Gone Without a Trace

by Mary Torjussen

  I stared at him.

  ‘You hit me so many times, I thought you were going to lose it completely,’ he said. His voice was soft, but I noticed his body was taut. Waiting. ‘I can’t live like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ I whispered.

  ‘Afraid,’ he said, and as the blood rushed to my head, it seemed as though his voice was floating on the air around me. ‘Constantly afraid.’

  ‘I . . .’ I faltered. I didn’t know what I was going to say. My mouth was as dry as parchment and my eyes itched from staring at him. ‘I . . . I didn’t . . .’

  ‘I know you didn’t mean it sometimes,’ he said, and his voice was kinder than it needed to be, I understood that. ‘I know it’s a problem for you. But I can’t cope with it.’

  It was as though the ground beneath me was marshland, as if I’d disappear into it. I stumbled on to the sofa and put my head in my hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. It wasn’t the first time I’d apologised to him; each time was as miserable and uncomfortable as the last. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  He sat down carefully on the sofa opposite me. ‘I know. I know you are.’ He didn’t say ‘You always are’ but I knew that was what he meant.

  It was a re-creation of a scene we’d played out many, many times.

  ‘Please get help, Hannah,’ he said, and there was no mistaking the tension in his voice. It was always there when we had this conversation. But this time, instead of berating him, instead of this simple request inflaming matters so that I’d explode, asking him what he was talking about, what help was it that he thought I needed, exactly, I really heard what he was saying.

  He was right. I did need help.

  ‘You seemed so angry all the time,’ he said. ‘So on edge.’

  And again I heard him loud and clear. He was right. I did always feel like I was coming to the boil, that I had to be watchful and wary all the time, in case someone overtook me, stabbed me in the back, took something from me that was mine or that I wanted. I could never relax; I was always on guard. I’d been like that since I was a child, and I’d never known why.

  I think this was the first time that I realised he was right. I’d paid lip service to it in the past, just to get him to shut up and forget what I’d done. If he didn’t mention it then I could put it from my mind, but if he kept on and on talking about why I hurt him and why I had to start arguments, I felt like I was going mad and before too long there’d be another explosion, worse than the last.

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes. ‘You’re right,’ I said, eventually. ‘I don’t know why I’m like that.’

  ‘You can get help,’ he urged. ‘Beta blockers or antidepressants or something. There will be something that’ll help you.’

  I thought of my home, how it was no longer a sanctuary. And my job, all but gone now. Images of my kitchen as it had been earlier today flashed through my mind: the rubbish, the overflowing bin, the dishes that hadn’t been washed for months. I thought of the paper plates I’d bought to avoid washing up, the cutlery I’d stolen from work when I’d run out of clean stuff, all of it piled up, filthy, on the counter. And the mad, mad ravings that were all over the kitchen island and the cabinets.

  In that moment of clarity, I knew I needed help. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own.

  ‘Will you come home, Matt?’ I pleaded, suddenly scared of his reply. ‘Will you come home and help me?’

  He looked away from me. ‘I think it’s something you have to go through on your own,’ he said.

  ‘But I can’t.’ I started to cry. ‘I can’t do it. Everything’s messed up. I’m losing my job, and if I do, I’ll lose the house too. I’ll have nowhere to live.’

  ‘I can help you with the mortgage,’ he said. ‘I can give you some money to tide you over for a few months. Or even a year or so. Money’s not a problem.’ He looked at me steadily. ‘But I can’t come home, Hannah. I’m sorry, but I can’t. This is something you need to do on your own. I bring out the worst in you and I don’t want that.’

  I hadn’t wanted to break down in front of him, but suddenly I was sobbing. ‘You bring out the best in me too.’

  His face relaxed for a moment and he smiled at me. ‘I know. I did at the beginning, didn’t I? We were great together. I loved it.’

  ‘I did too.’

  ‘But then . . .’ he said, and I wished he’d just shut up and let me remember him saying he loved being with me. ‘But then it changed, didn’t it? Everything I did was wrong. I used to think you hated me, even though you told me all the time you loved me. And hurting me like that, time and time again. I can’t live like that. I just can’t.’

