by R. A. Casey
“That’s it, Mrs Evatt. Shouldn’t be too long now.”
I nod and smile politely. She looks the sort that likes to small talk, which irritates me. I’m not here because I want to be here. Fuck, is anyone ever at the doctor’s surgery because they want to be?
But I especially do not want to be here. I’m here because Freddie made me come. After the fainting incident yesterday, he wanted me to have a blood test to check I’m okay. As well as “ask to see if your head’s okay,” which I knew didn’t have any intentional double-meanings deep down, but I can’t help view it that way.
The back of my head is fine, physically. A little scab where I’d banged it on the kitchen floor, but nothing serious. Definitely didn’t need any stitches.
But the insides of my head…
I tense up. I know what I saw yesterday. I know a man called Calvin came to our door. I know he handed me a parcel. I know he claimed to be from 19 Fairhawk Avenue, and I know he called me by my name and called Freddie by his name, too.
And I know what was inside that parcel.
A parcel that went missing.
And I know he claimed to live on a road that didn’t exist.
But naturally, Freddie had questions. And he had concerns. So he wanted me to head over here, to get my blood taken.
And to have a chat with the doctor about my experience, too.
“Your partner mentioned something about a fall?” Doctor Murray asks.
“Oh,” I say, hating Freddie for mentioning it. Bastard. “Yeah. I slipped. Banged my head on the kitchen floor.”
“Want me to take a look at it?”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“I’m the doctor, lovey. You should let me be the judge of that.”
I sigh. Shrug. I decide I don’t like her. She’s too jovial. Unprofessional for a doctor. Yeah, she might be young, and she might be pretty, but that’s nothing to do with anything. She’s just playing the novelty character role too much, and it pisses me off.
Fuck. I sound like a real grumpy bitch. When did I get so miserable?
She looks at the back of my head. Winces a little. “Ouch. You took quite a tumble, didn’t you?”
“It’s not so bad. It’s my boyfriend. He worries about me.”
“I can see why with a little bump like that! Anyway, you should be okay. No need for stitches. Obvs, if you have any worries, you should come back and see me for a chinwag.”
Obvs.
Chinwag.
Who the fuck does this moron think she is?
“I’ll do that,” I say, standing. “Thanks.”
Doctor Murray taps away on her keyboard for a few seconds. Stares at the screen. And then I see her turn. See the way she looks at me, eyes slightly widened. The way she does a double-take, back at the screen.
“Okay,” I say. “Well, I’ll be heading off—”
“Is there… is there anything else you’d like to talk about today? Any… any concerns? About the fall? Or… Or anything?”
I know what she’s asking. I know what she’s getting at. And the way she can’t just be straight and frank about it pisses me off, too.
She’s unprofessional. And the sooner I get out of this place, the better.
Because she can’t help me.
“I’m fine,” I say. “It was just a fall. Hot weather. You know how it is.”
She smiles back at me. But I can tell she’s not totally convinced. “You would speak to me, Sarah? If you felt like something wasn’t quite right. You would speak to me, wouldn’t you?”
I look at her, and I want to scream everything at her. I want to tell her about the memory. About Calvin.
I want to tell her about the parcel.
But I know what she will say.
I know how she will look at me.
And besides.
There’s somewhere I have to be.
“I know I can trust you,” I say.
This seems to appease her. She smiles back at me with those unnaturally white teeth. Walks up to me. Holds out her perfect little hand with all those false nails.
“Well,” she says. “Have yourself a smasher of a day! We’ll be back to you with your results in no time.”
I take her hand.
Squeeze it. Tight.
“Thank you, doctor,” I say, smiling back at her.
I snap one of her false nails in my tight grip.
And I can’t help feeling somewhat happy about it.
Chapter Eleven
I stand opposite the school, and I try to convince myself what I’m doing is totally sane, totally okay.
Okay, I know it’s probably not cool. I know I probably shouldn’t be here. It’s not exactly healthy for me. Not exactly a productive use of my time. I know what Freddie would say if he knew I was here. Especially after the fainting incident yesterday and my trip to the doctor’s earlier today.
But it was the anniversary of Charlie’s disappearance three weeks ago, and I still haven’t been back here. That has to count for something, right? I’ve done so well to stay away. So, so well.
But I felt the call inside me the second I woke up this morning. And I knew there was no way I could resist it.
Because it would make me feel better again.
It’s such a beautiful day. So warm. Bright sun beaming down. Perfect blue skies above. Birdsong filling the air. A light breeze, so cool against my skin. It feels so like that day. The day Charlie went missing.
And maybe that’s partly why I’m here. Not just to recreate the scene from that day in my mind. But to see if I can piece together some of the missing sections of the puzzle.
I lean against the school’s iron gates. It’s the summer holidays, so the kids are off. The school grounds are empty, but for a couple of teenagers playing football at the top end of the field.
As I stand there, I can see it again. All of it, in its glory.
I can see the flurry of children racing towards the stage.
I can hear the sound of the band singing. The cheering and laughter.
