11 Missed Calls

by Elisabeth Carpenter

  I knew it was Debbie. I didn’t have to look further to know her rotting corpse lay before me.

  Jack turns over in the bed so he’s facing me.

  ‘Did the alarm go off?’ he says, his throat croaky.

  ‘No. I was awake. It’s Sunday, anyway.’

  ‘Nice one,’ he says. ‘What time can I sleep till?’

  I wish I were more like Jack. He never wakes and thinks of his worries; he just wants to sleep more.

  ‘Whenever Sophie wakes you,’ I say. ‘The party’s at three. I’m going to see Dad before it starts.’

  Jack groans. He folds the pillow and lays his head on it.

  ‘I thought we talked about this last night. We said it was best that we wait until we know more.’

  ‘I know it’s going to be bad news. I can feel it. I’ve never felt this before.’

  My pillow is damp from tears I must have cried in my sleep. I’ve never cried for her before – I’ve always cried for myself.

  ‘Anna,’ says Jack. ‘Why don’t we just forget about everything for a day? A few hours aren’t going to make a difference after thirty years.’

  I get up and grab the outfit that’s hanging on the back of the door.

  ‘I don’t think this can wait,’ I say, before heading to the bathroom.

  The shower is hot on my skin. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Soon, I’m going to find out what happened to my mother. It’s like every cell of my body has known that this is the moment I’m meant to find out – that I’m ready to hear it.

  I step out of the shower. The mirror is steamed up, so my face is blurred. I could be Debbie – it could be her face staring back at me.

  I swipe off the condensation, flick on the tap and splash my face with cold water. I grip the side of the wash basin. I want to go back to not knowing. At least there was hope.

  There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

  ‘Mummy, I really need the toilet.’

  ‘Coming, sweetheart. Won’t be a sec.’

  Thank God for Sophie.

  I stand next to the lounge window with a small mirror to check my make-up. The living room is draped in darkness; outside is overcast. My eyes are swollen with shadows that can’t be hidden with concealer. What’s the point anyway? I slam shut the compact and throw it onto the chair. I rest my palms on the sill.

  I don’t see anyone watching the house, but there is a red car parked a few doors down. I lean closer to the window, but I can’t see if it’s a man or a woman in the driver’s seat. Whoever it is, is looking in my direction. Can they see me, too?

  I rush out of the front door to the gate. The person in the car puts on a baseball cap, turns on the engine and reverses around the corner of the next street. It’s a new car – I can’t tell the make from here, but it looks like the one I’ve been seeing these past few days. It speeds off in the opposite direction.

  It probably has nothing to do with me. I’ve probably caught them spying on someone else. But my heart is pounding; I feel like I’m being watched.

  I look down the other side of the street.

  ‘Oh!’

  Mr Robinson from next door is right next to me.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he says. ‘This was posted through our letterbox by mistake yesterday.’

  He hands me a brown envelope.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You jumped about ten metres off the ground then, Mummy,’ Sophie says as I walk back into the living room.

  She’s standing on the sofa, looking out of the window.

  ‘Mr Robinson gave me a fright, that’s all.’

  ‘I saw a car speed off. They must’ve been watching F1 like me and Daddy.’

  ‘Yeah … they must have.’

  I look down at the envelope, and race up the stairs, opening our bedroom door.

  Jack has the pillow over his head.

  ‘I think this is it,’ I say.

  He groans again and takes the pillow away.

  He sits up, taking the letter from me.

  ‘I’ll open it later,’ he says. ‘All of this can wait until after the party. We have to be there for Robert.’

  ‘But don’t you need to know? What if you have a son?’

  He gets out of bed and puts on his dressing gown.

  ‘I need to do it in my own time, Anna.’

  He walks out of the room and slams the bathroom door shut.

  It took Jack two hours to come out of the bathroom, and another hour to get ready. I watched as he did his hair in the hall mirror.

  ‘Why are you in such a good mood?’ I said.

