The Girl Who Never Came Back

by Cross, Amy

  Charlotte shook her head. She didn't want her 'news' to have anything to do with Ruth.

  "I understand that you're upset," Ruth continued, her voice filled with nervous tension, "but you have to see it from my point of view. I knew you weren't Charlotte. I just knew it, in my heart, and I had to prove it. And with Mummy's deteriorating condition, I didn't have long. I knew that once her dementia really took hold, the truth would be lost forever. I had to take drastic action."

  "So you imprisoned your daughter for a year," Charlotte replied, shocked by the idea.

  "She was happy," Ruth replied, making an extra effort to smile despite the tears in her eyes. "Maybe she was a little bored from time to time, but it was worth it. We had to know the truth, didn't we? I didn't do it for myself, Charlotte. I did it for all of us. Now we can move forward as a family. All that matters is the truth." She paused, waiting for Charlotte to capitulate. "Why don't we talk about Ettolrahc? You used to love Ettolrahc."

  "That was the real Charlotte," Charlotte replied. "To me, all that stuff was just bullshit that Mum used to trick me into thinking I was her." She paused. "Not Mum. Helen. I guess it'll take me a while to change that habit. Still, I learned it, so I guess I can unlearn it."

  "But you can't abandon your family," Ruth said, her voice full of sweetness-and-light even though there were tears in her eyes. "Family is everything, Charlotte."

  "You can't have two, though," Charlotte replied, "can you? And I've got another one waiting for me."

  "You're going to look for your biological parents?"

  "No."

  "Then what?"

  "Goodbye, Ruth," Charlotte said calmly.

  "But you have to -"

  "No," Charlotte said firmly. "I don't. I don't have to come back at all. I never really did anyway. I'm not Charlotte, so I could never come 'back' here. And now I don't have to trying to come back ever again." Stepping out of the shed, she turned back and spotted the padlock hanging from the bolt. Before she could really think her actions through, she pushed the door shut and closed the padlock, knowing full well that Ruth had the key inside.

  "What are you doing?" Ruth asked, hurrying to the door and trying to push it open. "Charlotte, this is ridiculous. You're being childish!"

  Checking that the padlock was secured, Charlotte felt a shiver pass through her body.

  "Come on," Ruth continued, "we're not children anymore. Open the door!"

  Taking a step back, Charlotte watched as the firmly-bolted door rattled some more. Ruth was trying to get it open, but she had no chance.

  "I'll tell Tony to come and let you out," she said after a moment. "Don't worry. You won't be stuck in there for a year. I wouldn't be that fucking cruel."

  "Charlotte!" Ruth shouted, still trying to force the door. "Don't be ridiculous! Let me out of here!"

  "Goodbye," Charlotte whispered. With that, she turned and started walking back toward the house, so she could get to her car and drive away. There was still a part of her that wanted to storm back into that shed and rip her so-called sister apart, but she felt that for once she could control her anger. The path ahead seemed calm and clear, and she knew exactly where she was supposed to be.

  "Charlotte!" Ruth shouted from the shed. "Charlotte, come back! Get back here right now!"

  She ignored the calls. After all, she figured, these people weren't her family, not really. She had to get away from that house, and back to London. Back to the only people who really mattered anymore. As she reached the fence at the bottom of the garden, she paused to look at the gate. Twice in her life, she'd seen the silhouette of a little girl standing by the gatepost, as if unable to get all the way to the house. Swinging the gate out of her way, Charlotte grabbed a rock and used it to prop the way open.

  Feeling another shiver pass through her body, she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to find someone standing nearby. There was no-one there, of course, but the sensation had felt very real.

  "There you go," she whispered, hoping that something nearby might hear her. "There's nothing stopping you. You can go back now, if that's what you really want, but..." She paused. "If you want my advice, you'll stay by the river. Just because you can finally go back, doesn't mean you should, but..." She paused again. "I guess it's up to you," she added, before turning and making her way across the lawn. In the distance, her sister was still calling for her to come back. She sounded completely insane, which was, perhaps, the whole point. Ruth had always been highly strung, and she'd finally allowed her anger and bitterness to spill over.

