by Cross, Amy
"There's no point blaming anyone," Charlotte pointed out, hearing footsteps nearby. Glancing along the corridor, she saw a couple of police officers heading through a set of double doors. One of them was Eve, the officer she remembered from the previous year, and she had a stern, worried look on her face.
"I don't know if I can face this," Tony said quietly.
"It's okay," Charlotte said, putting an arm around his shoulders.
"Hi," Eve said as she and the other officers reached them. There was a clear sense of nervousness in her voice, as if she was reluctant to deliver whatever news she was supposed to bring. "We've completed the identification procedure regarding the body," she continued uncertainly. "We... had to go back into some of the old files, some of the records from quite a while ago, but I'm afraid we now have a formal, confirmed identification. It's been signed off by the coroner, and the details have now been entered into the official record."
"It's okay," Tony said, his voice sounding weak and forlorn. "I know there's -"
"It's not Sophie," Eve said suddenly.
Charlotte stared at her, while Tony seemed not to have heard. It seemed as if time had stood still for a moment, as if the whole of the universe had suddenly swiveled and begun to pivot on that cool, flickering corridor.
"What?" Charlotte said eventually.
"It's not Sophie," Eve continued, but she didn't seem relieved. "Absolutely, one hundred per cent, we are positive that it's not Sophie." She paused. "We've... Actually, we've completed the identification procedure, and we know whose body it is."
Charlotte and Tony exchanged a stunned glance, before both turning to Eve.
"Who is it?" Charlotte asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
"It's..." Eve stared at her for a moment, as if she could barely bring herself to say the words. "It's you, Charlotte," she continued eventually. "The body we pulled from the river is you. It's Charlotte Abernathy."
Part Four
Rising
Twenty years ago
She walked forward on weak, uncertain legs, unsure of her destination. Every step felt heavy and forced, and as she made her way along the uneven tow-path, she tried to focus on the simple act of making her way to the gap in the trees. Just as she'd been told, just as she remembered, there was a small fence and an open wooden gate.
Leaning against the fence, she looked across the wide open lawn, at the house that stood alone in the distance. Just a couple of hundred meters to go, but it felt like all the distance in the world. Still, she knew that she couldn't stop, not yet. She had to keep going, because otherwise she'd just end up dying where she stood. Blood was trickling down her leg, and she was having trouble breathing. As she stared at the house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, and she had to cling to the wooden fence-post for a moment longer before finally she was able to regain her balance. Taking as deep a breath as she could manage, she realized that it was now or never.
She tried to run, but all she could really do was stumble as fast as possible across the sloping lawn, making her way quickly toward the house. She felt desperately light-headed, and every few steps she found herself swaying a little, which forced her to focus on righting herself before she tumbled down onto the grass. At one point, about halfway, she lost her footing entirely and had to halt her fall but reaching out with her hands, pushing herself back up and continuing her journey. The back door of the house was open, so she knew that someone had to be at home. She just needed to take a few more painful, tottering steps.
When she reached the door, she stopped for a moment, trying to get her head to stop spinning. She could see a woman in the kitchen, working at the stove, and a young girl at the nearby table. For a moment, she just stared at them, until suddenly the young girl glanced at her and stared in shocked silence. A few seconds later, the woman looked over, and there was a brief moment of absolute silence. The whole universe stopped for a moment.
"Charlotte!" the woman shouted, hurrying toward her.
Charlotte held onto the side of the door, still worried about falling.
"Charlotte!" the woman said, kneeling in front of her and staring, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Charlotte, what... Where have you been? My God, where were you?"
Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but something seemed wrong. It was as if her thoughts were spinning, and as the woman continued to stare at her, Charlotte tried to understand her place among these people. The truth, though, was that something felt terribly wrong, as if her mother's hands - which even now were pawing at her, holding her tight and checking to make sure that she was solid - were alien and strange.
"Oh my God," the woman said, pulling her close and embracing her with force. "Oh my God, Charlotte, you came home! Where have you been?"
