Cornwall 2016
Oh my God.
You are there with Jack.
You are watching Jack.
You could by now be with Jack. In our home.
What if you have taken Jack?
Please, someone help.
I’m thirty minutes from home. Jesus, I need to stop for petrol. Why didn’t I fill up this morning? Idiot, Eve. I glance at my fuel gauge, begging it to have acquired extra fuel from somewhere. Flicking through computer options on the steering paddle, I see the fuel has fallen from twenty-five to five, in a spin of a coin. Metallic essence sits on my taste buds as blood surges to vital organs. Why tonight? After all this time, all these years, the night I’m not there, Jack is alone, the dark shadow finally returns. Missing, hoped dead, all this time. Why tonight?
My foot presses firmer on the accelerator. Conscious of being restricted by the lanes I’m travelling, I recklessly tear along. Fifth gear to second gear feeling each sharp twist, making the most of sporadic straights. I swear I’m moving further away. An oncoming car senses my urgency – I’m not stopping for anyone – and obligingly reverses into a gateway. Come on, come on, faster, hurry up, I urge.
I reach out, grabbing at my disappearing mobile. Damn, it slides off the passenger seat, clattering down the side of the door. For Christ’s sake. I need my mobile to get hold of Jack, check he’s okay. Should I tell him, warn him? Or are you bluffing? No, how would you know Jack is home alone, has a friend with him, if you’re not watching him? Keeping my eyes on the road, I stretch to my left, desperately trying to grasp the mobile; my fingers skim the smooth surface, pushing it further away. I jump on my brakes, release my belt, and begin to frantically scratch around in the darkness. Got it. The screen illuminates the text. The text that changes everything. Years of wondering; hoping. Subliminal waiting.
Stupid, stupid woman, Eve. I knew you’d catch us. How have I allowed this to happen? Bumbling fingers flick through my contacts in a ‘more haste, less speed’ fashion until Jack’s face is looking back at me; I hit the green call symbol. Blasted, blasted voicemail. No dial tone, just a flipping voicemail.
Who else?
My hands quiver, making clumsy mistakes; dialling people I haven’t spoken to in years. My mobile responding to me, with a delayed reaction. I eventually locate our landline number; I cannot for love or money recall it. Nobody uses our landline. I momentarily picture the last time it was ringing. Jack and I sat on the sofa, staring uninterestedly at it, then at each other. Deciding it was odd, couldn’t be important, then opting to ignore it. Irresponsible! Why hadn’t I taught him to pick up? It could be important.
Please, please, Jack, please pick up the goddam phone. I call it three times.
He doesn’t pick up. I try Ruan again in vain. What’s wrong with everyone? I set off, mobile grasped in my left hand on the steering wheel. Before long, a bright fluorescent light looms, an oncoming petrol station; approaching far too fast, I brake hard to swerve in. Filling my car just enough to reach home, I dash in to pay. As I’m jumping from foot to foot in the small queue, I think of Bea. She lives on the Porthtowan crossroads with her boyfriend; it’s only eight minutes’ drive from our house. I throw a note on the front desk, explaining I’m on an emergency call, and dash back to my car to locate her number, as I leave the garage at speed.
‘Hi, Evie?’
‘Bea, oh, Bea, thank God.’
‘Hey, what’s up? What’s wrong, lovely?’
‘I’m trying to get hold of Jack. I’m really worried about him. He’s not answering his mobile or the landline. But I know he’s at home. I’ve tried Ruan – he’s not answering either. Please, I’m so worried, can you get over to mine now? Find Jack for me? I’m still a while from home, you see. I really wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I’ll explain later. Please.’
‘Oh, Evie, is everything okay? What’s the problem? He’s probably not got a signal, that’s all. You know what it’s like living here. I’ll go, though, sure I will, it’s not a problem at all, but why are—?’
‘Bea, sorry. I can’t go into it all right now. I’m really scared – I wouldn’t ask you otherwise. Please can you get to mine? It’s urgent. Trust me.’
