I Know You

by Annabel Kantaria

  ‘It’s a pregnancy bump,’ I say. ‘Prosthetic.’

  ‘Wasn’t she pregnant?’

  ‘I thought she was.’

  Jake goes over to the wall and stares at one of the pinboards that I haven’t yet reached.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ he asks DS Baldwin. ‘Who put this here? You? Or her?’

  ‘We found this here,’ he says. ‘We haven’t touched it.’

  I go over and stand next to Jake, craning my neck and standing on tiptoe to make out what he’s looking at. It’s a collage; scores of laminated photographs pinned together without any space between them. I know before I even absorb the images what they are: the images from my Instagram and Facebook accounts. Every. Single. One.

  Bile rises and my diaphragm contracts. Clasping my hand over my mouth I run to the bathroom, rip up the toilet lid just in time to throw up. I reach for some loo roll and wipe my mouth, then rest my head against the coldness of the seat for a few moments, breathing hard before I get up slowly, rinse at the basin, and go back to the bedroom. Jake doesn’t even ask if I’m all right; he turns on me, his face twisted in anger, and I’m suddenly glad for the police presence in the room.

  ‘Jesus, Taylor, where did she get all this? Have you put all this online?’ I stand there, taking his words like punches. ‘You put our whole lives on display! Look at this! And this!’ He jabs a finger at the picture he took of me ice-skating on our first date at the Rockerfeller Center in New York; then at the picture I took at the top of Chichen Itza on our honeymoon; at the snap of the first positive pregnancy test I got – one I’d posted before I miscarried that first time; before I learned to be a little more circumspect about these things.

  ‘You put this up?’ His face is pinched. ‘Do we not have any secrets? Nothing that’s sacred? Does the whole world know everything about us? There’s a reason I don’t do social media and this is it.’

  He shakes his head slowly at me, and a pit opens up at the bottom of my stomach. Suddenly I see it through his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t…’ My voice fails and I just mouth the words.

  ‘What? Think? You didn’t think?’

  I go over to Jake and try to touch him but he throws me off.

  ‘Jake, please?’

  ‘This is all your fault! All of it. All your stupid fucking oversharing has got our baby stolen,’ Jake snorts. ‘Yes, your “friend” took our baby right from under your nose and it’s all your fault. Do you see that now? Look!’ he shouts, jabbing at the first ever picture I took of Joe – the one I hashtagged ‘Insta-love’ and posted after I sent it to Jake.

  ‘Even this! Our son had barely been alive two minutes and you put his face on fucking social media. What’s wrong with you? What are you looking for? Some sort of validation? “Likes”? Am I not enough for you?’

  ‘Jake, I…’

  ‘Oh my god, you practically handed Joe to a psycho. No one’s going to have any sympathy, not least the police. God, Taylor. You let her in. You!’ He sinks against the wall, massaging his forehead.

  I look at DS Baldwin. ‘But why has she done this? What did she want with me? Why me? I don’t understand. I mean, look at this! It’s been going on for years! Look: there are pictures she’s taken of our house in Santa Monica! She’s been watching me for years. I don’t know who she is.’

  Jake’s stroking his chin. ‘How did you meet her, again?’

  ‘At the walking group.’ My voice is a whisper. I scan the board and find the Instagram I took as I approached the park that morning of the first walk: Hiking – London-style! #lloydpark. ‘Here.’

  ‘And you thought it was a happy coincidence she was there? When you put something like this up? For fuck’s sake, Taylor. How naive can you be?’

  ‘But…’ I’m going to say that she was already there that morning but then I remember that she wasn’t. I walked with Simon. Anna only appeared at the end of the walk. Long enough, I realize with a lurch, for her to have seen my Instagram post, got herself ready and got to the park by the time the walk finished.

  ‘But what?’ Jake says. His voice is cold, his eyes hard, flashing anger and, worse, disappointment I know is aimed at me. ‘Nothing you can say is going to change this. The fact that you let a psycho into our lives. No, scrap that.’ He holds up a hand. ‘You invited a psycho into our lives, and now she’s got our baby.’