Charlotte stared over the woman's shoulder, watching the little girl at the table, who seemed to be viewing her with suspicion.
"We were so worried about you," the woman continued, letting go of Charlotte and leaning back to get a better view of her. "Are you hurt? Charlotte, who were you with? Did someone take you? What happened? Did someone hurt you? Charlotte, this is very important. Did anyone do things to you?"
Charlotte shook her head.
"What does that mean?" the woman replied, getting to her feet before taking Charlotte's hand and leading her over to the table. "Ruth, look! Your sister has come back! After a whole year, your sister has come back to us! Isn't this the most wonderful day in the whole world?"
Ruth stared at Charlotte, but she didn't seem nearly so pleased to see her.
"Have you been fed?" the woman asked, placing the back of her hand against Charlotte's forehead. "You feel okay, and you look healthy, but where have you been? We've been searching for you, sweetheart. We've looked everywhere! You've been gone for a whole year!" She waited for an answer. "Who were you with, Charlotte?"
Charlotte turned to look up at her. "I..." she started to say, before feeling as if she might faint. She waited a moment, and slowly she was able to steady herself. "I was..."
"Sit down," her mother said, pulling a chair out from the table before steering Charlotte into the seat. "You must be hungry and thirsty," she added, hurrying over to the counter and grabbing the biscuit barrel, before placing it in front of Charlotte. "Your sister needs this," she said to Ruth as she grabbed her glass of juice and slid it in front of Charlotte. "Eat," she continued. "Drink. Then we'll get you cleaned up, okay?"
Charlotte stared at the biscuit barrel. She didn't much feel like eating anything, but she felt that she had no choice. It was as if the whole world was now and strange, filled with terrifying sensations that echoes in her mind. She knew that she was supposed to find this place and these people familiar, but they shrieked with strangeness and nothing seemed able to settle her thoughts. In her mind's eye, she had images of people that didn't make sense, but she didn't feel equipped to work out what was really happening.
"I'll have to call the police and let them know you're back," the woman said after a moment. "I'm sure they'll want to make a big fuss, but we'll soon get things back to normal. That's all that matters, really, isn't it? Getting things back to normal? Charlotte, sweetheart..." She paused, with tears in her eyes. "Ruth," she said, turning to the other girl, "aren't you so pleased to have you sister back? Isn't this the moment we've been praying and hoping for?"
Slowly, Charlotte turned to the other girl and was met with a firm scowl.
"Wait right here," the woman said, hurrying through to the hallway so she could make a phone call.
Charlotte sat quietly, aware that Ruth seemed to be studying her intently. It was an awkward moment, the silence filled with tension as Ruth seemed to examine Ruth with forensic intensity.
"I'm back," Charlotte said tentatively, hoping to make things feel a little more normal.
Ruth stared at her.
"I'm back," Charlotte said again. "I guess."
Silence.
"Huh," Ruth said eventually, narrowi
ng her eyes, almost as if she didn't believe what she was seeing.
Today
"Where is she?" Charlotte shouted, banging the front door open as she stormed into the house.
"Calm down," Ruth called after her, as she and Tony followed. "This isn't going to solve anything!"
Ignoring her sister, Charlotte bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time, before hurrying to her mother's bedroom and swinging the door open. The old woman was tucked in her bed, on her side, and she didn't respond as Charlotte hurried across the room and grabbed her by the shoulder, forcibly rolling her onto her back.
"What -" Charlotte started to say, but the words became stuck in her throat as she stared down at the old woman's scared, white eyes.
"Leave her alone!" Ruth shouted, barging into the room and taking hold of Charlotte by the arm, trying to pull her away. "Jesus Christ, Charlotte, this isn't right!"
"I want to know what she did," Charlotte continued, pulling free of her sister's grip. Staring down at her mother, she saw nothing but weakness and fear, but at the same time she was filled with more anger than she'd ever felt in her life. "Tell me," she continued, her voice trembling as she knelt by the bed. "Tell me what the fuck you did twenty years ago."
