After Anna

by Alex Lake

  So she was glad to have the chance to keep them all together for a while. It would allow her to figure things out, to see whether her newfound admiration for Brian was just part of the general euphoria at Anna’s return or whether it really was a change in her view of him. And if it was the latter, then maybe it signalled a change in their relationship. Maybe they had a future together, after all.

  Maybe. Maybe not. But at least she was going to have the opportunity to find out.

  She took a bit of time getting dressed. Applied a light perfume. Wore a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and butt, which she knew Brian liked. She wasn’t planning to seduce him, but there was no harm in raising her game a little. If their relationship was to have a chance at all then she owed it to them both to fan whatever tiny flame there was.

  He was coming upstairs as she crossed the landing, Anna in his arms.

  ‘She crashed out,’ he said. ‘Fast asleep. Too much BFG and too much sugar. You know how it goes: big high, sudden low. I’m going to put her down. I’ll put her with me in my bed. I need a nap too.’

  ‘Right,’ Julia said. ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  He looked at her. ‘Are you going out?’

  ‘No. Just wanted to spruce up a bit. After the last week.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because before I go to sleep I want to discuss something with you.’

  There was briskness in his voice, an air of decisiveness, of a mind being made up. She got the impression he had something important, no, crucial, to tell her. Something like the possibility that their marriage may not be over after all. Julia felt her stomach contract with anticipation.

  Look, he would say. I know things have been bad – awful – between us. But perhaps this whole episode with Anna has been good for us, in a strange kind of way. Maybe losing everything made us see what we have.

  Hmm, she’d reply. I know what you mean. So what should we do?

  He’d get a slightly nervous expression, like a teenager asking a girl out on a date that he thinks will make or break his existence, before continuing. Well, I know it won’t be easy. But perhaps we should give it another chance. See if we can make it work.

  OK, she’d say. I think you’re right. Let’s try.

  And then … what? They’d hug? Kiss? Make love? Take a nap together? Or just separate, her going make a cup of tea and him going to lie down with Anna. Probably the latter, which would be fine. There’d be plenty of time later to work out the details, to decide when and whether to move back into the same room, or to rekindle their sex lives. Maybe they’d go away on holiday for a week, snuggle up as a family. It would be good to get away, use a fresh place to get a fresh perspective. They could put Anna to bed in the evenings and then they could sit down and sort it all out.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in the living room.’

  He came down a few minutes later. Julia was sitting at one end of the couch. She gestured to the other end. He ignored her and remained standing, by the door.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Earlier we talked about staying together, in the house, for Anna’s sake.’

  ‘Right,’ Julia said. ‘Keep the family intact.’

  ‘That’s kind of the thing,’ Brian said. ‘The family is not intact. Pretending it is, is – it’s ridiculous, Julia.’

  She blinked. ‘It’s just for a while. So Anna can settle back in.’

  ‘I don’t see the point. It’s over. We should just accept it and move on.’

  ‘So, what are you saying?’

  ‘I think we should stick to our original plan. I move out and stay with Mum.’

  ‘I don’t believe this. We agreed that it was best for Anna if you stay here!’

  ‘Things changed.’

  ‘What changed?’ Julia held up her hand, her palm facing Brian. She didn’t need to ask. ‘Don’t answer,’ she said. ‘I know what changed. Edna. She told you off for not doing what she wants and you jumped into line. I should have known.’

  Brian blushed. ‘That’s not what happened.’

  ‘No? So how come we agreed something last night, then Edna shows up, finds out, has a chat with you, and mysteriously you change your mind? Mummy told you what to do, Brian, and you’re doing it.’

  He was standing back on his heels. He folded his arms. ‘Not at all. It’s my decision.’

  ‘Yeah? Then what happened to it being best for Anna if you stay? I thought we were going to do what was best for her, not each other?’

  ‘We are. And it’s best for Anna if we go through this now. There’s no point in her living in a miserable household for a year, watching us argue, wondering whether it’s her fault, and then seeing us separate. It’s better just to do it now. It’s like removing a plaster. It’s better just to rip it off.’

  Now she knew he’d been influenced by his mother. The ‘rip-off the plaster in one go’ philosophy was pure Edna. It might as well have been her speaking.

  ‘This is pathetic, Brian, you know that? We make a decision as parents that we both agree is for the best, and then you change your mind because you don’t have the balls to stand up to your mother.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ he said. ‘That’s not how it is.’

  ‘You keep telling yourself that,’ Julia said. ‘Maybe you’ll convince yourself one day. Until then we’ll both know the truth.’

  ‘So I’m going to go,’ he said. ‘This Monday. We’ll have the weekend and then I’ll be gone.’

  ‘Fine. You do whatever makes Mummy happy.’

