See You Soon

by NC Marshall

  Jake was wearing a leather biker jacket and faded denim jeans. I remember thinking how cool he looked and I felt honored to be seen even standing next to him. The small wine bar was cramped and I had no choice but stay close to Jake. I could feel the heat from his body coming through his thin T-shirt as I sipped on my white wine and tried to hide my nervousness.

  We told each other a little about ourselves, starting with the basics, then later moving on to more detailed and personal information. I learned that he had only recently moved to Sandbroke. He was a bricklayer by trade and had been offered a long-term contract on the new housing developments that had started in Cranley. His family lived in Manchester and he didn’t really know anybody outside of work in the area yet; appeared I was the first. He had been living in Sandbroke for almost three months, already loved it, and had recently rented a one-bed flat on a road I knew well just off the main high street. I told him that I was starting college in September and had decided to study business, because that’s the course that would lead to Uni and make me the most money which was the thing that really mattered in life to me then. I told him my real passion was art. My all-time dream was to paint landscapes in watercolour for a living. I hoped to one day make enough money to buy my own studio and sell my work to people who loved to get lost in a painting as much as I did.

  People kept nudging me and shoving to get past where I was standing, pushing me more and more off balance until I eventually fell onto him. Embarrassed, I attempted to push myself away, but as I began to move, Jake’s arm slid around me pulling me closer. It was effortless, his hand rested in the dip of my lower back like it was always meant to be there. He tilted my chin towards him and kissed me right there in the middle of the busy bar. I’d kissed boys before, but never like this, and although he was only a few years older than I, his experience shone through. I craved more.

  Later, we moved on to another bar, had a few more drinks and laughed and danced together, until finally I loosened up and started to enjoy myself. It was one of the best times of my life.

  That night we went back to his flat and we slept together. It’s something I swore I’d never do. I hardly knew him, and it was so out of character for me. Until that point, I had been a virgin, possessing no sexual experience and outrageously romanticized plans of how my first time would be. Jake was gentle, as if he knew how nervous I was. From beginning to end it felt so right and I decided at that moment that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man. Even though I knew very little about him, I felt a connection to him that I couldn’t deny.

  *

  The first few months that Jake and I were together were blissful. We spent every waking moment with each other and I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper for him. Jake soon convinced me that I should follow my dreams and I decided that he was right. I quickly made the decision to listen to what my heart told me and changed my course at college to study art instead of the business course that I hated. I loved him even more for encouraging me and wanting me to be happy.

  We had been together for a little while when I moved in with him. By that time I was almost eighteen, and although my parents were a little worried, they had met Jake and approved of him. He had charmed them the same way that he had charmed me. I started to see less and less of Ali and Jenna, investing all of my time into Jake. After all, he was the ideal man for me and had started to become my new best friend. He had admitted he didn’t really like it when I spent so much time away from him with my friends. I didn’t mind; after all this was the man I would marry and grow old with. He was perfect. But as we all know, people can change as time passes, and unfortunately for me, Jake was one of them and things soon took a drastic turn.

  Chapter 10

  It didn’t take long for our relationship to turn sour. It's hard to believe that something once so pure and beautiful could turn into something so poisonous, so fast, but sadly, it did.

  I ditched college with less than five months remaining for my art course, much to the dismay of both my college lectures and my parents. My grades at college had been consistently high and I had been predicted overall fantastic grades by my tutors, gaining me entry to a vast choice of art schools and universities. The lecturers said I had a real eye and told my parents they thought I would make a fantastic artist one day. I dismissed the praise and their constant protests against my seemingly out of the blue decision to quit. I was now aware I was wasting my time following false hopes and had to focus instead on real life. I told myself that I needed to set my sights on getting a job that would pay the bills and let go of my unrealistic childhood dream. My parents were annoyed with me because they felt I had thrown away a future with great prospects. Something inside of me had changed and I didn’t have the same ambitions I once had. My future wasn’t going to work out the way I had once planned, and I didn’t care because as long as I was with Jake nothing else mattered.

  I soon started working at the local pub, but that didn’t bring in much money and Jake was spending almost all the salary he brought in, so I picked up a second job as a waitress in the café which had previously been the diner where Jake and I had first met.

  It started with the drinking. Jake would go out more and more and I found myself going out less and less. I spent almost every night alone watching the clock and wondering what time he would choose to roll in. I had grown apart from Ali and Jenna completely by then, and we had now all gone our separate ways. I had even pushed my family away and saw very little of them. I grew increasingly more alone and isolated. All I seemed to do was work and the small amount of spare time that I had, I didn’t have the energy to even try living life in the way that I should have back then. I hated him for forcing me to miss out on my late teenage years that should have been some of the best of my life and I hated me for allowing that to happen. I won't ever get that time back.

