Gone Without a Trace

by Mary Torjussen

  Not now, though. Now I was more single than I’d ever been, and I felt the loss of him constantly. In every room I saw ghosts of the things he’d taken away; at night in bed I felt the absence of his breath against my neck, the gap where his body should have been, lying next to mine.

  24

  The email from HR was waiting for me when I got into the office on Monday morning. I was ten minutes late, having struggled to wake up on time after a night of disturbed sleep. I took off my jacket and turned on the computer, thinking that I’d google those numbers again before I started work.

  Dear Hannah

  Please attend a meeting in my office today at 9.30. George Sullivan will be present.

  Best wishes

  Emma Carter

  I put my head in my hands. The door opened and I sat up quickly, trying to look as though nothing had happened. It was Sam.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  There was no point trying to fool him. I needed him on my side. ‘Not really. Emma from HR wants to see me with George this morning.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘I assume that’s not good news.’

  I glared at him.

  He reddened. ‘Come on, Hannah,’ he said. ‘This is me you’re talking to. They’re not stupid, you know. They can tell your work’s been slipping lately.’

  I started to tremble. ‘But a formal meeting?’ The only times I’d seen HR were when I’d had a promotion, and one lovely day when I was told I’d won an award. The thought of going in there for a disciplinary made me feel sick.

  A mug of tea was on my desk waiting for me. I picked it up, sipped it and pulled a face.

  ‘It’s cold.’

  He looked at me steadily. ‘Lucy put it there at eight o’clock. You said on Friday you’d be in early as you had a lot to do.’

  I bristled at the implication that I was late. ‘I’ve not been well.’

  ‘If you don’t tell them that, you can’t expect them to notice. You’ve sent off one or two things past their deadlines, haven’t you?’

  He was so nice. So tactful. He and I both knew how much my work had suffered. I’d never handed in anything late before all this. I’d prided myself on it. ‘I’ll give it to Hannah – she’ll do a good job on it and it’ll be done on time’ was something I’d heard George say time and again. God knew what he was going to say today.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ I could hear the desperation in my voice.

  ‘Tell them you’re pregnant and that you’ve not been well. Say you think you need a bit of time off and that you’ll get a doctor’s note. They’ll understand.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘It’s the only thing you can do,’ he said. ‘Just tell them the truth.’

  My face flamed. Not for the first time, I wished I hadn’t told him I was pregnant. He just didn’t get it, and I wasn’t about to explain it to him. ‘I don’t know,’ I muttered. ‘What time is it?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Twenty past nine.’ He stood and picked up his coffee. ‘I’ll come and see you afterwards. Good luck.’

  I sorted out some papers for later that morning, and was just about to leave the room when the phone rang. I ran back to my desk to answer it.

  ‘Hello, Hannah Monroe.’

  There was silence.

  I frowned. ‘Hello? Hannah Monroe here.’ I could do without this; I really needed to run, but I couldn’t just put the phone down in case it was a client. ‘Hello?’

  There was a faint sound. I frowned and listened harder. Were those footsteps? I pressed the receiver so close to my ear it hurt. They paused, then started again. I counted them: there were five steps before another pause. Had Matt called me without realising it? Was he walking down the road? Then there was silence, and I clung to the phone, trying desperately to hear. Suddenly something on the other end of the line smashed, and I shrieked.

  I slammed the receiver down, shaking, then caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was 9.29. I had one minute to get to HR on the seventh floor.

  25

  The meeting seemed to go on for ever. When I came out, I felt exhausted, as though I’d been put through a wringer. My eyes were sore from crying and I noticed that people averted their gaze as they passed me in the corridor. It seemed like everyone knew where I’d been.

  I stopped at the ladies’ cloakroom on the way back to my office. It was empty, thank God, and I stood against the basins and closed my eyes. The door opened and Alice, a woman I used to work with ages ago, came in. She gave me a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Oh you poor thing,’ she said. ‘They’re not worth the effort, are they?’

  I stared at her. ‘Who?’

  She went into a cubicle and locked the door. ‘Men,’ she called out. ‘They’re a complete and utter waste of time. Most of them, anyway. Don’t get too upset, love. Someone else will come along. Hopefully it’ll be someone better.’

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and my make-up was blotchy.

  Had someone told her that Matt had left me?

  Well, there was only one person that could be. I left the cloakroom and went back to my office as quickly as I could, my head bowed so that I couldn’t see people looking at me. As soon as I got there, Lucy jumped up and came into my room with me.

  ‘I’ll make you a drink,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  She was back within a few minutes with a mug of tea. ‘Is everything all right, Hannah?’

  ‘I’m not feeling well,’ I said, avoiding her eyes. I knew damn well she’d seen the email about the meeting, but I wasn’t about to confide in her. I could see sympathy in her eyes and I just couldn’t stand it. ‘I’m taking the rest of the day off. Is there anything you need me to go through?’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine. I hope you feel better soon.’

