She's Not Gone

by Sarah Northwood

  What am I going to do?

  I remember the mobile in my pocket. The police, yes, I need to call them. My trembling hands fumble to unlock it. As if my own fingers are not attached correctly, I clumsily tap in the number, 999, and hit the green button. I’ve never called the police before in my life. I’ve imagined phoning them countless times and I’ve worried I would have to one day, but never like this, never for someone else.

  I wait…

  The operator says, “Which service do you require?”

  Shakily I reply, “Police, quick. Something terrible has happened. I’ve found a body…a dead body. I think it’s been dumped, just left here, like rubbish or something.”

  The operator, who no doubt takes calls like this every day, calmly replies, “Connecting you now.”

  The police are on their way and I am to stay put until they arrive. Thinking fast, I concoct a story about how I’d come to be here, how it was I’d come to find her, the girl in the rug. I’ve contaminated the entire scene with my stomach deposit, my DNA. I know there will be questions. I retreat to the safety of Eva and slide slowly into the seat, keeping my eyes pinned on the mound in front of me. Although I don’t want to see, I feel unable to take my eyes off her, the dead girl, in case she moves, in case it is a figment of my unhinged imagination. Perhaps I’ve gone mad?

  No, she’s real. Eva brought me here, she wanted me to find the body, but why? Why is it here and why was whoever it is killed? Shaking, I sit, feeling myself losing hold on reality. I alternate between rubbing my cramping legs and huddling them against myself to stave off the shock and cold. I turn quickly to grab the blanket from the back seat and cover myself in it, desperate to get warm. That’s when I realise that the keys are still in the ignition where I’d left them but the engine is off. It is only then that it strikes me as odd. In my shock and haste I hadn’t thought about it, but nothing, none of it makes sense. The girl or me being here. None of it. If I seriously believe the car wanted me to come here to find her, then I really need to check myself into a hospital. The kind with strong medications and locks on the doors. Perhaps my time with Daryl has triggered a break from reality. I’ve heard about it happening, but never imagined it could happen to me. I start Eva up, crank up the heating and wish desperately for the shaking to stop. I gaze out into the darkness until I become disconnected and light headed. There is no fear of me falling asleep now.

  Tap, tap, tap. What is that noise? I think absentmindedly.

  “Miss? Miss, are you OK?”

  The voice sounds dreamy and far away. I turn my glazed eyes to see a policeman at my window. I open the door in a trance, my body purely functioning on automatic.

  “Miss? Are you the one who called the police?” On seeing my pale white face and look of dread, his voice softens. I think he shouts to a colleague to bring a blanket but I can’t be sure. The words are a whisper in my blank mind. I can’t help thinking it is silly to bring me a blanket, I already have one. I nod to answer his question, but can’t jump start my mouth to operate the words I want to say: the dead body, the flesh, the crawling insects, but visions of the body swirl inside my head. Instead, I start to tremble once more and as I open the door to him, I promptly put a vomit stain on his shiny black boots. The only thing you can now see in that footwear is the remains of my evening meal…

  Thankfully, one of the policeman’s colleagues happens to have a thermos of coffee. It isn’t so much the liquid that revives me, as the wrapping of my hands around something solid and warm. I sip on the tasteless liquid, probably some cheap brand, while the officers go about cordoning off the scene. I answer what seems like a million questions, of which I can’t imagine my vague answers are of much help. I’m not about to tell them how I’d got here. That I’d fallen asleep at the wheel, and then get done for driving without due care and attention.