  ‘Because we are forgetting everything for a few hours and I’m practising now.’

  He must’ve read the results, I thought. He must’ve been digesting the news while getting ready.

  I put sparkly gel in Sophie’s hair – glad that she’s not into plaits, because I would be useless – and all I could think of was the boy who might be Jack’s son, although he’s almost a teenager now. Would he want to live here? We would have to convert Jack’s office into a bedroom for him. It would be a fresh start for all of us. I could move on from Debbie and concentrate on someone else.

  But then it struck me how selfish my thoughts were.

  This boy has just lost his mother – a mother who he’d grown up with – a mother that was his sole parent. Jack would be a stranger to him. And there I was, planning happy families in my head – trying to fill a hole in my own life.

  Now, we’re on the way to the party. No, I think to myself, in the passenger seat of Jack’s car, I will plan nothing. I will let other people decide what they want to do. I can’t control everything, everyone. I must let go, stop being so anxious. However much I’ve tried to keep everything together, I can’t control everything. Perhaps realising that is what will make me happy.

  ‘There’s a good turnout,’ says Jack as we pull into the car park of The Continental.

  ‘There must be a lot of customers, too,’ I say.

  Jack rolls his eyes at me, and I smile.

  ‘Sorry. Yes. It’ll be a lovely party for Robert.’

  Jack takes off his seat belt and leans over, kissing me on the cheek.

  ‘I have to tell you now,’ he whispers, ‘my DNA test was negative.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me when you first read the results?’

  He gazes out of the windscreen.

  ‘Because I made a big deal out of waiting until after the party … I don’t know … I had to process it all.’ He turns, his eyes meet mine. ‘You look disappointed. Are you?’

  ‘I don’t know … perhaps.’

  He shakes his head a little, smiling.

  ‘You’re always yearning for something,’ he says. ‘Isn’t what we have together enough?’

  We both look behind us at Sophie in the back seat, engrossed in a game on her DS.

  ‘This is enough,’ I say, looking back at him. ‘It’s more than enough.’

  Jack puts a hand on the door handle.

  ‘So, how about we party like it’s 1999?’

  ‘Er, you’ve been to my family’s parties before, right?’

  He opens the door. ‘1999 was a pretty bad year for me, to be honest.’

  I playfully slap his thigh before opening the car door.

  Jack and I each hold one of Sophie’s hands. We swing her all the way to the entrance.

  ‘Can I have a wine?’ she says.

  ‘No,’ Jack and I say at the same time.

  Inside, I scan the place for Robert. I recognise some of his friends from university, sitting round a large table on the left, but he’s not with them.

  ‘Hello, Annie.’

  It’s Ellen, standing at the bar.

  ‘Oh. It’s you,’ I say. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘My son gave me a lift. He got back in touch.’

  It didn’t answer my question. She lives nearly twenty miles away – why pick the same pub? Did I mention that Robert’s party would be here?
I can’t remember telling her.

  ‘Your family’s over there.’ She points to the other side of the room, a strange smile on her face.

  ‘Thanks, Ellen.’

  I turn my back on her and walk over to Dad and Robert. They’re standing next to each other, completely still.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I say. ‘Happy Birthday, Robert! Shall we get you a drink? Maybe you could push the boat out and have a vodka.’

  They both turn around.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I say. ‘Are you drunk already, Robert?’

  I look behind them. Monica’s standing with her arms around someone.

  ‘Monica?’

  She turns around, tears and mascara run down her face.

  ‘She came back.’

  I look to the person standing next to her.

  It’s my mother.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  2 a.m. Monday, 28 July 1986

  Debbie

  Ellen stops five feet away from me.

  ‘I’m not going to touch you, Debbie,’ she says. ‘But you need to come away from the edge. This isn’t the way to solve everything.’

  ‘You don’t know me … you don’t know what’s been going on in my life.’

