‘But why didn’t you go to the police? You could have explained?’
Miranda shakes her head. ‘You know what he was like. He would have paid off the police not to look too closely at the case. It was Bombay. You know how he operated. No matter what I said, this was a battle I was never going to win. And I was alone in India – no parents, no one to look out for me.’ Her voice lowers. ‘Things happen. You know what I mean? The police were in his hands. When Ralph picked a battle, he never lost.’
The two women look knowingly at each other. Audrey finds it odd to be talking so intimately with someone who was also married to Ralph. She feels like Miranda is her flesh and blood; a sister.
‘You lasted way longer than I did,’ says Miranda. ‘Made of sterner stuff.’ She laughs ruefully.
‘I was older, I suppose.’ Audrey pauses. She wants to say that she stayed for the children but she realises it will sound like she’s competing with Miranda: I stayed for them when you didn’t. So she talks instead about Ralph. ‘And there were good times, too. There were. He loved me in his own way. I learned how to handle him. He mellowed as he got older.’
‘I’m glad.’
The two women fall into silence. Audrey’s processing all that Miranda’s told her; rewriting history in her head. Ralph had romanced her and married her, all the while knowing his first wife wasn’t dead. A secret he took to the grave. And the children! John and Alexandra missed out on knowing their real mother all because of Ralph’s ego. She shudders.
‘How do you feel about John and Alexandra now?’ she asks.
Miranda dabs at her left eye and Audrey realises she’s blinking back tears.
‘I don’t know. Guilty, I suppose. I used to wonder about them every day. But it’s been forty years,’ says Miranda. ‘Forty years and I still feel guilty. I wonder if I should have stayed. I ask myself if it really was that bad.’
Audrey purses her lips.
‘I even thought about going back – seeing if he’d take me back, just for the sake of the children. But then he married you – what? In six months?’ She pauses. ‘I came by once. Followed you to the Hanging Gardens and watched you with the children. You looked so happy. They looked so happy.’
‘You watched us?’
‘Yes. I saw that they were happy. I left India after that.’
‘How? How did you even have a passport?’
Miranda rolls her eyes. ‘This is India we’re talking about. Anything’s possible with a little money.’ She rubs her thumb and index fingers together.
‘Fake passport?’
Miranda nods. ‘New identity. Easily done.’
Audrey exhales. ‘Wow.’
There’s a silence as Audrey takes in all she’s been told. And then: ‘But didn’t you try to find us? It’s easy these days. With the internet?’
Miranda purses her lips. ‘I made a pact with myself not to track down the children. The last thing anyone needs is a mother who supposedly killed herself to get away from them turning up on the doorstep. Can you imagine? They’d need years of therapy. But … oh God. There were days when I was longing with every fibre of my being to see them, to hold them. When they were young, I ached for them. Physically. Seeing Alexandra last night was … oh God – weird.’ She hugs her arms around herself. ‘What does the boy look like? John?’
‘He’s the spit of his father,’ says Audrey. Miranda gives an almost imperceptible nod, and the two women look at each other, understanding.
‘Would you like to have them back in your life somehow?’ asks Audrey. ‘I mean, if that was somehow possible?’
Miranda sits very still; a slew of emotion crosses her face. ‘I … I mean, they wouldn’t want to know me. They’re adults now. They must be in their forties; have their own lives. They have you. You’re the only mother they know.’
‘You don’t know how they’d react. Maybe they’d want to know you. Alexandra at least. If she knew.’
‘But how? How would that ever be possible?’
‘You’re younger than me,’ Audrey says. Her eyes glaze over and she stares into the middle distance. It’s as if she’s speaking to herself. ‘I’ve raised your children and I’m tired now.’ She stares at the wall overwhelmed by the sense of things falling into place. ‘I don’t want to be a burden.’ Then her eyes snap back to Miranda and she’s present in the conversation once more. ‘Let me think.’