‘Sure, don’t worry. I’ll go now. But what do I say to him? To Jack when I find him?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Please leave now. Call me when you have him.’
‘Okay. I’m on my way.’
‘Oh, and, Bea?’
‘Yes, lovely?’
‘Is Matt home with you?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Take him with you. Don’t go alone. Don’t go without him. Promise you’ll leave this minute. With Matt?’
‘But—’
‘No, Bea. Now’s not the time. Leave now and take Matt.’
I hang up. The adrenaline rush burns at my cheeks as the shivering spreads from my hands towards my feet. I’m really hoping Bea understood my urgency and doesn’t hang around, matching shoes and jackets et cetera. I hate myself for sending her blind into the situation. The only consoling thought is you wouldn’t touch Bea or Matt. Would you? You’d hide in the shadows, observe maybe, but I’m as sure as I can be you wouldn’t confront them. It’s not your style. It’s me and Jack you want. Or is it just me? But you know Jack is your only pathway to me.
I frenetically make my way home, silently imploring someone to make contact, to reassure me. It flashes through my mind: I’m not really sure what I’ll do if, when, you and I come face to face again. So much time has passed between us. I haven’t set eyes on you since the night of the car accident. No one has. My stomach somersaults as I have absolutely no idea of what I am driving into. I’m lost in panic when a shrill noise eventually pierces the air, causing me to jump. My mobile, vibrating through the rigid left hand – please, God, let this be Jack. I squint to make out the caller ID. It’s Bea.
‘Bea, are you there? Have you found Jack?’
‘We’re at yours, yes. We’ve been knocking for a while. There’s no answer, Evie. The lights are on, though, downstairs and upstairs. What do you want us to do?’
My chest tightens; the in-breath hurts. ‘Shit. Have you looked through the windows? There’s no sign of Jack at all?’ Of course, there isn’t; she just said so. She’s not stupid. It’s not as if we live in a huge house, and he’s unable to hear the knocking. Why the stupid questions?
‘Try not to panic. Matt’s going over the wall now, to get to the back of the house. He’ll check the back door, and make some noise on it, see if Jack hears him from there. Where are you? How far away?’
‘I don’t know, ten minutes maybe. Can you ask Matt to smash the small panel of glass in the kitchen back door? He’ll be able to put his hand through then, and turn the key. We usually leave it in the door.’
‘Really, Evie? You’re that concerned? You’ll be home in a minute with a key.’
‘I’m out of my mind, Bea. Please, just ask him to do it.’
‘Look, Jack could be upstairs. You know what he’s like, listening to loud music, and can’t hear us knocking from down here.’
‘Can you hear music, then?’
‘No. But… hang on, just a sec, Eve.’ I listen to Bea’s muffled voice speaking to someone, thanking them, ‘no, everything’s fine,’ she’s advising them, and no, they don’t need any help. ‘Sorry about that, Eve, just some random guy asking if there’s a problem.’
Surely not. Surely even you wouldn’t be so barefaced. ‘Who? What guy? Where is he?’
‘No idea. He’s gone now, I think. Anyway, I’ll go and find Matt, tell him what you said. Just get yourself here safely. Okay. Don’t be driving like a lunatic. Eve? Eve? Are you still there, Eve? Hello?’
A strange intermittent buzzing disrupts our conversation. I take the handset from between my shoulder and ear, pulling the screen into focus. Jack’s face. It’s Jack. Jack is calling me. Oh, thank God. I cut poor Bea off without explanation.
‘Hello? Hello, Jack? Jack?’
A torrent of warmth drains through me, as I’m greeted by a gruff oblivious voice. ‘Yeah, Mum, were you trying to call me? I’ve got loads of missed calls from you.’
‘For pity’s sake, Jack. Where are you? Why haven’t you answered my calls?’
‘At home, why? What’s the problem? I didn’t know you were calling me.’ As soon as he says this, I picture him slumped on his bed, back against his wall, playing on his Xbox with an online friend, with headphones on. Ignorant to the outside world. Unaware of my sheer state of dread. Unconscious of you, looming in the shadows.
