by Lauren North
I told him anytime and resisted using the word ergo in my reply.
So when the front door knocker clanged against the oak and echoed through the empty house, jolting me from my doze on the sofa, I thought it was the locksmith back with the right-sized locks, or the postman with the new PlayStation games I ordered for Jamie’s birthday.
It was neither.
“Hey, sis.” Sam grins from the doorstep as I heave open the door.
“Sam,” I yelp and smile all at once, before throwing myself into his arms. A dam breaks inside me and before I can hold it back I’m sobbing great gulping sobs in his arms.
When I pull away I see Sam is crying too and it makes me love him all the more.
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you, sis,” he says. “I should’ve come sooner. I should never have left after the funeral. I’m sorry.”
I wipe my fingers under my eyes. “It’s OK. I’m doing OK, honestly I am.”
“How?” His eyes are wide and watery and remind me of Jamie’s.
I close my eyes and hot tears trickle onto my cheeks. “There are highs and lows,” I whisper, thinking of Jamie’s silence and his shrugged responses to my questions. I push the thoughts away and think of splashing in the puddle instead.
“Still weight lifting, I see,” I add a moment later when it’s clear that neither of us knows quite what to say next. I pinch one of his biceps, tight against his T-shirt. His jeans are fitted and his shoes smart. I guess Finn’s style sense has finally rubbed off on Sam.
As I usher Sam into the hall I find myself glancing toward the empty lane and the fields beyond it and closing the door a little too quickly.
I turn my focus to Sam. He has changed so much since moving to Nottingham. He’s not the beanpole with blond Einstein hair that he was when you first met him. Now his hair is shaved close to his head and he is broad-shouldered and muscular. But to me, Sam will always be the big brother who told me ghost stories at bedtime and showed me how to rub dock leaves on my skin when I fell off my bike into a ditch of stinging nettles.
“Still forgetting to brush your hair, I see,” Sam retorts, flicking at my wayward curls.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Sam holds up his empty hands in a theatrical shrug. “If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will go to Mohammed.”
I smile and shake my head. “I think it’s the other way round.”
“Anyway,” Sam says, dragging out the word, “you weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d take you out for lunch.”
“So you just drove four hours for a sandwich?”
“Pretty much. It was that or have Mum keep phoning the hospital every day telling me how worried she is about you.”
“She’s not?” I pull a face. A needle of guilt pricks my stomach. “I’m sorry. She’s been phoning my friend Shelley too.”
“I know.” He raises his eyebrows, mirroring my expression. “Grab your shoes, we’re going out for lunch.”
“I’ve got stuff here we can eat.”
“I didn’t really drive four hours for a ham and pickle sandwich, Tess. I fancy a burger. There’s a restaurant in the village, isn’t there?”
“Yes. It’s at the top of the hill, bordering the next village. We’ll have to drive.”
“OK then, let’s go.”
“Give me a few minutes,” I say, racing up the stairs to change out of the leggings I’ve been wearing all week.
“Don’t take too long. I have to be back on the road by two,” Sam calls up the stairs.
“Oh.” Jamie will be disappointed. He barely sees Sam as it is.
“How’s Finn?” I shout down, raking a brush through my hair.
“I’ll let you know when I next see him properly. We’re on different shift patterns at the moment. We pass on the doorstep for about five minutes every day, one of us on the way to work, the other to bed.”
“I’m ready,” I pant, running down the stairs a few minutes later and finding Sam sitting on the bottom step.
“Passable.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you.”
Tears build in my eyes again and I nod. “You too.” All of a sudden I’m glad Jamie is at school and it’s just me and Sam. I don’t have to carry the conversation along and pretend to be coping better than I am. I don’t have to be a mum. I can just be me, whoever that is.
* * *
—
The restaurant is quiet and we choose a table in the corner by a long glass window that looks out to the gardens. Huge cowhides hang on the walls beside metal sculptures of birds and other creatures.
Sam orders the burger—a towerlike mountain of bread and meat with French fries in a silver pot on the side. I have fish and chips. The portion is huge but I eat until my stomach hurts. In between mouthfuls we bend our heads over the Sunday cryptic crossword that Sam produces from his pocket like a child with a stash of secret sweets to share.
I try my best to work through the clues. But my thoughts are clogged—a blocked sink—and the answers trickle out in between conversations about Mum, and about Finn and Sam and their life in Sheffield. We stay on safe ground in the restaurant. Neither of us mentions you, or how Jamie and I are coping, and I’m grateful for that.
“It’s been so good to see you,” I say as we step out into the cold afternoon light, my stomach aching with the addition of so much food. “You didn’t need to come all this way.”
“Yes, I did.” Sam drops his arm around my shoulders and steers me to his car. It’s an old Volvo, racing green with rusted dents. “You’re an amazing woman, Tess. After what you’ve been through. . . .”
