Here I am, now, near the reservoir. I’m hiding behind the beech trees. Julia has just passed by. I hold my breath and watch her edge along the path. She seems nervous. She must know what’s going to happen. Against the green water she looks too solid, too heavy. I can see her back and legs but not her feet. It is as though she is walking just a few centimetres above the ground. She steps soundlessly through the air, away from me and back towards the village. I won’t follow her. I breathe the dank water. Mallards and coots sleep somewhere out of sight. I’m having an adventure. Elif s spirit is playing with my shoes, bumping around at my feet and I know she will be safe. Perhaps I will fetch her from Istanbul. I will bring her here to share my life. The lake blinks its heavy green eyelids. I have come far enough and I must stop here.
Another beep from my phone. The tiny screen lights up. A text message has come from Mete. Günaydin, it says. Good morning. I press Names and scroll down to Mete’s number. Then I press Options and Erase. Erase Mete? it asks me. I don’t know. Erase Mete? But I don’t know. I don’t think he is talking to me any more. The message is meant for someone else.
I am almost at the spot where Julia disappeared. And then I see something. A kind of light I never noticed before, a gap between the trees that was always just air. I see the car – clearly green, not blue – and I see Julia again. She is still walking. I realize I have always been able to know what happened to Julia. It is not a mystery at all. Owen is nowhere to be seen. It has nothing to do with him. Owen did not kill Julia. He did not harm her. The blood on his shirt must have been his own. I am so excited I want to run back to the house, wake Kath to tell her what I know, but I do not. It is not the right time yet. Julia was safe, but what about the rest of us? There is the bag of newspapers. There is the car. I walk to the tree and sink down to look at the reservoir. I drop the book and the letter into the water, swish them back and forth with my hand, and push them downward.
I am in bed. The sun is up. I have slept for another couple of hours. Kath is still sleeping so I tiptoe out once more. I set off to retrieve my bag from the Lake View guesthouse. The tricycle is still there in next door’s garden. I whisper good morning to it and step up onto the garden path. As I approach the door, it opens and a figure pops out. I scream, a quick but shrill sound, like a silly woman who has just seen a mouse. It is my aunt Maggie.
‘Isabel.’ She almost jumps. She drops her suitcase and her face breaks into a wide smile. ‘Fancy seeing you. What are you doing here?’
‘I came to Owen’s funeral.’
She hasn’t aged one bit. There are no wrinkles, no crevices around her eyes and lips, no sagging pockets of flesh, but she has gone rusty. Her auburn hair is wiry and tired, her nails polished in brown. Patches of dark orange smear her forehead and chin.
‘So it was you I saw from the car last night. I banged on the window but you didn’t seem to recognize me. How thoughtful of you to come. All the way from Istanbul?’
‘Yes. You’re too late, though, Maggie. It was yesterday.’
I think of Owen and me and the kite. I smile to myself. Now I know that I was safe with Owen all along, it is all right for me to remember. This is a new feeling. I like it. My eyes are filling with tears. I grimace and blink them back. I don’t want Maggie to think these tears are for her.
‘Oh, I know that, Izzie. No, unfortunately I couldn’t get here any sooner. There was a sort of clash with something else I had to do. So I’ve hired a car and come up now for a few days to give Sheila some support. You know how these things are. The funeral is only the beginning.’
‘So how come you’re staying here?’ I nod towards the guesthouse. I am finding it easy to sound cold, to make her nervous. Maggie is uncomfortable. She doesn’t want me to ask these questions.
‘Sheila’s house is full until tomorrow. Apparently they have several elderly relatives staying. They’re leaving today and I’m going to stay with her for a few days, maybe longer. It doesn’t matter too much about the funeral, at least I hope it doesn’t. I never knew Owen very well, not as well as you did.’
‘How’s George?’ My voice is smooth, my posture perfect. Maggie is taller than I, but we both sense that I am looking down on her.