  He shrugged and left the room. Julia rubbed her temples. So that was that, then. Anna was going to have to suffer her parents’ divorce on top of everything else. Fucking Edna. She had to win, whatever the cost. There was no point arguing, either. Edna was always right. If she thought it was best for Anna to do this quickly and immediately, then no amount of argument or evidence to the contrary would work. Once Edna decided something it was decided forever. The problem was she was so convinced of the superiority of her intellect that she could not accept that other people’s experience was valid. For example, she didn’t believe in depression; she saw it as weakness and so could not imagine herself ever succumbing to it. As a result she dismissed all those that did as malingerers who needed a sharp kick up the backside. No amount of expert opinion could change her mind. If shown – as Julia had once done – a medical opinion that claimed depression to be an illness with a physiological basis, she would simply dismiss it. Of course, they think that, she’d say. That’s exactly the problem. They allow these people to think they have an illness, when what they have is an attitude problem.

  And Brian shared Edna’s belief in her infallibility, so he would parrot her opinions. It was one of the things about him that infuriated Julia.

  So there would be no appealing to arguments about Anna’s welfare, and there would be no convincing Brian his mum was wrong.

  Still, at least one good thing had come of this: she no longer harboured any illusions that she and Brian might get back together. The last few minutes had reminded her exactly why she had wanted out in the first place.

  So fuck him. He could go. He could limp back broken-winged to the safety of the nest, and good riddance to him. She’d stay here with Anna, and together they’d make the life they deserved. It wouldn’t be that bad; tough at first, maybe, but then she’d been ready for that anyway. She’d make it work.

  She smiled. Perhaps Edna – the interfering old bitch – had done her a favour. If she hadn’t intervened Julia might have tried to keep it going with Brian, might have been fooled into thinking it could work. And who knew where that would have ended up? She might have wasted months, years, before she finally started on her new life. Or maybe she would never have done it, and ended up a bitter old woman in an empty house and a loveless marriage.

  So yes, maybe this was for the best after all.

  11

  Not Over Yet

  i.

  It worked. The girl did what she was supposed to do and
now she is back at home. The country rejoices, a miracle! But who took her? And why did they return her? It’s a mystery, a puzzle, and this country of crosswords and quiz shows loves nothing more than a puzzle.

  Was she raped? Experimented on? Taken by aliens and implanted with a chip? All these theories and more are out there, running the full gamut from the cerebral to the crazy. They look for patterns, these denizens of chat rooms, these speculators in the comments section of newspapers. Was there ever a more public demonstration of the bizarreness of the human species than the comments sections? You can find any opinion you can imagine (and more besides) below the line. People’s minds run in all directions and you can see it on the internet.

  Like the patterns they discern – the girl was gone a week – seven days from disappearance to return. Is this significant? Does this mean something? Can we infer that the kidnapper likes completeness? That he or she deals only in entire months or weeks or years? Perhaps they are autistic, or religious, or maybe it is a simple coincidence.

  No, not that. Not a coincidence. That would never do. That would not fit their need for explanations.

  And the day chosen for her return was not random. But it was nothing to do with the fact that a week had passed. No. You chose that day for a real reason, a good reason: because it fitted your design. Because it moved your plan along. Because it was the right thing to do.

  But they will keep looking. Keep generating their theories. No doubt they have doctors checking her, but she is unharmed. You could tell them that. You won’t, of course. That would give the game away.

  And the game is not yet over. There is more to come. And soon.

  And the girl is no longer the target.

  This time, it is the mother.

  ii.

  Julia heard them before she saw them.

  It was just past six a.m., Saturday morning, and Anna and Brian were still sleeping. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she did not meet the silence she expected: there was a low buzz of voices and of engines running.

  She went into the front room and put her eye to a crack in the curtains, careful not to move them.

  They were back. Those bastards from the press were back. This time there were camera vans as well as reporters.

  What the hell did they want? The story was old news by now, or old enough, anyway. She and Brian had made it clear they wanted to be left alone and any statements would be issued by the police’s press department. There was nothing for them to gain by hanging around outside the house. Besides, she thought that DI Wynne had put a stop to it, but evidently it hadn’t worked.

  So fuck it. She was just going to get on with her day. She’d have a cup of tea, make some breakfast, and then she’d go for a run. She’d been planning a morning run – to get some fresh air, in Edna’s words – and she was damned if she was going to change her plans because of those vultures.

  As the kettle boiled she reached for her computer, then stopped herself. She wasn’t going to read the news. She was going to keep herself isolated from it. She was going to rise above.

  When she had finished her cereal she put on her trainers. For a second she considered sneaking out through the back garden, climbing over the wall to the neighbours’ garden and vanishing into the grey morning, but she shook her head. She wasn’t going to sneak around. She had nothing to hide from.

  She opened the front door. There was an instant snap of activity: cameras raised and shutters sounding, bodies pressing forwards.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Julia said. ‘But I’m going for a run. Please let me past.’

  The scrum in front of her didn’t react. One man – she recognized his acne-scarred face from the last time – held out a phone, no doubt set to record.

  ‘Mrs Crowne,’ he said. ‘Is it true that you tried to commit suicide the day Anna was found?’