  He was gaining strength from his words, I could see that. As he sat facing me, he was almost the man he’d been when we’d met. Proud and strong, determined and fair. I’d loved him then, and now, looking at him, I knew I still loved him.

  ‘Please?’ I said, hating to hear myself beg, to let him see I was weak. ‘Please? I promise I’ll be different. I promise I’ll get help. I’ll call the doctor first thing and you can come with me and we’ll tell her what I’m like.’

  I’d never gone so far in my promises and I swear I could see indecision on his face, just a sliver of doubt. He hesitated, and suddenly I was filled with hope. Wild with exhilaration, I said, ‘Come on, Matt. Just come home.’

  And then behind me I heard the sound of a key in the lock. When I turned, it seemed like I was in slow motion, and in the long, long time it took for the apartment door to open, I saw Matt blanch.

  ‘Hey, Matt, I got off work early!’

  It was Katie, standing in the doorway holding an overnight bag.

  56

  ‘Come in, Katie,’ I said as my blood started to hum in my veins. ‘Make yourself at home.’

  She stood frozen, her face aghast.

  My head roared as I stared from her to Matt. I could see an imploring expression on his face, one I’d seen so many times. But this time he was looking at Katie, not me. Katie: my best friend.

  ‘Come on in,’ I said again, and my voice sounded harsh and distorted.

  She walked in, shutting the door behind her. It seemed she’d got over the shock remarkably quickly. Maybe this sort of confrontation was what she’d wanted. With a deliberately casual air she put her keys next to Matt’s on the glass shelf by the apartment door and walked over to him, dropping her handbag and overnight bag on the floor beside her. She stood next to him as protective as a mother.

  As she turned to face me, her chin tilted, her eyes steady, I saw that her face held the same expression I’d seen in school when I’d told her I was going out with James; years later, too, when she told me she was going out with James now. I saw pride there, and determination.

  ‘Hello, Hannah,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’

  Her insouciance and the familiar way she stood right next to Matt – almost touching him but not quite, but definitely comfortable with the distance between them – made my head throb. I could hear buzzing, feel my skin react to her. My blood pounded around my body, overheating my skin and making me pant. I swallowed hard to try to calm myself, but it was no good.

  ‘I could say the same,’ I said. I heard a weak tone in my voice and swallowed again. I couldn’t let them hear that. ‘Why are you visiting my boyfriend?’

  ‘He’s not your boyfriend, actually,’ said Katie. ‘He’s not been your boyfriend for months. How long is it exactly, Matt?’

  Matt was tense and pale. I could see beads of sweat on his face, see his hands shaking. ‘It’s . . . it’s been three months now,’ he muttered.

  ‘So why are you here?’ I asked her.

  I don’t know why, but I was still hoping she’d say that she’d bumped into him a couple of weeks ago, that she was just here for a chat, to try to persuade him to come back to me. I think we could have recovered from that.

  ‘Why do you think?’ she said, confident and in control. ‘Think about it, Hannah. Why do y
ou think I’m here?’

  I looked from Katie to Matt and back again. His whole body was shaking now and I knew she was having to be strong for him. She edged closer to him until their arms touched. She wore a cherry-pink dress with spaghetti straps that showed her early summer tan. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and she looked more beautiful than I’d seen her in years. Her hair, glossy and sleek, framed her face and tumbled down to her cleavage. Beside her, Matt appeared pathetic. He couldn’t even stand up straight; it looked like his legs were buckling. His face was wet with sweat and his hair was dark and lank.

  ‘I think,’ I said, not taking my eyes off Matt, ‘I think you’ve been deceiving me.’ I could see him struggling to speak. He wiped his mouth with his hand, then gave up. ‘I think you were cheating on me and treating me like a fool.’

  There was silence in the room.

  ‘As for you!’ I took a step back, then jumped forward and spat in Katie’s face.

  She shrieked, ‘What? Ugh!’ and wiped her face with her hand, then shuddered and rubbed it on her skirt.

  ‘You bitch,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Sending me messages every day, asking me if I had any news. And all the time you were seeing him. You . . .’ I was lost for words. ‘Pretending to be my friend . . .’

