The Day We Disappeared

by Lucy Robinson

  ‘She’ll need feeding,’ I said.

  ‘She will. Ana Luisa?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Ana Luisa!’

  ‘Dad, I’m busy,’ came the shout from upstairs. ‘Will you leave my dinner outside my bedroom door, please? And soon. I’m starving.’

  Mark and I looked at each other. Joe was out seducing the new receptionist at the vet’s and he was normally the back-up cook when Sandra wasn’t around. It was dawning on us both that we were going to have to cook a meal. Together. And eat it together, without even the ferocious company of Ana Luisa.

  Get a grip, Brady, I told myself. You are more than capable of having some food with your boss.

  Forty minutes later we had something that was reasonably similar to sausage and mash. I’d shoved the sausages head first into the mash so they stood up out of the potato and Mark had put together some quite bad gravy and overcooked peas.

  Ana Luisa, unable to wait any longer, had come down to harry us along.

  ‘Dad!’ she shouted, when he put the dish on the table.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘DAD!’

  ‘What?’ Mark had his hands on his hips.

  ‘Everything,’ she replied derisively. ‘Just everything. This is the worst meal I’ve ever seen!’

  ‘It’s an unpleasant-looking thing,’ Mark admitted. ‘But it tastes good. Look!’ He pulled a sausage out of its mash mooring and dipped it into his thin gravy. ‘Mmmm!’ He ruffled her hair and she slapped him off, smoothing down her shiny mane.

  ‘You are a tragedy,’ she told him. ‘This is a terrible dinner! What if Granny goes off and marries George? What are you going to eat then, Daddy? You could die of bad food!’

  Mark was shaking with laughter. ‘You may well be right,’ he said.

  ‘I’m going to get a packet of crisps and I want you to think about what you’ve done,’ she told him. ‘I love you, Daddy, but this is just not good enough.’

  Mark and I cried with laughter as his daughter marched into the kitchen and then back out with a packet of McCoy’s hanging disdainfully from her fingers. ‘Shocking,’ she said. ‘Absolutely shocking, the pair of you.’

  She paused to kiss her dad on the way, then stomped out, her hair all flicky and stylish, a proper little lady.

  Mark mopped his eyes. ‘Right. Well, it’s just you and me, then.’

  ‘Indeed. A date!’

  What had I just said? I had never hated myself as much as I did at this moment.

  ‘Er, yes …’ Mark said. Then: ‘Um, no. Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha.’

  ‘Obviously I was joking …’

  At least Mark had the decency to look as embarrassed as I felt. I sat down and pulled one of my legs up on the chair next to me. Just to show how casual I was. Just to show this was not, and never would be, a date, Mark pulled out a sausage with his thumb and forefinger and started eating it like that. Casual.

  Ana Luisa reappeared in the doorway. She leaned against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other, appraising us coolly. ‘You’re on a date, did you say?’ She ate a crisp. ‘I was just outside, listening in.’

  Mark started to tell her that eavesdropping was not a great quality in any human being but she interrupted him. ‘You are on a date, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘You’re both looking very strange in the face, and Kate is wearing make-up and she never wears make-up.’ She looked at me. ‘Do you fancy my dad?’ she asked.

  I had a forkful of mash halfway up to my mouth. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Do you fancy my dad?’ she repeated. ‘Everyone else does, apart from Mum. All the mothers at school and all the women he teaches riding to. And everyone else. Everyone fancies my dad. Do you?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  Ana Luisa wasn’t pleased. ‘Why not?’

  Oh, holy God.

  ‘Ana Luisa …’ Mark began. I could see he was torn between terrible fear and terrible amusement. ‘Look here –’

  But she cut across him: ‘She fancies you, Dad. Why don’t you grow a pair and ask her out?’

  Chapter Twenty

  Annie

  Autumn. London grew colder and brighter; the days shorter and the nights sharp. I was still as high as a kite, dizzy with looping, spiralling love.

  Le Cloob were meeting tonight, having had quite a poor summer.

  Stephen was in West Sussex with his father. I was rather relieved he was there because if he’d been at home I’d probably have cancelled Le Cloob. He would never have tried to stop me seeing my friends, of course, but I couldn’t stand the guilt of leaving him in that great big house, all stressed and lonely.