‘Are you on that game? With your headphones on? On your own?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘No matter.’ You were wrong, then; you didn’t know after all – you said Jack was not alone at home. ‘Just thought you might have brought someone back with you, nothing more.’
‘No. Oh, yeah, Fyn came back for a bit. He’s just left. Why? What’s wrong? Why are you being weird?’
I didn’t want to hear this, Jack. I really didn’t.
‘I’m not being weird. I worry if I can’t get hold of you, you know I do. Doesn’t matter now. Forget about it. I’ll be home in a jiffy.’
I tell him to go downstairs this instant, to let Bea and Matt in, make them a cup of tea, and have some form of conversation until I arrive. I hope to God he does this before Matt smashes any windows. Now I’m able to catch my breath, I understand I’ve so much explaining to do. What on earth am I to tell Bea and Matt, Ruan too? I must have dropped a further three or four panicky voicemails on his mobile, he’ll pick up any time soon. I didn’t care at the time, at the mercy of my emotions. But then this is how you took control in the first place, isn’t it? Have me reacting like a paranoid, hysterical woman with no obvious motivation. A heavy feeling starts to weigh me down, the aftermath of a surging adrenaline and cortisol party. A most debilitating hangover without the associated frivolities.
As I arrange my car alongside the wall, I notice a dark masculine figure marching swiftly towards me, intent in his stride, seemingly gaining pace at sight of my arrival. I remain still, too frozen to move; my eyes too tired to make him out. I haven’t planned what happens next. I don’t know what to expect or what to do. The sharp end of my car keys buries into the flesh of my hand, as I squeeze tight in a fight to regain some control. Straining to distinguish the approaching ghost of a figure. Should I make a run for my front door? But my legs are paralysed, unwilling to budge. I’m sitting prey. It’s the recurring nightmare, trying to run from something sinister, my legs refusing to cooperate, stumbling and falling. Vulnerable and exposed, I await my fate.
The figure begins to wave a hand at me as it draws closer. I exhale, as I just about determine the expressions of Ruan. My encumbered head falls into my hands, I’m so exhausted. All I want to do is retreat, lock the doors and hide away in the dark. Stick my head in the sand with a glass of something strong. Keep dreaming, Eve. I reach for my briefcase and climb out of my ticking, clicking car, the acrid whiff of hot metal and rubber being yet another reminder of a regretful past.
Ruan is now a few yards away, a worried look decorating his manifestation.
‘Hey,’ he calls out, slightly furry with alcohol. ‘What’s the problem? All the messages, what’s going on?’
‘Ruan. I’m sorry, I was just about to call you again, let you know everything’s okay.’ I sigh out. I don’t have the strength to discuss it tonight. I’ve run out of steam. I smile as convincingly as I can. ‘It’s all fine now. I panicked when I couldn’t get hold of Jack. My silly mistake. I’m really sorry I’ve dragged you away from your night.’
‘Panicked? Err. You could say that. Come on, Eve, what is it? What’s going on? You sounded well scared on the messages. What’s happened?’
‘It’s all far too complicated.’ I nod at the front door. ‘Bea and Matt are inside waiting too. If you don’t mind, I just need to get in.’ To see Jack with my own eyes. Ruan calmly joins my side and takes my briefcase from me, frowning at me as he does. ‘Sure,’ he says. As we start to walk the path I steal a look around us; are we being watched? Eyes smug, exultant with the reaction you’ve created tonight. Are you still here?
For a moment, I see them, your eyes, dark, deep, forceful, yet void.
I shiver to shake off the image.
We crash through the front gate. Jack is peering out of the front-room window, watching us approach, then he disappears to open the old oak door. A sudden feeling of emotion falls over me. I smile at him, attempting to convey a million words without leaving them with him. I want to wrap him in my arms and sob into his messy hair. He understands more than he lets on, I know he does.
He doesn’t need to utter a word; I see the haunted glimmer running through his eyes. The look you gave him. Not again. I hoped I wouldn’t see it ever again. A pain shoots through my chest. Jack still doesn’t speak; he knows. But what does he know? How much does he know? And for how long has he known? Do you remember more than you let on, Jack?