  ‘I was your friend!’

  I stepped over to where she stood and slapped her hard across her face. She didn’t see it coming and her head moved fast, whipping to one side. I knew that would hurt like hell tomorrow. She stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding a footstool, and stood behind one of the sofas, as though that would give her sanctuary. I climbed on top of the sofa and grabbed her hair, pulling it as hard as I could, until she was screaming like a banshee and struggling to get away from me.

  Matt stood in the centre of the room shouting, ‘Get off her!’

  I turned so fast he jumped and ran behind the sofa to be near Katie. ‘Why should I? She’s been pretending to be my friend, phoning me and texting me, day after day.’ I pulled her hair so hard she fell face down on the sofa. ‘Why did you do that? Why would anyone do that?’

  She gave a scream and grabbed hold of me. I pulled her hair tighter and she dragged her nails down my arms. I felt the skin break and yanked her hair harder for that.

  ‘I asked her to!’ shouted Matt. ‘I needed to know what you knew. I needed to know whether you’d found me.’

  I let go of Katie’s hair and pushed her off the sofa on to the floor. She landed with a cry.

  ‘And I did,’ I said in a low voice, so he had to strain to hear me. ‘I knew I would. You knew I would too, didn’t you?’

  He didn’t answer, but I could see his hands trembling again.

  ‘You destroyed everything, Matt,’ I said. ‘Everything. Not only did you take everything from my house’ – he tried to speak, but I shot him a glare to stop him – ‘you destroyed all my photos and all my emails and texts.’

  He said nothing now, just stood white-faced, staring at me. Katie gave a moan and he started to move towards her, but I shouted, ‘Don’t you dare!’ and he slammed himself back against the wall.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ I asked, moving around the sofa towards him. Strands of Katie’s hair were stuck to my hand, and I had to rub it on my jeans to loosen them. I could hear her moaning and whining and I was glad, really glad, that I’d hurt her. ‘Why would you take everything from me?’

  He moved further along the wall. His eyes hadn’t left mine.

  I glanced at Katie, still sitting slumped on the floor, then back at him. I had to know. ‘Why would you do that?’

  I could see his Adam’s apple moving in his throat. He ran his tongue across his lips. ‘I didn’t want you to have anything of mine. Anything to remember me by.’

  ‘But you did leave something, didn’t you?’ I said softly. ‘Up in the loft.’

  I saw a flicker in his eyes. There was recognition and . . . was that triumph? My blood started to boil.

  ‘I wondered whether you’d see that,’ he said. ‘I should have guessed you would.’

  ‘See what?’ asked Katie. ‘What did you leave?’

  He said nothing; his eyes met mine, unwavering.

  ‘What?’ said Katie again, panic in her voice. ‘What was it?’

  I took a step forward. ‘Why don’t you tell her?’

  He straightened his shoulders. ‘Blood and hair,’ he told her. ‘My blood and hair. From when she hit me at Christmas.’

  My voice was almost a whisper. ‘And why did you leave that?’

  ‘For you to remember,’ he said. ‘To remember what you did.’

  My roar seemed to come from nowhere. ‘Remember what I did? When you were the one having an affair?’

  ‘He wasn’t having an affair then.’ Katie was standing now, one hand on the back of the sofa and the other rubbing her head. She looked dazed. ‘I called round that day to see you. You were out and he was there on his own. Hurt.’

  ‘Hurt!’ I scoffed.

  ‘He had to jump from the loft,’ she said, her voice harder now. Steadier. ‘You’d taken the ladder away, knowing he’d struggle to get down without it. He’d hit his head on the nail and then you kicked him in the kidneys. His head was bleeding.’ There was contempt in her eyes. ‘What the hell were you doing, treating him like that?’

  I faltered for a second but soon rallied. ‘You have no idea what I’ve had to put up with, living with him.’

  ‘And yet you were so keen to find him.’ She glared at me. ‘You’re an idiot. You didn’t know what you had with Matt. He was so loyal and you just hurt him again and again.’

  For a moment I was speechless. Loyal? Matt? When he was having an affair with Katie? And then I looked at her, my best friend, and it all fell into place. I realised what I’d missed before, what had been on the periphery of my thoughts.

