by Jackie Walsh
* * *
I wake up completely exhausted. The sound of traffic wafts up from the street below, letting me know the day has started without me.
I’m late. I’m supposed to be in work already. But I’m not going in. I can’t and I don’t care. A week ago I would have been a nervous wreck about skipping work. It would have been the biggest deal in the world. But that was before I slept with Stephen Black, before I found out a stranger was searching for me. Before my mother told me she took me. Before a detective started harassing me about Katie Collins.
I ring Bridgeway and King and tell the girl on the other end I won’t be in today, that I ate something bad or I’m down with stomach flu, I don’t know which. The girl says she’ll pass the message on to my manager, but Stephen Black will know it’s a lie, that I just don’t want to face him. I don’t care, he isn’t my biggest worry anymore.
In the shower the steaming hot water has a calming effect. The small Band-Aid the nurse applied after taking my blood sample is peeling away, so I grip its edge and rip it off, feel the sting bite into my skin. I wonder what the results will show?
The thought of ending up like Mom terrifies me. Lying motionless in a bed with my memories floating high above, unable to reach them. Knowing nobody as I smile at all the familiar strangers who come to visit. Will I be happy? Or will I be praying for death to hurry up and take me?
A knock on the door disturbs my thoughts. Shit, who could that be? Grabbing a towel, I step out of the shower. It must be Jeff. No one ever calls here except Jeff. Dad has never made the trip. He hates coming into the city unless it’s absolutely necessary. Danny and Joanna came to approve when I first moved in. But they haven’t been back. There’s no need, when I see them every Sunday at Dad’s.
Another knock, louder this time. ‘I’m coming,’ I shout while pulling on a robe. Please, God, don’t let it be that detective, Ivy Turner.
‘Who is it?’ I say, with my hand resting on the lock.
‘The coffee guy,’ Jeff says.
I breathe a sigh of relief and turn the handle. Jeff bustles in, smiling and holding two takeout lattes.
‘Heard your shower on my way out,’ he says. ‘Thought you might need one of these.’
I open my mouth to say thanks but before I can utter the words I’m crying, tears pouring down my face as if some tank inside has overflowed. Jeff puts his coffee down and rushes over, guiding me to the couch.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘What’s happened? Is it your mom?’
Slowly, with much hiccupping and gulping, I tell Jeff about my unfolding nightmare. He doesn’t seem to know what to say, this man who is never quiet. Taking a deep breath, he sits back in the chair and pushes his fringe back off his forehead.
Please don’t look so helpless, Jeff. Say something. Maybe tell me what I should do?
‘And your dad and Danny know nothing about this?’ he says.
‘Not yet. I don’t know whether to tell them, especially with Mom the way she is. Dad is in an awful state.’
I can feel my insides shaking. My teeth chatter. A chill passes through my body, making me clutch myself. I can only imagine what I look like, sitting here with wet hair and a red blotchy face in a sad old bathroom robe. Jeff must think I’m crazy. He’s probably sorry he knocked on the door now.
‘Why won’t the cop tell you why this Katie Collins is looking for you?’
‘I don’t know, Jeff. She won’t tell me anything.’
‘What about her husband? Is he looking for her too?’
‘I don’t know. According to the news they have a baby girl, so he’s probably looking after her.’
Jeff looks out the window as if pondering my situation. Or maybe he’s just wondering how he can get the hell out of here without looking bad.
‘If the cop won’t tell you, I think we need to talk to the husband,’ he says. ‘But how do we do that?’
The relief surges through my bloodstream. The room seems to get brighter. It’s like someone has turned my life to the next page.
Jeff said we.
Jeff’s also got a plan. I retreat to the bedroom and shove on some makeup to cover the red blotches and disguise the trouble in my eyes. The clothes scattered on the floor by my bed are called on to do another shift. My hair is still wet so I run the hairdryer over it and tie it up in a braid. When I get back, Jeff has already located Thomas Collins on my laptop.
