differently about him as a result. She felt sorry for him, and she wished she’d known what he had been through all along. It might not have changed anything – she would probably still have fallen in love with him, and she would almost definitely still have fallen out of love with him, for these were not things that you could control – but it would have given her the comfort that the failure of their marriage was not her fault. Brian was damaged, and it was that which had forced them apart, not her.
‘I’m going out,’ she said. ‘There’s something I need to do.’
What she needed to do was visit her brother-in-law. She didn’t know him well, could hardly count him as a friend, but she wanted to speak to him. She wanted to understand what had happened with Edna that was so bad.
She called him at his hotel. She was lucky to get him; after his conversation with Brian he was heading to London to see an old friend, but he agreed to meet her at the train station for coffee.
They sat on a bench on Platform Two, styrofoam cups in their hands. Simon unwrapped a Scotch egg. He stuffed the crinkling wrapper into his jacket pocket.
‘God, these things are foul,’ he said. ‘Don’t know why I bought it. Childhood
memories, I suppose. Dad used to buy them when he took us to London on the train.’
‘Did you do that often?’
‘From time to time. Took the Intercity 125 to Euston from this very platform.’
Julia caught Simon’s eye. ‘Where do you think he went?’ she said. ‘When he left?’
He paused. For a moment he looked like he was a teenager again, angry and lost, then he shrugged.
‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘But if I had to guess, I’d say Italy. He always loved it there. Used to rave on about the quality of life, how they had figured out how to live, how they had their priorities in order. Edna didn’t agree, of course. She thought they were lazy and dishonest, and refused to holiday there after I was about thirteen. After that we went to Scotland to swim in freezing seas and get devoured by midges. Bloody miserable, but character-building according to mummy dear. So he’s probably on some Tuscan beach living with a false name. You can get away with that kind of thing in Italy.’
‘Why do you think he went?’
‘Why do you think he went?’ Simon retorted. ‘You’ve met Mum. I think they were probably happy at one time, but after a while they started to hate each other. And when she wants to Edna can make your life a misery. My guess is that he decided he couldn’t take another thirty years of it, so he buggered off.’
‘Does it bother you that he didn’t get in contact?’
Simon nodded. ‘Yes. Since I became a father, even more so. But he did what he had to do.’
‘And my guess is that Edna told him she’d let him go in peace if he agreed to stay away from you and Brian,’ Julia said. ‘Which was probably quite appealing.’
‘You know,’ Simon said. ‘I’d never thought of that. You’re probably right. Just another reason to hate Mum, I guess.’
‘Is that why you left, because you hated her?’
He gave a rueful chuckle. ‘Is that why you came? To ask that?’
‘Pretty much,’ she said. ‘And to say goodbye, but pretty much.’
‘So, Mum did not like Laura from the off. She thought she was self-obsessed and brash and thoroughly American. All the things I liked about her. When it became clear that we were serious, Edna decided that she needed to take control of the situation. She does that, Edna. You may have noticed. You know … the thing is, her heart is in the right place. She means well. The problem is that she can’t see that there is any other opinion than her own that matters, and she won’t stop until she gets her own way, which is always justified, because she’s always right.’
‘It is one of her less endearing traits,’ Julia said.
‘Anyway, one day when the kids were young – babies, really – we were staying with Mum. Dad had been gone about a year. Laura was out running and Mum collared me in the kitchen and said she needed to have a chat. A chat about Laura. Who, she said, was seeing another man: an American who she had heard Laura talking to on the phone. She wasn’t clear on the details, but it was obvious that Laura was making plans to divorce me, take half the money Dad had left when he disappeared, then go back to the US and be with him.’
‘What did you do? Did you ask Laura?’
‘The thing was that Laura’s family was in financial trouble, so the whole thing had the ring of truth about it. Plus, when I met Laura she was engaged to somebody else, and, as Mum pointed out, if she was unreliable then, she was unreliable still.’
Same as she did with my affair with Chris, Julia thought. Edna liked to make sure people remembered their mistakes.
‘So, did you ask her?’
‘I didn’t need to. Laura had come back from her run because of a pain in her knee and overheard the whole thing. She was great, actually. She just came in, beamed at Edna, thanked her for giving us a reason to leave, then told me she’d change our train tickets – we were living in London at the time – and start looking for a job stateside immediately. And then we left.’
‘Was there a big row? Edna mentioned something like that.’
‘Oh, there was, but that came later, when Edna found out that Laura had been telling everyone what had happened. She hit the roof.’ He grinned. ‘Laura just told her that if she didn’t want people to know she shouldn’t have done it. I remember it clearly. Laura standing with the phone in her hand and wagging her finger as though Edna was right in front of her. Don’t do things you might be ashamed of, Edna. She was magnificent.’
‘So you went?’
