‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sick of you telling me you’re sorry,’ she said, holding my gaze. ‘I am. We’ve known each other a long time; we’ve been through it all, haven’t we? I’ve been at your side through thick and thin, but I can’t keep doing this, Neve.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Your life falls apart, I fix it. It was all right when we were twenty-one and at uni and you were falling in love and breaking up every ten minutes – or when you cut yourself off from the world because of what happened to that girl you used to know. It was all right that night in the club when…’
She didn’t finish her sentence; she didn’t need to. I thought of that night, and how she’d held me, soothed me, until help arrived.
‘But we’re adults now. I’m an adult now. You’re still you. Living from day to day, doing what feels right in the moment. Never moving forward.’
‘I was moving forward. Oliver and I…’
‘Oliver despaired that you wouldn’t let him in. You know that, right?’
‘What, he talked to you about it?’
‘He told me, more than once, that he was struggling because you wouldn’t tell him about your past. He thought you were so secretive. You and he split up because you can’t take responsibility for your problems.’
‘Esther, that’s hardly fair,’ I said, choking back tears.
‘What’s not fair is that we’re now completely skint, and I have my baby to feed, Neve – that’s what’s not fair.’
Her words sucked the air from my lungs.
‘Go home, Neve.’
‘What?’
‘You look like shit, and I can’t face you right now. Just go home. I’ll deal with this, get the door boarded and tidied up.’
‘But…’
‘Seriously, just go. And if you really wanna help, perhaps think of an idea that can save this café.’
‘What? The café is fine. Besides this, we’re doing OK.’
‘I can’t keep doing “OK”, Neve, I can’t,’ she said, getting up. ‘We both know this has turned out to be a lot tougher than we thought it would be. I don’t mind the long hours, I don’t. But I can’t afford to work for nothing.’
‘Esther, it will be…’
‘And we’ve just lost what, £2,000, £3,000?’
‘Close to £3,500,’ I said quietly.
‘How are we going to get that back? How are we going to pay our rent on this place, let alone my mortgage? Tell me, how?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, tears pressing in the back of my eyes.
‘Go home, Neve. Get yourself sorted out, you’re a mess,’ Esther said with an air of finality. I watched her get up and grab her phone. She must have dialled 111 because she asked me to get the crime reference number. I did as she asked, and when she started to talk into the phone about the stolen money, I grabbed my coat and left.
Chapter 7
20th November 2019
Evening
I had tried to call Esther three times during the day; each time it rang and rang before going to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. And just in case I wasn’t already feeling shitty enough, I stupidly tried to call Oliver too. It rang once and then disconnected, like he had seen who was calling and hit the cancel button. Great. Despite being home for most of the day, those two small things were the sum of what I had accomplished. I was being pathetic. I knew Esther would calm down eventually. I hoped the stolen money would be insured but if the safe had been left open after all, I didn’t think it would be. I also hoped that, despite my mistake, the landlord would be sympathetic, as would our customers. We would have a tough few weeks, but we would survive long enough for us to work out what to do to save our business. The way Esther looked at me today, I knew she was just about ready to give up on The Tea Tree if we didn’t do something to lift our game and pay us both a proper salary. I didn’t blame her; she’d been doing very well working for the marketing department of some corporate giant before we spoke of my insane idea of opening a café together. If I was her, I probably would have given up a year ago. No, I definitely would have given up, because apparently that’s what I do. I run away from my problems.
Then I thought about it properly – maybe some time apart wasn’t such a bad idea. I didn’t want to run away from Esther, not in a million years. She had been my first true friend since leaving my childhood home all those years ago. She was one of the few people who knew that Chloe Lambert – the girl who was once all over the news, the girl who was never found – was my best friend. She knew about the man I saw back then, the Drifter. She knew about my dad; she knew about the village I grew up in. I trusted Esther more than I trusted anyone else in the world, even Oliver. I couldn’t afford to lose her from my life. But if I stepped back a little, let her run The Tree Tea on her own, just for a few weeks, she could take all of the income and pay herself properly, and I would get a break to sort my head out. It was perfect. She would make good money, and I would return fresh and sober and full of ideas of what we could do to expand our café. The more I thought about it, the better the idea became. I looked at my online banking, the joint account still in mine and Oliver’s names, and saw that what was left had remained untouched. I’d half expected him to take it, but he hadn’t – he was better than that.
I ran the numbers; I had enough sat in our joint account to pay my household bills for a couple of months. My personal account didn’t speak the same tale, but my two credit card balances were quite low. I would be all right for a couple of months without any other income. If the stolen money wasn’t covered by insurance, that would surely help, and even if it was, I’d still take leave of absence. Once I was back, I’d chip away at my credit cards until I cleared the balances. It might take a year, but that was far better than losing either my business or my best friend. Closing my banking app, I rang Esther’s number again; I was going to leave a message, outlining my thoughts. But after the third ring, she picked up.
‘Hey, Esther, are you all right?’
She sighed on the other end of the phone. ‘Tired.’