  I make up some story about being out for a drive and getting lost in the dark. I play on the fact that I am a weak, feeble woman on her own and it is easy to get disorientated at night. I’ve had lots of practice at that. Yet, I can no more explain how the dead body had come to be here than how planes fly in the sky. Thankfully, they seem to understand that it is in fact been a coincidence. Officer Wysocki, a nice Polish man, commends me on calling them and tells me not to worry. They think it likely that the body has been there for some time and without my coming along, it would likely have gone undiscovered. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to make me feel but I try to smile and nod as he speaks calmly to me. He tells me they’ll know more once the autopsy results come back. Hopefully, the policeman says, they will determine the time and cause of death and, more importantly, who this person is. I try not to think about how they will identify it, or the horror yet to come for a relative or friend. The policeman takes my contact details and I am thankful they are satisfied I wasn’t involved. The only place I want to be now is home.

  Chapter Six

  “You had an exciting weekend then? Front page news,” Jeannie said, pointing at the picture. The headline at the top of the page reads: “Unidentified girl found dead in Crannock Heath.”

  The news of the girl in the rug, the unidentified body, has made the front cover of the local paper. Details of her horrendous death are spread across the pages in more distasteful detail. Frankly, I do not need the reminder.

  “I wouldn’t call it exciting. Terrifying more like.” I haven’t told her about falling asleep. I’ve not mentioned the fact that my car is creeping me out so much that I’d chosen to take the bus today.

  “What were you doing out there anyway, Kat? It seems like a strange place to be in the dead of night,” she asks, eyebrows raised quizzically. I suspect she thinks I’d gone there to do something stupid and my flimsy explanation does nothing to reassure her.

  Unbeknownst to me at that very moment, Daryl is looking at the same paper, where the journalist has thoughtfully and carefully explained that it was a Miss Katie Hawcroft who found the body.

  Later on, Dan texts, wanting to go out. He isn’t too pleased when I tell him I’m meeting up with Daryl. It’s surprising how you can hear a tone of voice from a text. The use of shouty capital letters is a bit of a giveaway to his feelings on the subject. But I need my things and no amount of fear will stop me getting them. Daryl has the photo of my graduation; the one Mum took in the silver patterned frame.

  Sure, I can probably get a new picture, but the memories can never be replaced. The graduation photo is one of the few times Mum ever did anything nice for me. Besides which, they’re mine and I never should have forgotten to take them. I want them back. It’s what I tell myself is the truth, although I know I’m lying.

  In reality, I want to know if Daryl really has changed. I think I need to see for myself if I have made the right decision, or if, somehow, I am still under his control, even though I’ve left.

  I’ve arranged to meet Daryl in a restaurant so there will be less danger. He won’t dare to hit me out there in the open, in public. I’ll just get my stuff, we’ll talk a bit and then say goodbye. Best of all, miraculously and for the first time ever, Jeannie doesn’t suspect a thing. If I play my cards right, she’ll never have to know about this. I can just imagine the roasting of a lecture she’d give me if she knew I’m going to meet him again. But she won’t, it will be my little secret. I look out at the weather and see it is spitting again. Nothing like waiting for the bus in the rain, I think. Against my better judgement, I decide to take the car.

  “Eva girl, I guess Jeannie and I will just have to agree to disagree about Daryl.” Now the Toyota has a name, it feels less strange to talk to her. If anyone should see me, they’ll probably think I’m on the hands-free or something. There is nothing strange about talking to Eva. Nothing at all.

  I flip on the radio, eager for something to take my mind off my own doubts, a bit of background noise to fill my head and help me push the thoughts invading my brain away. Which intrude with a voice not quite my own.

  Ed Sheeran’s D
on’t booms out from the stereo and as I’m strangely not in the mood for his soulful voice, I click on to the next station. Love will tear us apart blares out and I start to get a little twitchy. I wonder if Dan tuned the stations in or whether Eva did it when she owned the car. Either way, something is off, the songs are accompanied by a crackling noise that penetrates me to my core. Shifting uncomfortably in the seat, I give the radio one last chance. I click on in the hopes of finding a talk show or something a little lighter. I start to tremble when Every breath you take filters through.

  Christ sakes, what is it with all the tunes tonight? It’s like someone has decided to program a playlist of songs about our relationship. I click it off angrily. Eva purrs along like a satisfied kitten.