  I sink to my knees, and pick up the prosthetic belly. ‘She wasn’t pregnant,’ I say, more to myself than to Jake.

  ‘No. And there probably is no husband, either,’ Jake says.

  ‘But I saw his photo.’

  ‘Photo? It could have been anyone! Brother, cousin, friend…’

  ‘I saw his shirts in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Oh please. That doesn’t prove anything!’ Jake says. ‘They could be from the charity shop for all you know.’

  ‘Right,’ says DS Baldwin, who’s been watching us with his eyes flicking from Jake to me and back, as if he’s watching tennis. I get the feeling he’s not missing a trick. ‘I think we’re finished here.’

  Forty-eight

  The drive home is short and silent, the weight of Jake’s blame hanging squarely over me. It’s bad enough that Jake blames me, but I get the sense that Jackie does, too. Does that make me some sort of accomplice to what’s happened? Have I ‘aided and abetted’ the abduction by providing so much information? I realize I have no idea how cyber laws view these things.

  I get out of the car while Jackie’s still undoing her seatbelt, barge up the path first, and unlock the front door. The smell of the house hits me and it’s as if my breasts realize I should be home feeding my baby: the milk lets down with the familiar tingle. I dash into the kitchen and grab the pump.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say as I slip past Jake and Jackie and head up to the nursery.

  After I’m done, I sit back in the nursing chair, gently pushing the rocker with my foot and going back over all that we saw this morning. I thought I was the one pushing for the friendship with Anna – from the very beginning I had the sense that if I pushed too much, she’d run scared. The phrase ‘treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen’ pops into my head: had she really planned it to that degree? She kept me wanting more; kept me feeling it was me driving the friendship when all along it was her manipulating me like a string puppet.

  As I picture the pinboards and the scrapbooks a shudder runs through me… She was there, all along, watching us. Before Croydon, before the UK, before we even got married. I remember with a sense of shame the box of pills in one of the photos – I’ll never forget that box nor what it represented. Anna was there the day I terminated Jake’s baby; back when our relationship was new, when I was unsure of him, and the thought of having kids terrified me because of what it meant – how I’d have to stop flying. Sitting here in my chair with my baby missing – taken by her – the irony’s not lost on me.

  My phone pings and I pick it up, open the email application and honestly feel my heart stop. There in my inbox is her name: Anna Jones. Subject: ‘FYI’. It must be some kind of joke – that’s what I’m thinking even as I click on the email with hands that shake so much it’s difficult for me to focus on the tiny screen. Attached to the email there’s a load of Word documents – I wait, wait, wait while they download then I scroll through them – ten or more of them – pages and pages of bilious prose, not understanding what I’m seeing.

  ‘Tea, Taylor?’ Jackie shouts upstairs.

  ‘I know where you live,’ I read out loud. What is this? I keep scrolling: I know what you read… I know how you met. Ice-skating… Mexico… Disney… College… Joseph… My heart’s thudding now. He’d be better off if you weren’t having the baby. What? My arms go weak; the pages shake along with the trembling in my hands, and I sink back onto the bed as I start to read.

  It’s my life in a document. Pivotal moments from my life, including things no one else could possibly know. Things I’ve never even told Jake. And things I don’t even know
myself: why Jake picked the name Joseph – because of a boy in his class who died? Oh my god. I press my hand over my mouth. I don’t want to know these things but I can’t stop myself from reading. We’re in debt? Jake has a gambling problem?

  He doesn’t want the baby?

  So much is true, why wouldn’t the other bits be, too?

  The phone drops into my lap and I close my eyes, waiting for my heart to slow. Outside I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I nudge the phone out of sight and feign sleep, leaning back in the chair, my mouth slightly open. I hear the footsteps stop at the door, then retreat. Jackie’s voice a moment later, in the lounge, telling Jake.

  ‘Fast asleep. It’s good. She needs it.’

  I pick up my phone and read the document one more time, more slowly this time, trying to calm my breath; trying to take in more detail; trying to find two and two and make them add up to four; trying to figure out why Anna wrote this and why she’s sent it to me.

  He still loves me.

  I shake my head in despair. They never even met.

