Don’t Trust Me

by Joss Stirling

  ‘Isn’t she a lovely-looking girl?’ she says. ‘People are going to remember her.’

  Off babysitting duty, Mrs Payne heads down to the reception.

  Drew massages my shoulders. ‘Mum’s right – your best lead is that she’s distinctive. Hoping that she might’ve been in one of the featured graduate shows is a long shot. And shucking your clothes is not everyone’s cup of tea.’

  ‘It is mine.’

  ‘I’ve noticed and thank my lucky stars every day.’ He grins. ‘She might be too shy.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. I was reading into her what I would do in the same circumstances.’

  Drew walks over to the kitchen counter and fills the kettle. ‘What else do you know about her? She was working for a caterer at the Tate reception you went to, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why wouldn’t she think to do the same thing in London? There are two Tates here that host loads of events and have their own cafes and restaurants. She might even have found out which companies run them before she left, organised herself a parachute.’

  ‘How do we find that out?’

  ‘I have a cunning plan: go and ask.’

  The Tate Modern, an old power station on Bankside which has been successfully converted into an art gallery, is a difficult place to search. It teems with tourists, and has lots of confusing escalators, lifts and stairs that don’t seem to interlink logically. Maybe it is all one big art installation project set to run for years called ‘Just how confusing can you make a gallery visit?’ As Drew has to work, his mother has come with me. It’s faintly ridiculous that I need a minder but that was the only basis on which Drew said he wouldn’t ditch his afternoon funeral.

  Mrs Payne proves very useful, however, as she has the knack of striking up conversations without rousing people’s suspicions. She has a motherly vibe. On my suggestion, she starts first with a young security guard, extracting quickly from him that he is originally from Nigeria and has a wife and three children.

  ‘Do you know if Ramona is in today?’ she asks when his defences are fully lowered.

  ‘Ramona, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes, she’s a friend of my daughter-in-law here.’ Mrs Payne waves to me. I try not to blink at my sudden promotion from girlfriend to wife. ‘Pretty girl. Jessica, where’s that photo you showed me?’

  I hand over the picture. ‘It was taken a while ago. Sorry I’ve nothing more recent. I think she said she works in the cafeteria.’ Look at the pair of us, making up this stuff, like we’ve always worked together.

  ‘We were hoping to be lucky and find she was in today. We don’t often get up to town. I was sure you’d know.’ Mrs Payne makes us sound the most clueless of country bumpkins who think everyone in London knows each other.

  The man smiles. ‘No, ma’am, I’m sorry, I don’t know all the canteen staff by sight. It’s a big place, this. I suggest you try the manager. She will know the shift pattern.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Just say Femi sent you.’

  ‘Thank you, Femi.’

  Keeping my lips sealed until we are out of sight, I can’t help laughing when it’s safe to do so. ‘You are brilliant, Mrs Payne.’

  ‘Call me Glenda.’

  I nudge her. ‘Of course. After all, I’m your daughter-in-law.’

  ‘Give it time,’ she mutters.

  ‘Oh my word, a mother with a mission. Should I tell Drew what you plan for him?’

  ‘He knows. I’m serious about wanting grandchildren.’

  ‘Stop, stop, this is weirding me out.’

  She chuckles. ‘Oh yes, you’ll do.’

  We reach the canteen level and again Mrs Payne takes the lead, asking to see the manager.

  ‘Is there a problem, madam?’ asks the counter staff, going all formal as soon as she makes the request.

  ‘Not at all,’ she says airily and smiles him into compliance.

  I wander off to overlook the Turbine Hall with its puzzling display of flying fish. That is stranger than anything my hallucinations can conjure up. Perhaps I should go into modern art and turn my visions into things like this? I’d find myself on the normal end of the artistic spectrum.

  I turn around and see Mrs Payne is engaged in conversation with a slight woman in a black uniform who appears resistant to her charms. I suppose it is too much to expect she’ll dish out information on a staff member but I was hoping at least for a confirmation or denial that Ramona works on her team.

