11 Missed Calls

by Elisabeth Carpenter

  ‘Have you got a pen?’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Anna

  Debbie has her arm around Monica’s shoulder. Dad’s face is completely white, his mouth open.

  ‘I … I thought you were dead,’ he says. He walks towards her; Monica stands aside. He touches Debbie’s arm. ‘Is it really you?’

  She nods. ‘I’m so sorry, Peter. I … I know I shouldn’t have come – I didn’t want to upset you, you’ve all moved on with your lives … I just wanted—’

  ‘You don’t have to say sorry, Debbie,’ says Dad. ‘I’m just glad you’re alive.’ He looks at Monica. ‘I can’t believe it, can you?’

  Monica shakes her head, make-up like slug-trails down her face.

  ‘Annie,’ says Debbie. ‘I’d know you anywhere. I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know whether I was right coming here … I …’

  I run over to her and put my arms around her.

  ‘You were right,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so happy to see you. I never thought I would. I’ve been looking for you for years.’

  She holds the top of my arms and stands back to look at me.

  ‘Look at you. You’re beautiful. You look just like my mother.’ She strokes my hair, my face. ‘Just look at you.’ She looks at Jack and Sophie behind me. ‘And with a family, too. I’m so proud of you.’

  They are the words I have wanted to hear from her for all of my life.

  Tears flood my eyes; my body is overcome. I fall into my mother’s arms.

  ‘I missed you so much,’ she says. ‘I wanted to come and see you for such a long time. I thought you were better off without me – that the longer I left it, the more you’d hate me.’

  ‘You should have come,’ I say. ‘I don’t hate you – I love you. I’m not angry with you.’

  Her tears fall onto my neck.

  ‘Thank you, Annie. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear. I love you so very much – I never stopped loving you. Have you been happy?’

  ‘Yes, but I … yes. I have.’

  She pulls away from me and looks at Robert.

  ‘Bobby.’ She holds an arm out to him.

  He looks at us all – his eyes glistening.

  He runs out of the door.

  I glance around the beer garden. Robert’s sitting on a wooden bench; he lights up a cigarette.

  ‘I didn’t know you still smoked,’ I say.

  He blows out the smoke, his bottom lip quivering.

  ‘I thought I’d hate her if I saw her again. But … I don’t. I can’t believe it. I just need a moment.’ He takes a deep breath and rests his elbows on his legs. ‘Do you think she’ll still be there when I go back in? I haven’t upset her, have I?’

  I rub his back.

  ‘You haven’t upset her, Rob.’ I sit down next to him. ‘Shit. I can’t believe it either.’

  ‘Did you know she’d be here?’

  ‘No, not at all. I didn’t even get a reply to that email I sent.’

  ‘We should get back in.’ He flicks his cigarette onto the ground and grinds it with his shoe. He stands. ‘Right. I’m ready now.’

  I follow him inside.

  Debbie’s sitting with Monica – they’re holding both hands together on the table, both still crying.

  Debbie stands when she sees Robert.

  ‘Bobby, love. I’m so sorry.’

  He walks slowly to her. He reaches out to touch her hair.

  ‘It’s really you, Mum. I’ve missed you.’

  Debbie puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls him towards her.

  He lets her – his head below her chin, like he was half the size. For a second, his arms dangle at his side. Then he puts them around her waist.

  ‘My lovely boy.’

  A few moments later, he pulls away.

  ‘I’m sorry if I did something to upset you … to make you leave.’

  ‘Darling.’ Debbie strokes the tears away from his face. ‘It was nothing you did … it was nothing anyone did. I wasn’t very well. I was ill, though I wouldn’t have known it then. I felt I didn’t deserve to have you. I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone you. You deserved better. I love you so much, Bobby.’

  ‘You won’t go away again, will you?’

  ‘No, love. No, I won’t.’

  Jack pulls out a chair for me and pushes me gently onto it. He leans towards Debbie – his arm outstretched.