‘Yeah, I bet. Listen…’
‘No, Neve, let me speak. I’m still angry, you know? I’m angry you’ve let yourself get into such a mess lately, I’m angry this business isn’t doing what I know it could do. I’m angry some little shits robbed us. I’m really angry about that.’
‘I know.’
‘But that still didn’t give me the right to speak like I did to you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘Don’t be sorry, I deserved it.’
‘No, Neve.’
‘Esther, it’s OK. I know I’m a mess.’
‘Neve, you’re not a mess.’
‘I am, I always have been – ever since you’ve known me. Oliver was right, I didn’t let him in, I pushed him away with my inability to let go of things, and I’m doing the same to you. I know I have to change.’
‘You’re not pushing me away.’
‘Esther, let’s be honest. You shouldn’t have to scrape by.’
‘What else can we do?’
‘I’ve had an idea.’
I told her my plan, and at first she dismissed it, but the more we talked, the more receptive she became.
‘Esther, I know I’ve not been great these past few weeks, and I’ve dumped loads on you. With me taking a break, I’m making your life easier. A bit of time to sort my shit out and I’ll come back with ideas, energy, and we can fix this. I’m not walking away – let’s call it a sabbatical.’
‘How will you survive without an income, Neve?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’ve got my credit cards.’
‘But then you’ll end up in a load of debt.’
‘Better to have a little debt I can pay off over time, than to lose our business, and you.’
‘Neve… are you sure about this?’
‘We both know it’s the right thing.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ she said after a p
ause.
‘I’ll come in tomorrow and up to the weekend and help, and then we’ll start afresh on Monday.’
‘I doubt we’ll open tomorrow.’
‘Then I’ll come anyway, and help.’
‘Honestly, Neve, there isn’t much you can do. It’s mainly waiting for the glass company to fit a new door. I’ll be fine. Start your break now. The sooner you go, the sooner you’re back.’
‘You really think it’s a good idea?’ I asked, suddenly doubting myself.
‘I hate to say it, but yes. I think you need the space to deal with what’s going on in your life and…’
She didn’t finish her sentence, but we both knew what she was going to say. She needed a break from me and my misery.
‘OK, my phone will stay on, and I promise I’ll come back sooner if you need me to.’
‘Thanks. What will you do with your time?’
‘Sort myself out.’
In the background, I heard Tilly calling for help on the potty. It felt good that, despite all this, something was still normal, still so utterly normal.
‘I better go.’
‘OK, Esther, I’ll… I’ll see you soon?’
‘Yep, see you soon.’
The line went dead and for a moment I kept the phone to my ear. That was it, I had officially stepped away from my business. Now I had, it felt incredibly impulsive. But Esther didn’t stop me, so it had to be right? Getting up, I walked into the kitchen and rifled around for something to eat. I found an old packet of Quavers at the back of a cupboard and opened them. What I really needed was a drink: a big, stiff, strong drink, one that hurt to swallow and tasted awful. I needed to be numbed, just for one more night, and then tomorrow, I would start to rebuild myself. But, thankfully, I didn’t have anything in. It meant I had to start now.
Feeling blue, I wanted to look at Oliver’s Facebook wall, to see if anything had changed since I last checked a few hours ago. But before I could stalk his profile, I saw I had a new friend request from someone I once knew and had wanted to forget. My old childhood friend, Holly. Seeing her picture made my stomach feel uneasy. I had been tagged in a post, by her, linking an article from a local paper close to where I had grown up. The headline floored me.
CONCERNS DEEPEN FOR LOCAL MISSING MAN, JAMIE HARDMAN
Jamie.
I didn’t read the article but jumped onto his private Facebook page. I saw his face; one I’d not seen in a long time. He hadn’t changed much. Still the same cheeky smile. Still the same mischievous glint in his eye I once found so attractive. As I read his timeline my heart sank. People had posted on his wall, lots of people, all saying similar things. They all asked him to come back, they all wondered if he was OK, and a sense of déjà vu washed over me.
Jamie, my first, had gone missing.
Just like Chloe.
Chapter 8
20th November 2019
Evening
He was missing. The first boy I’d ever loved was missing. I should have been concerned for him, but really, I was more concerned about what it really meant. Missing. There had to be some mistake? I tried to deduce from the messages posted on his Facebook wall in what context he could be unaccounted for, but I couldn’t. It unnerved me, but the article didn’t mean something terrible had happened to Jamie. He could have moved out of town without telling anyone. He could have booked a trip away, a spur of the moment thing. He was an adult, there could be a million reasons as to why he was missing. It didn’t have to mean the same thing as it did back in 1998. I couldn’t help but think about that shadow outside The Tea Tree. As soon as the thought landed, I dismissed it. There was no way it was connected.
