‘It’s okay, I was awake anyway. What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You never were a good liar.’
Steve smiled at his wife before his expression changed to a frown. ‘It’s Chris.’
‘I thought so.’
‘What do I do?’
‘Give him time.’
‘He’s had time.’
‘Give him a little more. He’s not like you; he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s not able to say what he feels and move on. He keeps things in.’
‘I know. I’m just worried he’ll get himself mixed up in something, like he did before.’
‘I’m sure he won’t.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘How old were you two when that happened?’
‘I don’t know, twenty-one, maybe twenty-two.’
‘Exactly. It was a long time ago. Chris isn’t stupid.’
‘I just feel like I’m letting him down.’
‘You’re not; you’re being a great friend. Giving him the space he wants, but also reminding him that you’re there if he needs you.’
‘Kristy, I’m worried. What he’s doing isn’t healthy. He needs someone to talk to.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
That was the question that had kept Steve awake. He loved his friend. Trusted him and respected the decisions he made. Even if he didn’t agree with them all. It went against his principles to try force his way into his life. But sometimes people needed tough love.
‘What would you do?’
‘If I was as worried as you are, I’d do something about it.’
She leaned over and kissed him on the head before switching off the light and lying back down, her back to him.
‘Thanks, love.’
In the darkness Steve thought about sending a text right then, but decided against it. He would sleep, think about what he would say, and then somehow work his way back into his best friend’s life.
Chapter 11
11.31 p.m. – Kings Road, Cambridge
It felt like such a relief when I finally shared the secret that I had been holding on to for weeks, and telling Natalie had been far easier than my imagination had ever made it. I had been dying to talk with her. To have another person’s perspective and thoughts on the situation. To share my burden and give me a moment of rest from the constant onslaught of unanswered questions that played in my mind.
However, more than that, more than the constant wondering what if, bad dreams, and anxiety, I struggled because I was hiding something from the one person I’d always told everything to. Nat was my best friend. We had no secrets.
As I stepped into the kitchen Natalie was sat at the table, book in hand and two cups of tea steaming beside her. Seeing her there for me filled me with happiness and relief. Sometimes I wondered who in fact was the big sister in our relationship. I was by age but, by level of emotional intelligence, I always felt like a child around her. As I sat down I picked up the mug and wrapped both hands around it, using it to warm me. She didn’t press or ask questions but patiently waited for me to drink some and work out how I would begin talking.
Struggling to catch my breath and with my voice shaking, I told her everything. Once I began I couldn’t stop until everything was out. Everything I had been thinking and feeling since that night at the station. Finally, once I was done, it felt like a huge weight off of my shoulders.
I was expecting her to tell me off for taking as many risks as I had over the past two weeks and not letting her know where I was. But instead she reached over and took me by the hand.
‘Sounds like you’ve had a rough time.’
‘It’s been something.’
‘You should have talked to me earlier.’
‘I know.’
I could feel myself begin to well up and Natalie stood and walked to my side. Then dropping to her knees she gave me the hug I didn’t know I needed so badly.
‘You’re too caring for your own good; you know that?’
‘I just wanted to help him.’
‘I know you did. I know.’
Natalie then told me what I needed to hear. ‘But you have to let it go, Sarah. He isn’t your responsibility.’
‘I know.’
‘Things are going really well for you at the moment; you should be focused on that. Not trying to find a suicidal and dangerous man.’
‘He isn’t dangerous.’
‘How do you know that? Because he was sad?’
‘Yes, and other things.’
‘What things, Sarah?’
‘I don’t know, just things.’
‘He was there to kill himself, Sarah.’
‘I know, Nat. I just want to …’
‘Do what? Help him? Save him?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s not yours to save.’
‘I know that, but he’s a good man.’
‘How could you possibly know that, Sarah?’
‘I just do.’
‘No offence, sis, but you don’t exactly have a good track record with identifying goodness in men.’
‘What?’
‘Micky was as emotionally intelligent as a three-year-old. Paul liked a drink and John …’
I shot her a look that stopped her mid-sentence. We both knew what John was. She looked down briefly as a way of saying sorry before continuing more softly.
‘He is not your responsibility. He doesn’t even want your help.’
I couldn’t look at my sister any more. Instead I focused on the kitchen floor near the cooker where a piece of uncooked pasta poked out from under it.
‘Nat, you don’t know that.’
‘It was a complete coincidence you were there. He expected to be alone.’
Hearing her say it out loud hurt. She was right. It was a fluke I was there and stopped him. I felt a tear escape from my eye.
‘Sarah. Look at me. It’s so sweet and kind that you’re this upset about a stranger. But obsessing about him won’t help anyone.’
I couldn’t stop myself crying as I spoke. A hole that had been opening over the last two weeks was finally big enough for my feelings to fall out.
‘But he doesn’t have anyone else, Nat.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do.’
‘You don’t. You’re assuming.’
‘I can’t get him out of my head.’
