by Nikki Smith
Em puts her hand on my arm. ‘They’re doing their best, Jack.’
I stand up. ‘I know. But it’s not enough. I’m going to go and look for them.’ I can’t bear to sit here any longer doing nothing.
The sergeant puts his head round the door. ‘Can I have a word?’ He motions to his colleague and she walks out of the room.
I don’t feel I can leave whilst they’re still talking in the hall so I pace up and down by the sofa.
‘They’re doing everything they can,’ Em tries to reassure me. ‘I’ll come with you to look if you want me to.’
The two officers come back in. The sergeant looks at me.
‘Mr Reynolds, I think you should sit down.’
‘Have you found them?’
He motions towards the sofa. ‘Please sit down.’
I sit next to Em. The sergeant and PC sit opposite us. He clasps his hands together on the table and glances at his colleague.
‘Oh my God, what …?’ I can’t bring myself to say the words. The two police officers seem very far away, and my mind isn’t in the room with them at all. Ali fills my head. The way she sticks the tip of her tongue out when she’s concentrating on something. The way she always puts three ice cubes in her gin and tonic. The way she can’t ever manage to fasten a necklace and lifts up her hair for me to do it. The way she picks coriander out of anything she eats. The way she refuses to kill spiders, trapping them instead in a glass with a piece of cardboard before carrying them carefully out of the flat.
I’d know if something had happened to her. I would have felt something. I know I would. She was here less than two hours ago. I don’t want to listen to what the sergeant’s going to say next. I’m not capable of hearing the words.
The room tips further over and the last thing I see is the PC’s arms reaching out to catch me as I fall forwards off the sofa.
Part Three
NOW
Alison
I’m standing behind the library counter, Jack’s crumpled letter in one hand, oblivious to the person holding out their book for me to scan. Tilly. My baby. Where is she? Why isn’t she with me? I don’t understand why Sarah has a letter from Jack in her bag. I glance at it again. He says he misses us. Tendrils of fear unwind themselves from the knot in my stomach and reach into my chest, squeezing my lungs so I can’t breathe.
I have to find Sarah. Now. She might know where Tilly is. When did I last see her? I can’t remember. I put the letter down on the counter and cover my face with my hands, searching for her in the blackness. There’s nothing there. Nothing that tells me where she is, just a rising panic that turns my vision from black to red as the sound of blood pumps in my ears.
I’ll go upstairs to the fourth floor and wait outside the door until they let me in. I’ll break in if I have to. I walk away from the computer, leaving a customer calling after me. I ignore him and head towards the stairwell at the back of the library, walking down the narrow row of bookshelves whilst images of a tiny person with dark hair, dressed in a white Babygro, flash before me. Faster and faster they appear. It’s like flicking through the pages of a book. Shutting my eyes doesn’t make any difference. They’re like a tap I can’t turn off and they fill up my head until I’m drowning. I reach the tables and grasp one of the chairs for support as the room swims in front of me. Tilly. Oh God. I have to find her.
When I look up, Jack is standing in front of me. I think I must be imagining him as I can see straight through him to the bookshelves behind, but I want him to be real and his image becomes sharper and more solid each time I shut my eyes. He’s still wearing the T-shirt that’s covered in paint splashes. He pulls the chair out from under the table so I can sit down, puts his hands gently on my shoulders and looks into my eyes as he smiles at me.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to remember,’ he says.
‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ I’d asked, tracing round the pink and green flowers on the wallpaper in our hallway with my finger, my red anorak zipped up, my panda gloves in my pockets.
‘Just down to the shops.’ She’d smiled at me.
‘Can we walk?’
‘No, sweetheart. We’re going to drive.’
‘But it’s not far.’ I’d jumped up and down on the spot, waiting for her to get ready.
‘I know. We’ll walk another day.’ She’d grabbed her bag, pulling up the zips on her boots.
‘Aren’t you going to wear your coat, Mummy?’
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
‘It’s a bit cold. You make me wear my coat.’
‘That’s because you’re only eight, Ali-bear, and I’m a lot older. Mummies can look after themselves.’ She’d knelt down in front of me, smoothing down a stray wisp of hair firmly behind my ear. ‘You know I love you, baby-boo.’
