The Waiting List (Strong Women Book 5)

by Sarah Till

  “Well as a mother I can see where she's coming from.”

  “Yeah. But she won’t even entertain the fact that Charlotte just walked away. They were sitting practically outside her house last night in disguise. Presumably, they think she's being held there. I just need to ease Mum into the idea that she's there of her own free will.”

  “Oh, Clem. You've certainly got a lot on your plate. Do you want me to come with you tomorrow night?”

  “No, it's OK, I plan to take Mum on my own. If her butt implants are OK. Don't ask. You can have the house to yourself again. Have lover boy round! We're driving over there tonight to see if we can get a look at her. Actually, I saw her last night but I'm none the wiser.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yes. I was looking for her house number and she went in. I don’t think she saw me. Why would she? She was on her way home from work.”

  Jenni was quiet for a minute.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit, well, yucky, that your new boyfriend has slept with your sister?”

  “If she is my sister. It’s all up in the air until then.”

  “Uh-huh. But what if she is? Like you say, he's already obsessed with her.”

  More than she knew. The twinkling of the fairy lights returned and I drew a line under the evening.

  “Look, Jenni, I'm sorry I was horrible about Johnny. I really hope you'll be happy.”

  “We will. I have a good feeling about him, Clem. A really good feeling.”

  Her optimism must have been contagious as I felt a sliver of hope about Tim.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I woke on Tuesday morning with the sunshine and lollipops song playing loudly in my ears. I showered and dried my hair quickly, eager to get on my way to work. I wanted the day over so that it would be time to collect Mum and go to Carlisle Crescent. I told myself repeatedly that we couldn't knock on the door and confront her, not until the police gave us the all-clear. Imagining some kind of Cracker forensic scenario again, I visualised them cross-matching her with the missing person report and radioing through to give us the all-clear.

  Down in the dining room, Sam and Jacob were singing along to Jenni playing guitar. The song was from the film 'The Lion King' - Hakuna Matata. No worries. I looked at their smiling faces and their bobbing heads. I wished that my mother had been so much fun; a singing, dancing, laughing barrel of laughs. She had been funny, but in a dry sort of way. She didn't laugh much. Even before Charlotte went out. I'd pulled all kinds of silly faces at her but she would hardly ever relent. It was as if she was always worried about something, even before she had good reason to be.

  “Morning, Aunty Clem.”

  The chorus of good mornings made me smile, and Jenni was glowing.

  “Morning, everyone.”

  They all sniggered and looked at each other. Samantha broke first.

  “You should go in the lounge, Aunty Clem.”

  I rushed through and they followed me. The biggest bunch of flowers I had ever seen in my life greeted me. I plucked the card from the middle of the red roses that sat serenely in the centre, behind rows and rows of pink blooms, graduating to light pink then white.

  'To Clementine. Make no mistake, Clem, these are from me. Thank you for last night. You’ve really make a difference to my life. Tim xxxxx Five days, five kisses'

  I caught my breath. I'd made a difference to his life. There was no love, but five kisses, and he was clearly counting the start of our relationship as Friday. It was Tuesday now, five days, five kisses. I thrilled a little and sniffed the heady aroma. Jenni was shooing the children upstairs as I took the flowers to the sink. The flowers from Liam’s had filled all the vases I owned. I resolved to leave them there and get a vase from my Mum that evening.

  The list lay torn on the kitchen countertop and I picked it up and stuffed it into my bag. I took the jar Charlotte and I kept our wishes in, where my lucky pennies now lived, and put that in too, along with the file with the redundant lists in it. I instinctively felt that it was time for a review and now was the time to do it.

  I hurried to the car and drove to work, arriving in the office super-early. For once, I felt relaxed. I was relieved that Tim had sent me the flowers; it was a sign that we were moving in the right direction. I couldn't entirely put the Caroshrine, as I liked to think of it, out of my mind, but I wondered if, the more time I spent with him, the less time he would have to spend time with her. In the end, he would spend all his time with me and I would have won. I shocked myself. Had I just thought of the situation as winning and losing? How would I manage to get him completely away from her if she did turn out to be Charlotte? All the more reason to get my house in order and get Mum over to Carlisle Crescent tonight to make a positive ID.