  Spotting Tony and Sophie embracing up ahead, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and saw that the rock had come loose, allowing the wooden gate to swing shut.

  Twenty years ago

  "What are you doing?"

  Startled, Charlotte looked away from the window and saw that her sister Ruth was standing in the doorway, watching. It was late, and they were both supposed to have gone to bed, but Charlotte had instead been standing by the window, staring out at the dark lawn.

  "Nothing," she said quietly.

  "Are you looking at something?" Ruth asked, making her way across the room until she was standing right next to Charlotte. They both looked out the window for a moment. "What were you looking at?"

  "Nothing," Charlotte said again.

  "I don't believe you," Ruth replied calmly.

  "I thought..." Charlotte paused. "I thought I saw something, that's all. Down at the bottom of the garden."

  "Like what?"

  "Like... another girl."

  Ruth turned and stared at her for a moment. "What kind of girl?"

  Charlotte shrugged. She felt as if she couldn't trust Ruth, even though they were supposed to be sisters. There was just something in Ruth's gaze that seemed suspicious and alert, and Charlotte felt that the lack of trust was mutual.

  "There can't be another girl in the garden," Ruth said cautiously. "We're the only ones."

  "I know," Charlotte replied.

  Ruth turned to look back out the window. "So tell me what you saw?"

  "It was nothing."

  "Tell me."

  "I thought I saw..." Charlotte paused again. "I thought I saw a girl, standing down by the gate. I couldn't see her face, but I thought I saw a silhouette. I was watching for a few minutes, and it was like she was trying to come closer, but something was holding her back."

  "So she was moving?" Ruth asked.

  Charlotte nodded.

  "Maybe you did see someone," Ruth said after a moment.

  "Should we tell Mummy?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  Ruth paused. "How big was she?"

  "The girl? About the same size as us."

  "So it was a little girl?"

  Charlotte nodded.

  "A little girl standing at the bottom of the garden," Ruth said, seemingly lost in thought, "trying to come back but not able to get past the gate." She paused. "I'm two years older than you, you know," she added eventually. "Two years is a long time, especially when you're young. It's, like, twenty per cent. That makes me smarter, and it means that I understand things better, things that you don't understand at all."

  "Like what?"

  "Like..." Ruth paused. "Like who that girl was at the bottom of the garden."

  "But you said -"

  "I know," Ruth said firmly, "but I still know who she was. Well, I think I do."

  Charlotte paused. She knew she should ask, but she was scared of the answer. "Who was it?" she asked eventually.

  "I'm not telling you," Ruth replied. "Not yet."

  "Was it a ghost?"

  A flicker of a smile crossed Ruth's lips. "Whose ghost could it be?"

  Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

  "Maybe it's my sister's ghost," Ruth said after a moment. "That would make sense, wouldn't it? Maybe she's trying to come back, but something or someone is making it so she can't get through the gate."

  "What sister?"
<
br />   "Charlotte."

  "But I'm right here," Charlotte replied tentatively. "I came back."

  "Huh," Ruth said, staring intently at her sister. "I suppose so. Then it can't be Charlotte's ghost, can it? Not if you're right here." After a moment, she reached out and touched Charlotte's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as if she was checking that she was solid. "Mummy's weird sometimes," she added. "She says and does weird things. She's been weird since you disappeared, and I think she'll keep being weird. But then, I suppose you're used to that. You know what she's like." She paused. "Don't you?"

  Charlotte nodded.

  They stood in awkward silence for a moment, two young girls poised at either end of a mystery that neither of them could unravel. Although their shoulders were only a few inches apart as they stood side by side, there seemed to be a gulf between them.

  "Maybe it was your ghost friend," Ruth said eventually.

  "What ghost friend?" Charlotte asked.