‘Yes. I love you too, Mummy.’
‘How much?’ she’d asked.
‘To the moon and back,’ I’d told her. We’d played this game a lot and I always gave the same answer.
‘Exactly.’ She’d wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss on my forehead. When she’d pulled away, her eyes were wet.
‘Are you sad, Mummy?’
‘No, darling. I’m fine. I just had something in my eye.’
‘Can we go then? You said we could get sweets. Can we get sweets?’
‘I think you’ve still got a few packets left over from the ones Father Christmas brought you in your stocking, but, yes, we can get sweets.’
‘I don’t have many left, Mummy. Only about sixty-two hundred.’
She’d shut her eyes for a few seconds and her face looked like she’d swallowed something that tasted horrid, and then it had straightened out again. I’d tried to hold her hand, but she’d pulled away.
‘Come on then, Mummy, let’s go.’
She’d taken a long time to shut the front door. I’d reached the garage first, the gravel on our driveway crunching under my feet as I’d run across it. She’d pulled on the handle so the large metal door swung up and over to reveal our car.
‘Can I sit in the front with you?’ I’d asked.
‘If you want, sweetheart. You get in. Careful with the door.’
I’d opened it slowly so as not to chip the blue paint on the garage wall and had climbed across to the passenger side, snuggling myself down into the brown plastic seat. I’d put my panda gloves on top of the dashboard, in front of the windscreen so they could see out, and had watched as my mother had pulled the handle to seal the entrance before she’d got into the car.
‘Why’ve you shut the door, Mummy? It’s all dark now. We can’t drive to the shops with the door shut.’
‘I thought we’d play a little game before we go to the shops. I’m going to start the car and we’re going to sing some songs.’
‘What kind of songs?’
She had turned the engine on.
‘We can start with some nursery rhymes. What’s your favourite?’
‘Panda likes “Rock-a-bye Baby”.’
‘I like that one too. Let’s start with that. You sing.’
‘Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby … Mummy, can we put the window up? It’s cold and it smells funny.’
‘Soon, sweetheart. Come and give me a cuddle.’
‘Panda wants a cuddle too.’ I’d picked up my gloves and crawled onto my mother’s lap. ‘I wish Daddy was here. He could sing “The Grand Old Duke of York”. It’s his favourite.’ I’d hummed the nursery rhyme for a bit. ‘I’m a bit sleepy now, Mummy.’
‘Me too, sweetheart.’
‘Are we going to the shops?’
‘In a minute, baby-boo. I love you, Ali-bear.’
‘I love you too, Mummy.’
I open my eyes to find tears trickling down my face. Now I’ve seen her, I realise how much I miss her. I wish I hadn’t remembered at all. Jack’s letter is lying on the table in front of me, but now there
’s no sign of him. I can feel the imprint of his hands on my shoulders. He was just here and although I know what he did to me, I wish he hadn’t left.
My world is disintegrating. Where is my child? Why can’t I remember? I touch the letters on the paper, running my fingers over their shapes, hoping they’ll tell me how to find her. If I could just understand them, I’d be able to work it out, but the longer I stare at them, the less sense they make, until I can’t even read the words at all.
I put my head down on the table. The other chairs around me are empty, but I don’t care who sees me. Memories trickle through my brain like sand, gathering above the table in heavy piles. I run my fingers through them, but they fall away before I can piece them together enough to make sense. Someone is ringing the bell on the counter for assistance. There’s a part of my brain that normally jumps at that sound; Mrs Painter has conditioned me to remember it’s my responsibility, but I’m not moving. They can help themselves. She’s going to be really angry, but I don’t care. All I need to do is find Tilly. A void has opened up inside me and I don’t know what I’ve filled it with until now. I wipe the tears away with my sleeve as they slide down the side of my nose. When my vision clears, Jack is facing me, sitting in the chair beside me, lying with his head on the table too. He tucks my hair behind my ear and reaches for my hand.
‘It wasn’t your fault you know,’ he says.