April 2013
Audrey sits, as she now does every morning, at her computer, her breakfast dishes pushed to one side and a fresh cup of coffee beside her. It used to be that she read the papers in the morning, leaning over the broadsheets at the dining table as she caught up on the world’s news and diddled her pen over the cryptic crossword in the hope that she might one day actually complete it but, these days, it’s the computer that steals her attention. As she opens her email, Audrey feels the same thrill of anticipation she used to get on hearing the post drop through the letterbox each morning: a bubble of excitement; a fizz of hope.
‘You have email,’ says a voice from the computer and Audrey’s heart quickens, as it does every morning. She makes a conscious effort to relax her shoulders, which she realises have hunched over the laptop. The page can’t load fast enough for her and then, when it finally does, Audrey relaxes back in her chair, enjoying even just the sight of the name in her inbox. She clicks to open the email; reads it quickly, then reads it again, more slowly, savouring each and every word. She clicks the mouse, and her fingers fly over the keys as her reply takes shape. Every now and then she pauses and stares into space, a soft smile on her face. She’s a method writer: as emotions bubble up inside her, she sighs, smiles, frowns, and even chuckles out loud at the computer screen. Anyone watching would think I’m a lunatic, she thinks. Thank goodness John’s not here!
Email done, she presses ‘send’, then flicks to the research that’s been consuming her for the past few weeks. The Mediterranean colours of the Greek islands fill the screen and Audrey’s head tilts to the side as she lets the images wash over her. They resonate in her soul – she wants it so badly – but something’s stopping her. Can she really go through with this?
‘Audrey Templeton,’ she says. ‘You’ll never know if you don’t try.’
There’s a young girl behind the counter at the travel agent. She looks still to be in her teens; a school-leaver perhaps. Audrey approaches the desk and sits in the vacant chair.
‘How can I help you?’ asks the girl, looking up from her computer.
‘I’d like to go on a cruise. Around the Greek islands.’
‘Okay, I’m sure that’s possible.’ The girl gets up and walks to the shelves of brochures that line one side of the shop. She picks a few and brings them back to Audrey.
‘What sort of ship are you looking for?’ She taps the top brochure with scarlet nails.
Audrey smiles brightly. ‘A cruise ship?’
To her credit, the travel agent is patient, although her tone of voice does make it sound rather as if she’s talking to a child. ‘There are different sizes of ship. Different budgets. Some cater more for families; some don’t allow children …’ She looks at Audrey, mentally puts her into the ‘oldies’ bracket.
‘I hope to be travelling with my children,’ says Audrey.
‘Oh.’ The girl’s eyes widen and, for a minute, she looks confused.
Audrey laughs. ‘They’re in their forties.’
‘Oh, I see! Of course.’
‘Um,’ says Audrey. ‘Maybe a medium-sized ship? Nothing too small, where everyone knows each other. I don’t want that. And not too big either. My son would refuse to come.’
‘Yeah,’ says the girl, nodding as if she knows what Audrey means.
‘Have you ever been on a cruise?’
‘No. But I can imagine.’
Audrey smiles. The girl marks a few pages in the brochures with sticky notes. ‘Why don’t you go home and have a browse? See what’s available and we can take it from there? This company�
��s very good,’ she presses a Post-it onto the top brochure. ‘I get good feedback from clients about them and the ships aren’t so enormous.’
Audrey picks up the brochures and places them carefully into her basket. She can’t wait to get home and read them; see if she dares actually book this cruise. She remembers sailing to India: the endless ocean vistas; the sense of peace she got from understanding how tiny and how insignificant she was in the universe; the womb-like comfort of not knowing where the sea ended and the sky began. She’s longing to be back on a ship.
It won’t be the same, she tells herself as she drives. Oriana was hardly a cruise ship. She lets out a little laugh. Of course it’ll be a lot more luxurious on a modern-day cruise ship; lots more to do than on that journey she’d made in 1970. Her first memory is of the heat – it had been cold, of course, as they left Britain, but she remembers the creeping warmth as they headed steadily south, the shedding of layers as they passed Lisbon, Casablanca – what came next? Then that relentless heat as they’d advanced up past Madagascar. She’d sat around on deck thinking she really, truly might expire. Audrey smiles to herself as she remembers the excitement as they headed up the final strait to Bombay. She shakes her head, a smile on her face.