  Poor Stephen was having a horrible time. Something – everything, it seemed – was going wrong at his New York office and he was having to spend half his life either working late in London or, frequently, flying to New York to deal with it in person. Meanwhile his father, whose grief was rolling on with the grim determination of a five-tonne lorry, had become suddenly needy and Stephen had been summoned down there several times, often late at night.

  He was exhausted. Eating badly, drinking too much, often very scratchy and tense. I watched him running around, trying to make things better for his grieving father and I loved him. The man was at his physical and mental limits, yet still he took his dad’s calls, still he drove down to West Sussex, even though the round trip took more than four hours, and even though he was on his knees with tiredness.

  I had no idea what I could do for him, so I’d decided just to be the best girlfriend I could be.

  Tim and Claudine were at a table next to the bar, talking over a candle. My heart swelled.

  ‘Hello!’ I cried.

  Claudine had a scowl as long as a baguette. And Tim looked like someone had stuck a baguette up his bottom.

  ‘I am surprised you came,’ Claudine said, by way of a greeting. ‘And where is your sister? She is always late. I am sick of it.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s on her way,’ I said. ‘What do you mean, you’re surprised I came?’

  Claudine just shook her head.

  ‘Um, hello,’ I said, bending down to kiss Tim.

  He took my hand and squeezed it very tightly. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. He looked tired and unusually scruffy.

  As summer had turned into autumn Tim had seemed to become sadder, not happier. Stephen thought it was because he was pining for me; I thought he just wasn’t over Mel.

  Claudine poured some Merlot then fixed her beady eyes on me. ‘So, Stephen has kidnapped you and you are not allowed to spend time with us,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Not this again.

  She merely raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Well, he’s having a pretty bad time at the moment,’ I began. I glanced at Tim – help me out here – but he was just watching me with glassy detachment. ‘But, um, I’ve only missed one Le Cloob, haven’t I?’

  ‘You ’ave missed three,’ Claudine said coolly. ‘And you do not reply to my messages, and Tim said you’ve ignored several voicemails that he ’as left you. Tell me, Annabel, is this the behaviour of an old friend?’

  I stared stupidly at them. ‘What do you mean I’ve missed three? What? Voicemails? Messages?’

  Claudine looked impatient. ‘Oh, please,’ she muttered.

  I began to panic. I surely couldn’t have been that bad? Could I?

  Shit, I thought miserably. I probably could. There had definitely been voicemails I hadn’t listened to and it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if I’d managed to completely overlook text messages. I’d been doing it for years. But never to the extent that I’d offended Le Cloob. I have to sort myself out, I thought anxiously. These people would move mountains for me, yet I can’t even reply to their text messages?

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, slumping into my chair. ‘I … It’s been really busy. We went on a few little holidays in the summer … And now, well, there’s just lots of shit going on for Stephen. I’ve been trying to help him. Dry cleaning, looking after his house, cooking fo
r him, that sort of stuff.’

  Claudine was disgusted. ‘You ’ave been acting as ’is ’ousekeeper?’

  ‘No! Of course not! And he’s forever trying to stop me! I’m just helping out when I can.’ I tried to look stronger than I felt. ‘That’s what you do in a relationship,’ I added.

  ‘Good to have some variation, though, don’t you think?’ Tim said mildly. ‘You do seem to be with him most nights, Pumpkin. And doing his laundry the rest of the time. Do you not think it might be a good idea to have some other things going on?’

  I stared at him in disbelief. Tim? Tim was jumping on the bandwagon, too? ‘I am not with him all the time!’ I said. ‘And the laundry was just an example! Stop acting like I’m That Girl!’

  Claudine fixed me with her deadliest stare. ‘Well, then, stop being That Girl.’

  Lizzy arrived. ‘Hi, darlings,’ she said, without kissing any of us. She fell into her seat and reached over to grab my wine, which she downed in one. ‘Urgh,’ she said.

  Well, I’m glad I came tonight, I thought. Cheers, everyone! Good health! I went to the loo and asked myself to please be nice and consider that not everyone was as lucky as I was right now. I had a little text-off with Stephen and as usual I felt better. He was the best drug. He should have been available on the NHS.