  She left the room and sat down at her desk. I sipped my drink, then stood up and looked out of my window into the open-plan office. Lucy was on the phone. Most people were working on their computers; others sat in small groups, chatting. Over in his own office on the other side of the room, Sam picked up his phone.

  Lucy’s conversation lasted five minutes or so, and during that time I stood at my filing cabinet, shuffling papers around. Eventually I saw her say something, blush and laugh, then put the phone down.

  Across the room, Sam put down his phone too.

  Well that’s interesting.

  I watched him stand up and look over towards my office. He waved and came through the central section towards me. I noticed he didn’t look at Lucy, and she appeared to be focusing hard on a spreadsheet.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Not really. I need a word with you. Can you close the door?’

  He looked at me warily. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Have you been telling people that Matt left me?’

  He wasn’t expecting that. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, of course not! Why, what’s happened?’

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going to tell him anything; he’d go running to Alice and they’d cook up some story between them. ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

  My room was darkening now, though it was still early. Outside, the sky threatened rain. I felt that if I didn’t get out of there soon, I’d go crazy.

  Sam moved back towards the door. ‘How did the meeting go?’

  I knew he’d hear it anyway. ‘It was awful. They gave me a verbal warning.’

  ‘A warning? That’s harsh.’

  ‘Not really. I told them that Matt and I were having problems, and they said that at my level I shouldn’t be bringing personal problems into the workplace.’ I buried my head in my hands. ‘They had a great big list of things – times I was late, meetings I’d missed, deadlines I’d completely forgotten about.’ I looked up at him and grimaced. ‘I think they’re employing someone just to watch me.’

 
I thought then of the text. I know where you are. I was getting it at work as well as at home.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘They’ve given me the rest of the day off. I think they knew I wouldn’t get much done. They told me to come in tomorrow and start from scratch.’

  ‘You can do it,’ he urged. ‘You know you can. Don’t blow this chance.’ Across the room we could see his manager walking towards Sam’s office. ‘Better go. I’ve got a meeting with him now.’

  I gathered my things together, switched off my computer and tidied my desk. I looked at the phone and remembered the call I’d had before the meeting. I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t meant to scare me.

  I phoned the technicians’ office and asked to speak to their manager.

  ‘I had an odd call this morning,’ I said. ‘Is there any way I can find out who it was from?’

  ‘Sorry. We don’t keep a log of incoming calls. Let me know if it carries on and I’ll see what I can do.’

  I thanked him and put the phone down.

  Who would make a call like that? And what did they want from me?

  26

  I didn’t know what to do with myself for the rest of the day. I couldn’t face going back to the house, so I spent a couple of hours just driving round. I found that if I drove fast, I could forget for a while. I could focus on my driving and block out everything else that was happening.

  By lunchtime I found myself in Chester, near to Katie’s workplace. I parked on a double yellow line next to the railway station car park and called her.

  ‘Hey, are you free for lunch?’

  ‘What? Today? Aren’t you at work?’ She knew I didn’t normally stop for lunch.

  ‘I’ve got the afternoon off,’ I muttered. ‘I’ve got to use up my annual leave before the end of the month.’

  ‘Lucky you! I’ll have to speak to Lauren; I was supposed to be meeting her in ten minutes. She won’t mind. Where are you? Where shall I meet you?’

  ‘I’m just around the corner from your place now. I’m at the entrance to the car park at Chester station.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you in five minutes.’

  When she hung up, I twisted the rear-view mirror to look at my face. My make-up had come off when I’d cried, and my eyes were red, my skin tired and lined. I looked awful. I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere nice with her; we’d have to hunt out a back-street pub and hide away in a corner. I unzipped my handbag and pulled out my make-up bag. I searched through it for my foundation cream, opened the lid and looked back up at the mirror.

  I froze.

  Isn’t that Matt?

  In the mirror, I could see the back of a man. He was wearing a tan suede jacket that I’d never seen before and was walking through the door to the station.

  It’s him! I’d know him anywhere.

  I leapt out of the car. A traffic warden was working his way along the cars at the end of the road, and I looked frantically from him to the entrance of the station. In the end I chased after Matt. I had to. This might be my only chance.

  I raced down the road, weaving in and out of passengers with suitcases and trolleys, and hurtled into the station. There were quite a lot of people dotted around, some buying tickets, others standing waiting with coffee in their hands.

  I couldn’t see him.

  I ran on to the nearest platform. There were a few men there, but nobody who looked like Matt. I went back to the ticket office. From there I could see the stairs going up to the other platforms. I saw a woman push past some people, and as the crowd parted for her, I saw a man with dark-blond hair wearing a tan jacket walking across the far end of the bridge.

  I dashed up the stairs and across the bridge, darting around groups of students. As I ran, I heard the announcement that the train to Birmingham was about to leave from platform five, and there was a sudden surge behind me as passengers panicked and ran towards the waiting train. I went with them.

  On the platform, the guard was hurrying the last lot of passengers on to the train before the doors shut. Opposite, another train stood waiting, its doors still open, its engine idling.