  But then I realise I don’t need it. On the far side of the large canteen I catch a glimpse of a girl clearing tables. Before I lose her, I make my way through the school parties and pushchairs. This is more difficult than it sounds as it is a big place and stuffed to the gunnels with people. It could be a new Olympic sport: steeplechase with tourists.

  ‘Ramona?’

  The girl freezes. Her badge says ‘Monica’. Close enough.

  ‘Please, don’t run away. I’m not here to cause any trouble for you.’ I glance to check that Mrs Payne has kept the manager talking. I don’t want to be kicked out before getting my questions asked. ‘I look for missing persons, but I promise the people, when I find them, that I will only reveal where they are with their permission, and if they think it’s safe to do so.’

  ‘I’m sorry. You’ve got the wrong person,’ she says, picking up a tray laden with empties.

  ‘We met once – at the other Tate in Margate.’

  ‘I don’t remember you.’ But she doesn’t deny that she’s from there.

  ‘You were serving at a reception my ex and I attended. To be honest, I don’t remember you either, but that coincidence has caused my former partner a huge amount of trouble.’

  She puts the tray down and gazes out of the window. Her profile is the kind that would send a photographer into ecstasy. She’s wasted on clearing tables. The view is also fabulous: the river, the bridges, the white dome of St Paul’s – iconic London.

  ‘I can see why you’d swap Margate for this,’ I say, keeping it light.

  ‘What kind of trouble?’ So she has been listening.

  ‘The stupid but major kind. Someone said my ex abducted you, or lured you to London.’

  ‘That’s not true. I came on the bus. On my own.’

  ‘I don’t doubt you. It would just be really helpful if I could tell the police that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Michael is being investigated in connection with even more serious allegations – another set of false ones. I think someone has tried to frame him and managed to concoct just enough to make him a plausible suspect. And until what happened to you is cleared up the police won’t give up the idea that he’s a bad man.’

  ‘OK, you can tell them I’m safe.’

  ‘They might want to speak to you.’

  She sees the manager approaching. ‘I thought you said you didn’t want to cause trouble?’

  ‘Monica, is this woman bothering you?’ asks the manager, giving me a cold look.

  ‘No, miss. She’s an old friend from home.’

  Thanks, Ramona. ‘Sorry to interrupt her at work,’ I add. ‘I’m only in town for today and I didn’t want to miss my chance.’

  The manager relaxes a little. ‘So your mother was telling the truth?’

  Mrs Payne has edged one step closer in kinship, it would appear. Next she’ll claim to be my twin. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, it’s almost end of shift. Monica, if you want a few moments with your friend, feel free to go off duty now.’

  ‘Thanks, Miss Dunwoody.’

  The manager pauses. ‘By the way, what is your first name? That lady over there seems to think it’s Ramona.’

  My turn to give Ramona a break. ‘Sorry about that. My mum always gets names muddled. She’s got it lodged in her head that Monica here is called Ramona.’

  The lady smiles in sympathy. ‘Oh, I see. I know the feeling. I’m always getting my kids’ names mixed up. I’ll leave you to it.’ The manager takes
the tray from Ramona and heads back to the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks,’ mutters Ramona.

  ‘Don’t mention it. Do you have a moment to sit down?’

  She nods and pulls out a chair. ‘Do you want me to get you something? I get a staff discount.’

  ‘No, really, I just want a quick chat.’ I press my hands together, wondering how best to start on the subject. ‘When I took on your case, I felt for you because it echoes elements of my own experience.’

  She says nothing and keeps her gaze fixed on the view outside. A seagull lands on a window ledge and savages a crust. It looks too big to be in a city. It’s easy to forget what things are really like until you see them up close.

  Jessica, keep your head in the game, not flip-flopping in your usual random pattern.

  ‘I ran away too, but when I was younger than you. I managed very badly. Still am a disaster area, if the truth be told. But you’ve done a good job looking after yourself. Someone needs to tell you that.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I ran away because my father was abusive, not sexually but physically and mentally.’