  ‘Nice to finally meet you,’ he says. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  Debbie holds up a shaking hand to meet his. She holds the wrist with her other hand to steady it.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I’m really nervous.’

  There’s a sound of smashing glass behind us.

  Cold liquid sprays over my legs.

  Grandad.

  He stands amongst the broken shards; droplets of beer drip down the wood panelling.

  ‘Is it really you?’ He looks at each of us. ‘Is it really my girl?’

  ‘It is, Frank,’ says Jack.

  The glass crunches beneath his feet as he walks over to her.

  He brings his hands to her face.

  ‘It’s really you,’ he says. He strokes her cheeks and her hair. ‘It’s been so long, love. Are you all right?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dad. I’m trying to be.’

  He holds her by the shoulders.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you. I never thought I’d see you again. You’re staying for a bit, aren’t you? You won’t just leave me again, will you? At least give me a phone number I can reach you on.’

  Debbie puts her arms on his.

  ‘I’m staying for a while, Dad. If that’s okay? If you forgive me?’

  He takes her in his arms.

  ‘My darling girl.’ He pulls away, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hands. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just so happy you’re alive.’ He pats her arms, her back, her hair, with his arms. ‘You’re real, aren’t you? You’re really here?’

  ‘I’m really here, Dad.’

  Dad and Monica are huddled together on the table next to Debbie and Grandad. He has a hand over hers like he never wants to let go of her again. Jack and Sophie are sitting with me, opposite them. Sophie looks at Debbie, then at me.

  ‘You two have the same face,’ she says. ‘Only yours has a more wrinkles.’ She’s looking at Debbie, who laughs.

  I take in Debbie’s face, her hair. She must dye it, because there are no signs of grey. How long has she been dyeing it? What went through her mind when she did mundane things like that?

  ‘Did you ever think of us?’ I say.

  ‘Every second of every day.’ She reaches across the table to put a hand on mine. ‘I know it’s unforgivable, but I wasn’t well. I didn’t know where I was, half the time. And then there was that terrible accident.’

  ‘What accident?’

  ‘I … Did Ellen not tell you?’

  ‘You know Ellen?’

  Debbie nods.

  ‘Yes. She got out of prison a few months ago. I thought I’d made the whole thing up in my head, but she tracked me down … said I had to make things right. I didn’t know if I had the courage after all of these years, but then Ellen found you – she’s good with the Internet and all of that stuff … she told me where you lived, but I couldn’t just knock on your door. She’d done some volunteer work in the past, so she managed to get a position at your bookshop. I hope you don’t think that’s weird, Annie.’

  I remember the feeling of being watched over the past few days – in town, outside my house. It must have been my mother.

  ‘I … I suppose not,’ I say. ‘I’ve made some questionable decisions myself in the past, so I’m not really one to talk.’

  She frowns slightly.

  ‘But I won’t go into all of that now,’ I say. ‘Go on …’

  ‘Ellen had been thinking about everything when she was in prison, you see. About what happened with Nathan.’

  I shift my chair back a li
ttle.

  ‘What happened to Nathan?’

  Debbie glances at Monica.

  ‘I need to tell Monica first. If that’s okay?’

  ‘And that was why you came back? Not because you wanted to see us?’

  ‘I just needed that push. The longer I was away, the harder it was to come back. I’ve a lot to tell you. If you want to hear it.’

  Jack’s looking at me. He reaches over, and I place my hand on his. Sophie, thinking it’s a game, does the same – both her hands are on top of ours.

  ‘I’ve waited a long time,’ I say. ‘I do want to hear it.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I thought I’d imagined the whole story of that night in my head. I haven’t told it out loud before.

  Monica’s looking at me, frowning. Her eyes never left mine as I told her what happened to Nathan. Dad and Peter were listening silently from the next table. I felt the shame I knew I would feel – my poor dad listening to me describe how I killed my best friend’s husband.