  Did you ever wonder why he ripped you from your perfect little existence in the States and dumped you here when he could have picked anywhere in Britain? Was it for the joys of the Whitgift Centre? For the rolling spaces of Lloyd Park?

  No, shit-for-brains, it was for me.

  But he doesn’t know her.

  And when he sees me with his baby, it’ll feel like coming home… We’ll finally be a family: me, him and Joe.

  How can he not know her? Is she even crazier than we thought? Is this some sort of online obsession?

  I sit and think for a long while, then I close the document and walk carefully down the stairs.

  Forty-nine

  I find Jake and Jackie in the living room: Jake on the sofa and Jackie at the dining table, both nursing cups of tea. They each look at me as I enter the room and I have the sense that life’s about to change; that what’s said now will never be able to be unsaid. I think of my baby – my son – hidden somewhere without me, and draw strength from the thought I might finally be on the route to getting him back. But before I pass the email to the police, I want to ask Jake a few questions.

  ‘Hey,’ I say carefully.

  ‘Good sleep?’ asks Jake.

  ‘I was exhausted,’ I say.

  Maybe I sound defensive because he says immediately, ‘I’m not accusing you.’

  I sit on the sofa and hug a cushion to me. ‘I was just thinking about the name “Joseph”. Do you remember who suggested it? Was it me or you?’

  ‘I think I suggested it and you loved it,’ Jake says.

  ‘Yeah… I think you’re right. What made you think of it? Is it a family name?’

  He shrugs. ‘No. I just… liked it, I guess?’

  ‘Did you ever know any nice Josephs? I always find once I’ve known someone with a name, I always think of them when I hear that name.’

  He shrugs again. ‘No. Don’t think I did.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, my voice deliberately flat, willing him to hear that there’s a lot at stake here; willing him to understand that he’s being questioned; willing him not to lie. ‘So you never knew a Joseph?’

  ‘What is this?’ Jake’s voice is sharp. ‘Twenty questions? No, I never knew anyone called Joseph. All right?’ He picks up his phone and checks something on the screen.

  I hold my hands up. ‘Okay, okay.’ I wait but no one says anything. ‘I might have that tea after all.’

  I get up and make myself a cup, using the time with my back to the room to compose myself. So he lied. The document contains so much truth that I believe it, not him. I turn back to the room and open my mouth to speak but Jackie’s phone rings and we all jump. Jake and I stare at each other, suddenly drawn together in our hope, as Jackie moves to pick it up. She catches both our eyes before she says smoothly, ‘Jackie Dane.’

  We watch her, hanging on every monosyllabic word she says. In my mind I’m going over what I’m about to say; I only have one shot to see his reaction; to judge if he’s lying.

  Jackie hangs up her call.

  ‘Nothing to report. Sorry. Just updates. They’re just working on the press release to send out to the TV stations. When that goes live we might start to get some sightings.’

  ‘Do you tend to get good responses to those appeals?’ Jake asks, and I see through him now. Does he even really care that much about getting Joe back – the baby he didn’t want in the first place?

  ‘Depends,’ Jackie says. ‘Of course there are timewasters, but all we need is one person who genuinely saw Anna and we have a solid lead. It’s worth a try.’

  ‘I can’t believe she could be right here in Croydon,’ I say weakly.

  ‘Can you think of anywhere she may have gone?’ Jackie asks. Places you used to go with her? Places she talked about?’

  I struggle to centre my thoughts. ‘We only ever hung out at home, Costa and the shopping centre.’

  ‘What about a hotel?’ Jake asks. ‘Is it worth checking hotels between Gatwick, Redhill and here?’

  And I see it. This is my chance. I look at him through narrowed eyes.

  ‘You tell me,’ I say quietly, although I feel as if I’m jumping off a cliff. ‘You know her. You promised her a baby, after all. So what do you think? Is she in a hotel? Or somewhere else?’

  Fifty

  For a moment, everything in the room freezes, and then Jake’s face creases into a scoff – an arrogant, pompous scoff.

  ‘Have you gone completely insane?’ he snorts.