‘Forget the kettle,’ I say, looking through to the kitchen, noticing Bea at the tap, filling the yellow kettle. ‘I need a drink. There’s a bottle in the fridge, Bea. I’ll be back in a minute.’ I deliberately avoid any direct eye contact as I head upstairs for the bathroom. Wishing I could leave them all to it, hide up here with Jack, curled up under my winter-warm duvet, watching rubbish on the TV. Through the floorboards, I gratefully hear gentle banter as if the ridiculous and harried events had not just happened. Isn’t it comparable to days of old, when weird happenings are explained away as normal, everyone unassumingly carries on?
Moments later, I reluctantly return downstairs and take the coward’s way out, opting to use Jack as my excuse for not wanting to discuss my behaviour. Pulling Ruan and Bea to one side, I hold my hands out to them. ‘What can I say? Other than, I really cannot apologise enough about tonight. I realise my behaviour must look a little odd,’ I attempt.
‘That’s one word for it, I guess,’ Ruan affirms, knocking back his bottle of beer, leaning up against the beam.
I nod. ‘It’s extremely complicated, though, if you don’t mind, it’s not for everyone’s ears.’ I gesture in Jack’s direction; they both glance over. Subtlety or discretion not being either of their best points.
‘A clue maybe?’ Ruan urges me.
‘His father,’ I whisper. Ruan’s not going to let go, despite Bea elbowing him in his ribs. Saying father has made my skin crawl.
‘So? Do they not get on, then?’ he whispers, leaning off the beam, genuinely surprised. All my fault; I never speak about you. Why would I? I want to forget you ever lived, hoped you were dead.
Bea exhales heavily. ‘Well, obviously not. Leave Eve to tell us tomorrow. She’s right, now is not the time!’ She comes to my rescue. ‘Are you okay, though, Eve? Would you like me to stay with you tonight? D’you think there’s a chance he might turn up here later, then?’
Too many questions, not enough answers. I don’t know what happens next. ‘No, thanks, we’ll be fine. I don’t think he’ll come back tonight.’ I don’t know this, but it would be too clean cut, too obvious. It wouldn’t be any fun; timing and entrance are everything to you. ‘I’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow first. He has no idea.’
My words do nothing to convince me. I’m not so sure of this anymore. I look over at him, sitting flopped back on the sofa, mobile in his hand, scrolling and apparently texting. Completely engrossed. Isn’t this normal, what all teenagers do? Stop being so paranoid. He looks up at me, as if feeling my concern, and smiles. It was so much easier back then, the cover-ups, the lies, the protection.
‘He needs to know the truth first, then I’ll do my best to explain to you two.’ I’ll do my best to articulate, strictly on a need-to-know basis, excluding the darker fragments lurking in my mind.
I’m just about to change the subject when Ruan pipes up again. ‘Hang on.’ His face lights up as he leans closer in. ‘I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but a guy called the clinic this afternoon, some guy. Didn’t get his name, though.’
‘Go on,’ I urge him. ‘There must be more to it than just some guy calling the clinic?’
He nods at a tentative-looking Bea. ‘I told you, Bea, didn’t I, remember?’ Moments pass, leaving me hanging between the two of them.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Bea said thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, you said it was strange at the time, didn’t you?’
‘What? What was strange?’
‘This guy called, asked for you. I told him you were out of clinic. Then he asked me if you were coming back to the clinic, and did you do late appointments. I told him, yes, sometimes, and no, I didn’t think you’d be coming back because it was already 17.45 and you were still, as far as I knew, in appointments. That you would be for at least another hour or so. I asked him if he wanted to leave a message for you, but either we were cut off, or he hung up.’ Ruan shrugs. ‘I don’t know which – the line seemed okay. So I checked, but he’d called from a withheld number. I didn’t think anything of it after I mentioned it to Bea. D’you think it could have been him?’
