11 Missed Calls

by Elisabeth Carpenter

  ‘What?’ She walks towards him. ‘He’s twice the size of me.’

  ‘Monica, everyone is twice the size of you.’

  She glares at him, but he looks away.

  ‘Where did you go with Debbie before?’

  It’s like I’m not standing here, next to them.

  ‘Just a place.’

  Why can’t he just lie? He’s still not looking at her; he’s pulling out tufts of grass and flicking them away.

  ‘It’s embarrassing,’ hisses Monica, ‘you fawning over Debbie. Everyone can see it, you know.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit what you or anyone else thinks.’

  Monica’s face is red. She glances at me, her eyes glistening.

  ‘Sorry, Debs,’ she says. ‘He must really annoy you.’

  ‘Monica! Stop that.’ Nathan’s looking at her now. He gets up slowly. ‘What makes you dictator over everyone? You can’t control my feelings. It doesn’t matter if I like Debbie. I won’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Only because she wouldn’t let you.’

  The talking has stopped behind us. I turn and see the three of them looking at us, the song has ended. Peter’s standing next to the stereo. His head jerks back – he’s wide-eyed. He blinks several times before ‘Agadoo’ booms out from the cassette player. He looks so hurt that I feel a pain in my chest. I walk towards him and reach a hand out to touch his, but he moves it away.

  ‘Do you love Nathan?’ he asks.

  My eyes meet his.

  ‘Of course I don’t. I don’t think I ever did, even when we were kids. I’ve just been a bit lost recently. I—’

  ‘I don’t believe you. You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Nathan’s always around … that little outing you went on to St Annes …’

  ‘I thought you didn’t mind about that. Nathan said he mentioned it to you before.’

  Peter raises his eyebrows, looking at Nathan, shaking his head.

  ‘You don’t have to pretend any more, Debbie,’ says Nathan, striding towards me. He takes hold of my hand. ‘It’s all out in the open now.’

  I wrench my hand from his.

  ‘No. That’s not right. Why are you making this up? You’re deluded.’

  He looks up to the sky before looking at me – his eyes slightly bulging.

  ‘Oh, I’m the deluded one, am I? I’m not the one hearing voices.’

  It’s like he’s taken the air from my lungs. I bend over to catch my breath.

  ‘Fucking hell, Nathan,’ says Monica. ‘What did you say that for?’

  My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground.

  ‘Why did you tell him?’ I whisper to Monica.

  ‘I thought it would help to try to … Oh God, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening here. It’s not my fault. I’ve always tried to help you.’

  ‘See.’ It’s Alan, behind me. He’s revelling in this. ‘Told you she was a crazy bitch.’

  There are footsteps towards the table behind me.

  ‘Just fuck off, will you.’ It’s Peter.

  ‘What?’ says Alan.

  ‘You heard. Get lost. You’re not welcome any more.’

  ‘How bloody rude!’

  ‘Alan,’ says Ellen. ‘We have to go.’

  I turn around and Ellen takes hold of her husband’s arm, pulling him from behind the table. He shakes her off. I see Bobby and Leo fifty feet away – their cameras pointed at the ground. They haven’t noticed the commotion, thank God.

  ‘I was going to leave anyway,’ Alan says, putting his sunglasses on, walking down the path. ‘Worst barbecue I’ve ever been to.’

  Ellen follows behind him.

  Peter’s standing there, holding the metal tongs. Annie lets off a piercing scream.

  ‘Well, just great, everyone,’ he says.

  ‘I’ll see to her,’ I say, crawling on my knees towards her. I unclip the straps and lift her into my arms. ‘There, there.’ I reach under the pram and there’s a bottle of milk that’s cooled. I take off the lid and place it to her lips. She jams her mouth shut. ‘Come on, little one.’

  I try again, droplets of milk spill down her chin. It’s like she’s holding her breath – her face gets redder and redder. I take the bottle away and she opens her mouth with a big scream. I stand and rock her in my arms.