‘He’s fine. He often asks after you. We’re married now. I suppose I told you that. We went conventional in the end, as you see. I always read your email messages out loud to him. He’s a bit long-sighted for the computer now, I’m afraid. He leaves everything to me but then that’s the way I like it. You really should come and stay some time. Oh, give me a hug.’
I allow Maggie to hug me. I touch her back, in what I hope is a vaguely patronizing gesture, and put my cheek almost to hers for a mimed kiss. Doreen Fatebene presses her face against the window and watches.
‘Guess where Leila is,’ I say.
‘Leila? Leila? I haven’t the faintest idea. What do you mean, exactly?’
‘Leila. Where is she?’
‘I never heard from her after she went to – uh – where was it? New York?’
But Maggie’s eyes are darting all over the place. The parts of her skin that aren’t orange turn candy-floss pink. She avoids eye-contact with me and lifts her lips into a stiff smile.
‘Maggie, didn’t we agree a long time ago that Leila doesn’t exist?’
‘Oh. Yes. Actually, I don’t remember—’
‘You seem confused. Does she exist or doesn’t she?’
‘She does.’
‘Is that right?’ I can see the workings inside Maggie’s head, little clicks around a circuit that switch on the small, single lightbulb. Ping. She’s got it.
‘There once was a real girl called Leila, but she wasn’t with me for long. I adapted her to help you. You needed a role model. I think – I think you were rather nervous when you came to stay and were very intimidated when I talked of Leila and Bernadette. You wouldn’t go out and do anything so I changed Leila’s character to inspire you. I’m sorry. It was a foolish thing to do. I’d forgotten all about it. But look how it made a difference to your life. Look how you went off and travelled because of me. But, really, I had forgotten about Leila.’
Maggie says this as though she believes I should have forgotten about Leila too.
‘Is that right? So it wouldn’t be the case that you introduced her by mistake and then had to deny her existence? Why would you do that?’
‘You’re right, I wouldn’t. Can’t we talk about this somewhere—’
‘You’d do it because I might realize who she was.’
‘I’ve told you, Isabel. I’d forgotten about Leila. I don’t know what you’re so upset about.’
‘You keep saying you’d forgotten her. That’s a great shame because, apparently, our imaginary friend is still going strong. Leila’s in Istanbul right now, as it happens, with Mete.’
‘Ah. That’s – uh. Really? Will she still be there when you get back? It’d be a shame if you missed her again. You two have so much in common. When you say Leila do you mean – the real one? The one you didn’t meet?’
‘I mean Leila. I have no idea what she’s even doing there. I’m guessing that she heard about Owen’s death and thought it was time to pay me a visit. But, no, Bernadette said she lives there.’
‘Quite.’
‘But I’d rather hang on here for another day and spend time with you, Maggie, than go there to find her. I haven’t seen you for years. Leila is not important to me but you are.’
‘Well, good. I’d like that. Sheila will be exhausted today. She’ll be in pieces so I don’t want to bother her yet. You and I could go off on our own for a chat. It’s a very fresh day. I think it’s going to be nice. We could have a walk on the hills, if you’d like to.’
Maggie looks up at the sky. Her thin face seems to broaden as a smile spreads across it.
‘Yes, let’s do that. You rescued me when I was younger and I’ll always have to be grateful for that.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t be. It was my hobby to pick up t
he waifs and strays. I liked to help out young women who were lost. I saw myself as a sort of guide, a force for the good of the next generation. I tried to put into practice what I wrote about in my books.’
‘Always a happy ending for the girl, as you like to say. Bernadette, for example. I saw her the other week. She came to Istanbul, too.’
‘Oh, Bernadette. She was a funny one. What’s she doing now?’
Maggie has noticed Doreen at the window and is uncomfortable. She tries to pass me on the path but I will not let her.
‘Odd jobs. She’s getting her singing voice back.’
‘Is she? Good for her. Good for Bernadette. Back on her feet. I always knew she would.’