Mummy was asleep. The car smelled really bad now. I’d tried waking her up but she’d made a funny noise and hadn’t opened her eyes. Panda hadn’t liked it at all. I’d thought how cross Daddy would be that we hadn’t been to the shops. He’d been cross a lot this week. He’d wanted fish fingers for tea and Mummy hadn’t got them. I don’t think I wanted any tea. I felt a bit sick. The smell had made my head woozy, but I hadn’t wanted to go to sleep without Daddy knowing where we were. He’d be worried if he came home and couldn’t find us. Then he’d get all cross and shouty.
I’d opened the door of the car and squeezed out through the small gap. I’d been extra specially careful so I hadn’t chipped the paint on the garage wall, even though it had been so dark. I’d tried pushing the garage door, but it hadn’t moved. I’d tried again and when I’d pushed really, really hard, I’d made a tiny gap at the very bottom. I’d slid one of my gloves underneath so it had stuck out under the door and took a breath of the nice air. Panda would tell Daddy where we were. My pandas went with me everywhere. Even in the summer I’d put them in my pocket when I’d gone out. Daddy had given them to me last Christmas. He’d said every explorer needed a good pair of gloves as they helped to keep you safe in the harshest of conditions. I hadn’t been sure what the harshest of conditions were, but they’d kept my hands warm when I’d got stuck up a tree. I’d been really cold then.
I’d felt my way back to the handle on the car door and had climbed onto Mummy’s lap. She was still asleep. I’d wait for her to wake up and then we’d go to the shops. I thought we should turn the engine off whilst we were sleeping. It was noisy and it might wake Mummy up. She needed a lot of rest at the moment. Daddy had told me yesterday she hadn’t been well and that I should try and be especially good for her. I hoped I was being good.
I’d reached over and turned the keys round to pull them out like I’d seen her do. It had gone quiet. That was better. It had still smelled funny though. I’d given Mummy a goodnight kiss and then I’d gone back to lie down next to panda, my head by the bottom of the garage door where I’d felt the nice air on the tips of my fingers. It had made them cold, but I hadn’t minded. It had felt like someone was stroking them. I’d sung my ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ lullaby to myself and had waited for Daddy to come home.
I wonder how long it had taken my mother to plan what she’d done. Had she simply woken up that morning and decided she didn’t want to live anymore? We hadn’t talked about it properly at home after it happened. People had mentioned a tragic accident in hushed whispers, and when I’d asked Dad, he’d mumbled something about her being in a car. He’d looked so stricken at the direct question, I hadn’t dared to ask again. I had a vague memory of being in hospital, but Dad had said it was because I’d suffered an asthma attack. I don’t understand why he’d never told me what she’d done. I don’t know if I’m crying for her or for Tilly.
I keep my eyes closed and don’t move my head off the table. I know if I open them Jack won’t be there, but if I keep them shut, I can feel him holding my hand.
‘Why did she do it?’ I ask.
‘She was ill, Ali,’ he whispers, his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my skin. ‘Really ill.’
‘But why me? Why did she take me with her?’
‘Why do you think?’ he asks.
‘I can’t begin to explain something like that.’
‘I can,’ he says. ‘She loved you. More than anything. She didn’t trust anyone else to love you as much as she did. It was her way of making sure she was always going to be there to look after you.’
I keep my eyes shut.
‘Where’s Tilly, Jack? Something happened, didn’t it?’
He doesn’t answer and I can’t feel his hand anymore. I open my eyes. He’s gone.
‘Alison!’ I raise my head as Mrs Painter shouts my name. ‘There are people waiting here!’ She can see me, but I don’t care. I don’t care if they have to wait. I don’t care about anything except finding Tilly. I stare at her as she approaches, marching down the row of bookshelves, her skirt swishing with every step. ‘Alison!’ She stands beside me. ‘Alison?’ she repeats, expecting an answer. I don’t move. She reaches out hesitantly and puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I need to find Tilly,’ I murmur.
‘I thought you were looking after the reception desk,’ she replies. ‘Didn’t you hear the bell ringing? It’s chaos up there. There’s customers everywhere and no one can scan anything out.’ She realises I still haven’t moved and she bends down in front of me. ‘Are you not feeling well?’ she asks. I don’t reply. ‘Alison, can you look at me, please?’ She pulls out the chair Jack was on and sits down opposite me. I want to ask her if she’s seen him. She studies my face. ‘You look pale. Are you ill?’