  ‘There, there,’ I whisper. I kiss the top of her head and hold my little finger against her tiny hand. She doesn’t grab it like she usually does. I walk up and down; still she screams. ‘Shh, Annie. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.’

  The other three are just standing there, watching. Monica shakes her head and walks over to us.

  ‘Do you want me to have a try?’ she says.

  ‘No, no. I can do this. I’m her mother.’

  ‘I know, Debs. But you’re stressed. She’ll be able to sense it.’

  ‘What? I’m not stressed! It’s you lot arguing that’s upset her. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘We weren’t exactly arguing. We were only talking.’

  I look to Peter, to Nathan.

  ‘You were arguing, weren’t you?’

  Nathan shrugs.

  ‘We didn’t raise our voices,’ says Peter.

  ‘Oh, great. You’re ganging up on me as usual.’

  Annie’s face is almost purple as she screams.

  ‘We’re not,’ says Monica. ‘It’s just that you’re out of sorts—’

  ‘Have you forgotten what you and Nathan were just talking about? It wasn’t me causing all of this – it was you.’

  ‘But can’t you see, you’re acting strange right now? You’re pacing back and forth so quickly – you’re almost shaking Annie.’

  Peter lets the tongs drop from his hands.

  I stop moving. Is that why I’m breathless? Was I really doing what she says I was doing?

  ‘Here.’ Monica walks towards me slowly. Her smile is false, I can sense it, she’s nervous – I know her too well. Her hands tremble as she reaches for Annie. ‘Just let me see if I can stop her crying.’

  I let her take my baby from my arms.

  Monica cradles Annie close to her chest. ‘There, there.’

  She says the same words as I did, but her voice is so calm. I don’t think mine was.

  It only takes a few seconds for Annie to stop crying.

  They’re all looking at me again. I walk away, still facing them.

  ‘I tried,’ I say. ‘You all saw that I tried.’

  I turn, and I run.

  I’m lying on Bobby’s bed as it’s the one nearest the window. The breeze makes the net curtain billow like my mother’s skirt when she hangs the washing out. I’m so homesick, but not for mine and Peter’s home: for my parents’ house. Dad always knows what to say to make me feel better. He probably knows because of what happened to Mum after I was born.

  I haven’t been abroad before – never been on a plane. Had I told Peter that, or had he assumed I had? Mum and Dad couldn’t afford foreign holidays when I was growing up, not with Dad being constantly threatened with redundancy. I’ve been ashamed about it in the past, not wanting to draw attention to our poverty, but everyone probably knew anyway – we weren’t the only ones.

  Gleeful screams come through the window from the pool. I kneel up and pull across the net curtains. Peter’s watching over Bobby and Leo as they jump in and out of the water. Annie’s buggy is next to him and he’s pushing it backwards and forwards; she must be asleep – I can’t hear her crying.

  Bobby’s made friends already; it’s so easy at that age. The temporary nature of life is more visible when they’re young.

  His hair looks darker when it’s wet – it doesn’t look as red. Luckily his skin doesn’t burn as easily as his dad’s and mine.

  Just look at him. He’s not even wearing arm bands and he’s jumping in and out of the pool. And he’s swimming! Who taught him that?

  I lie back on the bed.

  Annie was so distressed at being anywhere near me. Everyone’s be
tter off without me.

  I sit up and swing my legs to the floor, slipping on my sandals. I stand and lift out one of Annie’s blankets, and inhale the smell. But it’s the one Ellen washed. It doesn’t smell the same. I throw it back into the cot. Now isn’t the time to be sentimental, anyway.

  I know what to do now to make everything better for everyone.

  I walk to the front door of the apartment and take a last look around. I shan’t miss it.

  I open the door, but there’s someone already standing there: Nathan.

  He’s following me around like death’s shadow.

  He pushes me back inside and closes the door. He leans against it.

  ‘I thought you’d come back here,’ he says.

  He presses his hands behind him, against the door, and pushes himself towards me.

  ‘Why are you acting so strange, Nathan?’

  ‘Me acting strange? Look in the mirror! You were all over the place twenty minutes ago, and now you’re all calm.’

