by Sibel Hodge
Where had he been working today? Had he even said? As well as designing computer software systems, he was also responsible for training company employees all over the South East how to use them. He could have been anywhere.
I went into the lounge to find my laptop. I could do an Internet search to see if there was any breaking news somewhere that might mean he was delayed. Maybe there was a pile-up on a motorway and he was stuck in traffic. But that still didn’t explain why he wasn’t answering his phone. Unless he’d left it somewhere. Or lost it. Or the battery was dead. But he had a car phone charger, so why wasn’t he using that? Maybe he’d broken down and the battery was flat.
The odd sensation I’d experienced when I’d walked in the front door hit me again in the lounge. Something was different about the room, but I couldn’t work out what. Everything looked in the same place. The TV was still there. The expensive stereo.
I frowned when I spied Jamie’s laptop on the coffee table next to mine. He always took it to work with him—for presentations and training. Why was it still here? Had he forgotten it?
I turned his laptop on instead of mine since it was far quicker. The first thing I noticed was that his background wallpaper picture was missing. It was a photo of the two of us, taken in Scotland where we’d been away for a romantic weekend about six months after we’d met. Then I realised there were no icons, either. It was just a blank black screen. How weird.
I frowned, wondering if it had crashed. Maybe it had caught a virus. Jamie’s voice popped into my head, then, telling me that a computer couldn’t ‘catch’ a virus, as I’d mentioned to him one day. He’d laughed his head off. But anyway, the most likely conclusion was that he’d left it here because it had died for some reason.
I turned it off, put it back on the coffee table, and reached for mine, balancing it on my knee as I waited impatiently for it to boot up.
I searched on Google for any traffic problems in the South East, but I couldn’t see anything that might explain why Jamie had been delayed.
My mobile phone ringing in the kitchen made me jump. I put the laptop back on the coffee table and rushed to answer it, but when I picked it up, it was ‘Ava,’ my sister’s name, that showed on the display.
‘Hiya, Maya!’ Ava sang down the phone. She always thought that was funny for some reason. Not that I hadn’t heard it about a million times before. ‘How’s it going? You’ll never guess what happened to me to—’
‘Hi, sis. Look, I can’t talk now. I’m trying to get hold of Jamie,’ I butted in. Ava and I usually spoke to each other every day, but it would have to wait until tomorrow now.
‘Oh, okay. Where is he?’
‘I don’t know. He’s not answering the phone, and he was supposed to be home hours ago.’
‘Oh, yeah! It’s your anniversary, isn’t it? Two years. Sorry I phoned. I totally forgot about it. Well, I’m sure everything’s okay. Maybe he’s just stuck in traffic or something.’
‘Yeah, I hope so.’ A burning smell hit me, and I stared at the oven. ‘Shit! I’ve burnt the dinner now. Look, I’ve got to go.’ I opened the oven door. Smoke and heat blasted me in the face. I wafted my hand around, trying to disperse it.
‘All right. Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll probably turn up in a minute. Speak soon, yeah?’
I tossed my phone on the kitchen worktop, removed the annihilated duck, and felt tears springing into my eyes. Bugger! I plonked the useless meal on top of the oven and glanced at the clock again. It read 8.30 p.m.
Paul! That’s it. Phone Jamie’s boss. He’ll know where Jamie was working today.
Except I didn’t have Paul’s mobile number and the office would be closed now. Jamie didn’t have an address book. All his numbers were stored in his phone so how could I…
His phone bills. Jamie always had detailed itemised calls. If I checked through them, I’d find Paul’s mobile number.
I ran up the stairs into the spare bedroom. In the cupboard, Jamie had a large cardboard box where he kept folders of everything important. Bank statements, credit card bills, household receipts, insurance papers, and vehicle documents. He kept trying to talk me into being more organised like that, but my bills usually went straight in the bin when I’d paid them. I always joked with him that he was a bit anal in the organisational department, but now I was glad. I scooped out some plastic A4 envelope-style wallets and looked at the first one on the pile. Credit card bills. The next had household receipts. The third one was his mobile phone bills. I slid out the first bill on top and scanned it. It took me a few minutes to work out that it was dated four months ago, which was strange. I knew he’d had a new bill a week before, and he would always put the latest on top, but that one, and those from several previous months, seemed to be missing. I didn’t have time to think about that, though, as I checked through the numbers and names listed on the October bill, looking for Paul Porter.
At the bottom of the page, I found it. Punching in his number, I tried to breathe slowly as I held my mobile to my ear.
Come on! Answer!
Paul picked up on the tenth ring. Loud music sang out in the background, along with sounds of people talking and a fruit machine pinging. That was it. Paul must be at the pub with Jamie. Had Jamie forgotten it was our anniversary? Lost track of time? No, he wouldn’t.
‘Hello?’ Paul answered.
‘Hi, it’s Maya Morgan. Is Jamie with you?’
He paused for a second, probably registering who I was. I’d met him only a couple of times at Jamie’s work do’s. ‘Oh, hi, Maya. Um…no. He’s not with me. Why?’