  Her eyes meet mine.

  ‘While I was away, my mum finally summoned up the courage and left him. She got a divorce. I’ve not seen him since.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Yeah. The thing is, I spoke to your mother a couple of weeks ago. I don’t think you know, but she’s given Barry the boot. She didn’t realise until you left what had been going on.’

  ‘She should’ve done.’

  ‘She knows that. It’s hard to look at something so terrible. You give yourself all sorts of reasons why it can’t be true. The main thing now is that she’s done what she should’ve done a while back and she’s desperate to find you.’

  ‘You won’t tell her?’

  ‘I made you a promise and I’ll keep it. You know, I really have been sitting where you are. It took a while but I’m reconciled with my mother. Funnily enough, we only really talked about what happened to me just recently. These things take time, and forgiving others, forgiving yourself is sometimes best done in baby steps. Your mum’s taken the first; I know it would mean everything to her if she just knew that you were OK. Could you make that small concession?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And maybe there’s no one to say this to you, but I’ve been looking into a number of missing persons cases to help Michael. Two of the girls had no one. The other – well, her family is still a problem. I look at your case and I think there’s a mother who’s made really bad choices, recognised it, dealt with the root, and will now do anything to make it better. She’s on your side. That’s not to be dismissed as worthless. Think about it.’

  ‘She’s left him?’

  ‘I think she threw him out.’

  A small smile plays on Ramona’s lips. ‘Good for her.’

  ‘You can get the law involved if you want, make it legal that he can’t come near either of you. He can be prosecuted for what he did, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all too…’

  Too difficult. Too painful. Too ugly. Yes, I know all of those feelings.

  ‘OK, I’ve said enough. Everyone’s experience is different and I respect that. But I really hope you do get in touch with your mum. She’s a nice woman.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah she is.’ Ramona reaches out and touches the back of my hand. ‘Thank you. I suppose I knew I’d get back in contact but I was just scared in case he answered her phone or read her messages.’

  ‘I totally get that.’

  ‘I’m pleased you got away from your situation.’

  ‘Not without scars, but yes, I escaped.’ I write down Inspector Randall’s number on the back of a stray receipt. ‘When you’re ready, can you phone this man? He is the one investigating the charges against Michael – that’s Dr Michael Harrison.’

  ‘Oh, I saw the story about him in the Metro. I’ll go ring the police now. No point leaving it once I’ve decided.’

  ‘You know, Ramona, you are one great person. You are going to be fine.’

  With a smile worthy of a Vogue cover girl, Ramona heads out back to change out of her uniform for the end of shift.

  Mrs Payne takes Ramona’s place. ‘I told you she was a pretty girl.’

  ‘She is beautiful on the inside too,’ I comment, feeling quite tearful as I watch her go. I’m proud of her and I’ve only just met her.

  Mrs Payne hands me a tissue. ‘So are you, dear. So are you.’

  I’m not, because I’ve not yet dealt with the threatening text I received from Max after my message ending it. I’m afraid I’m not going to be strong enough to resist going back there and doing what he asks.

  Chapter 42

  Drew and I sit on the lounge sofa with the TV switched on, two pairs of feet up on the coffee table, his in black socks, mine in ones with cats on them, and holes in the big toes. It is gloriously normal and for a brief moment I can pretend I’m not someone else’s mistress. I realise now that I hardly ever had a relaxing evening with Michael, certainly never one watching any old thing on the telly and eating microwave popcorn. I spent a lot of time on my own, especially after I stopped going out after my first breakdown. If Michael did stay in with me, he was writing his books while I fussed around doing household chores or one of my hobby crafts. I found it awkward to sit down when he was so clearly working. Thinking back, even before my crisis, when we were still out there as a couple, a typical evening together would mean meeting up with his friends to see something cultural. Michael had a mental list of all the things he needed to do each month to keep up with the trends. Maybe one of his fears was to be stuck at a drinks reception and have to admit to not having gone to the must-see exhibition, play or private view. It was an exhausting race always to be with or ahead of the cultural curve.