  ‘You helped him, didn’t you? You were there the day he left, helping him take everything from the house.’

  She gave me a look, hard as you like. ‘Yes, I was there.’

  ‘You’re pathetic,’ I said to Matt. ‘You couldn’t even do that on your own.’

  ‘He didn’t have to,’ she said. ‘I wanted to help him. Wanted him to get away from you.’

  I realised something else. ‘You were with him the week after, weren’t you? You weren’t at the conference at all.’

  She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You told me you were going to that conference in February!’ I shouted.

  Still she said nothing, and I understood then just how long this had been planned. My face burned. I thought of him zealously removing everything of his from the house. Bringing the television downstairs. Making it look as though he’d never been there. As though he hadn’t existed.

  And then the final piece of the jigsaw fell into place. ‘You changed the bed linen, didn’t you?’ How had I not realised? ‘He wouldn’t have thought of that. It was your idea, wasn’t it?’

  She glanced over at Matt, but said nothing.

  ‘You’ve always wanted what I had. First James and then Matt. Can’t you see a pattern, Katie?’

  She flushed. ‘You were only with James for six months, and that was years ago! Fifteen years ago now. Get over it.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Matt walking towards the windows.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ I said.

  He turned to face me. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

  ‘What?’

  Katie slid around the back of the sofa and went to stand beside him. ‘Yeah. Time’s up, Hannah.’

  I stared from one to the other. I could feel the mist rising and I knew they should be very careful what they said.

  ‘And don’t go telling Matt that you’re pregnant, either,’ said Katie.

  Automatically I looked down at my stomach, nearly concave now. I’d almost forgotten about that.

  ‘We hadn’t had sex for ages before I left,’ said Matt. His voice trembled and I knew he was showing off for h
er.

  ‘That’s what he’s told you?’ I asked Katie.

  For a moment she looked uncertain, and my heart leapt.

  ‘Ask him what happened in March, after we came back from that wine bar in New Brighton. We went to its opening night. You and James were busy, remember?’

  Her eyes flashed from me to Matt. His face was flushed and I felt triumph course through my veins.

  ‘Ask him what happened when we came home!’ I goaded her. ‘Go on!’

  ‘There’s no need,’ he said. ‘Katie and I weren’t together then. Well, we were friends, but we didn’t get together until the day after that.’

  The day after! He’d gone straight from me to her?

  His face was scarlet now, and I think he thought he was being brave. ‘Remember, Katie?’

  She nodded, and now she was the triumphant one. My body tensed in anticipation.

  ‘That night,’ he said, ‘I knew then that it was all wrong. That I had to leave you.’

  I saw pity on his face. My body flamed and suddenly I was desperate to get out of there.

  ‘I’m sorry, Hannah,’ he said gently. ‘I’m in love with Katie. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else if I was in love with her, would I?’

  ‘So . . .’ My voice rose uncontrollably. ‘So you left me because of her?’

  ‘No.’ He spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear him. ‘I left you because you hurt me. I know I can be annoying—’

  ‘Stop it!’ said Katie. ‘She shouldn’t have hit you no matter what she thought of you.’

  It was as though she hadn’t spoken.

  ‘I couldn’t be myself when I was with you, Hannah. Not at the end. I was on tenterhooks the whole time.’ He stared at me, scared still. ‘I loved you, Hannah, but it’s over. I would have left anyway, but now . . . now I’m with Katie.’

  My eyes suddenly filled with tears, then Katie said, ‘And we’re going to get married!’

  At that my head started to hum and my ears buzzed. I didn’t seem to be able to see properly. I looked at Katie and she was a blur. I shook my head to clear it and she must have misunderstood, because she said, ‘Oh yes we are!’

  I shook my head again and looked at her. The haze had gone and I could see her clearly now. Her eyes were bright with malice, and as she opened that pretty little treacherous mouth again, all I could see were those perfect white teeth and her dainty pink tongue with its little silver stud. She’d made me go with her to get it pierced after Christmas. Made me hold her hand. I knew now why she’d had it done.