I Know You

by Annabel Kantaria

  ‘And then she says that you promised her a baby,’ I say. ‘She thinks Joseph should be hers.’ I break off to stare at him. ‘Why would she think that? “He still loves me,” she says. “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?” … blah blah blah… “No, shit-for-brains, it was for me… And when he sees me with his baby, it’ll feel like coming home… We’ll finally be a family: me, him and Joe.”’

  I look up at Jake’s face and all I see is confusion. ‘I don’t get it,’ he says. ‘I just don’t get it. She must be delusional. She’s seen your pictures and created a fantasy where she’s with me.’

  ‘So why Croydon?’

  ‘It’s home.’

  ‘She says you still love her.’

  ‘I don’t know what she’s talking about. You’ve got to believe me,’ he says, but there’s a shadow in those eyes of his that makes me think there’s something, something… I slam my fist into the sofa cushion. It’s him who needs to connect the dots but he just won’t do it. Is he hiding something, or does he genuinely not know what’s going on? Suddenly I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I can’t breathe.

  ‘I need to get out. I’m going for a walk. That’s allowed, isn’t it? I won’t be long. But I’m going to explode if I stay here any longer.’ I turn to Jake. ‘And you might want to have a think about all this, and figure out what the hell she’s going on about.’

  I forward the email to Jackie and slam the door as I leave the house.

  Fifty-one

  I stride off down the road, not sure of where I’m going until I get there. I pass the Italian – the place I had lunch with Sarah what feels like aeons ago. I look through the window, my eyes searching for the familiar shape of Anna, a pram, Joe’s car seat – anything – but it’s the usual crowd and no Anna to be seen. I march on to the park, scanning every single person on the street, and then I stop where I stopped that first day I went to the walking group and took that photo. The part of the park where the walking group meets is empty except for two little kids running about, chasing squirrels and birds and squealing while a woman, maybe their mum, smokes a cigarette on a bench. She’s on her phone, not watching the kids, the eldest of whom can’t be more than five years old. They scamper further and further from her bench and still she’s unaware. I watch them for a bit, fury still thrumming in my veins. How careless she is: anyone could snatch her kids and she wouldn’t even notice. Anger courses through me – I want to go over and shake her; I want to take the smallest child myself just to prove a point; to make her wake up to the real world the way I’ve had to.

  I take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself, then I walk on, at a pace that makes my breath come faster. The monotonous act of putting my feet down left, right, left, right, helps get my thoughts in order and I feel calmer by the time I leave the park and head towards Costa – the branch where I had that first coffee with Anna. I think back to when I suggested it and she said she was too busy before relenting. I was desperate for her to say yes. She played me like a pro.

  Inside, I order an orange juice and take it to the back, where I sit and watch the door, an absurd hope building in me that Anna will appear at the door with Joe; that she’ll see me and rush over, thrilled to be able to give Joe back to me, full of what a misunderstanding it’s been, and I won’t even question her; I’ll just take him back and ask nothing; just let her go; let her hide from the police – as long as she leaves us alone. I bask in that wonderful warm feeling of what it’ll be like to have Joe back; to have him snuggle in my arms; root for my breast. To watch him sleep flat on his back with his arms above his head like a champion.

  I’ve always thought positive; I’ve always looked for the best in situations. As I sit there with my juice, I start to believe so much that Joe and Anna are going to turn up that I startle when a mother with a baby in a carrier does appear at the door. She’s bundled up against the cold wind but even so I can see immediately that it’s not them and I take it like a slap in the face. Of course Anna’s not going to come waltzing into Costa. She’s wanted by the police; she’s not going to be out buying fancy coffees with an abducted baby in her arms. My phone rings: Caroline.

  ‘Hello?’

  As usual Caroline doesn’t bother with niceties. ‘Taylor. The police called. I’m so sorry to hear what happened. How are you?’ she says, and I realize that she’s someone who understands the pain of losing a child. The thought of her empathy brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

  ‘I’m…’ I can’t speak. I’m overcome. I flap my free hand up and down to try and stop the tears. It’s embarrassing to be crying here in Costa. I press my hand to my nose and squeeze my eyes shut but the tears are still coming. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s just…’

  ‘It’s okay,’ comes Caroline’s voice. ‘Don’t talk. Do you have an FLO with you? Use her. They’re a great support. And, look, I’m here for you if you need me. Any time, day or night.’