  ‘You know what, Drew? Thanks to you, I have discovered my inner couch potato.’

  ‘Glad to be of help.’ He switches channel away from a soap neither of us like to a cooking programme which seems to involve the straggly-haired chef and his dog doing some kind of foraging in the forest. The chef looks like one of the weasels from Wind in the Willows, wilder than his handsome chocolate Labrador. I think of Emma and her food poisoning. Fate is a bitch sometimes.

  ‘I’m surprised such a dietary purist as you has popcorn in the cupboard.’

  ‘I thought you deserved a treat after your triumphant day.’

  ‘I know. I’m pretty darned good at what I do.’

  He takes a handful of kernels from the bowl on my lap as the chef cuts some green broad-bladed leaves with a bowie knife. ‘Do you think you can make it into a business? When you’ve cleared up your cases, will you go looking for more?’

  ‘Did I tell you that I had a text a few hours after meeting Ramona?’

  ‘No. Who from?’

  Don’t say Max. Don’t say Max. ‘Her mother, ecstatic that her daughter has contacted her.’

  ‘Hey, champ, well done!’

  ‘She said she wanted to pay me for helping her and asked how much I wanted. I’ve not replied yet because you know how mixed up my motives were. I’m not sure it’s right to charge her anything.’

  ‘Jess, if you want to go into business you need to bill people for your services. It’s not as if we like to charge people for getting dead.’

  ‘I know, but I would’ve looked for Ramona anyway.’

  ‘Fine, I understand. I’ve an idea. There are all kinds of payback. You can ask her to give you a testimonial and be a reference if someone wants to check you out.’

  I reach up and give him a buttery kiss. ‘I knew I kept you around for a reason, other than the sex and the popcorn, of course.’

  ‘You forget the nifty foot rubs and neck massages.’

  ‘I had that filed under sex.’

  ‘That’s a distracting thought. Where were we?’ He sucks on one of my fingers. ‘Oh yeah, Jessica’s future.’

  It was time I joined t
he real world. ‘I think the idea of looking for missing persons was something of a fantasy, one that Jacob concocted for me, not a viable business. I’m going to need something more, I dunno, everyday, with a steady income.’

  ‘You could work for us part-time on reception.’

  ‘But aren’t I the shameful skank who had sex with her tutor? I thought you were embarrassed by me.’

  ‘I told you, I’m over that. Besides, you’re having sex with me now, that earns you loads of plus points. If any of the staff make any comments, you tell me.’

  ‘No one will mind?’

  ‘Who’s to mind? Mum and Dad really like you. They’ll back you.’

  I groan, remembering.

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Your mum. She’s got plans.’

  He laughs and nuzzles my hair. ‘She’s had plans for me since I was born. I’m used to it. I’ll be your human shield if you need one.’

  ‘Just don’t ask her to buy your condoms. She’ll secretly be sticking pins in them.’

  He looks fairly green at the prospect. ‘I have never and will never ask her to do that.’

  ‘I know – it’s a gross thought. I have them. Frequently.’

  My phone rings. The screen has reached the point where I can hardly see the name listed.

  ‘Hello?’ I’m fearful it will be Max asking why I’m a no show this evening but am relieved when I hear Lizzy’s voice.

  ‘Jessica? Jessica? Is that you?’ She’s sobbing.

  ‘Lizzy? What’s wrong? Are you OK?’

  Drew mutes the programme just as the chef slices off some yellow fungus like dead fingers from a stump.

  ‘No, I’m not, not OK. Can you come over?’

  ‘What’s happened? Is it Michael?’

  ‘Yes. No. Oh God, I don’t know what to do!’

  ‘OK, hold tight. I’ll ask Drew to bring me over. I can be with you in about,’ I look to him, ‘twenty minutes?’

  Drew nods and gets up.

  ‘Thanks. I really need a friend right now.’

  ‘You’ve been there often enough for me. Want to give me a hint of what’s happened?’