‘We did. Up to Seattle. And it was the best decision I ever made. She’s my mum, Julia, so it’s hard to say this, but life is just better without her around. She just brings tension and aggravation.’
‘I know. I just wish Brian had been able to make the leap you made.’
‘Maybe he will,’ Simon said. ‘I hope so. And I’ll be waiting with open arms if he does. Tell him that for me, if you get a chance.’
‘I’ll try.’
The station announcer’s voice came over the Tannoy and informed them that the delayed 14.05 to Euston was arriving at the station. Simon stood up and held out his hand.
‘Good luck,’ he said, ‘with everything. But especially with Anna.’
As the train pulled away, Julia realized that her cheeks were wet with tears.
iii.
When she got home Brian was waiting for her in the living room.
‘We need to talk,’ he said. ‘About us. About our marriage.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s over,’ Brian said. He made no attempt to soften the message. Julia, if asked, would have said he took pleasure in his bluntness. ‘I’m moving out. I spoke to mum and she suggested that I move in with her.’
It was typical of Brian. Moving back in with his mum at his age. He’d be there until the day she died, when he’d be cast adrift, incapable of taking care of himself. Edna would love it. She’d be back in control. Julia couldn’t blame him, though. She thought back to what Simon had told her about Edna’s attempt to break up his relationship with Laura, and how close she had come, how it was only the fact that he had witnessed it that had enabled him to see what she was up to. Well, Brian had not seen that for himself, and so he had not been able to break free from the gravitational pull of his mother.
‘Of course she did,’ Julia said. ‘But—’
Brian interrupted her. ‘What does that mean?’
‘What?’
‘That snide “of course, she did”?’
‘Nothing,’ Julia said. She did not want another argument, not now. ‘It meant nothing.’
‘It must have meant something. So what was it?’
OK then, if she must. ‘It meant that I’m not surprised that your mum wants her little boy back where she can keep an eye on him and protect him from the nasty world out there. Simon managed to get away; you didn’t. But it’s fine with me. You’re right; our marriage is over. And I recall being the one to point that out to you. If now is the moment that you want to make it formal, then fine. Go to mummy. I hope you enjoy growing old together.’
‘You know something?’ Brian said. ‘You’re a bitch, Julia. A bitch. What has my mum ever done to you, except support and help us? And all you can do it criticize her. She’s a good mother. She never left me waiting outside school.’
‘She didn’t have to. She sent you off to boarding school so that someone else could take care of you.’ Julia held her hand up in a gesture of conciliation. There was no point arguing, and she didn’t care anymore if Brian went, in the end. But now was not the time.
‘You should do whatever you need to,’ she said. ‘But not now. If Anna comes back we need to be together, at least for a little while. And then there’s the press. They’d have a field day.’
‘Fuck the press,’ Brian said. ‘That’s your problem. And if Anna comes back I don’t care if we’re not together. I’ll be too busy being happy.’ He looked at his knees. ‘But you know something else? She’s not coming back, Julia. I’ve been reading about this and talking to experts and i
f abducted kids are not found in the first twenty-four hours then the chances of them ever being found are not worth talking about. She’s gone, Julia. Gone.’
Julia knew he’d spent hours online, reading about abduction or logged into chat rooms talking to so-called experts. It was part of his way of dealing with it; a method to convince himself that he was doing something, that he was finding the answers. It also allowed him to come to terms with Anna’s loss: by convincing himself she was gone, he could start to get over it. He was not making the same mistake of hoping that Julia was.
‘She might be ok,’ Julia said. ‘She might. And she needs both of us.’
‘You believe that if you want to,’ Brian said. ‘But I don’t.’
‘So that’s it, then?’ Julia said. ‘You’re moving out?’
Brian nodded. ‘I’ll go tonight. I’ll come for my stuff later. We can figure out what to do about the house and money and all that then.’
Julia decided to make one last appeal. She didn’t care about Brian going – she knew as well as anyone that their relationship was over – but she didn’t want it to happen right that moment. Apart from anything else, she didn’t want to be alone in the house. Even Brian was better than nobody.
‘Can we wait?’ she asked him. ‘Just a week or so?’
‘No,’ Brian said. ‘We can’t. And the reason why is simple, Julia. I can’t stand the sight of you. Can’t stand to be anywhere near you. Can’t stand to hear you walking around, to know that I occupy the same house as the woman who ruined my life. I don’t care what happens to you now, Julia. I’m just going to take care of myself.’
And then he stood up and walked into the hall. Julia heard him pick up his car keys and open the front door. There was the noise of shutters clicking and shouted questions, and then he was gone.
She sat back in the armchair. The room was silent. It was the same silence she had experienced a thousand times before when alone in her house, but this time it seemed different.
This time it seemed as though it would never end.
9
The Seventh Day
i.