‘He hasn’t come home yet. He’s really late, and he’s not answering his phone. I’m worried that maybe he’s been in a car accident or something.’
‘I haven’t seen him for a week. Not since he took his annual leave.’
‘What?’ I said, thinking I’d misheard. Jamie couldn’t have been on annual leave. He’d been going to work every day, as usual. ‘You must have him mixed up with someone else. He hasn’t taken any time off.’
There was another pause on the other end of the line. ‘I’m not getting mixed up, Maya. He booked a couple of weeks off work. He hasn’t been in the office for a week, and he’s got another week of it left.’
I blinked, trying to make sense of that. ‘But I don’t understand. He’s been…he’s been leaving for work.’
‘I can assure you he hasn’t. He said he needed some time off for personal reasons.’
‘But…’ I trailed off, listening to a woman laughing in the background on the other end.
‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Paul asked, sounding confused. ‘I’m sure he’ll be—’
A terrible fear danced its way up my spine. ‘He was supposed to be here hours ago. It’s our anniversary.’
‘Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure. It’s probably all a misunderstanding.’
I stared at the carpet. ‘Why would he pretend he was going to work?’
‘Did he actually tell you he was going to work?’
I thought back to what Jamie had said that morning. He was late for a ‘meeting’. But if it wasn’t a work-related meeting, what had he been talking about? ‘Well…no, but he’s been leaving in a suit and tie every day at the same time, just like always.’
A female voice called Paul’s name. ‘Look, sorry, I’ve got to go. He’s probably just running late.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ending the call, confusion swirling in my head as I prayed that was true.
I’d just put the folders back in the box when someone knocked on the front door. The apprehension vanished, and my face broke into a huge grin. Here he was. There was nothing to worry about after all.
I swung the door open. ‘Have you forgotten your key? I thought—’ The words died in my throat as I saw two police officers standing on the doorstep. A woman in her late twenties with an older man. Both of them had solemn expressions.
‘Oh no.’ My hands flew
to my cheeks. ‘Something’s happened to Jamie, hasn’t it?’
‘Are you Mrs Taylor?’ the woman asked.
‘Um…no. Is this about Jamie?’ I looked from one to the other frantically. ‘I’m his girlfriend.’
‘Can we come in, please?’ the policeman said.
‘Yes.’ I stood back to let them into the hallway. ‘Please, just tell me what’s happened. Is he okay? Is he injured?’
‘I think you might want to sit down,’ the female officer said. I could tell by the expressions on their faces that this was something bad. Really bad.
‘I don’t want to sit down! What’s happened?’ I shrieked.
Just tell me!
The policeman cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘I’m afraid that a few hours ago, we had a report of a dead body being found in a wood near Tyttenhanger.’
I gasped. ‘What does that have to do with…’ I glanced from one to the other.
‘I’m sorry to tell you this, but when we arrived at the scene, we found a deceased male who had hanged himself from one of the trees.’
‘No.’ I shook my head, blinking rapidly. ‘Why are you telling me?’
‘In his pocket, we found a wallet with credit cards and a driving license for James Taylor at this address.’
Cold horror slammed into me. I think I let out some kind of noise as the world tilted and stopped. Everything stood still for what seemed like years as I stared at him. And then it speeded up again, hurtling around too fast, making me dizzy as the words sank in. ‘N-No. That’s not possible. It must be someone else. It’s our anniversary, you see. He’s just late, isn’t he?’ I looked between them as if they were mad. They’d made a huge mistake. They must’ve done. ‘He wouldn’t have hanged himself, don’t you understand? He wouldn’t have done that. It must be someone else. Maybe that person stole Jamie’s wallet and that’s why he’s late. Maybe he’s at a hospital somewhere, or…or his car’s crashed. Have you checked that? Have you checked?’ A rising wave of hysteria welled up inside. I leant against the wall to steady myself.
‘I know this is a terrible shock,’ the female said. ‘Do you want to sit down?’
I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what they were saying.
She put her arm around me and guided me into the kitchen, gently settling me in a chair.
‘I’m very sorry, but the photo on the driving license matches the deceased,’ the male officer said. ‘But we will need someone to do a formal identification. Are you James’s next of kin?’
My throat constricted as their words stung.
No. They’re wrong! It’s not Jamie. It’s not! It can’t be!
I swallowed, trying to think through the shrieking in my head. ‘Um…yes. His parents died years ago. He doesn’t have any family.’
‘Do you have anyone we can call for you?’
I shook my head, as if trying to shake away the image that bounced around the inside of my skull of Jamie in the mortuary. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
‘Are you sure?’ the female said. ‘A friend or relative? It’s probably not a good idea for you to be alone at the moment.’
The room swam in and out of focus. ‘It can’t be Jamie,’ I whispered. ‘He’d never do…’
‘We’re very sorry,’ the man said, but I could barely hear it over the rushing sounds in my ears.