  I’ve arranged to meet Daryl in a pizza place we’d gone to a couple of times before, with more of a family vibe than a romantic venue. I’ve chosen it carefully. I ignore the fact that my diet consists mainly of pizza these days. With the application of the right toppings, you can cover all the main food groups. I’m cautious of sending out the wrong message, I don’t want him to think romance is an option. I have to ask myself though, is it? Don’t I want to get back with him? No-one had ever looked after me the way Daryl had. He didn’t just make me feel like I was a queen, I was one with him.

  Then there’s Dan. I like him—so much. He’s thoughtful, kind, good-looking in his own way and laid back. Dan is what I need, no sparks, no theatrics, calm and reliable. But the heart doesn’t always want what it needs, sometimes it wants what it wants.

  Just then Eva begins to roar, the revs soaring into the red zone on the counter. What the hell? I speak soft soothing words to her and cross my fingers she isn’t about to break down. Or worse, take off and hit another car. After the other night, I am more than a little freaked out. She begins to settle and I slow down a little. Relief washes over me as I see my destination come into view. This has to be the strangest journey I’ve ever taken.

  Pulling into the car park I get out and stretch my legs. I suddenly feel something land on my hair. Jerking, I look up in panic that a bug might have taken residence. Instead, I realise it is snowing blossom. The breeze sweeps past and I notice the day has turned in an instant, going from a floral spring palette to a grey scale, taking on a murky, unwashed feel. Still, the neon lights hum and invite me as I straighten out my dress and take in a few calming breaths. I keep telling myself over and over this is about my stuff, the tacky bits of junk which hold sentimental value. I give Eva an affectionate pat on the bonnet and head inside.

  Fashionably late, I’m not surprised to find Daryl is already seated. A part of me had wanted to keep him waiting and exercise some control in the meeting. Perhaps I want to give myself time to make sure I am doing the right thing. I can’t help thinking I am completely mad for risking my life seeing him again. So putting him on the back foot for a change gives me a sense of power over him, something I haven’t felt before. Maybe that’s what this is about really, I don’t know. Fidgeting nervously, I stand at a sign which reads, wait here to be seated. I try to hold on to the feeling of control, and remind myself I’m not weak.

  In the few minutes of waiting, I take the time to anticipate the conversations that might arise, scenarios playing out in my head. The thought of talking to Daryl for the first time since he’d tried to kill me makes me doubt myself. My body is clammy and wet with fear and my resolve begins to waver. Spying me from his table, his light blue eyes sparkle and dance as they drink in my outfit. He smiles nervously, looking pleased to see me. This is a side of him I haven’t expected. A sea of emotions engulf me and my hands tremble a little as the waiter hands me a menu and walks me across to him. I am still in love with him. Or perhaps I’m in love with the idea of him. I can’t but wonder if there is still a chance to make this work. Having now seen him, I have to admit that my plan for strength is failing miserably.

  Getting up from his seat, he says, “Katie, you look beautiful.”

  I sit down opposite him. “Thank you,” I reply quietly.

  Reaching out his hand, he strokes my fingers softly and whispers, “I’m so sorry about everything. I know what I did was wrong, Katie. I know you can’t forgive me but I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

  I nod as he slips the menu out from my hands and waves the waiter over. He orders my food as well as his own, both of us slipping into our old roles. It’s as if nothing has changed. As we wait for the food to arrive, my appetite drops away as the sun disappears behind a curtain of clouds in the sky.

  “How are things in the shop, Jeannie still on your case?” Daryl has never liked the fact I have a job, a life existing outside of his.

  “Oh, you know what she’s like. Same old Jeannie,” I chuckle nervously, careful to measure my tone. The balance of power has spun on a coin and I can’t help feeling this is a terrible mistake.