‘I don’t know,’ I tell her. Perhaps I am ill. I’m not sure how I feel anymore.
‘I think we need to get someone to take a look at you. Can you walk if you hold my arm? We’re going to go back to my office.’
I put one hand on the table and one hand on her arm and get to my feet. Something is stirring in my head. Things I’ve buried deep down are beginning to float up to the surface. The floor is liquid under my feet. I’m walking through water, one step at a time, slow and heavy. She guides me to her office.
‘Can everyone please take a step back.’ She shouts the command in a shrill voice. People are buzzing angrily around the counter. ‘I have someone here who isn’t well and I need to deal with her first. Can you all please wait in an orderly queue for a couple of minutes or come back later if it isn’t convenient.’ The small crowd spreads out into a line. I recognise Matthew, the others keeping their distance from him. ‘Sit down here, Alison.’ She pulls out her chair as she picks up the phone on her desk. ‘It’s Julia Painter. Library, first floor. If you can send someone down, please. Yes, it’s urgent. Thank you.’ She pats my arm. ‘Someone will be down in a minute. You’ve got some of your colour back. Would you like a glass of water?’ I shake my head. She looks at the queue of people in front of the counter. ‘Will you be OK if I go and scan those people’s books whilst we’re waiting? I’ll be right there if you need me.’ I nod blankly as I’m not listening to her.
There’s something … something I can almost remember.
I sit and watch as she bleeps the scanner over the barcode. Book after book. Open cover, scan barcode, repeat. Open cover. I’d written a book once. The thought flashes into my mind. A notebook. I remember the pages of black ink. Lots of instructions. I can’t remember what they were for, but I remember they were rea
lly important. There’s something heavy in the bottom of my stomach when I think about it. It’s how I’d felt when I hadn’t followed the instructions.
Sarah appears through the doors at the end of the corridor. I need to ask her about the letter. At least I don’t have to go to the effort of finding her. Mrs Painter sees her, smiles and puts down the scanner. She walks back to where I’m sitting. My heart starts to thump in my chest.
‘Mrs Painter …’ I stammer. ‘D’you know her?’
‘Who?’ she asks.
I point towards the rapidly advancing figure. ‘Her. The woman in the red jacket.’
‘What, Dr Henderson?’
‘She’s a doctor?’
Mrs Painter looks at me. ‘Yes, she’s a doctor. Dr Sarah Henderson. She’s hardly a patient, is she?’ She smiles. ‘She’s come down to check you over.’ I watch as she walks closer, the weight in my stomach drops down further, so heavy that I’m anchored to my seat.
‘Hi, Alison.’ She squats beside me. ‘Mrs Painter says you’re not feeling well.’
I stare at her. ‘You’re a doctor?’
‘Yes,’ she replies.
‘You never told me,’ I say accusingly.
‘Can you give me your wrist? I need to check your pulse.’ She takes hold of my arm.
I flinch, expecting her nails to dig into me again as I stare at her. ‘You know about Tilly, don’t you?’ I say and she stops, mid-count, her fingers sliding off my wrist.
‘Do you remember?’ she asks.
‘Of course I remember. She’s my daughter. I found the letter in your bag from Jack. Where is she?’
‘Alison,’ she says, putting her hand back on my arm, ‘I think we need to talk.’
I slide off the chair onto my knees in front of her and grab her perfectly coiffed dark hair, pulling her face towards me so she’s only inches away.
‘Where is Tilly?’ I spit the words at her.
Her eyes are wide with shock and she pushes me away, but she isn’t fast enough. I hold onto her more tightly and, as she recoils backwards, I’m left holding two large clumps of hair which are no longer attached to her head. Mrs Painter is shouting and someone’s screaming. A high-pitched noise, like a wounded animal. A buzzer sounds and two men have their hands on me, attempting to restrain my thrashing limbs. Someone puts a needle in my arm and I rub the dark strands between my thumb and forefingers before I realise the noise is coming from me and it feels like I’m losing her all over again and then my vision darkens until I can no longer see anything at all.