  ‘I’ve seen a snapshot. I’ve seen a husband who loves you, and a best friend that would do anything for you.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got the wrong picture, haven’t you?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m good at reading people and situations. I’ve listened to them when you’re not there. Monica is really worried about you – she was in tears yesterday talking about you, about how you’re like a sister to her. She feels you’re slipping away from her.’

  ‘Really? Nathan thinks her and Peter are having an affair.’

  Ellen gives a laugh – almost like a cackling witch.

  ‘Haven’t you heard the way Peter talks to her? It’s so formal, polite.’

  ‘I’ve never noticed,’ I say. ‘Monica’s right, though. She’s been telling Peter and Nathan that I hear things – voices – telling me to do things. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you. A virtual stranger.’ I give a dry laugh. ‘I’m scared to be with my baby. I’ll do her real harm next time, I know it.’

  ‘You could see a doctor for that.’

  ‘They’d lock me up. I’d never see my children again, anyway.’

  A car screeches to the left – it swerves before stopping. The window rolls down and a man waves a fist.

  ‘Sal de la carretera, estupido ingles borracho!’

  There’s a man, staggering in the road.

  I should’ve guessed: Nathan.

  ‘Oh, fuck off, Manuel,’ he shouts to the driver.

  He laughs as the man pulls away.

  ‘I knew you’d come to our special spot, Debs. Didn’t think it’d take you this long, though. You’ve been hours.’

  He stands next to Ellen, not registering her presence.

  ‘Why are you so close to the edge?’ he says.

  ‘Are the children okay?’

  ‘Course. Monica’s looking after them – they’re fine.’

  ‘Has Bobby asked about me?’

  He shrugs. ‘Not that I heard.’

  I look back into the darkness of the sea. The light of the moon makes it easy to tell where the sea ends and the sky begins. Soon, I’ll be part of that darkness. I close my eyes.

  ‘Please,’ says Ellen. ‘Come away from there.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nathan’s slurring his words. He must’ve had more to drink after I left.

  Everyone’s better off without you. You heard what he said.

  Why am I waiting? I should just jump.

  ‘So, when are we leaving?’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  Don’t turn around again, I tell myself. Don’t.

  ‘I’ve brought a bag … packed our passports, too. I’ve got some savings … from my redundancy.’

  ‘You lost your job?’

  He shrugs. ‘I lost it weeks ago. I was lucky to get a few quid. Not that Monica knows – she’d have spent it by now. I got up every morning in my suit as usual and didn’t come back until tea time. She didn’t suspect a thing. I knew it happened for a reason. I’ve been planning this for ages … since we booked the holiday.’

  ‘Planned what?’

  ‘All of this.’ He swings his arms around and sways as though he might fall over. ‘Okay, well not the bit about you standing on the edge of a cliff.’ He frowns. ‘What are you doing there? You’re not going to jump, are you?’

  ‘You’re pissed, Nathan,’ I say. ‘Go away.’

  ‘Go away? But I thought … we could go somewhere together. It’s what you wanted.’

  ‘I don’t want any of this. I want nothing.’

  Footsteps are coming towards me. A thud.

  I turn.

  He’s dropped the bag; he’s coming closer.

  ‘Don’t come near me, Nathan.’

  A small rock next to my feet falls over the edge. It takes a few seconds before it lands loudly. No splash – just a crack as it hits another rock.

  ‘That’s what would happen to you,’ says Ellen. ‘No splash. Just you and a rock.’

  Ellen notices more than I realised … this person I met only a few days ago. I thought she was drunk all the time, but she picks up on the smallest of things.

  Nathan grabs my right arm, the one closest to the edge, as I turn to face him.

  ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Don’t be silly. You heard what she said.’

  I yank my arm away, but he doesn’t let go.

  ‘Please don’t,’ I shriek.

  Adrenaline pulses through me.

  I step back from the edge with my left foot, leaning heavily on it, but Nathan won’t let go of me. He goes to put his other arm around my left shoulder, but I push it away.