‘He’s an army man,’ he says. ‘Stationed in Belle Chasse, which is a naval base… I don’t see a contact number for him here, but we could always try the army camp, give them a ring.’
I’m feeling nervous again. As Jeff continues his search on the laptop, it all becomes more real. We are actually going to do this. For some reason I feel stronger and weaker at the same time.
When I feel ready, I sit down beside him. He’s now Googling Katie Collins’ home town, a place called Algiers, a little island in New Orleans you can only reach by ferry. Katie Collins left her one-year-old baby to travel over a thousand miles in search of me. One thousand miles. Now that deserves a ballad.
‘That’s a long way to come to talk to someone,’ I say.
‘She must have something very important to tell you,’ Jeff says, without taking his eyes off the screen. He finds the number for the naval base and turns his big green eyes on mine. I can do without the distraction. He smells good too, Armani, I think. Taking a deep breath, I say, ‘Shall I ring it?’
‘Can’t do any harm, though I doubt he’s on duty if his wife is missing,’ he says, lifting the phone and dialing the number before I have a chance to.
After a few seconds he gets an answer. Sitting forward, I bite my nails.
‘What are they saying?’ I whisper. Jeff waves his hand at me and stands up, but the call doesn’t last long.
‘Well?’ I say.
‘No joy. He would not give me Collins’ number or tell me where he lives.’
I slump back into the sofa, drained.
‘But there has to be a way to get the information,’ he says. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll be back later.’
It’s only when he’s gone that I realize how happy I am that Jeff is helping me. Pushing me to take action. I never expected to open up to him like that, sharing my deepest fears. Well, maybe not my deepest. I haven’t yet told him what Mom said.
Chapter Fifteen
The back door onto the deck is open when I arrive at Dad’s but there’s no one home. No dinner cooking, either, which is disappointing, because I’m starving. Outside, the deck creaks beneath my feet. A gust of wind reminds me that things can change course at any time. I look up at the clear blue sky and feel the sun’s warmth on my face. I wish you were here, Mom.
I can see her as I cross the yard, passing the overgrown plants that struggle to impress. I picture her kneeling on an old newspaper, wearing a floral skirt and yellow t-shirt, her dark hair tied back. ‘Hi sweetie,’ she says. ‘Do you want to help me plant some tomatoes? Her smile brighter than the sun, her blue eyes bigger than the sky.
No tomato planting today, or ever again. I continue on, heading for the shed which leans in against the back wall, the oak tree branches overhead stretching out across its roof as if it is trying to hug its old wooden friend. There’s a cross behind the shed, between the wall and the oak’s trunk, which Danny paints white every year. Why he wants to paint his dead dog’s marker every year is beyond me, but he can be weird like that, not caring if the decking is crumbling to pieces or that the front door hasn’t been touched up in years, yet the dog’s grave marker is kept pristine. Maybe if it had been my dog I’d feel differently, but I never had a dog, or knew Danny’s dog either. He died when I was a baby, when Dad was off fighting his war. I asked Mom about it once; what Danny’s dog was like, why he regularly painted the cross. But she didn’t answer. Something of interest had come on the TV and she upped the volume. I remember it well because it came as a bit of a shock, Mom ignoring me.
I’m almost at the shed when I
hear the sound of someone crying. Oh God, it’s Dad. This must be where he goes to allow his pain to seep out. I don’t want to see him like this, weakened to tears, sadness in his heart. But a good daughter would do what she could to help, so I open the shed door, dragging the words from my mouth.
‘Dad?’ As my eyes adjust to the dim light I see him sitting on a bench, head in his hands. I lay my hand on his shoulder and gently squeeze. ‘Is everything okay, Dad?’
When he looks up his eyes are so red it’s like they’ve been dipped in wine.
‘It’s nothing, love,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I was just thinking about your mom, missing your mom.’
