by Amanda James
I get up and walk to the window. I can’t look at him because I’m on the edge of tears. He really seems like he believes I haven’t just made the whole thing up. But I can’t let myself hope that he does. Not yet. We need to talk about this calmly. I turn and look at him. ‘I’ll make that tea now if you like.’
Jowan smiles and follows me into the kitchen. Into the awkward atmosphere he offers conversation about the decor and the great views while I make the tea, and then we sit at the table across from each other. I decide to cut to the chase.
‘So, I suppose you know Demi isn’t altogether sure about what happened… about my sanity, you might say?’
I could warm my hands on the colour in his cheeks. He turns his mug slowly round and round on the table. I remember that this twiddling, turning, fiddling with things when he was upset or unsure used to drive me mad back when we were together. It did just a while ago when he fiddled with the leather strap. But somehow, now, I feel oddly comforted by it.
He says to the mug, ‘I wouldn’t go that far, but… I don’t think she can see a reason as to why anyone would do such a despicable thing.’
‘Well, I’m right with her there.’ I lean back and fold my arms across my chest.
‘Would you mind if I asked you to tell me all about it? In case Alex missed anything?’
‘So you can decide if I’m off my head or not?’
I see a flash of irritation behind his eyes. ‘Not at all. Just that first-hand is always better than second.’
I sigh and tell him everything that’s happened, including that it’s imperative Simon has no clue about any of it. Jowan listens without interruption, but I can tell he’s getting more and more wound up. He’s shifting position, shoving his hair back repeatedly as if it’s offended him, and sighing in exasperation. As soon as I’ve finished, he jumps up, scraping the chair along the tiles.
‘Okay. So we have three days before your husband is back…’
‘How do you know that?’ I look up at him and try not to notice how blue his eyes are.
‘Same way as I know everything else. Alex. You rang Demi and told her yesterday about his trip and he told me. It took a bit of persuading for him to get me your address though.’ Jowan drains his mug and gives me a triumphant smile.
He looks so much like the boy I knew in school that I have to smile back. ‘How did he get it?’
‘Looked in Demi’s address book when she was out and then texted it to me. Although he doesn’t know you, he knows how much his girlfriend loves you and wants to do the right thing by you.’
She might love me but she doesn’t believe me, I think, but don’t say. What would be the point? ‘Okay, so we have three days to do what?’
‘To get this Neville bloke to tell us the rest of what he knows – enough so we can find the nurse. Once we find her, we’re on the way to finding Ruan.’
There’s a lump in my throat so I swallow it down with tea. He does believe me. He must if he’s talking like this, mustn’t he? ‘You say we….’
‘Yes, you and me; oh, and Iona, of course. We can hardly leave her here while we go investigating, can we?’ Jowan’s eyes are alight with excitement and he gives me a wide smile.
I give him a little nod but hope he’s not doing this for the thrill, the adventure. He always was an adrenalin junky. I remember how he’d stay in the water long after the other surfers had come ashore when the weather turned. Well, this is my life, not some impossible wave. I also remember how he dumped me without a backward glance, broke me into pieces, as a submerged rock breaks a surfboard. The trust we shared isn’t there any more. How could it be?
‘Look, Jowan. I appreciate the offer of help, but I think this is something I have to do by myself. It’s touching that you seem to believe my story…’
‘Seem to? I only had to look at your face when you told me it all just now.’ He tilts his head and stares at me. ‘Okay, when I came down here I wasn’t totally convinced because of Demi’s concerns, and the fact that none of it makes sense, particularly now you’ve told me that Simon saw the baby afterwards… but I’m totally with you. Whatever happens, I want to help you get to the bottom of it. Trust me.’
‘Like I did before, you mean? Look where that got me.’ The words are out before I can stop them and heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks.
‘I asked for that.’ Jowan blinks and draws a hand down his chin. ‘But please know that I have never been sorrier about anything in my life, and I will do anything to make things right. I know it won’t be easy to win your forgiveness and I’ll have to work hard. But helping you track down your missing boy is a good place to start, I think. Let me help?’