Her bottom lip wobbling, the old woman stared at Charlotte, as if she had no idea what she was talking about, or even who she was.
"She's having one of her bad days," Ruth continued breathlessly. "She doesn't remember anything, Charlotte. There's no point trying to force it. All you're doing is torturing a scared old woman."
"Good," Charlotte said, keeping her eyes fixed on her mother. "I think right now I'd quite like to torture her."
"Can we talk about this downstairs?" Ruth asked.
"And let her just go back to sleep?" Charlotte replied, before leaning closer to her mother's face. "It's time to come clean, you old bitch," she continued, her voice trembling with rage. "I don't care if you're demented. I don't care if your fucking mind is falling apart at the seams, but you're going to come around right now, you're going to find one goddamn moment of fucking lucidity, and you're gonna tell me what the fuck you did to me!"
"Who are you?" her mother whispered, trying to curl up into the far corner of the bed.
"That's what I want to know!" Charlotte sneered, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her onto her back.
"Help!" the old woman shrieked. "Somebody help me!"
"That's enough!" Ruth said, grabbing Charlotte and pulling her away with such force that she ended up slamming her sister into the wardrobe. "You're not going to get anything from her!" she continued. "Look at her! She's lost her mind, Charlotte. Even if she wanted to tell you every detail of her life, she doesn't even know who any of us are!" She paused. "You haven't been here over the past year. You haven't seen how badly she's deteriorated. She comes out of this daze about once a week, at most. The rest of the time, she floats along. You want to know the most we can hope for on an average day? That she doesn't soil herself!"
"She's not getting away with it that easily," Charlotte replied, her eyes still fixed on her mother's terrified form and her eyes still filled with tears and venom. "I'll sit right here all day and all night until she's ready to talk."
"It won't do any good," Ruth replied. "Please, come downstairs and we'll talk. Maybe we can figure this out."
Charlotte stared at her mother for a moment longer.
"Charlotte?" Ruth continued. "Will you come downstairs with me?"
"Maybe," Charlotte whispered. "Fine. Yes."
"Come on," Ruth said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "I'm sure we can muddle through."
Slowly, achingly, Charlotte got to her feet, placing one hand on her belly to make sure she was okay. She took a couple of steps toward the door, before finally realizing that there was no way she could back out so easily. Turning back to the bed, she sat on the edge and leaned over her mother once more, ready to scream in her face.
"I'm sorry," her mother said, her eyes wide with terror.
"About what?" Charlotte asked.
"For God's sake," Ruth muttered, trying to pull Charlotte away.
"I shouldn't have done it," the old woman continued. "I'm so sorry. I should have just let the truth be the truth."
"Leave her alone," Ruth continued.
"No," Charlotte said, pushing her away. "I think she knows what she's saying."
"I loved that girl so much," her mother continued, with tears in her eyes. "She was trouble, especially after her father died, but she had more heart than her sister. More passion. Ruth was always so obedient and well-behaved. Easier to deal with, but not nearly so rewarding. Charles and I both thought that Charlotte had more to offer, more potential. After Charles died, I had to struggle on as best I could, but I always knew that Charlotte was the one who... Charlotte was always going to be the special one. So much smarter and brighter and more vital than her sister."
"Fuck you," Ruth muttered under her breath, standing by the door.
"Go on," Charlotte said, her eyes fixed on her mother.
"When Charlotte disappeared," the old woman continued, "I was heartbroken. I'd tried so hard to tame that poor young girl, to keep her safe without dulling her, but I couldn't contain her energy. She had such a wild imagination. She used to talk about imaginary friends, and witches, and all sorts of things. And then one day, she was just... gone. The police looked everywhere, but eventually they scaled back their search. I begged them to continue, but they said they'd done all they could. They kept the case open, of course, and they promised to keep working on it, but I knew there was nothing more that they could do. So I just had to wait and hope that my special little girl would somehow find her way back to me. It didn't seem impossible, but as the months went past, and there was no sign of Charlotte..."