Now my own eyes are filling with tears but I rub at them, hoping to keep the floodgates closed. I cannot do this, sit and cry in a shed with my Dad.
‘It’ll be alright, Dad. Mom isn’t going to get better, but if we stick together and do what we can for her, we will get through this.’
My father loves me. Every time he looks into my eyes I can tell.
‘I don’t know what I would do without you,’ he says, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me in a hug.
‘You don’t have to worry about that, Dad. You know I’ll always be here for you.’
Linking his arm, I lead him out of the shed and back up to the house.
‘Where’s Danny and Joanna?’ I say when we get back indoors.
‘You didn’t hear?’
‘Hear what?’
‘Joanna was at the hospital all night. A scare of some sort with the baby. Danny called and said everything was fine, they’re home now but they’re too tired to come over.’
‘But she’s okay?’
‘As far as I know. Danny said there’s nothing to worry about.’
Making a mental note to ring Danny later, I do my best to distract my Dad from his sadness.
‘Nothing to worry about?’ I say. ‘I’m starving over here, and there’s nothing in the fridge, nothing cooking.’
My father looks at me for a second, then laughs.
‘I have some steaks we can throw on the grill if you like,’ he says.
I don’t like, so I don’t answer, waiting for the next offer.
‘Or we could pop down to Benny’s Bistro.’
That sounds better. Benny’s isn’t the greatest, but I think Dad likes to go there because of the memories. The birthday parties. The four of us around the wooden table. Red and white napkins. Mom smiling. Dad smiling. Danny’s face covered in barbecue sauce. And me thinking I’m the luckiest girl in the world when the waitress puts the knickerbocker glory down in front of me. I don’t eat them anymore.
* * *
Leaving Benny’s full of steak and cheesecake, I notice that Maxwell’s Bakery is open, so I go in and buy a pecan pie for Bert and Elsie. This time I won’t be able to pretend I baked it. The baker has stickers on the box proclaiming ownership of the recipe, and anyway, it’s quite a leap from Joanna’s buns. They would never believe me.
When we get back home Dad decides to go to the Sam’s bar down the road, where a couple of his friends gather most evenings to discuss how the Red Sox should be playing. Ever since Mom went into care it’s been his only break from the grim reality of his empty home. Waving him off, I cross the street and knock on Bert’s door.
The pecan pie is a big hit. Pecan is Elsie’s favorite, apparently. I pretend I knew this all along, and went especially to Maxwell’s bakery, because they make the best pecan pies in town. Elsie was really impressed by my thoughtfulness. It made her happy, so I didn’t mind the lie.
Then I get an update from Bert. Things are still the same. Elsie is comfortable enough to stay in her own home, and for that Bert is grateful. All his sadness and anger is nothing compared to this one consolation; that Elsie is still at home. Lucky Bert.
‘I saw a young woman at the Wall’s’ during the week.’ Bert says, when I stand to leave. He always calls our house ‘the Wall’s’. Not ‘your parents’ house’, or ‘your house’, or anything like that. Just ‘the Wall’s’, as if the rest of my family have nothing to do with me.
‘Really?’ I say.
‘She looked like you; same build, same color hair.’
What do I do now? I can’t tell Bert I sneaked in the side entrance because I didn’t want to see him.
‘That was me, Bert. I forgot my key and had to go round the back of the house.’
‘No, it wasn’t you. You were there on Monday. This was the previous Friday. I wouldn’t normally notice who was visiting who, only I was out in the yard at the time.’
A woman who looked like me?
‘She was probably just selling something,’ I say. ‘Was Dad in?’
‘If he was, he didn’t answer. Besides, she was looking for you.’
‘Me? How do you know?’
‘Because she came across when no one answered. Asking if I knew a Rebecca Wall, saying that she needed to speak to you.’
There is only one conclusion I can jump to here. Katie Collins was at my house.
‘That’s odd,’ I say.
‘She didn’t find you?’