  When the food arrives, I stare at it like it’s a monster, rather than a salad. My stomach argues incessantly, food will only make you hurl, but Daryl gives me a look. I know what it means. I grab a forkful of rocket leaves and force my lips to go around it. Daryl tucks into an oozing slice of meaty pizza and screams at me, “Close up your damn mouth, we don’t want the whole world to see what you’re eating!” A few eyebrows are raised from nearby customers as I suppress the wild hysteria threatening to erupt from my lips.

  The salad sits like a lump of concrete inside my stomach as the waiter tentatively approaches the table. Ignoring Daryl completely, which only fuels his jealousy, he asks if I would like to see the dessert menu. He looks questioningly at me, as if asking for something more. Do you need help? Should I call the police? his eyes seem to ask.

  I shake my head and reach across to Daryl. Ignoring me, Daryl pays the bill and, as the waiter moves off, slides his hand away. He promises me that he’s collected my things up, and if I go back to the house I can have them. I don’t trust him but I am determined to be afraid no longer, to take back control. This meeting is not going how I planned at all, I am going to win. This is more than a game, but I think I know what I’m playing for. I’ll get my stuff, end it once and for all. No more ties to him, no more power over me.

  Following behind Daryl, I half expect the car to break down as it had on the first day. Aside from a few peculiar coughs and splutters, Eva follows willingly. Reaching the house, Daryl pulls up outside, allowing me to swing the car into the driveway. I let my headlights shine on the garage for a moment, whilst I pluck up the courage to go in. I jump when he knocks on the window, I can clearly put it off no longer. Tentatively, I walk around the front of the car, making my way to the door, absentmindedly wondering if I am walking to my death.

  “Sit down,” Daryl commands, any charm now gone, fading away like the illusion it always was. I take a seat on the armchair, leaving him no room to sit next to me. I scan the room but if he’s packed my things up as he promised, they are out of sight. I begin to realise how stupid I’ve been, coming here for a few trinkets that mean nothing. Certainly not more than my life. I’ve played right into his hands.

  “I know about the flat,” he says quietly. “I suppose you told Jeannie everything.”

  He gets up from his chair and puts his face in front of mine, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He makes sure I am level with his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to see me at all. Instead his eyes are glassy as he looks right through me like I am nothing more than a possession. Sharp bolts of pain rain down my neck as he tugs my hair hard enough to sting. “Didn’t you? Why did you have to run off? It’s not as if I was going to kill you. After everything I’ve done for you Katie, this is how you treat me!” he shouts angrily.

  Petrified, I don’t dare to reply, fearing I’ll only escalate his anger. I’ve made a horrible mistake coming back here and it will be my last. I’m going to die here. This is a real danger, the kind that body I’d found in the forest knew all too well about. The no coming back from kind. I’ve barely escaped with my life two times already, when am I going to rea
lise I’m not a cat, this is my one life and that there are no do-overs? All I can do now is think about escaping, there is no one to rescue me this time.

  Daryl lets go of my hair and backs off, pacing the room. I’ve never seen him so pent up. Whatever is eating at him is fuelling his rage. This is my moment to make a move, to distract him and hopefully calm him down. I get up slowly, in full view of him, to make it clear I’m not leaping to get away.

  “I’m so sorry Daryl. I got scared. I shouldn’t have left.” I notice a photograph I’ve never seen before. I walk over to the table and ask who it is.

  “Like you don’t fucking know.”

  Momentarily puzzled, I am distracted. Daryl leaps across the room and slaps me sharply across the face. The force is so hard, it knocks me off my feet. Trembling, I touch my nose and gasp as my fingers come away wet and bloody.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honestly, I don’t. But I’ll come back. I’ll look after you again, I promise,” I tell him. How I’d never seen him before as he truly is, I don’t know. The man who is standing before me isn’t capable of love. He’s only ever wanted control, over me and my life. I would say anything to him, anything to save myself. I think about Dan. I think about the future we might have had, a future I can no longer see. What’s the point in fighting any longer? I resolve myself to the inevitable, closing my eyes, I prepare myself for the next blow. I prepare myself for death.