Her mind still in 1970, Audrey turns into her driveway and almost crashes into a car reversing towards her. It takes a minute to realise that it’s Alexandra’s car; that she and John are both in it and, with a jolt, she wonders if she was supposed to cook them lunch today. She’s sure it was next week but, to be fair, she’s been so caught up in her plan that she’s been ignoring everyday concerns. Even the house could do with a good dust and polish. The last thing she needs today is the pair of them fussing and fawning over her. She knows they think she’s losing her mind; becoming a liability. John’s been banging on about getting her to sell the house and now he’s probably got Alexandra in on the act, and they’re disguising their impatience with her as concern. Audrey sighs. If only she hadn’t crashed the goddamned car.
Alexandra’s moving the car back up the driveway, so Audrey eases her car into the garage then takes a second to compose herself, breathing deeply. Be patient, she tells herself. It’s not forever. She leaves the cruise brochures on the passenger seat, plasters a smile on her face, and goes out to face Miranda’s children.
April 2013
Audrey’s not a big fan of The Ship. With its bright décor and modern finishing, it’s designed to cater to the tourists who wander up from the harbour looking for a slap-up lunch, and there’s nothing about it that says ‘pub’ to her. But, since it’s her fault she forgot the lunch with John and Alexandra, she can hardly complain. The place is busy when they arrive – Audrey would never come out for lunch quite so late – but John manages to find a table and Audrey sinks gratefully onto a bench seat with her back to the wall.
‘Right. Drinks,’ says John. ‘I’ll go. What does everyone want?’
‘Nice of him to go,’ says Lexi once John’s disappeared off to the bar, and Audrey exchanges a look with her. She’ll miss Alexandra. The girl has a good heart; always means well. Audrey’s eyes glaze over as she thinks, again, about the pros and cons of her plan. Does she have the courage to do it? Does she?
‘What do you recommend?’ Lexi’s question snaps Audrey’s attention back to the crowded pub. She hasn’t eaten here for over a year but one of her friends told her recently how good the veggie lasagne is, so Audrey suggests that. Then John returns with the drinks and the news that he’s ordered a roast dinner for them all.
Just like your father, thinks Audrey: you didn’t even think to ask.
‘Shall we call it twenty each?’ he says, placing the bill on the table. Audrey takes in his gaunt appearance and the dark circles under his eyes and realises that things can’t be going as well with his business as everyone assumes; understands that sixty pounds is a lot to fork out when you have a family to support, and is happy to reach into her bag for her purse, but Lexi whips out her bag and slams a couple of twenty pound notes on the table in a way that leaves no one in any doubt as to her feelings on the topic. Audrey watches as John nods his thanks and folds the money into his wallet. Yes, she thinks. The children need the money. How long should Ralph’s control be allowed to continue? It’s in her power to put an end to it – to tell the children about their real mother and to help them get the inheritance that’s rightly theirs. Who is she to stand in their way? Ralph lied to her for their entire marriage!
‘Cheers! To pleasant surprises,’ Audrey says, raising her glass. The children clink glasses, assuming – as Audrey intended – that she’s referring to their lunch today. Audrey laughs silently inside herself. Just make up your mind, she thinks. Are you doing this or not? You’re like a yo-yo. It’s time to make a decision. She takes another sip of her gin and orange and observes John and Alexandra. There’s a strange energy between them today. John, she sees, is staring morosely into his pint and Alexandra seems nervous. Audrey tries to relax them both by talking about the recipe she’d been planning to cook for their visit the following week. She sees John roll his eyes when she says she found it on the internet.
‘Anyway, Mum,’ says John, and Audrey has a feeling that he’s finally coming to the point; that she’s about to find out what’s going on. ‘There’s a reason why we wanted to see you today.’
