Wrong Number

by Carys Jones

  Shane had been drunk when he proposed. After one of their uglier fights, Amanda had retreated to her mother’s. She’d been balled up in bed, trying to sleep, when she heard a commotion out on the front drive. Shane had pulled up. Only he’d missed the driveway and ploughed straight into the lawn. Amanda looked out in horror as he awkwardly toppled out of the driver’s side of the car, dragging an old ghetto blaster with it. A lead ball of dread settled at the base of Amanda’s stomach. She had opened the window to tell him to stop, to go home and sober up, but he refused to listen, he was a man on a mission.

  Shane had held the ghetto blaster above his head, its music crackling out and shattering the peace of an autumn evening. His eyes were bloodshot and he slurred all his words as he looked up at Amanda and told her that he didn’t want to fight anymore, that he wanted her to marry him. Before she could even respond, he dropped the ghetto blaster, leaned forward and threw up all over himself. Slamming her window closed, Amanda buried herself beneath her duvet just as she heard the front door fling open and her mother run out to see what was happening.

  The vodka in her system now started to weave its magic spell. Amanda began to feel wonderfully detached from her life. By the time the bottle was half empty she no longer cared that Will had lied to her, or what his name even was. She shimmied around her living room, truly embodying the sentiment of dancing like no one was watching. Throwing her arms about, she spun, she jumped, she laughed.

  But it took just a few more sips of vodka for reality to slam against her like a brick wall. Amanda looked at the framed wedding pictures in her front room. She was suddenly so consumed with hate that she felt like if she opened her mouth she’d breathe fire and turn the images into ash.

  ‘Who are you?’ Amanda approached one of the pictures and screamed at Will, hating herself for still finding him so handsome in his suit. ‘Who the hell are you?’ she grabbed the picture and threw it towards the sofa. The glass cracked as it landed, splintering right down the middle, separating the smiling images of the newly wedded couple with a crude, thick line.

  ‘Who are you?’ Amanda demanded again of the picture.

  *

  In her drunken state, Amanda managed to do several impressive things. She managed to call a taxi, leave her home and look up Shane’s address on her iPhone. She’d later have no recollection of doing any of those things.

  She shoved a crumpled twenty-pound note into the bewildered taxi driver’s hand, as the fare had been considerably less than that. Then she swayed her way towards a smart red-bricked building. According to her iPhone investigation, Shane lived in the house on the far right, the one with the dark green door.

  Stumbling up to the door, Amanda pounded her fist against it without a moment’s hesitation. She kept pounding until something clicked on the other side and the door was cautiously opened. She almost tumbled in on Shane, who was wearing jogging bottoms and a tight fitting T-shirt, his hair askew as though he’d been sleeping.

  ‘Amanda,’ he was quick enough to catch her in his arms. ‘God, you’ve been drinking.’

  ‘What the hell?’ Amanda barely registered the long-legged figure on the staircase. She sensed that Jayne was there, openly judging her, but she didn’t care. It was Shane who she’d come to see. She looked up at him as he held her in his arms, helping her remain steady on her feet.

  ‘How could I do it?’ she wondered hopelessly.

  ‘I imagine you drank your weight in something potent. Probably vodka. You never could handle it.’

  ‘I’m calling the police,’ Jayne seethed from the staircase, ‘she’s a state.’

  ‘No,’ Shane ordered sharply. ‘I’ll handle this.’

  ‘Make sure you do.’

  Amanda heard Jayne’s footsteps thunder back up the stairs and pound heavily above them. The small hallway she was standing in kept spinning around her. It was like being on a ride. She laughed giddily, enjoying the sensation.

  ‘Okay, let’s get you home,’ Shane started nudging her back towards his front door.

  ‘No,’ Amanda snapped back into the moment. ‘How could I do it?’ the question tumbled from her mouth again. She started to cry hot, heavy tears.

  ‘You’re just drunk,’ Shane’s grip was surprisingly strong as he guided her towards his car in the driveway.

  ‘No,’ Amanda stopped beside the passenger door, staring into the green eyes of the one person she’d once trusted above all others. ‘How could I love a stranger?’