  "You don't remember Ettolrahc?"

  Charlotte stared at her.

  "Some days," Ruth added, "Ettolrahc was all you could talk about. She was your best friend, like a kind of double of yourself. She lived in your body, and it was like..." She paused. "I guess it was like she was your real sister, in a way. Sometimes it was as if you preferred hanging out with her instead of me, even though she wasn't real."

  "I don't remember any of that," Charlotte replied blankly.

  "Or maybe it was the witch," Ruth added.

  Charlotte frowned.

  "Don't you remember the witch?"

  "Witches aren't real," Charlotte replied. "Neither are ghosts."

  Ruth stared at her for a moment. "You really believe that, don't you?"

  "Stuff like that is just dumb," Charlotte said.

  "I'm sure it'll all come back to you," Ruth continued after a moment, with a faint smile. "I mean, why wouldn't it? But if it doesn't, I guess I can fill you in." She paused. "We should go to bed. Mummy'll get angry if she finds us awake." Heading back over to the door, she glanced back at Charlotte. "Good night. I'm glad you came back. I missed you."

  "I missed you too," Charlotte replied, mostly to be polite. She liked Ruth so far, but she felt no affinity with her, no kinship or connection.

  Once Ruth had gone back to her own bedroom, Charlotte stayed at the window for a while. She was convinced that the silhouette of the other girl would reappear amongst the shadows at the bottom of the garden, but after a few minutes she realized that perhaps she'd been mistaken all along. There couldn't be a ghost down there, because ghosts only came when someone had died. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte turned and walked over to her bed. Settling under the duvet, she stared at the dark wall and waited to feel tired. She figured it was natural to be a little out of place, after spending a year away. Then again, she felt as if she was in a completely unfamiliar place, and that despite the warm welcome she'd been given, she was completely alone.

  Today

  "Charlotte?" John shouted. "Is that you?"

  Standing in the doorway, Charlotte wasn't quite sure what to say. She quietly placed her backpack on the chair before pushing the door shut, taking off her coat, and then pausing to look at herself in the mirror. The drive back to London had been a blur, and she felt as if she was in a daze.

  "Charlotte?"

  She opened her mouth to reply, but she didn't know where to even begin explaining things. Still, that name Charlotte kind of seemed appropriate, and she figured she might as well hang onto it. Although she hadn't gone to the police and told them about the whole mess, she had done some research into missing children from the Farnborough area twenty years ago, and with a reasonable degree of confidence she'd narrowed her identity down to one of three girls, named Edith, Kylie and Donna. Frankly, she didn't fancy any of those names, and she didn't see the point in making an effort to contact her 'real' family. The past had proven to be a mess so many times, she figured she should just focus on the future.

  "I thought I heard you," John said, coming through from the kitchen and kissing her on the cheek. "You're just in time for the best home-made spaghetti bolognese you've ever tasted in your life."

  Charlotte smiled weakly, still not knowing what to say.

  "You alright?" John asked, placing a hand on her belly. "Did you tell your sister?"

  She shook her head.

  "You didn't?"

  "It's none of her business," Charlotte replied. "She's not..." She took a deep breath. "Damn it, I could use a glass of wine right now."

  "One wouldn't hurt," John said with a smile. "I'll get -"

  "No," Charlotte said, grabbing his arm before he could hurry back to pour her a glass. "I want to do this properly," she continued. "I never even thought I could get pregnant, and now that I am, I damn well wanna do it right. No more smoking, no more drinking. I'll go on a fucking detox diet and all that crap, and..." She paused. "You know, I've been thinking, and I think you should be aware that I might turn out to be an over-protective mother after all. Not, like, overbearingly so, but still... just a tad."

  "Doesn't sound too bad," John replied. "If it means anything to you, I'm convinced you're going to be a brilliant mother."

  "Not brilliant," she said with quiet satisfaction. "But good, at least. I've... had some bad examples to study at close quarters, and I've seen what happens when things go wrong."