What comes next – the news that they think she should sell her house and start looking for sheltered housing – doesn’t come as such a huge surprise. She’s known, of course, that John’s thought this for some time now, but what surprises her is that Alexandra has allowed herself to be dragged into it; that they’ve both worked together to come up with this plan. She realises, as they speak, that the twins see her as something frail that needs to be looked after; as a liability beyond what they can manage. This, more than anything, surprises her. But it also crystallises things. It’s the missing piece of the puzzle; the final thing she needs to see in order to make her decision. Audrey starts to argue with the children; says that she’s fine in her house, then realises there’s no point: they’ve made up their minds and, more importantly, so has she.
The food comes and Audrey stands up. She can’t get out of the pub fast enough.
April 2013
St Ives, Cornwall
Audrey feels trapped in the passenger seat of Alexandra’s car as they drive home from The Ship. Her neck’s at ninety degrees, twisted as far away from Alexandra as possible as she stares out of the window, wishing with all her heart that she’d insisted on walking or taking the bus. But when Audrey had made to leave, Alexandra had jumped up and chased her out of the pub, adamant that she mustn’t go home alone, and practically bundled Audrey into the car. Audrey wonders now if John’s eating all three lunches.
‘Oh look! That’s new, isn’t it?’ says Alexandra, indicating to a shop front as they drive. Her tone is bright and breezy. ‘Has it been there long?’
Audrey gives a noncommittal hmph of a reply and is glad when Alexandra puts the radio on. Staring out of the window without seeing the passing scenery, she’s trying to identify the emotions that are running through her after what she feels was nothing short of a planned ambush by the children. She should be angry; she should be disappointed; she should feel betrayed – and she does feel all these things, but in far smaller measures than she imagines she should.
What she actually feels – what she’s surprised to find that she feels – is relieved. Relieved to see that the twins, as adults and for all their differences, are getting on better than they ever have – relieved that they’re working as a team; that they seem to be able to rely on each other. She also feels relieved that she finally knows the true measure of what they feel about her. She shakes her head to herself: after all she’s done for them – after all those years bringing them up – they find her a burden. They’re terrified of what the future may bring; they’re trying already – when she’s only sixty-nine – to contain it; to make things easier for themselves. What will they be
like when she reaches eighty?
What Audrey really wants to do is thank them for giving her the final shove that she needed to launch her plan. She’d been wavering and now she knows one hundred per cent that she’s doing the right thing. The thought terrifies and excites her in equal measures. With her face hidden from Alexandra, Audrey allows herself a tiny little smile; presses her lips together to stop it from growing too big.
‘Here we are then,’ says Alexandra brightly as she pulls into the narrow road that leads to Audrey’s house. She stops the car and turns to Audrey. ‘Look, about what John said …’
Audrey holds up her hand. ‘Stop. Don’t say anything. It’s fine.’ Her words come out in a rush as she tries to unclasp the seatbelt, pick up her handbag, and open the door. She’s halfway out of the car by the time she finishes the sentence. ‘I know you mean well.’ She leans back into the open door. ‘Really, it’s fine,’ she says, desperate to get indoors and start putting her plan into action.
‘Mum. I’m so sorry,’ says Alexandra, leaning across the car. ‘I’m sure we can make things work if you want to stay here.’
‘Don’t stress about it,’ says Audrey. Already she’s fumbling for her keys. ‘Bye!’
Inside, she makes herself a cup of tea and turns her attention to her cruise brochures.
The clock strikes eleven the next morning and Audrey puts down the pen and flexes her wrist, her eyes drawn towards the window and the perpetual view of the sea. Unlike the sunshine of the previous day, today it’s difficult to tell where sea ends and sky begins: both are a dirty greige and Audrey watches a small boat make its way determinedly across the bay. It’s too far away for Audrey to be able to see how it’s being thrown around by the waves but, just by looking at the palm in her garden, she can tell how strong the wind is; imagine how big the waves are.
The Disappearance Page 27