  His foot falters on the edge; his weight pulls me closer to him.

  He slips.

  ‘Ahhh!’

  He cries out in pain as his left knee lands on a rock ten inches down. He’s trying to balance, but he’s faltering. His leg gives way and he lands on his elbows – he howls in pain. I grab both of his hands in mine as the rest of his body flails below. Ellen grabs hold of my waist – trying to pull me and Nathan away from the drop.

  ‘Try and climb back up, Nathan!’ she says. ‘Keep still! Debbie, lie down on the floor. I’ll grab your feet and pull.’

  I do as she says, but my hands burn.

  ‘I don’t know if I can hold on much longer,’ he says, his eyes wide, his face contorted in pain. ‘I must’ve broken my arms – they’re so weak.’

  There are tears in his eyes. We’re holding him, but he’s too heavy – Ellen’s too slight, she has barely the strength to keep me from the edge.

  ‘I don’t want to die,’ he whispers.

  ‘Pull us back, Ellen!’ I shout.

  Nathan’s weight is dragging me towards him, I feel myself slide slowly along the ground.

  ‘I don’t know what to do!’ I scream.

  Ellen looks behind her. ‘There’s no one here to help us. I can’t hold on much longer.’

  ‘I love you, Debbie,’ says Nathan.

  He lets go of my hands.

  Silence.

  I cover my ears – I can’t bear to hear what follows.

  I lie there for what feels like hours before Ellen sits beside me. I push myself up, onto my knees.

  It feels as though something’s blocking my throat – I can’t breathe.

  I try to speak, but instead collapse next to Ellen.

  ‘Here.’ She takes off her sarong and wraps it around my face. ‘I know it’s not the same as a paper bag, but breathe – the carbon dioxide will help you.’

  Inhale, exhale.

  Slowly, slowly, my breathing calms.

  ‘What happened?’ My voice is barely a whisper. ‘It was all too fast. I didn’t know he was going to let go. Do you think he’s all right?’

  Ellen shakes
her head. There are tears pouring down her face.

  ‘No.’

  I crawl forward on my hands and knees, trying to look down at the rocks below.

  ‘I can’t see him.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to.’

  I put my head in my hands, tugging at sections of my hair. I need to feel something.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ says Ellen. ‘He won’t be washed away for a few hours. They’re going to think we pushed him. People might’ve seen a struggle.’

  I turn around, crawl back, and land next to her.

  ‘Washed away? Oh God. He can’t be gone just like that!’

  ‘We have to go, Debbie!’

  ‘I can’t go back, Ellen. What will I tell everyone? How could I look Monica in the eyes, knowing I just killed her husband?’

  ‘But you didn’t – he fell.’

  ‘But Monica saw me threaten him earlier with a broken bottle – she’ll tell the police. Everyone will think I pushed him. He wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for me. I can’t. Oh God. What am I going to do? What would my children think of me … my parents? The shame of it. This can’t be happening.’

  Ellen reaches over for Nathan’s bag. She unzips it.

  ‘He wasn’t lying,’ she says. ‘There’s an envelope full of money here. And passports. He even brought some of your clothes.’ She looks up at me. ‘What a crazy bastard.’ She looks back in the bag and pulls out a paper wallet. ‘Looks like he was planning on writing to people back at home after he left.’

  ‘Can I see that?’

  She hands it to me. Inside are sheets of unused pink notepaper.

  ‘I should’ve realised,’ I say. ‘It could never have been Monica.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve been so wrong. I’m not right, not for anybody. I need to leave.’

  ‘What? You can’t!’

  ‘It’s better than leaving the way I planned to. You can see that, can’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Debbie. This is all madness.’ She stares at the grass, then rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. ‘What shall I say to your family?’

  ‘Say nothing. Pretend this night didn’t happen.’

  ‘You have to let them know where you’re going. They’ll worry about you.’

  I take a piece of the pink paper out of the bag with shaking hands.