  ‘I haven’t got time for this.’

  I try to push him aside to get to the door, but he puts his arm across it.

  ‘Look, Debs, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that – saying you’re acting strange. It’s Monica. It’s all her fault, isn’t it?’

  I stop struggling to get away from him. Standing back, I look at his face. He’s usually cool in the heat, but he’s dripping with sweat; his sideburns are so wet they’ve gone curly.

  ‘I’ve seen how jealous she is of you,’ he says. ‘How do you think it makes me feel? Realising my wife hates me – that she’s in love with her best friend’s husband?’

  I fall against the wall.

  ‘That’s not true. She wouldn’t do that to me. We’re like sisters.’

  ‘Are you, now?’ he says. ‘So why have you been fantasising about me?’

  ‘I …’ I think back to the time when I was pregnant, and just after I had Annie. My head, my hormones, had been everywhere. But how did he know? Was I that obvious? ‘It was just a silly crush,’ I say. ‘For God’s sake … when I was expecting Bobby, I had a crush on the postman.’

  He wrinkles his nose. He moves towards me and puts a hand on my shoulder; the other strokes my face.

  ‘I know it’s not a silly crush, Debs,’ he says softly. ‘We were meant to be together … childhood sweethearts.’

  I take hold of the finger stroking my cheek and push it away.

  ‘We were never sweethearts.’

  ‘But we were in love.’

  ‘We had a great few months, but you wouldn’t give me space. You even hated me spending time with my parents.’

  He breaks into laughter.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Debbie. Who wants to spend time with their own parents – especially at that age?’

  ‘I was seventeen. I pretended to be street-smart, but I was immature.’ I look away from his gaze. ‘I probably still am. I’m letting them down.’

  ‘Who?’

  Nathan tilts his head to the side. The squeals of delight from the swimming pool float through the window.

  ‘Everyone.’

  ‘It’s Monica who made you think you’re crazy. She’s been telling everyone you’ve been hearing voices … that you’ve been wandering the streets in bare feet.’

  ‘She hasn’t told everyone.’

  ‘You don’t understand. She’s a lot sneakier than you realise. She gets into people’s heads – makes them think she’s oh-so innocent, so helpful.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘She’s really got you fooled, hasn’t she? She’s played a long game, I’ll give her that.’

  ‘I’ve known her since I was fourteen – longer than I’ve known you or Peter. She’d never have an affair with my husband … or make me think I’m going crazy. What would she gain from that?’

  He shrugs and walks to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. He opens the lid with a can opener and drinks almost half of it.

  ‘Ahh. Just what I needed.’ He wipes his mouth. ‘I know she doesn’t love me. She’s never home. I don’t know why we’re still together – it’s not as if I’m the kid’s father. She’s always wanted more children. But I can’t be arsed with all of that.’

  ‘The kid? You can’t call him that. And Monica loves you. She’s always saying so.’

  ‘All lies, I’m afraid, Debs.’

  He holds my gaze; he’s no longer sweating. Nathan always was a good liar. No, I didn’t make silent phone calls to your house, he said all those years ago. It wasn’t me who threw stones at your bedroom window.

  I thought he’d grown out of lying – that Monica got the better version of Nathan. But she didn’t, did she?

  ‘I can’t do this any more,’ I say.

  I go to the door, expecting him to stop me, but he doesn’t. I open it, and he doesn’t move.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘For a walk.’

  ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Whatever, Nathan.’

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pink note.

  ‘She wrote these letters.’

  He’s holding the paper in the air. I swipe it from him and put it in my pocket.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Why would I lie to you?’ he says. ‘You’ll find out the truth soon enough.’

  He grabs the top of my arm and pushes me against the wall. He brings his hand up, his thumb and index finger circle my neck.

  ‘Just do it,’ I say, closing my eyes.

  ‘Really?’

  He pushes his knee between my legs; he raises it.

  ‘No, not that.’

  His hand grips tighter around my throat; I open my eyes.

  ‘No!’