  I didn’t know where to look first. I ran up and down the platform, looking for Matt on the train that was about to depart; then a whistle blew, the guard waved a flag and the train started to move slowly down the track. I raced alongside it, desperate to catch sight of him. I didn’t know what I would say to him; I just wanted to see him.

  The train picked up speed and disappeared out of sight. I turned back to the other one and walked slowly along it, looking in each carriage. There were elderly couples, women with shopping bags, teenagers cuddled up together. I couldn’t see Matt. I walked up and down the platform, but there was no sign of him.

  Then my phone rang.

  ‘Hannah?’ said Katie. ‘Where are you? You need to get back to your car before they clamp it.’

  I left the station, my eyes full of tears. When the traffic warden spoke sharply, telling me I was parked illegally, I said nothing, tears running down my face. When he handed me a note and told me to pay the fine within the next month, I shoved it into my bag and didn’t say a word. Katie drove my car; I could hardly see where we were going. She parked near the river, then took out her phone and rang her assistant.

  ‘I’m taking a long lunch,’ she said. ‘Something’s come up. I’ll be back in the office by three.’ She put her phone back in her bag and turned to me. ‘What was all that about? Where were you?’

  ‘It was Matt,’ I said. ‘I saw him.’ I blurted out what had happened, how I’d spotted him in the distance and run after him. ‘It was definitely him.’

  ‘Hannah,’ she said patiently. ‘You do know that wasn’t Matt, don’t you?’

  ‘It was! I’m sure it was.’

  ‘What was he wearing?’

  ‘A suede jacket. A tan suede jacket.’

  She frowned. ‘I didn’t know he had a suede jacket.’

  I shook my head. ‘It must be new. He must have bought himself a new jacket.’

  She laughed then. ‘Matt, buying himself clothes? Do me a favour.’

  Matt wasn’t exactly known for being much of a shopper. I’d always bought his clothes; he had things in his wardrobe that he’d worn for years and years, and he was quite happy wearing them until they fell apart. Or until I threw them away.

  ‘It must have been someone else,’ she said. ‘Someone who looked like Matt. It wasn’t him, sweetie.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I bet you’ve seen him in other places, haven’t you?’

  My face burned. I’d seen him everywhere in the first few days after he left. Literally everywhere. I couldn’t walk down the street without thinking I’d caught sight of him. I’d gone into bars and followed people into shops just to see, just to double-check that they weren’t him.

  We sat in silence for a while, watching a boat taking tourists down the river. I could hear their chatter and laughter from where we sat; it seemed years since I’d been so carefree.

  ‘How come you were round here anyway?’ she asked. ‘You said you had a half-day’s annual leave? Were you going shopping in Chester?’

  ‘No.’ I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. ‘I’ve got into trouble at work.’

  She listened while I told her everything, far more than Sam knew. I told her how disappointed they were in me, how fed up they were, how my actions had caused problems for them with clients, how I was bringing my personal life into work and they didn’t like it.

  ‘Didn’t you tell them you were pregnant?’

  I shook my head. ‘I didn’t want them to get involved in that.’

  ‘Oh Hannah,’ she said and put her hand on my arm. ‘Sweetheart. I wondered whether you were thinking of that, too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it since you told me. It seems like the best way out.’

  I glared at her.

  ‘I know, I know,’ she said. ‘I know it’s awful, but it
would be a solution to all this. You could nip into a clinic and get it all sorted. Have a holiday afterwards, perhaps. I’ll come with you! And then when you get back you could have a fresh start. Look at a different house, if you wanted. A new job, even.’

  Her voice petered out as she saw my reaction.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘It’s just that I thought it would solve everything.’

  ‘Not quite everything,’ I snapped. ‘It’s nice to know you think a baby’s a problem, but getting rid of it wouldn’t bring Matt back, would it?’

  ‘Matt isn’t the problem.’ She sighed. ‘He’s gone, Hannah. He’s left you. He’s made it clear, hasn’t he, that he doesn’t want to be with you? You have to get over it. I’m sorry, but that’s the fact of it.’

  I drove her back to work in silence, feeling her giving me worried little glances every now and then. I knew she felt sorry for me; I could feel pity pouring out of her, and it tainted me, making me feel dirty and ashamed. Furious, too.

  27

  By the time I arrived home, the sky was overcast; though it was still early, the house was dark and gloomy. I took my jacket off in the hall and slipped off my shoes. I picked up the mail and went into the kitchen, then put some milk in the microwave. I’d make hot chocolate. That was what I wanted, something warm and sweet and comforting.

  I made the drink and found some biscuits in the cupboard. I needed energy before I could think about today. My head was pounding, and I took a couple of painkillers with some water, though I thought I’d gone beyond that kind of help.

  At the island, I pulled my notes towards me. I peeled them off one by one and placed them side by side on the marble. On a new note I wrote, Matt at Chester Station – train to Birmingham?