I can smell the burgers and sausages cooking on the barbecues.
I can feel it all.
But it’s that man I see more than anything, now.
Calvin.
I close my eyes, see myself standing there three years ago. And I am certain. Certain I did see Calvin. Certain he did speak to me.
But it wasn’t something I thought anything of at the time. I just let it go. Because why wouldn’t I? What relevance did it have, really?
I knew now I was so wrong to dismiss it.
Because I don’t give a shit what anyone says or thinks.
Calvin came to my front door yesterday.
That man who was there on the day Charlie disappeared came to my front door and handed me that parcel.
It was him.
It happened.
As batshit crazy as I know deep down, it sounds.
I think back to the days after Charlie’s disappearance. It’s all quite a blur. A blur of fear. Of sickening nausea. Of crying uncontrollably through the night, not a wink of sleep.
I think of the taste of alcohol to dull the pain.
I think of Gregg sitting there on the sofa beside me. So cold because he can’t even bring himself to look me in the eye. He can’t even bring himself to comfort me.
Because he blames me.
And God knows I blame myself, too.
I shouldn’t have let Charlie go.
I should’ve kept hold of his hand.
I should’ve—
“Sarah?”
I jump. Turn around.
There’s a man standing there. I don’t recognise him. Not at first. Thinning brown hair. Thick moustache. Big blue eyes. Fluffy brown dog by his side. A cockapoo or labradoodle or whatever the hell these weird new bastardised breeds of genetically engineered teddy-bear dogs are called.
I’m about to ask him how he knows me when I realise exactly who it is.
“Glynn?”
&n
bsp; Glynn smiles at me, really wide. “Sarah. I thought it was you. How the hell are you doing?”
I nod at Glynn. Smile. Alan, Charlie’s old friend’s, dad. I’ve not seen him in years. Truth be told, I don’t know why he’s here at all. He never used to live around the Broughton area. And I haven’t seen him here for a long time.
I tend to avoid the school these days. Tend to avoid anyone once associated with Charlie.
Too many memories.
Too much pain.
Memories I want to push away.
Memories I want to suppress…
“I’m… Yeah. I’m doing good, actually.”
He smiles at me. But I can tell he’s just humouring me. I see from the way he looks at me that he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Wow. Absolute, umm, blast from the past. So what’re you… What’re you doing round here, anyway?”
I realise then how weird I must look, standing here, eyes closed, leaning against the school gates.
Glynn realises too, so quickly shakes his head. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“No. It’s okay. New dog?”
Glynn smiles. “Monty.”
“Monty,” I say, crouching down, patting his fluffy head. “He’s a cutie.”
“Wouldn’t say that if you saw him in his natural habitat. Absolute terror. Chewed up one of Holly’s dresses. Crunched on Alan’s new Xbox controller. Not exactly the best impression for a pup to make.”
I smile. Stand up again. “How are Holly and Alan?”
Glynn glances away. “Oh. They’re umm, good, you know? Holly’s involved herself with some interesting new friends from her air hostess stuff. They find deals on holidays and share the info with each other for referral money. I don’t know how it works really, but she seems happy, and it brings a few extra pennies in, so who am I to complain?”
“Sounds a bit cult-ish.”
“Not tempted to join up?”
I smile, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Nah. I’ll give that a miss.”
He laughs. And an awkward silence hangs in the air, just for a moment. A silence I have to fill.
“Still… still away from home a lot, then?”
Glynn looks me in the eye. I can see he knows what I’m getting at. “Better, now, actually. A lot better. Anyway. Alan. Yeah. He’s doing good at school. Top of the class.”
“That’s good,” I say, smiling. Wanting to feel sincere. Wanting to feel happy for Alan.
But a small part inside me knowing Charlie was always brighter than Alan.
That he should be top of the class.
“Anyway, how about you?” Glynn asks. “You and Gregg. Sorry to hear what happened there.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. The stress. Of what happened—”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay. Everything… everything that happened. It came between us. Never really recovered from it. And things weren’t… they weren’t great before then, anyway.”
Our gaze holds for just a little too long.
“But anyway,” I say, looking at the ground. “I’ve met someone else. Freddie. He’s a real sweetheart. Bit of a doofus. But he makes me happy. We’re good for each other. Well. He’s good for me. I do my best.”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll be great for him,” Glynn says.
I can see something, then. Sadness in Glynn’s eyes, just for a second.
And the memories come piling back in.
Memories I am trying to suffocate.
Memories I am trying to hold back.
Memories I hope will not surface.
“Anyway,” Glynn says, clearing his throat, cutting through the awkward silence. “I should probably get walking.”
“Sure. I… Same here.”
“It’s been lovely seeing you, Sarah.”
“You too, Glynn. Pass on my best to Holly and Alan, won’t you?”
He smiles. Nods at me.
But I know right away he won’t say a word about seeing me to his wife and son.
Why the fuck would he, after all?
He walks past me, Monty in hand. And I swear he walks a little closer to me than is appropriate. I swear his arm brushes against mine, just for a moment.