  He tilts his head to one side.

  His other hand rests on the wall above me.

  With my right hand, I grab the bottle out of his hand and smash it on the wall at my side; cold beer drips onto my feet.

  I bring the jagged glass towards his neck. He takes his hand away from me. He holds both up in surrender.

  We turn our heads to face the apartment door as it opens.

  Monica.

  She looks from me to Nathan, her eyes wide.

  ‘What the hell is going on? What are you doing, Debbie?’

  I drop the shattered bottle and run out of the open door.

  I sprint down the corridor, to the road, and past the row of shops. Tears are running down my face and my lungs burn.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ says the voice. ‘Keep running.’

  ‘I can’t stop,’ I whisper back. ‘I never want to stop.’

  I must’ve been going round in circles, because it’s dark and I’ve reached the clifftop Nathan showed me earlier. I flick off my sandals and walk close to the edge.

  The rock I’m standing on is only twelve inches long – just a foot stopping me falling into the water nearly five hundred feet below. The stone is cool under my bare feet.

  It’s quiet; there aren’t many cars going past behind me. It must be late, or early. There’s a lovely warm breeze, one you don’t get in England when it’s dark. If it gets stronger, it might push me over the edge. Hitting water from this height is meant to be like landing on tarmac.

  I’ve always been afraid of heights. What a strange time to conquer my fear. Nathan said this part of the cliffs is called La Gran Caída. Perhaps the name will be imprinted on my soul, alongside Bobby’s and Annie’s. I thought that when I had children, I’d become a better person. I think I’ve always had a badness, a sadness, inside me.

  Why are my thoughts everywhere? They need to be here. I’m ridiculous, silly; my mother’s right. She’s always right. I’m useless to everyone. Everyone will be happier without me. Especially the children.

  Oh God, no.

  I can’t think about the children.

  They have Peter. I’d only let them down again. What if I were left on my own with Annie again? I might kill her.

  They’ll forget me s
oon enough. They’re young enough to erase me from their memory.

  Breathe, breathe.

  I’m surprised by how calm I am.

  It’s like my mind was coated in tar, but now it’s been wiped clean.

  I close my eyes.

  So, this is how it ends.

  I thought I’d be scared if ever I fell from such a height, but if I jump there’ll be nothing I can do about it.

  The warm breeze skims my face again. I should be with my children right now, lying next to them, watching them sleep.

  But I can’t. I’m not good enough for them. They’ll end up hating me.

  Bobby, Annie, you were the loves of my life.

  ‘Debbie! For God’s sake, what are you doing?’

  Is that the voice inside my head again?

  I close my eyes. I don’t want anyone to stop me. I just want darkness.

  Don’t look back. I can’t look back.

  ‘Debbie, come away from there!’

  Before I have time to think, I’m turning around.

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘What are you doing so close to the edge?’

  I visualise the picture of Jesus my mother has hanging in the living room. It isn’t a graphic depiction of His death: it’s the Sacred Heart. I can’t believe I’ve not made that connection before: life is eternal. Perhaps it’s Him who’s been talking to me all along.

  ‘Leave me alone, Ellen. I know what I’m doing.’

  She walks closer to me, and my body begins to shake.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Anna

  I stop the alarm before it goes off. I’ve barely slept, and when I managed to drift off, my dreams were of my mother.

  In the first one, she walked along the edge of a bridge as though she were balancing on a tightrope just inches from the ground.

  ‘Come on, Annie,’ she said. ‘Come and have a go. It’s fun – you’ll like it.’

  I was older than her. I had wrinkles around my eyes, yet her skin was so smooth, iridescent and glowing in the sunshine.

  In the next dream, I was crawling in a ventilation shaft – like the ones in American films where the victim hides. The bottom of it, instead of being made from metal, was dirt. Worms wriggled beneath my hands and knees – their shiny skin catching the shards of light that leaked into the darkness. I came to a junction and took a left, but stopped as soon as my hand became tangled in strands of hair. I pulled my hand away, but it was covered in maggots and ants.