  "Huh," John said with a smile. "Why so cryptic?"

  Instead of replying, she puts her arms around him and held him tight. Not too tight; after all, she knew she had to be careful not to put too much pressure on her belly. She still had six months to go until her due date, and she was determined to be the best possible mother.

  "I love you," she whispered.

  "I love you too."

  "And I promise," she said after a moment, still hugging John, "that I will never lock our child in a shed for a year."

  "That's, uh, good to hear," John said, sounding a little confused. "So, dinner's pretty much ready. You hungry?"

  "Sure," she said, stepping back from the hug. "I'll be through in a moment, okay?"

  Once John had gone back into the kitchen, Charlotte made her way over to the mirror that hung at the other end of the hallway. She stared at herself in the harsh electric light and realized, with relief, that she still knew the person who was staring back at her. Sure, her name wasn't really Charlotte Abernathy, but that didn't change who she was. It was tempting to go digging through the past and try to find her real family, but she figured the best option was probably to just focus on the future, at least for now. Placing a hand on her belly, she realized that, for the first time, she could actually feel the faintest bump.

  She was sick of worrying about people who might or might not come back from places to which they might or might not have gone. It was time, she figured, to focus on new arrivals.

  Bonus

  Extract from

  The Dead and the Dying:

  A Joanna Mason Novel

  "Are you sure about this?" Dawson asks as we wait in the governor's office. It's way past eleven, and Sam Gazade is due to be executed at midnight. Although he's been mostly quiet since we arrived, Dawson has been constantly watching me, as if he expects me to suddenly break down in tears.

  "Why wouldn't I be sure?" I ask, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table and flicking through page after page of advice about interior design. Everything in the magazine looks so dull and pastel-colored, but I guess there must be people out there who like this kind of thing. Whenever I look at images from normal people's home - which isn't often, I have to admit - I feel as if I'm looking at pictures of a different species.

  "I can go in if you like," he continues, his voice filled with concern. "If it's too much for you to see him, I can be the one who actually goes in and -"

  "Why would it be too much?" I ask, carefully keeping my gaze focused on the magazine.

  "I mean -"

  "It's been a while," I point out, turning to him. "I
can handle it."

  "Sure," he says, before pausing for a moment. "If you change your mind, though, you don't have to come in with me."

  "Who said you're coming in with me?" I ask. "I'm the one who has a connection to Gazade. I'm the one who should go in there. Alone."

  Dawson stares at me for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Why would I be kidding?" I ask. "If you think about it straight for a moment, you'll see that it's the best option. The chances of Gazade opening up are already slim, so we might as well do our best to see if we can make him talk."

  "And you can handle seeing him again?"

  "Jesus," I mutter, putting the magazine down. "Gazade's not gonna open up with you in the room, is he? He doesn't know you. The guy only talks to people who make him feel comfortable, or whatever the hell it is that goes on in his sick mind. The point is, he responds to people he's met before, and he responds to women. He never talks to men, and if you're in the room -"

  "I can stop him manipulating you," he says, interrupting me.

  "I'm not a child," I point out. "I can look after myself." I pause for a moment as I feel a twinge of pain in my chest. I need to take a pill, but I can't do it in front of Dawson without letting him see that something's wrong. "If there was another way, I'd say go for it," I continue, "but there's isn't, so we can't."

  "But -"

  Before he can finish, the door opens and Governor Hazel Lockley steps into the room. There's a pained, concerned look in her eyes, as if she wishes Dawson and I would just vanish into thin air rather than cause her any more problems. I don't blame her. The eyes of the nation are on this prison tonight, and any fuck-ups could cause serious embarrassment.

  "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she says, clearly distracted.

  "So I can see him, right?" I say, getting to my feet.

  She opens her mouth to reply, but something seems to be holding her back.

  "This is a matter of life and death," I continue. "We believe that Sam Gazade has crucial information that might -"