  I logged into my computer and took the torn list out of my bag. I retyped it on my computer, reconfiguring some of the items, or criteria as I liked to call them.

  It was the first time I'd actually typed a man's name on the sheet. I glanced through the others. They were all handwritten and compared with this neatly typed document, they seemed trivial and childish. This was the real thing. I pressed 'print' and rushed to the printer to retrieve the sheet. It was crisp and new, representing a new beginning for me. I pushed it into a loose-leaf plastic folder to protect the information. I had to admit, it was the closest I'd ever got to fully ticked boxes. Everything was right about him. Except he still loved someone else. Even so, I reminded myself, she didn't want him. She had someone else. In time, he would fall in love with me.

  I took a strip of paper torn from a blank sheet and wrote my wish on it.

  'Tim. I wish I could marry Tim. We'll be happy together.'

  I took out the pennies and put the bag they lay in on my desk. Unfurling the tiny strips of paper that contained all our wishes, I tucked my new wish deep inside the wish-nest and placed them on the bottom of the jar again. I took the latest lucky pennies and popped them into the bag. It was almost full and I wondered if I had a lucky pound yet. The office was beginning to come to life and I cleared all the relationship analysis material into my bag. Johnny arrived looking like the cat who’d got the cream and waved and smiled. I noticed Clare get out of the lift and felt a stab of guilt. She had been right about Tim and I'd shouted at her.

  “Clare!”

  She turned round, looking uncertain.

  “What?”

  She shouted her response from beside the lift. I knew it would be hard work to get her to come over, but I needed to apologise.

  “I wanted to say I was sorry!”

  There was new interest in the shoutathon.

  “What on earth could you be sorry for, Clementine?”

  She leaned against a desk, arms folded.

  “For saying you were trying to spoil my relationship. You were right.”

  I knew it was only a matter of time before she would sidle up to my workstation. She couldn't resist the gossip. Sure enough, she slunk over.

  “Really? What happened? All go to shit did it? If he turned up, that is.”

  “Well, it wasn't the best evening ever. And he does live with his mum.”

  She nodded triumphantly.

  “Yeah. And isn't he a bit of an alcoholic?”

  I remembered the two occasions I'd seen him in the club. He certainly had the capacity to put the drink away.

  “I wouldn't know. I went for a walk in the park with him on Sunday. Very nice.”

  “Oh. So, you're seeing him, then? He must have told you about Caroline then.”

  My stomach turned over at the sound of her name and my mind spun back to that first night. Beautiful Caroline.

  “Uh-huh. He did. Quite cut up over her, actually.” It struck me now that Clare knew Charlotte. She had been a friend from school and had been to our house many times. She knew about her disappearance and surely, if she had met Caroline and it was Charlotte, she would know. “Have you met her? What's she like?”

  “Oh no. Never met the girl. Saw a p
icture of her once in his wallet. Looks a bit like you, actually. But I'm sure that's just coincidence. Lots of men like blondes.”

  I smiled.

  “Yes. Anyway, sorry about the other day. I was wound up about the date. But we've seen each other a couple of times and it’s all more relaxed now.” I thought about the intensity of the kisses and the fairy lights twinkling next door and my heart began to sink. I rescued it half swoop. “I'm seeing him tomorrow, actually. We're going for a meal. Early days. But I'm happy.”

  Clare's eyes rolled upwards.

  “Watch him, Clem, they're all the same. Before you know it, you’ll be working all the hours God sends while he's subscribing to European porn channels. Mark my words.”

  She walked away and I felt a little bit uncomfortable. Tim wouldn't watch porn. Why would he? He spent all his free time staring at DVDs of Caroline. I fumbled in my bag for my phone. I needed to hear his voice, to reassure me that all was well. I dialled his number and it rang seven times. The eighth ring was cut in half by a beep.