  Jake’s drinking soon got out of hand. He was sacked from his job in Cranley and seemed to have no drive or motivation to get another. He continued drinking on a daily basis and seemed to spend best part of his time nursing a hangover or possibly in a police cell sobering up with multiple charges under his belt for being drunk and disorderly and disturbing the peace. He soon developed a reputation for himself and became a regular gossiping point for the town. He began to treat me like dirt and all we did was argue. Yet still, I didn’t say anything and I didn’t leave him. I lost the person that I was and my own identity seemed to be shadowed by his.

  Months passed, and soon I had been with Jake for almost two years. On our second anniversary of the day we first met at the diner, I found out he had been cheating on me. Admittedly, it came as no shock, but still, I was heartbroken. I confronted him about it and he didn’t deny it at all; in fact he bragged. He told me she was a girl who worked for the company he was once employed by, that he had been seeing her for a while. She was as sexy as hell and turned him on in ways I had never even come close to. I was devastated, and this time, I left him immediately. I packed my bags and headed straight back to my parents who, of course, welcomed me back with open arms.

  Jake pleaded with me for weeks to go back to him. He called me, followed me. Wherever I went it seemed Jake just so happened to be there too—it became almost obsessive. When nothing worked, he finally gave up the drink and seemed to get himself back on the straight and narrow and even managed to get his job back. He promised me he was a changed man, and like a fool, I was naive enough to take his word for it. I moved back in with him a short while later, much to the consternation of my family. For a while things were back to normal, but then the drinking started again, only this time it was even worse.

  Jake only hit me once, but once was all it took. I loved him with all my heart and had now endured over two years of verbal abuse and emotional torture. When I found out that he was cheating on me again and I threatened to leave him, he lost it and slapped me across the face. This time, I knew it was over for good. From somewhere within me I found strength and finally started
to see that I was worth more than what I was putting up with. But, just like the first time, he wouldn’t leave me alone, pleading with me to go back to him and telling me that his life wasn't worth living if I wasn’t in it. After a couple of months of constant hounding and an eventual police restraining order, the harassment finally stopped. But I couldn’t settle, how could I? I knew that he lived in the same small town and I could easily bump into him wherever I went. As long as I lived in Sandbroke there was no way I would be able to live my life to the fullest, in fear of always having to look over my shoulder. So, when my dad was offered a job near Newcastle upon Tyne, it seemed the logical option to go with them. I never heard from Jake again.

  A short time after moving to the North East, I found out I was pregnant with Lucy. I was nineteen and a single mum, to say I was frightened would be an understatement, but there wasn’t a single second that I considered not having my baby, nor did I ever consider telling Jake he was a father. He didn’t deserve to be a parent and he certainly wasn’t having anything to do with my daughter. My parents and sister, Trish, were more than amazing and to this day they have been the most supportive and loving family I could ever wish for. As for Lucy, I love my daughter more than anything in this world. I've lied to her about her father to protect her. She believes that he didn’t want to be part of our lives and I thank God that up to this point she has never questioned his whereabouts or even craved for a lot of detail about him. She is happy, and that is all I could ever wish for.

  I don’t know what happened to Jake Saunders. I don’t know what he did with his life, what he looks like now, or even where he ended up living, nor do I care. All I know for sure is that I never want to have to see him again for as long as I live.

  Part Three

  Chapter 11

  The drive to Pemblington normally takes just over half an hour. But on this occasion, it seems more like twelve. I’m overly aware that I really shouldn’t be here, but I’d insisted I accompany Mark on the journey. I couldn’t have stayed at Logan’s twiddling my thumbs and done nothing. Once again, Mark is bending the rules more for me than he should be. He tries his best to make small talk during the journey, even staying clear of any personal questions, but even he is much quieter than normal, which is maybe for the best as I can’t fully focus on him. I need to know if in fact my old childhood friend, the one of only two best friends that I have ever had in my life, is dead.

  Heat blazes through the open car window of Mark’s large and expensive-looking Mercedes. He has the air con on full, but I need fresh air in my lungs to try and stop the nausea brewing inside my stomach. I've already had to ask Mark to pull over once because I felt so sick. Maybe breakfast wasn’t such a good idea. Mark’s busy muttering on about something to do with the performance of his car. I hear a few tangled words like ‘horse power’ and ‘cylinders’ which I presume are linked to the topic he has chosen to discuss. He sounds as if he’s trying to keep his own mind off the now rapidly approaching event in front of us. At any other time, I would be interested in Mark’s car, with its fancy-looking interior and hip gadgets that surround an incredibly complicated looking on board computer. My dad is massively into cars and his influence over the years has caused both my sister and me to be well on our way to be worthy of the title of ‘petrol heads.’ Today, I couldn’t care less.