‘I discovered her real name for the first time when I saw her passport. It’s Chloë. Isn’t that strange? Bernadette doesn’t look or seem like a Chloë in any way. She could never be a Chloë to me. I suppose you knew her name before she changed it.’
‘I did. It doesn’t really suit her, I agree, but neither does Bernadette.’
‘Maggie, why the name Leila?’
‘That’s her name, Isabel.’ She is becoming exasperated. She tries to hide it but I know that rising tone in her voice, those wide eyes. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘What was wrong with Julia?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s Julia?’
‘You knew Julia. Don’t pretend you didn’t. She was my friend and you met her. I’ve seen a photograph of us all together.’
‘Possibly. I wouldn’t remember all your friends from the old days.’
‘She’s the one who disappeared. We thought she had been murdered. Even her parents thought that.’
‘Oh, that Julia. Of course. But that happened after I left the village. I don’t think I ever met the girl.’
‘If you say so. Leila’s with my husband now, and my child. What’s she doing?’
‘How would I—? I expect she wanted to visit you.’
‘Will she come here?’
‘I doubt that very much.’
‘No, because Leila is Julia and everyone thinks she’s dead.’
‘No, because your Leila doesn’t fucking well exist and the one I knew was not Julia. Oh, excuse my language but you’re really pushing this. You’ve been disturbed by Owen’s death. Can’t you see? You should have kept in touch with him back when you were in London, as I wanted you to. Then you might have had the strength to cope now.’
Maggie steps past me. I let her move towards the gate. I turn away from her, arms folded, and she returns with a drippy, sweet expression all over her face. I want to wipe it up with a cloth and shove it down her throat.
‘Isabel, I’m sorry. Why aren’t we getting along with each other, like we used to? In the old days, we were close. Can’t we go to a nice cafe and—’
‘What about her parents? How terrible for them to think of their daughter murdered.’
‘I’m not sure what you want from this conversation. Fine. You’re not going to understand me. If someone shows up on my doorstep needing help – and Leila did – then that’s all I care about. She didn’t tell me her age but she looked sixteen or more. I don’t know anything about Julia. You had so many friends at school. It’s not as if I could have got to know them all.’
‘You should have told the police.’
‘I don’t believe in the police. That young girl came to me. She was my responsibility. The police had nothing to do with it. And she wasn’t Julia.’
‘Whatever you say. I’m not going to hang around here. I just have to get my bag and that’s it.’
I go up to room nine. I look out of the window. Maggie is padding down the street, too fast to keep my eyes on. She seems to disappear before she even reaches the corner. I expect she’s on her way to Sheila’s house. I lie on the bed, as I did yesterday. I don’t believe a word she says. Now what do I do? I haven’t had much sleep. I’m sure Doreen won’t mind if I doze here for a little while.
My eyes open and I am on a sofa in a room that smells of rotten apple cores. Maggie is at the table, writing something. I wonder how she got here so quickly.
‘Maggie, you might like to remind me who I am.’
‘Well, you’re Isabel, sweetheart.’ She doesn’t look at me. I frown and rub my forehead.
‘Isabel’s dead,’ I say. ‘I remembered when I was at the reservoir. Isabel drowned herself there after her release. The memories I have from after that time aren’t mine. I saw them when I looked into the water and they didn’t belong to me.’
‘If you’re anyone, you’re me. You’re Maggie. You’re both of us.’
And that is exactly how it feels. Her answer does not surprise
me.
‘But why?’
‘Leila. Julia. You had a bad time because of her and I never had the courage to tell you the truth. Shall I tell you now?’
‘Yes, please. I mean, yes, tell me.’
‘You know her life at home was unhappy. She had to take care of herself, bring herself up and, in a way, bring her parents up too because they weren’t responsible adults. She had some idea of running away from it all with the soldier. When his letters stopped coming, and she understood that it was a fantasy, she started to call me. It was every week at first, and then every night. She used to cry and cry, begging for my help. So I drove up from London and took her away.’