  “Hi! (giggle, giggle) this is Caroline. Tim's not here right now but if you tell me what you want, I'll tell him (giggle, giggle). Leave your name after the tone (giggle)”

  I looked at the phone in my hand and wondered how much more of this I could take. I pressed the button to end the call but not before the answerphone had recoded the office silence. Seconds later, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Clem. It’s Tim. You rang?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Just to say thanks for the flowers. They're beautiful.”

  “You're beautiful.”

  Beautiful Caroline.

  “Thanks. Look, Tim, do you know you've still got Caroline on your phone message?”

  “Oh, shit, shit. Sorry. I forgot about that. Sorry, Clem. I'll change it straight away. I'm trying, Clem. Give me a chance. Please.”

  “It's difficult, Tim. I know we spoke about it, but I really do think you still care for her. You seem to have a lot of her things hanging around.”

  “I know. I was with her a long time. She's been round to see Mum, you know.”

  “So, why didn't she take her things then?”

  “What things? What do you mean?”

  I meant the stuff he had folded for her in the Caroshrine. He didn't know I knew about that room.

  “You mentioned it the other night. Stuff, you said. That you had to give back.”

  “Oh yeah. Yeah. Like CDs and things. I will give them back. It's just that I don’t really want to see her.”

  “OK. Well, it's up to you. What did you want, anyway?”

  “I just wanted to make an arrangement for tomorrow night. And make sure you got the flowers. And that they were better than Liam's. Bastard.”

  I laughed.

  “Yes. Actually, they are lovely. I don’t know about tomorrow night, though.”

  “C'mon, Clem. Just a meal. What harm can it do? Eight o'clock? Romano's? Unless you're free tonight. We could do something.”

  “Not tonight. No. I'm busy with my parents.”

  Busy stalking your ex, who may or may not be my long-lost sister.

  “OK. Tomorrow it is then. I'll delete that message right now. Shit, man, I thought I'd done it. Sorry. Anyway. Bye, gorgeous.”

  “Bye.”

  Click.

  That was another thing I really liked about Tim. He was funny and slightly dizzy. He sometimes had a faraway look in his eye and I wondered if he was actually thinking about anything at all. I smiled and looked at my bag stuffed with all kinds of relationship treats to keep me full up with drama. The letters poked out of the side pocket. I knew I couldn't stomach them so soon after the answerphone message so I took out a few photographs to be getting on with. My pain sharpened as I looked through them. Tim and Caroline in Amsterdam. Tim and Caroline in Blackpool. Tim wearing a silly hat. Caroline in a Moulin Rouge outfit and a feather boa. Now my heart was back on the floor I could get on with some work. No point feeling happy for too long, my head told me as I tapped on my keyboard.

  Lunchtime came and went and at three I decided enough was enough. I'd been thinking about Mum and how to get her to realise that the woman we thought was Charlotte wasn't being held by armed hostages. That would be the first step towards approaching Caroline or Charlotte or whoever she bloody was. I decided to phone Dad.

  “Hello, Dad. It's Clem.”

  “Oh, hello love. Any news?”

  “No. Well, yes. I saw her.”

  “Right. Last night?”

  “Yes. She lives at number four. I'm going to pick Mum up tonight and wait outside, see what she thinks. And suggest to her that it isn't actually a prison where she's being held captive.”

  Dad was silent. He knew what I faced.

  “Hmm. That won’t be easy. But yes, come and get her. She'll need her rubber ring, of course. And don’t expect much conversation. I'll make you some flasks of tea. I'm off to meet with the person from missing people, see what they have to say about approaching her. I mean, we don't want any arrests or anything.” There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Do you think it is her, Clem? I just can't see it being her. I mean, if it is, why didn't she contact us? Just to let us know she's... she's...”

  “Alive. Yes, I know, Dad. We won't know till we ask, will we?

  “No. I suppose we won't.”