  Shane blinked at her. His own eyes misting with tears. He opened his mouth to speak but Amanda acted first, lunging forward and vomiting all down the side of his car.

  *

  Jake rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Billy was in the driving seat, tapping out the rhythm of the song playing on the radio against the wheel.

  LONDON – 106 MILES

  ‘Hey,’ Jake stretched and looked ahead at the motorway. A few other trucks rumbled along nearby, but it was still pretty quiet. The sky remained dark and dense. Dawn was still a few hours away yet. ‘How long was I out?’

  ‘An hour or so.’

  ‘Huh.’

  The glow of the streetlights washed over them both as they journeyed towards the capital. Towards their destination.

  ‘How long 'til we get there?’ Jake looked at the digital display of the satellite navigation system propped up against the dashboard.

  ‘God knows, turned her on silent a few miles back. She always sounds so judgemental.’

  ‘Ha, yeah.’

  ‘You dreaming about what you’re going to do with all that dough when you take it home?’ Billy cracked his trademark smile. A smile that could sell you anything.

  ‘Not really thought about it.’

  ‘Come on,’ Billy urged. ‘You could get a nice flat near the city centre. Nice reliable car that all the other loser dads drive.’

  ‘What about you? What are your plans for the cash?’

  ‘A new life.’ The streetlights made Billy’s eyes glow wildly as he drove.

  ‘A new life?’ Jake laughed. ‘I think a new life will cost more than a dozen grand, Billy.’

  ‘I’m serious.’ And from his tone Jake knew that he was. ‘I’m going to take my cash and make a new life for myself out in Spain. Twelve grand will get me that far.’

  ‘You’re really making that money stretch.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘So how long 'til we arrive?’ Leaning forward, Jake pressed the volume button on the sat nav.

  ‘Drive two miles and take the next exit,’ a clipped English accent prompted.

  ‘Urgh,’ Billy moaned, ‘that thing bloody grates against me. Such a know-it-all. Sounds like my old maths tutor Miss Hoskins.’

  Jake squinted at the little digital screen. ‘According to this we should be there in two and a half hours.’

  ‘Oh good,’ Billy joked, still smiling, ‘I can’t wait.’

  13

  Sunlight burned like fire against Amanda’s tightly sealed eyelids. Groaning, she tugged the duvet higher over her head, desperate to block out the blinding power of the sun.

  ‘Oh no you don’t.’ A familiar voice was chiding her, pulling the duvet away from her, allowing the full heat of the morning to sizzle against her skin. ‘Time for you to rise and shine, missy. You’ve already slept away most of the day.’

  Amanda dared to peel open her eyes. For a moment her vision was blurred and then the images around her settled, like an old-fashioned television locking on to a stronger signal. Her mother was sat on the bed beside her, swathed in a bright orange wrap dress. The air smelt musty; of old perfume and stored secrets. Amanda saw the posters on the wall, the purple fabric of the duvet still covering her legs.

  ‘Why am I here?’ delivering the question revealed how sore Amanda’s throat was, as though she’d spent the previous night swallowing razor blades.

  ‘I’ll bet you don’t remember,’ Corrine pursed her lips, holding in her judgement.

  ‘Remember what?
’ Amanda coughed. She needed water. And lots of it.

  ‘Shane brought you round last night,’ Corrine recalled with a sigh. ‘You were in such a state, I had to wash the sick off you before I could put you to bed.’

  Amanda looked down at herself as if suddenly distrusting her own body. She didn’t remember being hauled over to her mother’s, or even throwing up. The previous night was just a calm sea of darkness in her mind; empty and endless.

  ‘Apparently you showed up on Shane’s doorstep.’

  Amanda felt a fresh desire to vomit. Her stomach clenched and she jerked forward, heaving.

  ‘There, there,’ Corrine rubbed a hand over her daughter’s back in circular motions. ‘I doubt there’s anything else to even throw up.’

  She’d gone to Shane’s house? But why? Amanda felt light-headed. She shouldn’t be drunkenly turning up at her ex-boyfriend’s house. She should be spending every minute searching for her missing husband. Searching for Will.