  When I got back to the table, Lizzy asked me what was going on. ‘You’ve disappeared off the face of the earth, darling,’ she said.

  I sighed. After Le Cloob had bollocked me en masse in the summer I’d tried really hard to improve matters, but Stephen was having such a particularly difficult time at the moment, and on the rare occasions he was free he had a rather lovely habit of whisking me away for nights at beautiful hotels. What was I meant to do? Tell him, ‘No, thanks’? ‘You all just think I’ve gone mad, don’t you?’ I said. ‘You just think I’m in this mad whirlwind of obsession and I’m letting my life slip by the wayside.’

  Nobody argued, and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

  ‘It’s fine, sweetheart,’ Lizzy said flatly. ‘Just make a bit more you time. And reply to your bloody messages!’

  ‘I do!’

  Le Cloob rolled a collective eye.

  The evening limped on in a crappy fashion. Lizzy told us that both of the men she was dating had found out about each other and dumped her. She was ‘a bit upset’. ‘But more just disappointed in myself,’ she said, in a moment of uncharacteristic self-reflection. ‘What am I doing?’

  Tim, who probably knew exactly what she was doing, merely stared at her in an unfocused sort of a way.

  I went to the toilet again.

  Everything there was a lot more jolly: I’d had another text message from Stephen, who was making dinner for his dad. How is Le Cloob? Have you told them our news? I cannot wait, my little Pumpkin. Literally cannot wait. Love you xxxx

  Funny. Tim had always called me Pumpkin. Maybe I looked like one.

  I called him.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he said. The TV in the background faded as he moved off to talk to me.

  I sighed. ‘Not really. Stephen, have I just been with you for the last few months? Have I really just shut myself off from the world? They said I’m either with you or running around doing your errands.’

  There was a silence. Then: ‘Well, my little Pumpkin, I guess, thinking about it, you have been a bit too kind to me recently. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps you should be spending more time with them.’

  I bit my lip.

  ‘I mean, you love spending time with them, don’t you?’ he continued. ‘They’re your best friends.’

  ‘They don’t feel very friendly, these days,’ I admitted. As soon as I’d said it, I hated myself. But it’s true, I thought. They’ve given me nothing but shit since I started going out with Stephen. Which would be reasonable if he was bad news, but he’s the nicest man in London!

  ‘Pumpkin?’

  ‘Tim calls me …’

  ‘Tim calls you what?’ Stephen sounded faintly suspicious.

  ‘Nothing.’ I didn’t want to tell him Tim called me Pumpkin too. Something told me he wouldn’t like that.

  ‘Look, Pumpkin,’ Stephen said. ‘The most important people to spend time with are the ones who make you feel fantastic about yourself. Who you enjoy seeing every time, even when the chips are down. If Le Cloob make you feel like that then of course see them more. I’m certainly not expecting you to run around doing my chores, even though it’s been unbelievably sweet of you to do so.’

  But they don’t make me feel fantastic about myself, I thought. In fact, these days, they make me feel rubbish.

  ‘Go and tell them our news,’ Stephen urged. ‘I think their reaction will tell you all you need to know! I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.’

  He was right. It’d be a good test.

  ‘I love you,’ I told him, and marched back out to the restaurant.

  ‘I have news!’ I said, sitting back down. ‘I’m moving in with Stephen!’

  Le Cloob stared.

  ‘I finally told Mr Pegler what his house was worth, and he tried to let me stay on at the same rent but his son had other ideas. It’s going to cost me a fortune now so I’ve handed in my notice. And Stephen asked me to move in. So – ta-da! We’re going to cohabit from Christmas onwards!’

  ‘What?’ said Claudine, eventually.

  ‘Jesus!’ said Lizzy, looking really upset.

  And: ‘Oh,’ said Tim.

  I took a good look at them. All three of them. None of them was happy for me. Not even Lizzy. In fact Lizzy, to my horror, burst into tears.

  ‘My lovely Annie,’ she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and trying to hug me sideways. ‘I’m so, so sorry. Ignore me. I’m truly excited for you, darling, I really am, but I just … Oh, God, I’m sorry.’