‘You should have called the police.’
‘I was going to, just as soon as she was safe with me, but she pleaded with me not to tell anyone. She made threats and I was frightened for her.’
‘You shouldn’t have taken any notice. Why didn’t you call her parents? It was criminal to let people believe that she was dead.’
‘She told me she would phone her parents herself. I sat there and watched as she dialled the number. She chatted to them for a while, or so I thought, and put the phone down. She told me that they didn’t want her back and had said that she could stay with me. I didn’t realize how devious she was, though. It was just the Speaking Clock, or something like it.’
‘You believed her? You didn’t insist on talking to them yourself? Oh, come on.’
‘I thought I’d leave it until she was stronger. She was very distressed for a while and my only intention was to see that she became well. By the time I found out the truth – Sheila mentioned in a Christmas-card letter that Julia had never been found – Leila was sixteen and was used to her new life and new name, so I didn’t think it was my business to go to the police. I wanted her to be happy, that’s all. I wanted her to have some of the adventures I’d had when I was young. I sent her off to New York, then Turkey, where I had been. She met her lover there and, years later, had the baby girl. The one you know. Emel, her name is. It worked out well for her. But you came out of prison just after she left my house.’
‘It wasn’t prison, actually.’
‘The point was, you still thought Julia was dead and that somehow it was all your fault. I should have told you the truth. I didn’t know you were going to come back here and wait for her to be found.’
‘I remember.’
I had arrived back in the village to discover strangers living in my home. The neighbours wouldn’t tell me where my parents were. And so I went to the reservoir and did what I thought they wanted, with a bottle of bleach.
‘I wanted you – Isabel – to have a happy ending. It’s my fault that you died and I wanted to right the wrong. That’s what I do for the women I write about, to show them that I’m on their side.’
‘All right. I’m not sure that this justifies—’
‘I gave Julia’s – or Leila’s – life to you. It’s what you might have done, had Julia never gone missing and had you not died. I thought that Julia could just stay missing. I didn’t think I had to kill her just because you’d come back to life. But she kept creeping in and taking the life right back again. You and Julia can’t both win. It was my belief that you could, and now that has gone, so there’s no
point in writing it any more. There’s no point in my old stories where everything works out.’
She drops her head into her hands and curses under her breath.
‘You’re too full of your own importance.’ I force a laugh. ‘John said that this place is known as Eva Carter country. I nearly choked, Maggie, when I heard it. What a laugh. As if anyone ever called it that. Only a handful of people have even heard of you.’
‘That’s harsh, Isabel. There’s no need to be mean. This place is my terrain and I understand it well. That’s why I had to help Julia get out. Her parents would have destroyed her, and no one would have noticed. You never noticed what they were doing to her, did you?’
‘I guess you’ll walk out of here now and we won’t see each other again. I’ll go down to the water and get on with it.’
‘Shall I take the flowers away?’
‘No. I want them. Leave them there. It’s the least you can
do.’
We hug. When Maggie has gone, I walk out to the garden. I look behind me and the house is no longer the Lake View guesthouse but my old house and there is a for-sale sign in the garden. I set off for the water because I have no choice. Julia has won.
– vii –
Tomorrow she would knock on Sheila’s door and tell her the truth about Julia. Isabel had gone and now Owen. There was just Julia. The two girls had smiled from the photograph as if they knew the riddle they would become, as if they had made a pact and planned for this moment to last and to tease. But the question was simple. If two young girls set off on their paper rounds at the same time on the same day and one of them disappeared without a trace, then what could have happened to the other?
There was a message on Maggie’s phone. If the message was from Julia, she didn’t want it. She did not plan to contact Julia again. If Maggie was partly responsible for Isabel’s suicide, Julia was too. She read the message.
The Missing Person's Guide to Love Page 22