I think for a few moments. Try to look at the whole situation objectively, because if I let my heart come into it we’ll be sunk. It was a shock to discover how I still felt about him that day he found me on the beach, but I can’t go there. Ever again.
‘Okay, thanks. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have someone who believes this insane story. There have been times lately when I questioned my own sanity too. Like you say, it makes no sense.’
I stand and take the cups to the sink and go through the next bit in my head before I say, ‘You must understand that there can be nothing between us. Not now, not ever. My main priority is Ruan and it would be fantastic if you were to help, but everything must be on my terms, okay? No rushing off playing the hero?’ I look at Jowan and he nods, his expression solemn.
‘Of course. I’ll do whatever you say.’
‘Do we understand each other about, you know, everything I said?’
He hesitates, looks out of the kitchen window and says, ‘Of course. I realise the last thing on your mind is a relationship, and because of what I did, and the present circumstances, it isn’t surprising.’ He runs both hands through his hair, twists his curls into the nape of his neck, then looks back at me. ‘I just need you to know that I am here whenever you need me, for as long as you need me.’
There is no hidden agenda in his words or pretence in his open and honest face. I have always been able to tell when he was lying; he was always terrible at it. A warm feeling rises in my chest as the realisation dawns that I’m no longer alone in this. Jowan believes me that Ruan is alive and is willing to stick his neck out on my say-so. He has no proof that any of it happened. For all he knows I could have written the letter myself and concocted a whole fairy tale about Neville, the nurse and the fact that Ruan was cruelly snatched away by someone at the practice.
The fact is that Jowan has chosen to believe me and is here to help in whatever way he can. And, my God, that has given me a much-needed boost. It’s as though a bit of the old me is back. The bit of me before I went to London and got into that unholy mess that Simon pulled me out of. The bit of me that was confident, full of hope and determination – strong.
A few minutes later I watch Jowan pick Iona up from her crib and my heart tips a barrowload of feelings out for my consideration. Tangled snippets of love, hurt, anger, happiness, regret and relief, heaped one on top of the other, twisting, threading, until I can’t see where one starts and the next ends.
Later I make a simple supper while Jowan plays with Iona and realise the main thing I feel is relief at no longer being alone. I also feel something I haven’t dared contemplate for very long recently – hope. Hope that, with Jowan on my side, Ruan will be easier to find. Two heads are always better than one, and though he has a very long way to go on the road to my forgiveness, at least he’s taken the first step.
Chapter Twelve
Jowan is a natural when it comes to babies. He knows instinctively what Iona wants and isn’t afraid to just muck in and get stuff done. Apart from nappy changing that is. So far, he has drawn the line there. He’s feeding her now while I make breakfast and I can’t help drawing comparisons between him and her father. Simon has never really ‘got’ her moods. He can’t distinguish between her hungry, tired or bored c
ry. In fact, he found it hard to believe a tiny baby could be bored until I took her, pink faced and yelling, from his arms and placed her on the play mat. Instantaneous quiet and gurgling followed, but he said that was just ‘coincidence’ and had gone off to do something else.
Having Jowan here is just so easy. Yesterday, when he suggested staying here on the sofa for the next few days so we could flesh out a plan, I did wonder if there might be some sort of awkwardness or strain between us. Thankfully, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Apart from being fantastic with my daughter, he’s been friendly to me, but not overfriendly, and I haven’t felt so supported for a long time. In a weird kind of way, I am almost relaxed. Given what we are planning for today, there should be at least a few pangs of anxiety in my chest or butterflies in my belly, but so far I am fine.
From the kitchen counter I sneak a few surreptitious glances at him on the sofa with Iona. If last night was anything to go by, poor Jowan’s had far from a relaxing time overseas. To look at him now, all smiley and making baby noises, no one would suspect he’d been tossing and turning and calling out in the early hours.