  ‘Thanks. Thank you so much.’

  ‘They’ll find him. You know that, don’t you?’ She sounds so knowledgeable, so sure of herself.

  ‘Thank you.’ Thank you for believing, is what I want to say. She’s the first person who’s told me the only thing I need to hear. We hang up and I lose myself in a daydream of how I’ll hear the news that they’ve found Joseph, imagining how I’ll feel when I find out he’s alive and well and on the way back to me. Maybe it’ll be a phone call. Or maybe they’ve heard something at home already. I take a last swig of juice, throw the bottle in a bin, and push my way through the tables to the door. Time to go home.

  Fifty-two

  ‘Hello there,’ Jackie calls as I close the front door behind me. ‘We’re still here.’

  I pull off my coat and shoes, and head into the lounge. It feels too small for the three of us. I don’t know where to sit now Jackie’s here occupying space that’s usually empty, so I stand.

  ‘Any developments?’

  ‘I passed the email to CID, obviously, but other than that, no. We’re just waiting for the mispers press release to come. Missing person,’ she adds.

  ‘Feeling better?’ Jake asks.

  I breathe in and out, constrained once more by the stuffy indoor air. ‘Yeah.’ I pause. ‘Have you remembered anything yet?’

  Jake sighs. ‘She must have seen you somewhere – on a flight or something maybe? And become obsessed by you and stalked you – taken all your pictures off social media and imagined herself in your life,’ he says. ‘That’s all I can think of. She’s kidding herself I want to be with her. She’s a fantasist.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ says Jackie. ‘Stranger things have happened.’ Her phone pings and she looks at it. ‘Ah brilliant. It’s the press release. You want to take a look?’

  She holds her phone out and I scan the document: they’ve zoomed in on Anna’s face from the picture I saw in her bedroom of her and Rob. It’s funny to see it in this setting – so familiar yet so strange. I scan the words, reading the facts as if they relate to someone else’s life, then hold the phone out to Jake.

  ‘Here.’

  He takes the phone then does a double-take. ‘What?’

  He frowns and shakes his head at the screen.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Where did they get that picture?’

  ‘Her house. It was in her bedroom. It must be the only picture they could find.’

  ‘No! That’s impossible.’ He points at the screen as if he’s seen a ghost. ‘That’s not Anna.’

  ‘Of course it’s Anna!’ I snap. ‘And that’s Rob, her husband, blocked out next to her.’

  ‘No. I know that person. Her name’s not Anna… Oh my god, oh my god!’ Jake looks as if the life’s been sucked out of him. His eyes are panicky and he’s clutching at his chest. ‘This can’t be true.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it’s Anna! For god’s sake, stop messing. This is difficult enough as it i
s.’

  ‘No.’ Jake starts walking this way and that, shaking his head with his hand pressed on his chest. ‘Oh my god. Oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god.’

  ‘What’s going on? You’re scaring me!’ I want to shake him.

  Jake practically throws the phone back to Jackie, as if it’s burning his hands.

  ‘That’s not Anna. It’s Vivian. Oh god. It all makes sense now.’

  ‘What do you mean? Vivian who?’

  ‘It’s Vivian Watson,’ Jake says. He looks at me and his eyes are empty. ‘Watson. As in “Mrs”. That woman is not “Anna”. It’s my ex-wife.’

  Fifty-three

  I take a step back from him. ‘You have an ex-wife?’

  Jake closes his eyes. His head’s buried in his hands. Jackie looks from one of us to the other. Then Jake snaps his head up and looks at me, somehow accusingly, as if this is my fault and, for some reason, I think of Keanu’s eyes. He couldn’t look further from Keanu at this point. Untrustworthy eyes, that’s what he’s got. Debts, gambling, lies, affairs, an ex-wife. I don’t know my husband at all.