  As we shoot forward along the busy road, small coastal villages whiz by, most of which are so small that I can't even count to ten before we pass through and leave them behind. We leave the route shortly hitting the quieter country roads I remember well, that twist and turn as views of the ocean momentarily disappear before coming back to produce an idyllic post card-type scene.

  I had been to Pemblington numerous times for family day trips when I was younger; it had been one of my parent’s favourite weekend getaways. It was a pretty village dotted with white cottages with thatched roofs shadowed by the ruins of an old castle perched high and proud on a hill in its centre. Up to this point in my life, I have nothing but fond memories of the place, but I feel today that will come to an end.

  “You alright?” asks Mark. We pass under the castle’s shadow, creating a split second of darkness in the car as the sun is blocked by the domineering structure. I can't help feeling his question is nothing less than utterly stupid at this moment. We are, after all, heading to the location of my best friend’s body.

  “Fine,” I answer abruptly.

  “You didn’t have to come, you know. I would have called you as soon as I found out if it is Ali,” he replies in a similar tone to match my own.

  “I know, I wouldn’t have settled though,” I whisper back. “I just need to know, Mark.”

  “You don’t have to wait much longer.” Mark hits the brakes a little too heavily, and I jolt forward in my seat. “We’re here,” he says coldly.

  We pull onto a gravel public car park overlooking the shores of Pemblington Bay. It is exactly the same as I remember, back when Trish and I used to play here when we were young, unscathed by the years that have passed by. A perfect golden shoreline stretches out for miles, the castle walls loom in the distance.

  Already, I can see a small white tent close to the water's edge. I had only ever seen one on TV crime drama series’ much like the one Ali used to star in. I don’t know a lot about the procedure surrounding them, but I know enough to work out that a corpse will more than likely be inside.

  Mark takes off his sunglasses and places them on the dashboard before he reaches out to open the car door.

  “I won't be long. Why don’t you get some fresh air? It’ll do you good, you look pale,” he says. I nod up at him, unable to speak back.

  I watch Mark as he makes his way down to the sea, greeting a couple of police officers on his way and stopping at a smart-suited man who is busy talking into a police radio. He says something to Mark and they both glance towards me. I get out of the car shakily and move to a cobbled wall overlooking the beach where police tape sections off the best part of the sand. Sunrays eat into my bare arms, making me feel queasy. I watch as a small crowd of teenagers gather near me, pointing to the activities taking place on the beach. What is it with the human fascination with such awful events? It's morbid.

  There's a slightly stronger wind here today than there is further along the coast. The sea looks calm, just as it did earlier back in Sandbroke, but I know well of the hidden currents that swell invisible under its surface. It’s a warning I had embedded into me from the time I was young and a reason this part of coastline doesn’t go long without the odd fatality rearing its ugly head. What if Ali had decided to go for a swim that day she was at the beach in Cranley? What if the already over-stretched, overworked lifeguards failed to see her entering the water on an undoubtedly crowded beach? I remember her to be strong and fearless swimmer when she was younger. What if she got into trouble and nobody was around. Or, what if she was never in the water before she died. What if someone put her there? What if that is the trouble she was in. The reason that she needed to speak to me so urgently. Was someone after her?

  I watch silently as Mark waits until the suited man finishes talking on the radio, shakes his hand, and follows his lead to the tarpaulin. My heart hammers in my chest. I want to stand up and get closer but I fear my legs won't support my weight. I lean forward and bury my head in my hands. God this can't be happening.

  When I lift my head, Mark has already emerged from the tent and is heading back towards me. I can't tell yet by the look on his face what the verdict is. The little colour that he had in his cheeks has gone and I wonder after so many years of being on the force having to do this still has a profound effect on him. I suppose he wouldn’t be human if it didn’t. I bow my head back to the ground, preparing myself for the worst. I can't do this.

  Mark reaches me quickly and takes my hand, slowly I lift my head to look at him.

  “It’s not her, Em,” he says, relief shows on his face.

  “Oh,” I manage, feeling terrible for
appearing so grateful when another young woman's life has been taken in such a terrible way.

  “The woman was around the same age as Ali but apart from that there was absolutely no resemblance. Police are looking into possible missing cases now; she could have come from anywhere along this stretch of coastline. Ali seemed like the most plausible explanation, but seems not.”

  I grip my hands together in tight fists and bite my lower lip in an attempt to prevent myself from crying.

  “Come on, let's get you back to Sandbroke.” Mark rubs my shoulder and guides me back to the car where I settle into the seat feeling suddenly drained.

  We start the drive back to Sandbroke and I’m actually starting to relax a little when my mobile phone alerts me to a text message, and I suddenly realise I haven’t texted Lucy to say good luck for her final exam at school today. I unlock the phone, feeling like the worst mother in the world for forgetting such an important event in my daughter’s life to date. But the message isn’t from Lucy. It’s from an unknown number. I slide the button to read it as Mark pulls off the gravel car park.