And that’s when I turn around and sense an opportunity.
“Glynn, you and Holly were always pretty in with the parents at Broughton. This sounds really weird, but… well, do you know anyone called Calvin? Slicked back dark hair? Big brown eyes? Sort of… yellowish teeth? And I… I know it sounds horrible, but I’ve got to say it. Breath stinks of onion?”
Glynn stares at me for a few seconds. Longer than feels comfortable.
“Why do you ask?”
“Nothing,” I lie. “It’s just… Well, I guess I had a memory. Just wondered if anyone comes to mind.”
Glynn stares at me again. The seconds roll on. I feel the tension. I feel the discomfort.
And I feel like he has something to tell me.
And then he shakes his head.
“Sorry, Sarah. Nobody like that I can think of.”
I want to tell him I think he’s lying.
But for the sake of my own dignity, I can only nod.
“I’ll see you around then.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling at me. “See you around.” And then he pauses. Hesitates. Just for a moment. “Stay well, Sarah.”
And then he turns around and walks away, Monty in hand.
And as he disappears, as my face flushes, I feel the flurry of memories rushing out.
Glynn holding onto me.
Kissing my neck.
Fucking me. Hard.
And my phone buzzing with sweet messages from Gregg, all while it happened.
Chapter Twelve
Okay, so Glynn Maynard might’ve fucked me once.
I know, I know. I’m not the innocent person you wanted me to be. But I’m human. And you have to understand that mine and Gregg’s marriage wasn’t great, even before Charlie went missing.
Gregg worked away a lot. He worked for a microchip company, TruCorps Technology, and often went over to the Netherlands on business matters. Leaving me alone, at home, with little Charlie.
I don’t know how Glynn and I got into each other’s circles. To be honest, it all happened very naturally. We’d see each other at school when we were picking the kids up. I’d have Alan over at mine to give Glynn a hand while his wife, Holly, was away. She worked away a lot too—she was an air hostess, so it was the nature of her job.
But it was just a friendship between two adults. Nothing else.
I’ve no idea how things got so illicit so quickly. So sordid so quickly. Everything was always very friendly. Very cordial. There was nothing dodgy about a thing. Even though the grounds were there. After all, Glynn never mentioned me to Holly. And I kept Glynn a secret from Gregg, too. I should’ve known things might take something of a turn, right from the start.
One night, Glynn got around to mine to pick Alan up, and there was just this sad aura about him. I could smell booze on his breath. And I swore I saw a bruise around his eye.
And seeing him, standing there, in this daze, I couldn’t help asking him in.
We told Charlie and Alan to play upstairs for a while. I’d bought Charlie a new PlayStation game recently anyway, so no doubt they’d snap up the opportunity of a little extra time playing.
I sat Glynn down. Asked him if he wanted a drink. Initially, he resisted. But then the red wine opened up, and we both had a few glasses, and I hadn’t eaten much, and before I knew it, my head was spinning and…
Yeah. Well. Glynn told me he’d had a rough time at home lately. That he didn’t want to go into it. Holly. And even though he was being so cryptic, I felt sorry for him.
And when he spoke of his loneliness, of missing Holly, I felt it. I understood. I knew what it was like to be without my husband for half the week.
And even though Charlie was a delight, even though he was six, so hardly a baby
, and even though I couldn’t exactly complain when there were single parents out there doing a damned sight harder a job than I was… still, I felt it.
It began with a kiss. I don’t know what possessed him to do it. He leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and before I knew it, as much as I wanted to hold back, as much as I wanted to resist, we were tangled up in one another, and he was kissing my neck and stroking my thighs, and then he was between my legs and inside me and grunting and pulling my hair and coming inside me and—
The door creaked.
I remember looking around.
Remember that fear.
A fear that someone was there.
Charlie. Or Alan. Or both.
We stopped, then. Got dressed immediately. And Glynn left with Alan, barely saying a word.
Alan never came around after that.
Glynn and I did our best to avoid one another.
We tried. We really, really did.
I still feel guilty about it now, right to this day. It was wrong. I know that.
But I’m human. I made a mistake. I’d had too much to drink, and I was lonely. It was one brief encounter, and that was that.
Honestly.
I contemplated telling Gregg about it. I really did. I sat there prepared to tell him when he got back from work, and I braced myself. Really.
But I’ll never forget how he walked in. Smile on his face. Flowers and chocolates in hand.
I’ll never forget how he leaned over, kissed me on the cheek.
“Happy anniversary, angel.”
I’ll never forget the guilt I felt right then. The tears I cried in the bathroom. The way I washed, right inside myself, to get rid of any trace of Glynn; to scrub him from myself.
And I’ll never forget telling myself that it didn’t matter that Glynn had come inside me. I wasn’t at my most fertile. Gregg had come inside me so many times without any repercussions. I’d be fine. Besides, he’d pulled out before the bulk of it had gone inside me.
But I’ll never forget the increased need to pee that picked up in the weeks after that, too.