  “Great. I'll be there in about an hour.”

  “That's a bit soon, Clementine. We haven’t had our tea yet.”

  “Look, Dad, I want Mum to see her, and I want a chance to talk to Mum in the car while we're waiting. We'll be back before we know it. You go and meet your man and we'll be fine. Bye then. See you later.”

  He was gone. I'd sounded very reassuring but I wasn't really sure that it would be fine. I hadn't had a proper conversation with Mum since Charlotte went out of the door that night, and I wasn’t relishing this one. Pressing the 'away' button on my phone to alert my boss I had gone out, I grabbed my coat and waved at Johnny. He was on the phone and one foot rested on his desk. His tie was slack and he looked very relaxed. I drove home and dropped my bag in the kitchen, taking just my purse and keys. Jenni and the children were out and I stared around my kitchen. It looked lived in, like our kitchen used to be when Charlotte and I were young. Pictures hung on the wall with sticky tape. Shoes, pyjamas, breakfast remnants, all reminded me of the cosy, warm house that had now turned into an ice box of lost emotion.

  In no time, I was outside that house. I got out of the car and locked it quickly. Through the lounge window, I could see Mum get up slowly through the lounge window and by the time I reached the door she was ready. Dad silently took my car keys and installed a smaller rubber ring on the passenger seat of the car. Mum hauled herself in and stared straight ahead. I got in and Dad patted the top of the car. It had been a silent operation and I guessed I was in for a treat as we pulled away from the house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We parked in the same spot that Mum and Dad had parked in the night before. A little round the corner from number four Carlisle Crescent but where we’d still be able to see anyone go in or out. As we passed, I craned my neck and saw it looked like no one was in. No lights were on, no glow from a TV screen. I pulled up and looked at Mum.

  “You OK?”

  She nodded.

  “Here we are then. I bet you've been waiting for this day, haven’t you?” She took out a long cigarette. The lighter clicked its familiar click and she lit it. Opening the window slightly, she exhaled. “Getting me in a confined space where you can have a go.”

  Her voice was even yet rough.

  “Don't start, Mum. We're here to see if this woman is Charlotte. Nothing to do with me. OK?”

  I gripped the steering wheel tightly. The smoke bit into my lungs and I desperately wanted to tell her to put the cigarette out. I didn't. It seemed cruel somehow to ask her.

  “Charlotte. Yes. I expect you're desperate to find her, aren't you? So you can have a mother again.�
�

  “I’ve got a mother. I've got you.” I glanced in the mirror as a figure approached from the rear. It wasn't her.

  “Not been much good to you though, have I? I know, Clementine. I know. But did you know this? Every night up until Charlotte went out that day, I went to bed knowing where every member of my family was. I went through them in my head. My mum, dad, our Joanne, your dad. You, and Charlotte. All tucked up in bed. Warm, fed, happy. Ish. Well, since then I haven’t been able to do that.”

  She still stared straight ahead.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mum. I know you've been going through it. We all have.”

  “Yes. All of us. Not so much your dad or you though. Not as much as me. No.”

  “Dad has suffered. He has, Mum, he just shows it differently. He's got his matchsticks and you've got your... your.”

  “Appearance?”

  I stared at her now and she turned her head. She didn't appear to be my mother in this light. A tightened version of her, a little bit like me and a little bit like Charlotte. Charlotte had Mum’s eyes, and Mum now had Charlotte's nose and high cheekbones. The lips were Dad's grafted onto Mum's face. Like some eerie fucked-up Picasso.

  “Well you have had a lot of work done, Mum. I suppose it keeps you feeling happy about yourself.”

  “Hmm. Happy. Not sure what that is anymore. I certainly don’t feel happy about myself. Do you know what I did when she went? I took out the hair I had kept from her first haircut and put it in a bag.” My mind flashed back to the Caroshrine and the hair bags. “I scoured every inch of this house for her things. I kept a pair of her dirty socks in a plastic bag so I could smell them. Shocking, isn't it? But I did.”