  Something imploded in Amanda’s mind. She pressed a hand to her temple and winced.

  ‘Come on, let’s get some food in you. Will make you feel better.’ Corrine was helping her off the bed, treating her like she was a little child. Amanda stumbled after her mother, her head throbbing. Each time she thought of Will the pain grew sharper, more persistent.

  ‘You’ve been through such a lot,’ Corrine was saying as she busied herself at the stove. Amanda had been dropped down into a chair at the kitchen table. She watched her mother cooking, hearing her words as though they were being delivered via a filter. She sounded so far away; so distant.

  Will.

  Amanda pinched her eyes closed and massaged her forehead. There was something she wasn’t remembering, some vital piece of information which her hangover was concealing from her.

  ‘I’m certain there’s a Jake Burton there.’

  Her eyes snapped open, fearful and wide. The wrong number. Jake Burton. Shane’s visit and his terrible revelation. Amanda gripped the table for support, fearing she might be destined for another fainting spell.

  ‘Here,’ Corrine placed a fresh plate of beans on toast in front of her. The smell made Amanda’s stomach churn. ‘You need to eat,’ her mother prompted.

  Will was Jake Burton. That was why she’d ended up on Shane’s doorstep drunk and disillusioned. Her marriage was a lie. Will wasn’t even who he said he was.

  ‘Shane wasn’t mad at you,’ Corrine was sliding into the chair opposite Amanda, holding a mug of tea. ‘He just seemed worried.’

  Amanda blinked at her mother. Is that why she thought she was upset? Because she feared she’d angered Shane? If only she knew the depths of Will’s betrayal. How he hadn’t even been the man he claimed to be. Opening her mouth, Amanda was prepared to reveal everything, to share the burden of her secret.

  ‘He said he’d pop by later after work to check in on you.’

  ‘Who?’ Amanda abandoned her previous train of thought.

  ‘Shane.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m afraid we fear it may be more serious than that.’ Shane’s vague warning tolled in her mind like a bell breaking the eerie silence of an icy winter morning across a desolate harbour. Each swing of the giant instrument powered through her body like a gun shot. Her mother couldn’t know about Will’s dual identity. Not yet. Not until Amanda knew the knowledge was safe to share.

  ‘Everything is going to be all right.’ Corrine was staring at Amanda, watching her like she was some broken china doll who she’d spent hours painstakingly gluing back together. Now she had to wait and see if all the pieces had been reattached correctly; if the doll was still the same as it had once been.

  ‘He’s not coming home,’ Amanda looked at her hands resting on the table. The blue nail polish she was wearing was all scuffed and chipped. She’d painted her nails over a week ago, when Will was still very much Will Thorn.

  ‘You always stick your tongue out when you do that,’ he’d chuckled to himself as Amanda rested her foot on the coffee table and leaned forward to sweep blue paint across her pale nails.

  ‘Do not,’ Amanda had protested playfully. Will was leaning back in an armchair, a bottle of beer in one hand. A Netflix show was on the television, one which Amanda was only half watching but she knew that Will enjoyed. As he sipped his beer, he kept throwing her little glances, each one full of adoration.

  ‘I like that colour on you,’ he had commented, his voice deep and smooth like the finest red wine.

  ‘Thanks,’ Amanda straightened, capping her bottle of nail varnish and admiring her handiwork.

  ‘It matches your eyes.’

  Amanda had smiled at her husband, loving the way he completely filled the chair with his large frame. Loving the way he completely filled her life.

  ‘You can’t think like that,’ Corrine urged, her voice strident with conviction. ‘Will is going to come home to you, Amanda. Shane will find him.’

  First the phone, then the van. And now Jake Burton. Amanda didn’t know who Will was anymore, which meant she could no longer predict if and when he was ever going to come home. But what was troubling her now was why he’d left in the first place, and lied to her as much as he had.

  ‘What if he doesn’t come home?’ Amanda wondered flatly. ‘Does that make me a widow? Divorced? Estranged? What?’