When I’d come to make Iona’s feed at four-ish, he’d scared the hell out of me. First he’d yelled out, then moaned ‘No, no… Take cover!’ over and over. I had taken a tentative few steps towards the sofa, but stopped when he’d sat bolt upright, eyes open, arms flailing. With my heart in my throat I’d just stood there, Iona’s bottle clutched to my chest. It was the oddest thing, looking at someone who was still asleep with their eyes wide open. Then he’d calmly lain back down and his breathing assumed a regular rhythm. I watched him sleep for a few minutes and then carried on with preparing the feed.
What had happened to him those years he was in the army? To my poor gentle boy from a Cornish village? As I put rashers of bacon on bread, I remind myself he isn’t a boy now, and certainly not mine; nor will he ever be again. Would it help him to talk about it? Would he tell me? Perhaps, but now isn’t the time.
*
Part one of the plan has gone smoothly and that’s a good sign. Lisa, a young woman I have been getting friendly with at the baby and toddler sessions we have attended, has agreed to have Iona for a few hours. We’d already talked about helping each other out if we needed to get something done, and she only lives a few streets away. There had to be a lie, I’m afraid, and that didn’t sit well. An emergency dental appointment because I have been awake half the night with pain in my back molar seemed as good as any, and now I’m back here at the apartment, ready to put part two into action.
The nerves I’d been expecting, but which didn’t arrive, now turn up in my gut, and I have to pay one last visit to the bathroom. In my mind, the action plan we’d had last night and earlier is breaking up, fragmenting, jumbling out of order, so that what seemed feasible an hour ago now seems ludicrous.
I return from the bathroom, my heart hammering, my palms clammy and say to Jowan, who’s sitting on a kitchen chair lacing up his trainers, ‘So, we drive to the clinic and then you go in and ask if Neville’s on duty, right? Say you have a really important message for him but can’t say what it is, yeah?’
Jowan frowns but nods. ‘Yeah, that’s right. You okay, because you look…’
‘What if the receptionist doesn’t buy your story? What if she alerts security and the senior partner is called? What if my husband isn’t really in Germany and comes to ask what you’re playing at?’
Jowan stands up and puts his hand on my arm. ‘Hey, calm down, Hols. Why on earth would she call security?’
‘No idea, but she might. What then?’ I can hear the mild hysteria in my voice and touch my hand to my mouth.
‘She won’t. The most she would do is ask me to leave a message because he’s working or something. And even if that whole totally weird scenario came true – your husband wouldn’t recognise me, or connect me to you, would he?’
‘So, I’m totally weird, am I?’
‘Of course not. You have the jitters, that’s all.’
He’s right. I decide to let that crazy scenario go and allow myself to feel a bit calmer. There is other stuff waiting though. ‘The bit about if he’s not on duty, you’ll ask when he will be?’ He nods and I think there’s humour behind his eyes. This doesn’t help. ‘Why would she tell you that? It’s against confidentiality, I expect.’
‘But we went through that. If she won’t tell me, we’ll just have to wait outside in the car and watch the gates.’
‘But what if…’
‘No more “what ifs”. Come on, Hols. Let’s go before you work yourself up into a state.’
‘Might be a bit late for that,’ I say and try to give a nonchalant laugh. It sounds like a yelp.
The humour is gone and he sighs. ‘Look, I know why you’re like this – it’s such a huge thing. This Neville is our only lead to your boy, so it’s only natural.’ Jowan gives me a brief hug and I wish he hadn’t, because it causes tears to well. Before he can see, I rush off to the bedroom to get a jacket, and by the time I’m back my eyes are dry.
‘Right. Let’s do this,’ I say, with more conviction than I really feel, and lead the way out of the apartment.
Jowan is running towards my car through the clinic car park and across the road. His face says it went well and, as he slides into the passenger seat beside me, he lets out a sigh of relief. It’s obviously a sigh of relief because he follows it with a triumphant slap of the dashboard and does a daft little dance in his seat. For a moment I get the full force of his charm as he grins all twinkly-eyed at me. And when there’s nothing more, I thump him on the arm and say, ‘Well? For God’s sake, tell me what bloody happened!’