I nod but say nothing. My throat is aching and I feel the tears threatening. We’ve had such a nice lunch, I don’t want to cry now. I clench my teeth together until the feeling passes.
“Will you come and see us soon?” Sam asks. “Might do you good to get out of the village for a week.”
“Did Mum put you up to saying that?” I narrow my eyes but smile too. “She said the same thing.”
“No, but I can see why she would. Rattling around in that old house all the time, it can’t make things any easier.”
“I . . . It’s hard going out alone right now. The other week I had a sort of panic attack in a shop. If Shelley hadn’t been there I don’t know what I’d have done.”
For a second I wonder if I should tell Sam about the man who chased me and the person who came into our house when I was out, but I don’t. Shelley has been by my side this whole time and even she doesn’t believe me. I picture her now, standing in the dining room doorway when the stupid electronic voice told me my messages were all gone. Her face said it all. And if she isn’t sure, then what chance have I got of convincing Sam?
“It’s Jamie’s birthday in a couple of weeks,” I say instead, turning my gaze toward the village and farmland below. The river has burst its banks and spilled out across the fields in one giant lake.
“I know,” Sam says from behind me. “Will you be all right?”
“I guess so. It’ll be hard.” A stone settles in my chest thinking of Jamie’s birthday without you. “I’ll invite Shelley over.” She’ll make it more of a celebration than I ever could.
Sam doesn’t reply but I sense he wants to say something, and I turn to face him. “What?” I ask.
“Look, don’t shoot the messenger here, OK?”
“What?”
“It’s just, remember that bloke that was hanging around Mum after Dad died?”
“Of course I do. He wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“You made me have a man-to-man chat about his intentions toward her.” Sam pulls a face that makes me smile. “And it turned out he’d been in love with Mum for years and was desperate to step into Dad’s shoes. Mum was horrified when we told her. She thought he was just bei
ng a good friend.”
“So? What’s that got to do with Shelley?” I feel myself bristle.
“Probably nothing. Look—I’m glad you’ve got a new friend helping you right now, but I just want you to be sure she’s not after something else, that’s all. You could be a wealthy woman now, Tess, and I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you. Don’t you think it’s odd that she’s asking Mum and me to call her rather than you? We’re your family, you know.”
“Only because I asked her to,” I reply.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” The truth is I can’t remember, but if it was Shelley’s idea to speak to Mum and Sam for me, then it was only because she was trying to help.
“OK then, but I’m still going to call you, whether you pick up or not.”
I smile and we hug, long and tight. “I will answer, I promise. You don’t need to worry. Shelley is a good friend, that’s all. She doesn’t want to fill Mark’s shoes,” I try to joke. “Ian gave me the same warning, by the way.”
“Ian, Mark’s brother?”
I nod. “He’s been hounding me to get Mark’s estate sorted out. Apparently Mark borrowed some money from Ian and now he needs it back.” A shiver travels over my skin thinking of Ian. I’m sure it was him who came into the house when I wasn’t there.
“Would Mark have done that without telling you?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I’ll figure it out.”
“You will let me know if you want to talk about it or need help?” Sam asks, opening his car door. “I’m here for you, Tess. Please say you’ll think about coming up to Nottingham for a visit?”
“Maybe in the summer. Let me get Jamie’s birthday out of the way and we’ll put a date in the diary.”
Sam nods but I can tell he’s still worried.
“You’d better hit the road,” I say.
“Get in then.”
“It’s OK. I’ll walk back.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’ll do me good.” I’ll walk slowly and take the long way around the village, and then it will be time to collect Jamie from school.
“Take care of yourself, sis.”
“Thanks for coming,” I say.
Sam jumps into his car. The engine whines for a moment before starting. As he pulls away he makes a phone sign with his fingers as he passes. I nod and wave and start walking.
On the walk into the village I think of the crossword questions and the feeling of the answers being just out of reach. My mind wanders to the notebook I keep beside the bed. The pages are filling up, but the harder I try to understand, the more questions I seem to have.
I can’t keep living in the dark like this; I have to try to find the answers. Starting with the boxes in your study and why Ian was looking through them.
* * *
—
I didn’t touch the boxes this afternoon. I had a dozen reasons, a dozen excuses, why tomorrow would be a better day to start. Maybe I was putting it off, or maybe seeing Sam wiped me out. The long walk back from the restaurant didn’t help. I’m not exactly fit at the moment.
After school I let Jamie play on the PlayStation until his eyes went bleary. We picked at the leftover paella and watched Tom and Jerry episodes that were older than I am. I went to bed straight after reading to Jamie, cocooning myself up in my duvet and letting my eyes pull shut. It was the first night I’ve gone to bed without you that I thought I might actually sleep.
I was wrong.