  I pulled back, staring at her in bewilderment. ‘But what? What’s going on?’

  Lizzy grabbed a napkin from the bread basket and shoved it in her face, crumbs flying everywhere and sticking to her tears. This was not like my beautifully presented sister at all. I repeated my question.

  ‘Love,’ she replied sadly. ‘Or lack of it. I’m so sorry, I don’t want to ruin your moment, darling, but you’ve kind of pulled the rug from under my feet. We’d been doing so well at avoiding love, you and me, and then you went and got all brave and let Stephen love you and I just …’ She sobbed into the napkin until Tim, as if roused from the dead, passed her the packet of tissues he always carried around.

  Lizzy eventually cleared up her face. Claudine, I noticed, had not said anything.

  ‘Apols,’ Lizzy said weakly. ‘This is awful behaviour. I’m just feeling rather sad and left behind. Scared I’ll never be able to do it. Bollocks, maybe I need therapy.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, Lizzy Lou,’ I said gently. ‘If you’re ready for love then love will sure as hell be ready for you. You’re every man’s dream, darling, you have it all.’

  ‘You do,’ Tim chimed in, although he sounded fairly unconvincing. ‘You’re lovely, Lizzy. And gorgeous. Not to mention super-clever.’

  Lizzy made her best and bravest attempt at a smile. ‘Kate,’ she said. ‘We need Kate Brady. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled for you, Annie, my love. None of the awful reactions you’re getting from us bunch of old goats.’

  Privately, I couldn’t have agreed more. I hoped Kate would ring me soon. I needed a friend who was always happy for me, whatever I did, whatever I said. A friend who didn’t always have my past in mind, who didn’t think they knew what was best for me.

  ‘She will be happy,’ I agreed. ‘And, Lizzy, I mean it. Your time will come soon.’

  Claudine said, ‘I am going to order the plum clafoutis for dessert.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘That’s all you have to say?’

  Claudine’s eyes flashed and my heart sank. I had roused the tiger. We all went out of our way to avoid rousing the tiger.

  ‘Actually, I am not ’aving the plum clafoutis,’ she said stiff
ly. ‘If I ’ave to listen to this bullshit a moment longer I will have to poison your desserts. So I am leaving. I am sick of having friends who disappear up the arsehole of their own love-lives. Call me when you ’ave something better to talk about.’

  And with that, she left.

  ‘That went well,’ I said.

  Tim gave me a funny look. ‘Well, it’s all pretty sudden, Annie. You’ve really not known him very long.’

  How’s it going? Stephen texted. Have you told them yet? I’m sure they’ll be thrilled for you. X

  I walked to the tube with Tim at the end of the night. He’d apologized, earlier, for taking a crap all over my news, but we both knew it was too late. My friends were clearly convinced that I was insane, and I was terrified that they might be right. It reminded me painfully of being seventeen, of watching myself constantly for signs of another downward turn, waiting for the tightening sensations that would herald the return of the panic attacks.

  I was sick of it. Sick of never being able to fully trust myself.

  As we drifted down into the tube station, behind a crowd of drunk young people singing some song I was clearly too old to know, Tim suddenly stopped. ‘You really are in love with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am.’ I felt it fill my chest and lungs. ‘It was just as you said, Tim. A drug. The breath of life. Everything.’

  I saw intense pain in his eyes. ‘Oh, Tim,’ I said softly. ‘Timmy, what’s going on? Is it Mel? Are you still heartbroken? Please talk to me.’

  But please don’t say anything I don’t want to hear.

  Tim carried on staring at me, as if sizing up whether or not to share. Then part of him withdrew. ‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Just thinking about love, and feeling sad – same as Lizzy, I suppose. It’s harder to pretend you’re okay about not having it when you can see it happening to someone else.’

  I put my hand on his shoulder, wishing so desperately that I could help. ‘But you’ll find it! Tim, of all the men I know … you’re wonderful. How could you not find love?’

  He was staring blankly at the advertising screens sliding past us as we descended the escalator. ‘I did find love,’ he said when we got to the bottom. ‘I found love unlike anything I could’ve imagined. I’ve loved this girl for years.’