Charlotte and Ruth waited a moment, each of them trapped in their own private moment of shock.
"One day," their mother continued, "quite by chance, I was in Farnborough, of all places. I was alone. I'd left Ruth at home by herself. She seemed old enough. I was at the market, and I saw this awful, awful woman pushing her child around. Such cruelty and meanness. I wondered how such a terrible person could ever raise a little girl, and then when the girl looked at me, I saw fear and sorrow in her eyes. I followed them through the crowd, and then I saw the little girl wander off, as if she was trying to get away from her mother. I went after her, and I know I should have just taken her back to where she belonged, but instead... I wanted to cheer her up, so I took her for ice cream. She was the same age as Charlotte, and she looked a little like her. It wasn't hard to convince myself that..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, as tears trickled down her face.
"Jesus Christ," Ruth muttered, wiping tears from her eyes.
"This girl you found at the market," Charlotte said, dry-eyed and calm. "She..."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I brought her home," the old woman whispered. "I should never have done such a thing, but I did, and I made her stay all alone in the old shed that Charles used to use for her gardening. I kept her in there for a few months. I told her to be quiet, and I trained her, slowly. I knew it would never work, but gradually I was able to convince her that her old life had been a dream. I started calling her Charlotte, and to my wonder, she seemed to take the name on quite happily. She was still young, and impressionable. It shouldn't have worked, but it did, and I started to think that God had delivered this miracle to me. It must have been a miracle, mustn't it? That's the only possible explanation. It's the only thing that makes sense. Finally, once I was sure that she had begun to believe all the lies I told her, I realized that I needed to work out how to bring her into the family."
"This is insane," Charlotte replied. "You can't just wipe a young girl's mind like that and put new memories into her head."
"You don't understand," her mother said quietly. "That little girl didn't want to go back to her wicked mother. She let me fill her head with all these new ideas. Maybe she th
ought it was a game at first, but eventually it all took root. I was constantly surprised by how easy the whole thing seemed to be, but what was I supposed to do? By the time I realized how wrong it was, it was too late, so I decided to wait a few more weeks, until the anniversary of her disappearance, and..." She paused. "It still shouldn't have worked, but I suppose people want to believe a miracle, and perhaps I was a little lucky in places, and it's not as if we have a big family. So it simply became accepted that this young girl was Charlotte. I never stopped thinking about the real Charlotte, of course, but I gradually taught the new girl more and more about her old life, and soon I realized it was too late to stop. I thought it was come crashing down one day, so I just waited, and everything began to become normal again."
"I was that girl," Charlotte whispered, looking over at the window. "My name's not Charlotte at all." She paused, before turning back to her mother. "What was my real name?"
"I never knew," the old woman replied, with tears still trickling down her face.
"Charlotte never came back," Charlotte replied. "The police think her body was trapped in the cave for all these years and then somehow, finally, it came loose and began to drift along the river. She was dead all along."
"My poor little girl," her mother whispered, her voice filled with tears. "My poor little Charlotte. She must have been so scared and alone in her final moments. So cold. If only I'd been able to find her. If only the police had done a better job of looking. She must have suffered terribly. That was always the part that worried me the most." Filled with sobs, she stared up at the ceiling, her eyes overflowing with tears. "I should have kept her safe."
Charlotte sat in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the realization that her entire life had been a lie. She tried to think back to the moment when she'd first wandered back along the tow-path, back past that first memory to the life she'd lived before, but it was no use. Her memories seemed to be blocked, and she could only assume that in some way, she'd been complicit in the decision all those years ago to hide her former life. She tried to imagine the horrors of her previous life that made it so that she was willing to follow this strange woman away from the market, but she felt as if her mind was beginning to fill with white noise. It was too much to take in, and all she could do was wait for the chaos to be over.