  She froze.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ she said.

  ‘Is it true that you suffered a failed suicide attempt the day Anna was found?’

  A tall red-headed woman with big eyes leaned forwards. ‘Was it before or after you heard that your daughter had showed up?’

  Julia stepped back inside. She slammed the door. Her hands shook on the Yale lock as she deadlocked it.

  How did they know about the sleeping pills? There was someone in the police leaking this stuff, there had to be. It made sense: cops and journalists were close, but how could they do this? How could they put her through it?

  She went into the kitchen and opened her laptop.

  She started to read.

  iii.

  ANNA MUM IN SUICIDE BID

  It emerged yesterday that Julia Crowne, mother of Anna, the five-year-old who walked into a newsagent a week after her disappearance had launched a global manhunt, attempted suicide on the morning of Anna’s return.

  Mrs Crowne took a combination of sleeping pills and alcohol in an attempt to end her life. Her husband, Brian Crowne, found her unconscious on the couch, and, with the aid of his mother, Dr Edna Crowne, managed to revive her.

  There has been speculation that Mrs Crowne’s suicide attempt may have been triggered by the discovery that her daughter was still alive. On top of Anna’s abduction, Mrs Crowne had also endured a difficult time, with suggestions that she may have been at fault for her child’s disappearance common in the press.

  In the weeks before their daughter vanished Mrs Crowne had informed her husband that she wanted to leave both him and Anna, leading to speculation that she might have been suffering from depression. According to one acquaintance Mrs Crowne also has ‘a difficult relationship with alcohol.’

  Julia closed her laptop. She could not grasp what she had read, could not get a handle on the implications of the contents of the story.

  She could think only one thing: it was happening again. Once again they were painting her in the worst possible way. According to this she was an unstable, suicidal alcoholic, suffering from depression, who had already failed to take adequate care of the daughter she was planning to leave.

  I know I shouldn’t do this, she thought. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I have to know what they’re saying.

  She opened Twitter and searched for her name. There was no shortage of hits. She was, it seemed, trending:

  OMG did you see what #JuliaCrowne did? failed suicide – would have been better if it worked.

  #JuliaCrowne failed mum failed suicide #Britain’sBiggestFailure

  The hashtag #notfittobeamum was still out there:

  Doesn’t deserve her daughter back. #JuliaCrowne #notfittobeamum

  As well as some new ones, freshly-minted by the internetariat, one tweet had managed to invent two further new ones:

  #betteroffdead Britain’s Biggest Bitch #BBB #JuliaCrowne

  Who were these people who felt the need to abuse strangers? Did it make them feel better? Braver? That they were saying something important, which might have an impact on the world? Or were they just lashing out, hoping to hurt someone? Thank God they had Twitter to help them with that. For all the benefits of interconnectedness that Twitter – and the internet generally – gave to mankind, there was the ever-present drawback that it was an open window to the sewers of the human mind.

  She hear Brian’s footsteps on the stairs. Seconds later the living room door opened.

  ‘What do they want?’ he said. ‘I heard them shouting from my bedroom window.’

  She handed him her laptop. ‘This.’

  He scanned the screen. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘How did they find out?’

  ‘The cops,’ Julia said. ‘They must have a contact on the inside.’

  He carried on reading. ‘And it’s not even true,’ he said. ‘According to you, anyway. And Mum said you’d be fine when you woke up.’

  Good for fucking Mum, Julia thought.

  ‘So what now?’ she said.

  Brian shrugged. ‘Ignore them, I guess. They’ll go away in the end.’

  ‘That’s easy for you
to say. It’s not your life that they’re splashing – wrongly – all over the world. I mean, they’re making me out to be this awful, drunken, crazy bitch. It’s just not fair.’ She looked away. She didn’t want him to see her cry. He might try to comfort her, put his arms around her, and that, she feared, would make her vomit.

  But it seemed he was not interested in comforting her.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Well. What goes around, comes around.’

  Julia looked up him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean.’

  ‘Just that you started this. You declared that you wanted out of our marriage. If you hadn’t done that then we’d be fine now, wouldn’t we? Anna would be home and we’d be getting on with our lives.’

  Julia stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘It’s true, isn’t it? Forget that your mistake meant Anna was taken; she’s back now. And if you hadn’t decided to end our marriage we’d be ok. The press might have blamed you a bit, but that would have passed. There’d have been no suicide attempt, if that’s what it was, because we’d have had each other. Apart from Anna’s abduction, this … ’ he made a vague, sweeping gesture, ‘all stems from your decision to break this family apart.’

  ‘So I was supposed to stay with you in case this happened? Every woman who wants to leave a relationship should stay, in case this happens to them? Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s true.’

  ‘No. It isn’t. If I hadn’t decided to end our marriage, I’d still be unhappily stuck in it.’

  ‘You can’t admit it, can you? Even now?’

  ‘Admit what?’

  ‘That it was a mistake.’