  Jake takes a deep breath then exhales it. When he speaks, his voice is absolutely dead, as if the worst thing that could happen in the world has just happened.

  ‘Yes, I know I should have told you. But I didn’t want to dignify it. If I didn’t admit it, I could move on. Pretend it never happened. Never mention it again.’

  It’s almost as if I feel all my organs collapse inside myself, such is the downward pull in my abdomen. But I inhale and control my exhale to beat down my anger. I want answers and I want my son back, and yelling isn’t going to get me either.

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Not long. Too long.’

  ‘How long, Jake?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Couple of years.’

  ‘When did you split up with her?’ I feel like an investigator.

  ‘Around the time we met.’

  ‘Before or after?’ I ask. By the end of the session, he knows he wants to marry you, Anna wrote.

  ‘It’s important,’ I say.

  Jake shakes his head. ‘I don’t recall. It’s not so black and white. But when I met you I knew you were the one for me. Viv was a mistake.’ The shortening of her name hits me like a punch. ‘It wasn’t working out. I’d been looking for a way out for ages.’

  ‘And then I trotted into your life and you thought you could just forget everything? Well, clearly not. Our son’s missing. Your ex-wife has our son.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Jake says, and I notice the dull details of our living room: the fact that the surfaces could do with a dust; the soft furnishings I’m usually so proud of now looking so mundane, so pedestrian here in the midst of this drama that doesn’t belong in my life. I want to shake Jake and scream: ‘How was it then? Tell me!’ but I know that’s not going to get me back my baby. Yes, Joe’s my baby now, not our baby. Of this I’m sure: after we get Joe back, there is no more Jake and me.

  ‘Can you think where she might have gone?’ Jackie says. ‘The main thing here is that we’ve identified her and now we need to find her.’

  But Jake ignores her. He runs his hand through his hair, clutching at his scalp.

  ‘Oh god. She wanted a baby. She was obsessed by the idea. But that was years ago.’

  ‘And you never had one?’ It seems ridiculous I have to ask, but five minutes ago I didn’t know my husband had an ex-wife.

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘So she’s taken Joe because he’s yours? Is that what this is?’ I still can’t process the fact that this is Anna – my friend Anna – we’re talking about.

  ‘Oh my god. She was so insecure, so needy. She wanted something that would love her unconditionally. I suggested we get a dog. It became an issue. She started tracking her fertility.’ He looks at me, and I realize with a thud in my chest that I did exactly the same thing. ‘I’d realized by then that she had a few screws loose; I’d realized I’d made a massive mistake. I was going to leave her anyway, before I met you. She didn’t like that.’ He gives a bitter laugh. ‘She made my life a misery.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Can I just interrupt?’ Jackie says. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to get CID back. They’ll need to ask you some more questions about this.’

  ‘Sure,’ says Jake.

  ‘This Vivian woman – your ex-wife,’ Jackie says to Jake. ‘You were saying she made your life a misery? What sort of thing did she do?’

  I don’t know what I expect him to say – small, domestic struggles maybe: long silences, a sex ban, Jake sleeping on the sofa.

  ‘She started harassing me,’ he says. ‘Proper mad stuff. Late-night phone calls, attention-seeking texts pretending she was about to kill herself, putting stuff through the door, emails… popping up outside my office.’

  I close my eyes. How is this suddenly my life? Jake barks a laugh. ‘God, she was clever. I wanted to get a restraining order but she never broke the law. Never did anything the police would be interested in. Just small things, psycho things that let me know she was watching me. I could handle it. But…’ Jake closes his eyes and shakes his head.

  ‘All this was happening while we were seeing each other? Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘You were in the States and I was here. You were my fresh, new future, so pure… I didn’t want to ruin it. God, Taylor, you have to know how I felt about you. You gave me hope for the future; you were everything I wanted moving forward. That’s why I didn’t tell you about her. I didn’t want to sully what we had. Tinge it. I wanted a clean break from all that craziness. Do you get that?’

  I just stare at him. I, I, I – it’s all about him. And I thought we were ‘us’.