  ‘But why didn’t you just come to me?’ says Monica. ‘Tell me what happened? I wouldn’t have thought you’d done it on purpose. You didn’t murder him, Debbie. It was an accident.’ She breaks eye contact, and looks down at her lap; her left arm is in a support bandage. ‘Poor Nathan. All these years, no one has been grieving for him.’ Tears drip onto her hands. ‘I thought you’d run away together – started again.’

  ‘I wasn’t in love with Nathan.’ I glance at Peter, but he looks away. He’s moved on. Some people find it easier than others. ‘My mind was in a strange place. I didn’t know what was real or not. And after what happened with Annie in the swimming pool, I thought everyone would be better off without me. If I’d been left alone with her again, something worse might’ve happened.’

  Monica grabs a serviette from the table and dabs her cheeks.

  ‘I know this is too late, but I would’ve helped you, you know.’ She leans closer and whispers, ‘I never told anyone about the broken bottle. My loyalty was always with you.’ She glances at the ceiling, blinking to stop more tears. ‘What have you been doing for all of these years?’

  I fold my arms around me.

  I’d imagined her telling everyone about me threatening Nathan with the broken glass. I’d got so many things wrong.

  ‘I went straight back to England, but on the train and then the ferry. I haven’t flown since Tenerife. All the time, I felt people looking at me, was paranoid they could read my mind. If it hadn’t been for my passport, I don’t think I’d have remembered my name. For days, I wore the same dress as that night. Once I reached Dover, I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t have the capacity to book a room at a hotel. I found a café I was comfortable in and stayed there. But it came to closing time and I was lost again. I found a bench and couldn’t stop crying and that’s where the memory ends. Someone must’ve called an ambulance or something, because the next thing I knew I was in hospital. I didn’t know how I got there. The two years were a blur of Valium and Clozapine. I had a bed near the window … it had a view of the car park … like I was looking into the world through the glass. I could curl up and sleep, but if I wanted to see life, I could just sit up and gaze out of the window.’

  Annie and her husband are sitting a few tables down, their heads together, deep in conversation. They’re close, I think. Anyone watching could tell he adores her. I’m so glad she found happiness.

  ‘Why did you send that pink note a few days ago?’ says Monica.

  ‘I … I got scared. I wanted to run away again. But then I realised that I had to face everything. Otherwise you’d never have known what happened. I’m so sorry, Monica.’

  She purses her lips, but her eyes still glisten.

  ‘Anna and Robert need your apologies more than I do.’

  My beautiful children, now grown-up. I’ve missed so much. Would it have been best for them to see me at my worst, and grow up resenting me, or let them start afresh without me? Either way, they must hate me.

  ‘Did you hear about Mum?’ says Dad, breaking my thoughts.

  I turn my chair around and shuffle it towards Dad’s table.

  ‘A few months after she died. I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you through it. I couldn’t believe it. I thought … I thought there was always enough time to come back. I left it too long, didn’t I?’

  ‘She thought she was going to be with you … at the end,’ says Dad. ‘It wasn’t like these dramatic heart attacks you see on television. She was standing in the kitchen. “I don’t feel so good,” she said. “I think I must’ve eaten something off.” She was out of breath, but she hadn’t done anything strenuous … her face was damp with sweat. I grabbed her a chair and sat her down, but she slumped in it … said she had a pain in her jaw. That’s when I knew. I phoned for an ambulance, and when I went back to her, her face was pale, full of pain … I’d never seen her like that before.’

  ‘Oh, Dad. Poor Mum.’

  I want to close my ears, put my hands over them, shut my eyes. But I must listen to it. I have to know. It’s not cowardice, though, is it? If my mind doesn’t work the same way as other people’s. One of my doctors told me that. She said it wasn’t me being lazy or weak, it was my illness. I’ve battled through years to believe that.

  ‘What did she say?’ I ask him.

  I clasp my hands together tightly. I’m right here, I’m listening, I’m in the present. This is real and I’m about to hear my mother’s last words.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Everything’ll be okay if I just breathe.

  ‘She said, “I’m going to be with our little girl now, Frank.”’ Dad glances at the smashed glass on the floor to his right before looking back up at me. ‘I begged her not to leave me, but she did.’