‘Not yet, Bert. If it’s important enough, she’ll track me down.’
My heart is beating a little faster. Now seems like a good time to pop around to Danny. I’ll say I came to see how Joanna is after her night in hospital. And maybe, while I’m there, ask him if he knows anything about Katie Collins. After all, if she called at Dad’s house, she may have called at Danny’s. Though I’m sure Danny would have been straight on to me if she had. Wouldn’t he?
Chapter Sixteen
Danny stands in the kitchen in running shorts and nothing else. His hair is unaware he has company. It sticks out in every direction, framing a grumpy-looking face with swollen, half closed eyes.
‘Didn’t get much sleep last night?’ I say, taking up position on a high stool beside the island counter.
Danny’s house is the total opposite to Bert’s. It’s all mod cons here. Everything is controlled by a keypad, with a button for music, another for closing curtains or adjusting the temperature, and lots more.
‘I did sleep,’ he says, ‘for about ten minutes.’
‘Anyway, I came to see how Joanna is, not you.’
‘She’s fine, the baby’s fine, we’re all fine. Tired but fine.’
‘Good.’ I look around the room until he realizes that I have something else I want to ask.
‘Is there something wrong, Becca?’
But now I’m fumbling with the zip on my hoodie, wondering if I’m doing the right thing mentioning Katie Collins.
‘What is it?’ he says. His eyes are wide open now.
‘It’s about that girl, the one who’s missing.’
‘What missing girl?’ he says, walking over to the refrigerator. He opens the door and reaches for the orange juice, and is about to start drinking straight from the carton when I say, ‘Katie Collins.’
Orange juice goes spilling down his hairy chest. It’ll get sticky if he doesn’t get rid of it quickly.
‘Fuck,’ he says.
I stand up to find some napkins but I can’t see any, can’t find the button, and by then he’s walking out the door towards the bathroom. After a few minutes he comes back, wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘What was it you were saying? Some missing girl, was it?’
He pulls out a stool and sits opposite me.
‘Katie Collins,’ I say.
‘What about her?’
‘Well, the cops seem to think she’s looking for me.’
Danny stares. ‘Why would they think that, Becca?’
‘I don’t know. I’d never heard of her until I saw her on TV; they were saying she was missing. Next thing I know the cops are in Mattie’s, telling me she was looking for me before she vanished.’
I’m waiting for Danny to take charge, like he always does, but he only stares straight at me. Then he gets up and walks over to the glass doors, slides one open, a
nd stands there gazing out over his yard.
‘Danny?’
He doesn’t turn. ‘What?’ he says.
‘What do you think I should do?’
He’s already shaking his head as he looks back over his shoulder. ‘There isn’t anything you can do,’ he says. Then he goes back to staring at the apple tree at the bottom of the yard. Losing sleep does not suit Danny. He is going to be a royal pain in the ass when the baby arrives. ‘Did the cops say why she was looking for you?’ he says.
‘No. Just that she’s missing and they think she is looking for me, and if she gets in touch I’m to let them know.’
‘Who’s looking for you?’ Joanna says, bustling into the kitchen. I fill her in. Joanna seems a lot more interested than Danny does. Then again, she’s had a good night’s sleep in a hospital bed while Danny had to negotiate the steel chair by her side.
‘Are you okay?’ I say, placing my palm lightly on her bump. ‘The baby’s okay?’
‘It’s all good, Becca. I honestly thought I was in labor but it was just a false alarm.’ She nods towards Danny and puts a repentant look on her face. ‘Let’s hope it’s the only false alarm.’
‘Don’t mind him,’ I say. ‘He’ll have to get used to no sleep when the baby arrives.’
Danny comes back inside, takes his cell from where it is charging on the countertop and checks the screen.
‘So she didn’t call here?’ I say.
Danny glances up.
‘Who didn’t call here?’
‘Katie Collins. She didn’t come here looking for me?’
‘Of course she didn’t. Why would you think she would?’