  ‘I know you know Anna,’ I say. ‘That you love her.’ My voice starts dangerously low but crescendos quickly. ‘What have you done with Joe?’ I shout. ‘I just want my baby back!’ I launch myself at him and pummel his chest. ‘That’s all I want! How could you be so cruel? You might not want him but he needs me…’ The emotion of my missing son swamps me and tears spill out of my eyes. ‘He’s only tiny. He needs me!’ I sob, my blows getting weaker.

  ‘What’s got into you?’ Jake shouts, shoving me off him and sending me stumbling backwards. ‘If I knew where he was, don’t you think I’d have said by now?’

  Jackie leaps up and takes my arm. She extends her other arm to create space between Jake and me. ‘There, come on, sit down.’ She leads me to a chair, brings over a box of tissues.

  ‘He knows! He knows something!’ I sob.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Jake says. ‘She’s crazy. As if I know where they are! Do you honestly think I would be sitting here doing nothing in this house if I knew where they were? Do you?’

  Jackie motions to him to calm down. ‘Taylor?’ she asks gently. ‘What’s going on?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Anna wrote to me. I got an email. Just now, while I was upstairs.’

  ‘What? What did she say?’

  ‘A lot about you!’ I spit. ‘A lot about us. Things no one could know. And things about you and her.’

  Jake’s shaking his head. ‘There is no “me and her”!’

  ‘She told me why you chose the name Joseph. There was a boy in your class who died? When you were there?’

  Jake’s face goes pale. He turns away.

  ‘Well?’

  He turns back and I see that his eyes are closed. He rubs the bridge of his nose and is breathing heavily through his mouth, as if he’s panting.

  ‘Dear god. It’s true, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘So is it also true that we’re nearly bankrupt?’

  Jake’s still holding the bridge of his nose, but he’s shaking his head now too. It tells me everything I need to know.

  ‘She says it’s because you have a gambling habit,’ I say.

  Jake’s knees buckle and he collapses onto the sofa.

  ‘Here, let me read it out to you,’ I say, tapping on the document called ‘I Know He Can’t Afford the Baby’. ‘“And he knows that payday loans aren’t the answer. He does. But still he googles them; still he clicks through from the ads, working out ways to keep the car; keep the cash flowi
ng; keep you from finding out.” This is true? How, Jake? How did this happen?’ The words explode out of me.

  He shakes his head and it’s as if the physical mass that makes up my husband has shrunk inside his clothes.

  ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen,’ he says. ‘It got out of control and I didn’t know how to fix it. And then you wanted the car…’

  ‘I thought we could afford the bloody car!’

  ‘I wanted you to be happy.’

  ‘So you gambled away our savings? In what crazy world did you think that would make me happy?’ I shout, my voice tight.

  Jake covers his face with his hands.

  ‘And this isn’t the half of it. Shall I carry on?’

  As I start to read out loud, I can’t keep the bitterness out of my tone.

  ‘“And, all the while he’s thinking one thing. He doesn’t want to think it but I know he is. It’s tormenting him. He’s up at night chewing the skin around his nails,”’ I break off to look at Jake. ‘That’s true, isn’t it? You always were up at night – how does she know? How does she know that? “thinking the thought that makes him sick to his stomach. It’d all be okay if we weren’t having the baby.” Is she right about that too?’

  My voice is deathly cold. Jackie’s holding her phone up. I think she’s recording. Even if it’s illegal; even if it can never be used, I’m glad there’ll be a record of what was said.

  Jake’s face is pale. He’s shaking his head. If he could disappear down the back of the sofa cushions and never come back, I think he happily would. In fact, I’d push him down myself, stamp on him.

  ‘You want more?’ I say, my voice rising. ‘Here: “I know your husband’s going to miss the birth. I don’t need a crystal ball or a pack of tarot cards to know that, when push literally comes to shove, he won’t be in the delivery room with you.” Anna wrote this. Yes! Anna! How did she know you weren’t going to make it? Where were you anyway? Why didn’t you answer my messages?’

  My voice breaks and, for the first time in my life, I feel I could actually murder someone. I could put my hands on his neck and choke him to death; watch his eyes pop as he suffocates. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone so much. I try to focus.