Taking my phone into the kitchen, Jamie’s face dominating the screen, I looked again for something to drink. I knew I shouldn’t, but that seven-letter word shook me. Missing. Problem or not, I needed steadying, and a drink was the only thing that would do that. On my hands and knees, I looked into the dark corners of my booze cupboard and found an old bottle of crème de menthe that had sat in there for God knows how long. A joke gift from a friend that we drank once, despised, and put away never to drink again. I grabbed a mug from the draining board, poured a healthy measure and downed it. It made me shudder, like drinking sweet mouthwash, but I felt it warm my stomach. Pouring another I sat at the breakfast bar, transfixed by Jamie’s profile picture. He hadn’t aged well, becoming a fatter, greyer version of the boy I once knew. He was smiling in the photo, his teeth stained, probably through cigarettes, but he had a sadness in his eyes, a weight. And I knew why, because I carried the same weight too. Chloe.
The sadness I should have felt as soon as I discovered he was missing came. It seeped from my chest, pushed up my throat and from behind my eyes. Fuck, Jamie was missing. As my eyes glazed, I knocked back my mug of crème de menthe. Though it made me gag, I still poured a third, and the more I drank, the more I felt. Fear, sadness, curiosity even. Things I couldn’t feel any more without something warming my insides.
After the fourth measure went down, I felt the alcohol wave begin to roll over me, and I needed to know Jamie was OK. I’d not wanted to know anything about him in twenty years. The summer Chloe disappeared, I ran away to live with Mum, abandoning Dad who had already been tossed aside by the mine closing the winter before. I abandoned my friends and the villagers who were grieving. I’d intended to stay with Mum for a short while, but weeks became months, which turned into years. Once I left, there was no looking back. And the village, being as small and isolated from the rest of the world as it was, never forgot. I was hated, just like my mum was, and I had made peace with that long ago.
I accepted Holly’s friend request and said hello. I assumed she had added me to tell me about Jamie, but I didn’t mention it. All I could do was wait, and hope she replied. I put on my coat and shoes, grabbed my keys and headed into the cold, wet night. I knew I shouldn’t, I knew I should stay at home, wait for a reply, perhaps try and get an early night. But I walked to my local Tesco anyway to buy myself a bottle of wine, reasoning that I would only have one glass, just to calm my frayed nerves.
Chapter 9
21st November 2019
Morning
I wake with a start, like I’ve been holding my breath in my sleep and my body has subconsciously forced me to take air into my lungs. I’m aware of a familiar smell once again, but before I can place it, it fades. I roll onto my side; I don’t even bother to try and open my eyes. They already hurt too much.
Reaching behind me I feel for Oliver. I don’t know why; this time I know he isn’t there. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking that the last few weeks had been a weird and incredibly vivid dream. I cough and a pain shoots through me. Then I realise I’m still fully clothed, and soaking wet – it was raining when I left last night, so I must have been so drunk that I’d not undressed. Lifting up my top, I see there is a deep purple bruise on my side.
Though the damp bedsheets are starting to make me feel clammy and cold, I don’t move straight away – I need to piece together everything up to just now. It hurts to think. Slowly I recall the shop being robbed, the safe being left open by me. I remember stepping away and wanting life to be easy again, and Jamie. Oh God, Jamie. Reaching across to my bedside table, I grab my iPhone and swipe across the screen, not noticing the crack – a small shard of glass cuts my thumb. Opening Facebook, I go back to Jamie’s page but notice there’s a new message waiting in my inbox. It’s from Holly.
Neve, it’s been a long time? Thank you for accepting my friend request. I’m shocked we weren’t already connected. I’m sure we were once?
We were, as I was to the rest of my childhood friends. When I first joined Facebook about a decade after Chloe disappeared, it seemed like it would be OK to reconnect, but all it did was dig up old skeletons, things I didn’t want to remember. So, over the years, one by one, I deleted them all and changed my surname on Facebook to my mother’s maiden name. Holly must have really been looking for me. I read on.
<
br /> Listen, I’m just going to come out and say it. I don’t know if you have seen that article I sent you about Jamie, but he disappeared three days ago. It’s such a shock to us all. I know you and he were once close, so wanted you to find out from one of us before you saw it somewhere else. Yesterday, there was a news crew in the village, digging up the past, and Chloe.
I felt my heart drop. I didn’t want to relive a single second of back then.
In fact, Jamie and I spoke of her only a few weeks ago. I guess that’s the most worrying thing. I want you to know, no one is angry at you for leaving, we were just kids. If I’d had somewhere, anywhere to go, I might have done the same. Let me know if you want to come back, if you feel the pull to help. I’ll make sure I’m there to meet you, if you want. It would be nice to see you, and I know everyone else feels the same way as I do. I hope you’re doing well. You seem really happy in your pictures on here. Congratulations on your engagement and business success. Holly.
Until then, I’d not considered going back, but knowing Jamie was missing and I was being welcomed by Holly stirred something deep within, something akin to the feeling when you smell something that takes you back to a moment in your past. They didn’t hate me. I was welcome back, and Holly was sweet for suggesting she would meet me. She was seeing it from my perspective, even with the horrible circumstance that had brought us back together. I almost messaged back telling her I would be there, but there was one other person I had to check in with before I returned to the village. I had to speak to my dad.
The phone rang seven or eight times, and I was just about to give up when the line connected. There was noise, like the microphone being dragged through a jumper, before he spoke.
‘Hello.’
Dark Corners Page 4