  ‘He’s your husband,’ Corrine insisted. ‘The bond you two share cannot be broken easily. Will loves you, Amanda. Whilst I’m open about having had my misgivings with the man, I never doubted that he loved you. How could he not?’

  Amanda rolled her eyes. Will couldn’t have loved her that much if he’d been lying to her for their entire marriage.

  ‘I know you’re worried,’ Corrine neatly folded her hands on top of one another. ‘But whoever has taken him, Shane will figure it out. He’s a sharp boy.’

  ‘He’s a man now, Mum.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘But that’s the thing,’ Amanda pushed aside her untouched dinner. ‘I’m not sure anyone did take Will. I think he left because he wanted to.’

  Corrine didn’t offer any objections to the theory.

  ‘And that means it’s up to him whether or not he comes back.’

  ‘You’re not the kind of girl to sit around and wait on him to come back,’ Corrine was standing up, taking her empty mug over to the sink.

  ‘Then what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘That’s a question only you can answer,’ Corrine said in a sweet, sing-song voice as she began filling the sink with warm water.

  Amanda didn’t know what she should do. Will was out there, somewhere. And he clearly wasn’t coming home. She drummed her fingers against the table. If Shane and the authorities didn’t find him, what then? Will surely couldn’t just disappear into thin air. He had to be somewhere.

  Amanda drummed her fingers faster, their beat becoming more frantic. She had enough to go on, enough information to commence her own search. Only she wouldn’t be looking for Will Thorn, she’d be hunting Jake Burton, who perhaps wouldn’t be such a ghost online.

  Will was still her husband after all and if the tables were turned she knew that Will would move heaven and earth to find her. Or was that just a lie too? Were his feelings all part of some fabrication and none of it had been true?

  ‘Can you get that?’ Corrine’s request snapped Amanda out of her thoughts. ‘The doorbell,’ Corrine pointed a soapy hand towards the hallway.

  ‘Oh,’ Amanda stood up. She’d been so wrapped up in her worries that she hadn’t even heard the doorbell.

  She opened the door and found Shane waiting on the doorstep, looking immaculate in his suit.

  ‘I’m getting used to finding you on doorsteps,’ Amanda quipped as she let him in.

  ‘I just wanted to check in on you,’ Shane’s voice was curt, professional. Had Amanda crossed a line when she’d drunkenly appeared at his home? Was their newly flourishing friendship destroyed before it had even had a chance to b
loom?

  ‘I’m so sorry about last night,’ Amanda quickly gushed. ‘I was drunk, and upset, and—’

  ‘Let’s go somewhere and talk,’ Shane interrupted, placing a firm grip on her arm. Amanda looked towards the kitchen where her mother was merrily humming to herself as she did the washing up.

  ‘Just let me get changed.’ Her old bedroom was like a time capsule, the drawers stuffed full of old T-shirts and hoodies, clothes which still fit. She disappeared upstairs before Shane could respond.

  *

  Ten minutes later and they were climbing down the cliff-side path. Amanda was in front and Shane was keeping pace with her, remembering the route as well as she did. The patch of beach behind her mother’s home was empty. A few sandcastles had been abandoned, enjoying their last few hours before the ocean reclaimed them.

  Amanda removed her ballet pumps and approached the damp sand, allowing a gentle wave to wash over her feet. The water was icy cold and the sharp sensation it sent through her body helped to banish away the remnants of her hangover.

  ‘I’d forgotten how relaxing this place could be,’ Shane, still in his suit, lingered back on the dry sand. Amanda savoured a few more cold waves before walking back to him.

  ‘I still like to come down here and think,’ she admitted as together they began walking slowly along the beach.

  ‘How are you feeling? Last time I saw you, you were a bit worse for wear,’ Shane turned his head to smile wryly at her. Amanda blushed, feeling like the shy little girl whose skin used to burn whenever she caught him stealing glances at her across the classroom.

  ‘I feel better now,’ she drank in the salty sea breeze, letting it cleanse her.

  ‘I get why you’re upset,’ Shane kicked at the sand. ‘The revelation is making you question everything.’