‘No idea, Ruan. No idea at all.’ My mind drifts off to the text you sent me earlier. This changes things. Maybe you didn’t know for sure then that I wasn’t home. Ruan had told you I wasn’t. Maybe you don’t know where we live. But then how did you know about Jack having a friend here? A lucky guess? Could have been. I don’t even know for certain it was you at all, do I? The text could have been from anyone. Other than the manner of the wording: precise and smug. Why would anyone else send me such a text? It wouldn’t make sense for it to be anyone other than you.
After more drinks, and despite the relief of casual banter, I’m still unable to shrug off the dark feeling tormenting me. I always knew you would be back, but to have it confirmed is something else. Jack knows too, I know he does; it shines through his eyes. There’s something unsaid in his persona tonight, something he needs to unload. But now is not the time.
I close the door after they all leave, checking it is securely locked; then check the kitchen back door again. For the first time since we moved here, I wish I had curtains, blinds, anything. I thought about it initially, but decided against it; nobody overlooks us and the windows behold charismatic features. But then I hadn’t considered what it would feel like to be watched. Every move I make in the kitchen, every step and each breath I take in the front room, I feel your eyes on me. Violated by your perceived presence.
I make for bed as soon as I can, thankful for the higher floor level. Somewhere to escape your eyes. Checking in on Jack as I pass his room, I stand and watch, waiting for his chest to rise and fall, just as I used to when he was a small baby. Petrified he was going to stop breathing. Feeling helpless; his safety, his fate out of my hands. For a moment, I once again consider sleeping next to him, or at least on the floor at the foot of his bed. I cannot go back to living this way again. I can’t. Across the room, I notice his mobile, a light indicating it’s charging on his chest of drawers to the side of his window, beckoning me. Should I look at it? No, how could I even contemplate it? Anyway, it has a password and I’ve no idea what it is. Why is this? Since when did I become such a suspecting, untrusting mother? I just want to keep him safe.
Oh, God. What have I done?
Should I have gone to the police with what I took back then? But I couldn’t, I can’t. Not only is it my weapon, our defence. It doesn’t tell the whole truth. And whilst you don’t know I have this, it keeps us safe. But does it? Is this why you have come looking for me now? Who else knows of its existence? Lies, so many lies. I stare at Jack’s peaceful face; why did I tell so many lies?
I rouse early, ahead of the sun, just in time to catch the moon before it magically disappears into the pastel sky. It’s cold; condensation has gathered on the old leaded windows, obscuring the view to the outside world. Time for the heating to kick in. A sleepy Jack follows me downstairs sometime after, as normal without much more than a courtesy acknowledgment of my presence. We both understand mornings are not our thing, and a mutual respect for quiet, other than the TV morning news programme, is fully respected. I busy myself picking up, straightening squidgy cushions and wiping kitchen worktops. Jack is huddled protectively over his bowl of cereal, staring absent-mindedly at the news channel. So he takes me by surprise when he initiates conversation.
‘You know last night, Mum?’
Here we go. My stomach performs a customary flip. ‘Mmm,’ is all I can manage.
‘It was about him. Wasn’t it?’ My stomach cartwheels, followed by a triple somersault. Jack didn’t ask me a question. It was a statement. He knows.
‘Him? What do you mean, Jack, “him”?’ Why am I saying this? He’s not a fool, so why am I treating him like one? Still trying to protect and shield him. But he needs to know. My protection could put him in danger. When am I going to face facts? He’s not stupid, but I am being so.
‘You know, him. You were thinking something to do with him, last night. Weren’t you? That’s why you were so upset.’
‘No, why do you say that?’ What am I doing? I still can’t help myself, can I? Tell him, for goodness’ sake! But it makes me feel so sick. I still, even now, keep hoping that if I don’t talk about it, it isn’t real. Total bullshit, and I know it, so why am I making this so extra hard?
‘I saw it in your eyes, Mum. It’s the only reason you’d behave like you did last night. Panicking as you did. I’m not stupid. I remember how you looked before, back then. I’ve seen it all before. You think I don’t realise what’s going on. It’s okay, Mum.’ I feel his eyes pleading with me as I start to fill the dishwasher. Trying to bide my time, to decide how best to handle this. Hoping something intelligent will come to mind. But it’s a little too early. Jack continues for me instead; I wonder who is the adult here.