  I put my face in my hands and can’t stop the sobs.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dad.’

  He stands and rests a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘There, there, love,’ he says. ‘You let it all out.’ He puts a hand on my head and smooths down my hair. ‘I never thought I’d see you again, love.’ He kisses the top of my head. ‘I’m so happy that you’re back. I always knew you’d come back to me.’

  I’ve been away for so many years, yet I feel his love as though it were yesterday that I left. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to him, to everyone.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Anna

  Debbie whispered quietly, after speaking to Monica, telling me what happened the night she disappeared. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying.

  None of it has sunk in yet. I still can’t believe she’s alive, but what happened that night … it was like she was describing a film she had just seen.

  ‘Didn’t anyone look for Nathan?’ I asked her.

  ‘His parents are dead,’ she said. ‘They died years before he did.’

  ‘But that didn’t make it right,’ I said. ‘He deserved to be missed.’

  ‘I know, I know. I made the note sound as though we were about to run off together,’ she said. ‘I had his passport, clothes.’ She couldn’t talk about him without crying. ‘I was desperate, Annie. I didn’t know what to do. He’d written me all of these horrible letters. It was one thing after the other. I had – have – depression. I know that now. It was an awful time.’

  ‘What changed?’ I said. I couldn’t believe I was so calm, but I knew the enormity of it wouldn’t hit me until later. ‘What made you contact us?’

  ‘Ellen. She looked for me. I’d read about her in the paper. Did she tell you that she killed her husband? He was such an awful man. He used to hit her, control her – not that that meant he deserved to die. One day, she lost it. Had a kitchen knife ready. That poor woman. She’s been through so much.

  ‘But I wrote back to her because I had to know if what happened that night in Tenerife was real, or just a dream – if my whole life before that had been a dream. It was like myself, my history, had vanished after
that night. I barely remembered who I was, my past.’

  As she spoke, the only person I could think about was Nathan.

  He might’ve been obsessed with her, but he deserved a life – he deserved to be grieved for by someone.

  Now, we’re on our way home.

  I broke down in tears after closing the car door. I couldn’t speak for half an hour.

  Jack rubbed my back.

  ‘We won’t set off until you’re okay,’ he said.

  I tried to speak, to tell him that it might be ages before I’m okay, but I couldn’t.

  ‘What’s wrong with Mummy?’ said Sophie.

  ‘She’s had a shock. She hasn’t seen her mummy since … well, I don’t think she can ever remember seeing her.’

  ‘But Monica’s her mummy.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Jack. ‘But the other lady is Mummy’s biological mother. She was very ill and wanted to get better.’

  ‘What’s a biological mummy? Is it like a robot?’

  I almost laughed.

  I sat up, wiping the tears with my cardigan.

  ‘No, love,’ I say. ‘But I think that’s a talk for another day.’ I reached over for Jack’s hand. ‘Let’s go home, shall we?’

  We’re passing through town and everything looks the same.

  Debbie promised to visit me and talk properly. I hope she does – I have to trust that she won’t leave again. I want to get to know her – show her the box of things I’ve kept. I think she’ll like that – to know that she was missed, and loved.

  Robert talked to her again after drinking four double vodkas. I don’t know what he said to her, but I hope he was kind. I hope he saw that she’s a person, with troubles all of us have. It wasn’t our fault – it wasn’t anyone’s fault. She thought she prevented us from having an awful life with her, but I wish we’d been given the chance to see for ourselves. But we can’t turn back time, can we? Debbie must’ve known she’d left us in good hands with Dad and Monica.

  Just before I left, she gave me a canvas shopping bag, with seven or eight books inside.

  ‘Don’t look at them now,’ she said. ‘But these are my diaries … though they might be a little sparse … they don’t cover the whole time I was away. I thought … well, there’s nothing in there that I wouldn’t tell you. You don’t have to read them. It’s probably mostly boring stuff anyway—’