From the corner of his mouth Jowan blows a strand of hair out of his eyes and says, ‘It went so well I can hardly believe our luck. The receptionist paged him and he only had five minutes left of his shift so he came to meet me. I said I had a confidential matter to discuss with him, but for the moment I could only say it involved a letter and Simon West.’
Jowan pulls a bottle of water from his pocket and I watch the muscles work in his throat as he takes a big glug. Then he looks at me while he takes his time screwing the top back on, deliberately teasing me as he always used to. I give him what he’s hoping for.
‘Get on with it!’
Jowan laughs. ‘Okay, so Neville plays dumb about it all. Says he knows nothing about a letter and asks what I meant about Mr West. I say I’m acting on Mr West’s behalf and, depending on the quality of information Neville has to impart, there could be a lot of money coming his way.’
In my chest my heart is doing a drum roll and my mouth feels dry so I take the bottle from him. ‘Go on.’
‘Neville lowers his voice and guides me into a corner of reception and says he might have something. I tell him I’ll meet him in half an hour at the park down the road and we’ll go from there.’
Hang on, this wasn’t part of the plan. ‘But we said at the coffee shop… and what park?’
‘The one we passed on the way. It’s only ten minutes back and I noticed it has a great cover of trees behind the bandstand.’
‘Why do you need cover?’ I don’t like the sound of this, or the cold look turning his pale-blue eyes into chips of ice.
‘In case he smells a rat and decides talking to me isn’t such a good idea after all.’
‘Still not with you.’ I am getting there but wish I wasn’t.
‘Look, there might need to be a bit of strong arm and threats… no need for you to know everything.’ He looks out of the window at the clinic.
‘What did I say, Jowan? I said this is to be done my way and no playing the sodding hero, remember?’
‘Of course. But trust me. I’ve seen his type before – cocky, unscrupulous and slippery as an eel. I don’t expect him to swallow everything I say and just tell me all we need to know.’
‘But if you hurt him he’ll get the police involved.’
Jowan gives m
e an incredulous look. ‘Really? After what he’s been involved in, I don’t think so.’ I pull a disapproving face and shake my head. ‘Look, I won’t hurt him badly, and not at all if I don’t have to. I’ll just shake him up a bit.’
We sit in silence for a few moments while I try to rationalise what Jowan might have to do. Of course I will do anything to get a lead on Ruan, but condoning violence wasn’t something I’d imagined when we set this plan up. Jowan is right, of course. If he’d met Neville in a coffee shop there was no way he’d just spill everything without a fight, especially if he suspected Jowan was making everything up.
‘There is an alternative, of course,’ Jowan says quietly.
‘What?’
‘Go to the police, tell them everything – let them investigate.’
Was he fucking crazy? ‘No!’ I throw my arms up. ‘Neville would just deny everything. I told you, Simon mustn’t get to know what we’re doing. He could try to have me sectioned if this comes out. He’s already worried about my mental state, so is Demi, so is my mum. You don’t know Simon; he’s clever, has friends in high places, even the police. He goes out to gentlemen’s clubs and God knows where else with old university and school friends. He mentioned he dined with Commissioner Someone or Other just last week. A friend of a friend, apparently. They would all dismiss me as psychotic, delusional… and I’d lose Iona.’
I close my eyes and rest my head on the dashboard. Why did I allow Jowan to help? This is all going horribly tits up. My stomach’s churning and the urge to get out of the car and run far away is getting the upper hand.
‘But you don’t know that for sure and…’
‘Yes, I do! And even if they did believe me, do you think I’d get Ruan back? Of course not. The people who have him might take him somewhere else, abroad even, if the police start sniffing around. Then I’ll never find him!’ I don’t voice my fear that he might already be out of the country. That idea’s too much to bear. I push down the door handle and kick the door open.