  ‘This is why I was so glad to move to the States to be with you,’ Jake says. ‘I heard nothing after that. It all stopped. I thought that was the end of it. I assumed she’d got over it and we could get on with our lives. I put it to the back of my mind and – god, forgot, I suppose.’

  ‘You’re unbelievable. Didn’t you think you owed it to me to tell me you were being stalked by a psycho ex-wife?’

  Jake snorts. ‘I didn’t want it hanging over us. It was a mistake. Fix it. Move on. I didn’t want to have to explain it to you. None of your business.’

  ‘But now it is.’ I close my eyes and massage my temples. ‘And you didn’t think to mention any of this when Joe went missing?’

  ‘I didn’t know “Anna” wasn’t Anna!’

  ‘It’s your fault! You were never here.’

  ‘She’s the one who bailed on your birthday,’ Jake shouts and a bubble of spit flies from his lips. ‘I was supposed to meet her then – remember?’

  That shuts me up as I think back to the excuses: she was sick, Rob was flying in, Rob was flying out – did she really plan this so Jake never got to meet her? I’m still furious at Jake but Joe is my priority. I need to focus on getting Joe back.

  ‘Where would she go?’ I ask.

  Jake jumps up and goes to the window; lifts the lace curtain as if she’ll be outside, watching, then lets it drop and turns to me.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Come on!’ I say. ‘You must know! Think about the places you used to go with her… Is there anywhere she could have made a base? Anywhere she might have taken him? Where were your favourite places?’

  ‘She could be anywhere.’

  ‘But what if she’s not? What if she’s right here under our noses?’

  ‘We used to live not far from here. A rented place. I doubt she’s there, but…’

  Suddenly I feel a flicker of hope. Now we know what we’re dealing with, maybe we have a better chance of finding Joe.

  ‘Is it worth a look?’ I ask Jackie. I’m agitated now, standing up, adrenaline pumping through me. ‘We should go and look. Can you come with us or do we have to wait for CID? We’ve got to do something!’ Already I’m moving towards the door.

  Jackie raises a hand. ‘Slow down.
They’re already on their way over. We should wait. We need to do this properly.’

  I stare at her: she’s supposed to be a support, not a hindrance. I need to see this house; I need to see if my son’s there. I also need to see it for murkier reasons: I want to know where Jake lived with his ex-wife. ‘It’s not far,’ he’d said. Is that why he rented our house in this location? Has my entire time in England been based on this subconscious pull he felt to be back where he was when he was married to Vivian? He says he wanted to get away from her, but what if she was right all along?

  ‘They’ll be here very soon. Or I can send them straight to the house if you have the address?’

  ‘Yes!’ I say. ‘Please. If he’s there, I want him back. You can do the questions later. Please.’

  So Jake gives Jackie the address and we listen while she tells someone on the phone.

  ‘I guess we just wait now,’ Jake says.

  ‘I’m going upstairs,’ I say. I stomp up the stairs, anger apparent in every thudding footstep, throw myself on the bed and picture how Joe would be found: the police banging on the door, storming in. Anna cowering, the cries of my son in another room – safe and well, of course – the detective scooping him up and bringing him, squalling, to me. Lying on the bed in a fetal position, I feel the familiar pricks of my milk letting down.

  ‘Please let him be there, please let him be there, please let him be there.’

  Fifty-four

  He wasn’t there. Looking back, it would have been too easy. How neat it would have been to find him in the first place we looked. The house was apparently occupied by an Asian family now, any trace of the car crash that was Viv ‘n’ Jake long gone. The police told us all this with apologetic faces before getting down to the business of interviewing my husband about his psychopathic ex-wife. While I waited I planned my future in my head. I’d get Joe back, and then I’d go back to the States. I’d divorce Jake on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour – I mean, no judge could possibly argue that this web of lies and deceit, which led to my baby being snatched, was reasonable. I’d stay with my parents until I got my feet on the ground again, then I’d carve out a new life – and hopefully, one day, a new love – for me and Joe in California. Thank god, I remember thinking, that we don’t have a joint bank account. His gambling debts, I hope, will remain his and his alone.