‘That’s because you’re not letting yourself. This is going to sound harsh. But some people don’t want to be saved. You wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me if you didn’t already know all of this.’
‘I know; you’re right.’
‘So I’m telling you. Let it go.’
I told her that I wouldn’t go back to the station. I had to let all of it go, not just the physical searching but the quieter emotional searching too.
I nodded at my sister’s sound advice, trying desperately to ignore the thought that had recently grown in my mind, its branches beginning to stretch down past my eyes and towards my chest. The thought that I knew was ridiculous to think, for I knew nothing about him besides his wish to die. It wasn’t a thought I could put into a sentence yet, but knew that it wouldn’t be long before I could.
It was in the way he looked at me. It was something in his gaze, and although I had justified it by the intensity of the situation, and his desire to die, there was no use. His glances at me penetrated deeply into my very being, cutting through all of the hurt, touching my soul.
The few words he said to me were so real and raw it felt like I had known him for ever. It was ridiculous I know, but I couldn’t help, even though it was stupid, thinking it could be like an old movie. If only I could work out where he was. Then I would find him and our lives would change again, but this time for the better. However, life wasn’t an old movie. I knew that. It was hard, at times sad, and good people didn’t always win; good people sometimes died.
Looking at my younger sister who w
as trying to read my thoughts, I could see myself in her eyes and I could see that the girl looking back was not someone I wanted to be. Natalie was right. It was time to leave the past where it belonged.
I said I needed some time and Natalie agreed, saying she would see me tomorrow. Then she kissed me on the cheek and went to bed. Leaving me alone to make a mental list of things I needed to box away in the morning. The newspaper clippings, the notes I had made. The letter of his I had found. It all had to be filed away in a place where I couldn’t accidentally find it. I knew I should bin it all and yet, I knew that wouldn’t happen.
As long as it was packed away and collecting dust that was enough. I finished my cold tea and went upstairs to bed. As I undressed and emptied my jeans pockets I uncovered a packet of chewing gum, £3.18 in change, and his black polished stone. I kept it with me in case I ever saw him again, so I could give it back. Maybe that was all I could do for him. Return a lost item. The more I thought of it the more it made sense. It would show him I cared. It would extend a hand in help, telling him he was understood.
I had just promised Natalie I would stop looking, and I would … after this one thing. I knew she wouldn’t approve but I needed to make sure he had it back before I tried to forget about him. With the stone still in my possession I knew I wouldn’t be able to shake him. I would tell her that she needed to do one thing for me to help me get on with my life like she wanted.
I remembered seeing his bank card poking out of his wallet: HSBC. She worked for the same bank he had an account with. She could find out his address for me. I just had to convince her it was a good idea.
Chapter 12
August 2011 – Julia’s diary
Mum had always told me to trust my instincts. She says that they are the one part of us that cannot lie, even if we want them to, but if I’m honest, for a long time I have dismissed it as an old wives’ tale. Just Mum tending to lean towards superstitions in her own whacky, wonderful Mum-like way.
Although, since meeting Chris my instincts have told me things. Deep things, things I shouldn’t know after only a month of knowing him. Things I still can’t let myself say, not yet, but what I will say is that I am hoping he feels something similar. I think he does. I think I can see it in the way he looks at me – a sort of tenderness that happens in his eyes – making me feel a little lost.
I first saw it a few days ago. When he took me on a surprise day out, like something out of a romance book my mum reads that makes me secretly wish something like that would happen in my life. Just me writing that down makes me sound like I’m writing a Mills & Boon novel.
He picked me up at eleven, and was perfectly on time. As I got into his car and gave him a kiss he told me we were going to the seaside for the day. He had packed a picnic hamper and a throw for us to sit on. He even had a cool bag with strawberries and fizzy wine. Serious brownie points were scored.
The drive took about an hour and although we chatted freely I could tell he was still a little nervous, even after a month of us spending time together. Most of the time guys I’ve been with aren’t nervous at all. They usually overcompensate with manliness that’s designed to be attractive. Some women like it, but it has never really done anything for me. His almost meekness is different and I find it unusual and intriguing.
As we drove with the windows down I watched him, his strong jaw, muscles flexing, his wide hands gripping the steering wheel leading up his toned arms to muscular (but not too muscular) shoulders. He was wearing a white shirt and sky blue shorts that allowed me to see his legs for the first time. I was hoping he wasn’t a gym buff who forgot to train his lower body. But as I looked I saw they had the shape of a cyclist’s legs. More brownie points scored. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help but think about us having sex. For a moment wondering when it would be.
I was expecting us to go to Hunstanton, the usual destination when driving to that part of the coast, but we passed it and continued for another ten minutes to a lesser-known beach called Brancaster. I hadn’t been there before and was amazed at how long the stretch of sand was that was relatively quiet. We walked along the coastline for about fifteen minutes and as we walked he asked to hold my hand.