CHAPTER 37
The phone rings. Right when I’m in that place between wake and sleep and I think it’s a dream. The trilling noise rolling in my unconscious, prodding me, scaring me—another nightmare to add to the rest. But it’s not. I open my eyes and blink in the darkness.
My hand flails on the covers, patting your side of the bed for my phone. When the display lights the room in a green-white glow I see it’s not even nine o’clock.
I tilt my head and listen for a message, expecting and hoping it’s Shelley, but there is only silence. Another hang-up. A slow fear trickles through my body. There is no way I can fall asleep now.
I thought they’d stopped, Mark.
It’ll be a call center, Tessie. Mum complained all the time about them ringing all hours of the day and night, remember?
I guess.
I struggle out of bed and pad down the stairs, flicking lights on as I go. I need water and mindless TV to take my mind off the call and the fear now trickling through me. There must be a predictable action film on one of the three hundred channels we have access to. Or some kind of reality show. Anything with chatter and noise and life.
I’m in the kitchen gulping back a glass of water when the phone rings again. I don’t move. I count the rings all the way to four and let the answerphone pick up. If it’s Shelley, I’ll answer.
“Tess?” His gravelly voice steals my breath. “I know you’re there, Tess. I can see you in the kitchen. Pick up the phone.”
The menace in his tone chills my blood as much as his words. He can see me. He’s outside. I leap to the nook, expecting the side door to fly open. My slippers skid on the tiles, but I reach the door and check the bolt with shaking hands. It’s locked. My heart is hammering hard enough to explode in my chest.
“Don’t worry, Tess. I’m not coming in today,” he says, his gravelly laugh carrying into the kitchen. “I just want to talk. Pick up the phone.”
I move quickly past the window, my eyes scanning the driveway for movement, but all I see is darkness.
“Pick up,” he barks again when I make it to the phone in the dining room.
My whole body is shaking. All I want to do is run up the stairs as fast as my legs can carry me and barricade myself in Jamie’s room. But I can’t. Our baby boy is sleeping in his bed and there’s a man outside our house. There is nowhere to run.
“Who . . . who is this?” I stammer, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Your husband has something of mine.”
“Who is this?” I ask again in a voice stronger than I feel. I jerk my head to the dining room window. Can he see me? I step into the hallway and sink to the cold floor.
“I need it,” he says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There’s another croaky laugh. “I think you do, Tess. Your husband has got himself into a world of trouble and I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Mark was working on something for me, and you’re going to get it and give it back to me.”
“I . . . I don’t know what it is. Mark never talked to me about his work. I can’t help you.”
“You’re a smart woman, you’ll figure it out. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to that darling child of yours.”
“Leave my son out of it.” The words tumble out at the same speed as the tears rolling down my face.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of hurting anyone.” The malice in his voice says otherwise.
“I . . . I don’t know anything. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out, Tess.”
“How do you know my name?” A scream forms in my throat, lodging against my larynx so every word is a fight to get out.
“I know everything about you. Now be a good girl and get me the file before my patience runs out.”
“But—”
“No buts, Tessie.” He drags out my name for several seconds before there’s a click and the line is dead.
I drop the phone and shrink all the way to the floor until my cheek presses against the wood. The house is spinning and all I can hear is my breath dragging in and out. I can’t get the air in, Mark. I can’t breathe.
Stop, Tess. You can.
I can’t.
Blotches of black creep across my eyes.
&
nbsp; I can’t breathe.
I’m going to die here.
You’re not, Tessie. Remember the first time we met, at Stacey’s housewarming party? You wore that black top with the glitter on it and I was still in my suit. You asked me if I was the real estate agent who sold Stacey the house, and I asked if that was your chat-up line.
Keep talking.
There were too many of us crammed into a tiny living room and the music was so loud, the walls were vibrating. We found a quiet spot in the garden and talked all evening.
I knew the moment I saw you that it was something special.
Me too, Tessie. I felt it too. I was supposed to fly to Portugal the following Friday for a golf weekend with friends. I canceled the trip so I could see you instead.
I remember.
My breathing changes—each inhale takes a little longer. I sit up, cradling my head in my hands until the spinning stops.
I can still hear his voice, Mark. He called me Tessie. Why did you tell him that? You’re the only one who has ever called me Tessie, and only when we were alone. It was ours and no one else’s.
Do I call the police? He said you were in trouble, Mark. Is it the kind the police would ask about? The newspapers are still desperate for news about the crash. If they find out that one of the victims was breaking the law, they’d splash your photo over the front pages, drag you in the mud, and Jamie and me along with it. I can’t do that to Jamie. I have to figure this out for myself.
I crawl on the floor, the wood hurting my knees as I move to the stairs. My body is shaking from the words of the man whose name I still don’t know. I grab the banister and pull myself up.
I reach the study and flick on the light. The first box is sitting wonky, the lid not quite shut from the last time I looked in it.
I still don’t know what I’m searching for, but I have to look, and properly this time.