I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth in the chair. I felt a hand on my shoulder. More words that I couldn’t make out. Tears coming from somewhere. A glass of water being put on the table in front of me. Unsteady legs as the female helped me into my coat. Then I was in the back of their police car, trembling, looking out the window as the world passed by in slow motion, and it felt as if I was freezing from the inside out.
The female officer sat in the passenger seat, twisting around to face me. ‘Are you sure you want to do this now? It can be done tomorrow.’
I shook my head. I had to see him. Had to prove it wasn’t Jamie. Of course it wasn’t. This was some kind of terrible case of mistaken identity.
She turned back around, and we drove to the hospital in silence as I dug my nails into my palms to stop my hands shaking.
We approached the brightly lit entrance and took a lift to the basement. Their rubber-soled heels squeaked on the linoleum as we headed up a long corridor. The smell of antiseptic and sickness permeated my nostrils, and my stomach lurched.
It’s not Jamie. It’s not Jamie.
We reached a door, and the male officer went inside. The female officer stood, awkwardly watching me. I turned away and looked up the corridor where we’d just come from. I wanted to run back. Get into the lift. Go home where I’d find Jamie waiting for me, a sheepish smile on his face. He’d lost his mobile phone and couldn’t call me. He’d been stuck in traffic. There was a simple explanation. But I couldn’t run because my feet were glued to the floor.
The door opened again, and the male officer stood there, his lips pressed together in a solemn line. The female placed a hand on my back and guided me inside the room. A male in blue hospital scrubs stood next to a trolley in the centre. A sheet was over it, and underneath the sheet was the indentation of a body.
It’s not Jamie. It can’t be.
‘There are some injuries to his neck,’ the man in the scrubs said.
I nodded blankly, but I just wanted him to hurry up and get it over with so I could go home and wait for Jamie to come back.
Slowly, he pulled back the sheet to reveal the person’s face.
A stabbing pain hit me in the chest. I couldn’t breathe. My legs wobbled.
It was Jamie.
‘I…’ I reached out to place a hand on Jamie’s arm, to wake him up, and then stopped myself.
The man in the scrubs looked at me sympathetically.
‘Can you confirm this is James Taylor?’ the male police officer said.
I gulped back a strangled sob and nodded, before swaying forwards, bent double, gasping for air.
The female officer held me up to stop me collapsing to my knees.
I had a form to sign. Instructions about the coroner’s officer contacting me. Words I couldn’t take in. Nodding numbly. The ride home. More offers to phone someone to stay with me. More condolences.
I couldn’t take it in. Couldn’t understand it all because Jamie was dead.
I walked into the kitchen and sat down blindly at the kitchen table. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. Didn’t want to call anyone. Not Ava, or my parents, or my friends. For once, I wanted my own company instead. Needed it.
I didn’t know how long I stayed in that position. Frozen. Grief hitting me in between denials that it was really him. Thoughts flitting from one thing to the next. Why did he do it? He was happy. He couldn’t have done it. It doesn’t make sense. Was he depressed? Had I missed some kind of signs? What about my anniversary surprise? A surprise I’d never get now. He loves me. I know he does.
Loved me. Past tense.
Past. Finished. Dead.
‘Oh, God,’ I wailed, throwing my head in my hands as the tears I’d been holding back finally unleashed in an agonising torrent, and I felt as if I was plunging into darkness.
At some point, I dragged myself upstairs and got into bed, fully clothed. I hugged Jamie’s pillow to my face, breathing in his scent, closing my eyes and imagining he was still here with me.
Today wasn’t a great day at all. It was the worst day of my life.
JAMIE
Chapter 2
It had been a long time since I’d seen any of their faces. I’d successfully buried those memories deep. So deep they’d never resurface. Locked in a safe house in my head where they couldn’t hurt me anymore. Or so I’d thought.
I’d never spoken about what happened. I’d become strong. The army helped with that. And I’d trained myself mentally to forget. Trained my body to become fit. I became adept at putting on a front. And lying. To others, of course, but to myself, mostly.
I thought I was safe from the past. Safe in my new life with Maya. Safe in my job. My home. In a cocoon of happiness that I’d come to really believe I now deserved. But a few months ago, one of them invaded my home, and I wasn’t safe anymore.
Maya had been out with Becca and Lynn, and I was watching a documentary on TV. The next minute the news was on, and there was a segment about a Member of Parliament who had now been appointed as the new children’s minister. The memories hit me like the powerful force of an avalanche, knocking me to my knees. Pictures flooded into my head. I shook violently. My chest felt as if someone was squeezing the air from my lungs. I gulped for breath, suddenly a little boy again. This MP, Eamonn Colby, was a depraved, evil excuse for a human being, who preyed on the weak. Not only that, he was a murderer. And he was now the children’s minister, in charge of protecting the vulnerable and innocent, keeping them safe, doing his utmost to look after their welfare. Nothing was more abhorrent or unjust.
I thought long and hard about what to do. I didn’t want to drag up the memories from the past. I didn’t want to put myself in that position, reliving what had happened. I’d spent enough time trying to forget and fix myself. I’d learned how to carefully hide the shadows and demons and shame for decades. It had been a long journey, but my life was now great, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.