Once we were far enough away from the kite flyers, dog walkers, and occasional family building sand castles behind windbreakers we stopped and he laid out the throw for us to sit on. We talked about everything. Our pasts and plans for the future, although we were a little guarded about the latter. I mean, who knows right? We might end up as a proper couple; we might not. Sometimes you just can’t tell and a month in it’s too soon to think of us doing anything other than dating, isn’t it?
We ate and walked to the sea and splashed in it. Laughing as we did. I like his laugh. It’s bright and unreserved. During one of our quiet moments as we were walking in the surf, the cold water lapping at our toes and the sun warm on our backs, I let myself see something in the future with him. A happiness that I’d not had before. It felt good to think about it, but also terrifying.
At Brancaster there is a shipwreck which, when the tide is in, looks far out to sea. But, as the tide goes out it ended up beached. He asked if I wanted to go exploring so we walked to it, strolling over the uneven wet sand for what seemed like miles. Its hull was half-buried, creating small pools of water that clung to the side of the life-supporting rusted metal.
He pointed out a seagull that swooped down and picked up a crab before carrying it away to be eaten. After it was gone I watched him looking into the sky, a smile on his face. I wanted to ask why he was smiling like he did. But stopped myself. Instead I turned to start walking back towards our stuff, only to see the tide had come in and swept around us, meaning we had to wade chest-high in water to get back to the shore.
By the time we were back my hair was soaked and my T-shirt clung to me. He took his off and gave it to me to wear. Maybe his sense of being a gentleman outweighed his shy demeanour? That would be nice if that’s the case. After he gave me his shirt I leant in and kissed him. My lips pressing firmly on his. The sea seeming to stop around us. As he pulled away he stroked my cheek and looked at me, with that expression that told me more than either of us could say. It was only for a moment before he looked down shyly, but it was there. And I know he saw the same look in me.
We walked back in silence, hand in hand, my fingers fitting perfectly in his strong grip, and drove home. Him putting on an old jumper from his boot that smelt strongly of him. The journey back felt very different to the one there; it felt calm, peaceful. For long parts of it we didn’t talk, but it wasn’t at all awkward. I just watched the sun begin to change colour as it started setting. I ran my hand through the wind. I’ve not done that since I was a kid.
He kissed me again after he walked me to my door and I wanted to invite him in, but before I could he stopped me. Saying that he really liked me and he didn’t want to rush.
I’ve never had a man do that before and I know it’s way too soon to be thinking into the future. But still …
Chapter 13
15 days left
9.31 a.m. – St Andrew’s Street, Cambridge
Natalie knew I was up to something when she came into the kitchen, and saw me up and making breakfast for her George and myself.
‘Sarah, are you okay?’
‘Yep, I’m fine,’ I lied. I was nervous, and I knew she could see it. What I was about to ask her would go one of two ways, but despite this I knew it was something I had to do.
‘What do you want?’
‘What makes you think I want anything?’
‘Because I know you, Sarah, so just ask.’
‘I need a favour.’
‘Okay?’
‘You’re not going to like it but I need you to listen.’
‘Sarah, just say it already.’
‘I saw that night that he banked where you work.’
‘Sarah, I thought we agreed you were going to leave it behind.’
‘I am, I really a
m. But first, I need you to find his address for me.’
‘You want me to do what exactly?’
‘I have something of his and I want to give it back.’
‘Let me get this right: you want me to go to work and risk my job to find his address.’
‘I know it’s wrong …’
‘It’s illegal, Sarah.’
‘I know, but …’
‘I wait up for you last night and give you advice, which you agreed with, and now you ask me to do this so you can find him?’
‘Nat, please just listen …’
‘No, Sarah. You’re unbelievable.’
George stumbled into the kitchen, the noise having woken him up.
‘Is everything all right?’
I looked at Nat, hoping she wouldn’t tell him about Chris. For some reason I knew if he knew I wouldn’t ever be able to convince my sister to help me.
‘It’s fine, George; go back to bed.’
‘Just call me if I can help, okay?’ he said as he left and went back upstairs.
Once he was gone I looked at my sister, who was sat at the kitchen table, clearly upset with me. I knew I was wrong to ask and I was putting her in such a difficult position, but I had no choice. As I spoke I did so at barely a whisper.
‘I’m sorry I’ve asked, but I need your help. I need to get it back to him.’
‘Why?’
‘I think it’s important. Besides, I want to forget him. I really do.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, or I’d not have talked to you. But I can’t forget him when I have this.’
‘Throw it away then.’
‘Natalie. Please.’
She lifted her head and looked at me, really looked at me, and I held her gaze. I think she took pity on her big sister. She could see in my eyes I was desperate. And I was. This was more than just returning the stone. This was me finding out if he was still alive.
She told me that if she found his address I had to post the stone to him and leave it at that. I pleaded with her. What if it was lost in the post? You can’t trust Royal Mail. I needed to hand deliver it. That wasn’t true. I wanted to see his front door, where he came and went. I wanted to stand where he stood. And if I was lucky enough, to see him. Although I would have no idea what to do if I did.
Our Little Secret: The most gripping debut psychological thriller you’ll read this year Page 8