‘There’s something else too. It’s not just about last night. There’s something else.’
I turn slowly to look at him. He doesn’t look up from his breakfast.
‘What? What else? What do you mean? What are you not telling me?’ I probe.
‘I’m trying to.’
I take a seat at the table with my coffee. ‘Go on, sorry, Jack.’
‘It might not be anything. It’s just odd. I keep getting these requests, invites, on Facebook and Instagram.’
‘What do you mean? What do they say?’
He shrugs. ‘Nothing really. They’re just friend requests. But from someone I don’t know.’
‘But isn’t this normal, happens all the time? As in, can’t random people just do that anyway?’
‘Yeah, I suppose so. But I dunno, there’s something not right about them. Then last night, it all made sense. When I saw you like that, again. You think he’s back too, don’t you, Mum?’ He looks up at me, searching for answers, but ones I know he doesn’t really want the truth for.
I think about telling him, of course I don’t think he’s back. I think about lying. But then, Jack’s right, he’s really not stupid. I should give him more credence and respect than to lie to him. Most importantly, if you are back, Jack needs to know. I need to keep him safe above all and everything else. Lulling him into a false sense of security is not going to help. But what if I’m wrong and I reignite all of Jack’s dark past, for no reason at all? I simply can’t take the risk; I need to warn him, gently. Is this even possible?
By the way Jack, I think your psychopathic father has hunted us down, he’s watching us, waiting for the right moment to corner us, but try not to worry about it too much. What are you up to today anyway – got anything nice planned?
‘I’m just not sure. He could be, but I really don’t know for certain. I don’t want to frighten you, but you must be aware from now on. You know what I mean – be watchful. I could be wrong, you see. I know what I’m like, my imagination, I mean.’
‘Mmm. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s kinda creepy, but I can sort of feel him. You know, it’s like I can feel him near.’
An icy shiver runs through my bones with his words. I know exactly what he means. ‘What do you mean, Jack? It’s really important you tell me everything you know. Is there or has there been anything else? Other than the odd friend requests?’
Jack shrugs at first, then glances back at his empty bowl, and begins to play with the spoon. He’s about five years old again. Vulnerable and scared. I hate myself for bringing him into this horrible world. I take his hand in mine over the table. ‘What is it? You need to tell me, please.’
His blue eyes take on a grey tinge. ‘The other day, when I was walking up from the beach with Fyn and the others, a car drove past us really slowly.’
‘Did you see him – the driver, I mean? Was it a man?’
‘Yeah, it was definitely a guy, but Fyn’s head was in the way when he drove past us, I couldn’t see his face. Loads of cars drive slowly there, from the beach. I didn’t think anything of it at first.’
‘So, what happened? Why did it suddenly worry you?’
‘Dunno. ̛Cos, I guess, he was obviously looking for something or someone. It’s not the holidays anymore, so down where we were, it’s mainly locals, we know them. But it was the way, after he passed us, he sort of stopped, adjusted his rear-view mirror. Then, he… he stared straight at me. In the eyes. When he saw me looking, he drove off really slowly, still staring at me, then accelerated, like pretty fast.’
‘When was this?’
‘The other night, not last night but the night before.’
The night of the 911. Charlie’s words bounce through my mind. ‘But you were at Fyn’s house that night.’
‘Yeah, but we’d gone down for the surf earlier on.’ He shrugs at me.
‘Jack, what car was he driving? Can you remember?’
‘Yep. That’s what made me turn in the first place. It sounded so cool. A Porsche 911, a blue one. I kinda recognised it, the sound of the engine.’
I squeeze his now-clenched fist. ‘Jack, I don’t want you being alone from now on. Not at home, not walking back from anywhere, for now. We might be wrong but until we know for sure, okay? You are not to go or be anywhere alone.’
He nods at me. The expression in his eyes rebukes me. How could I have allowed this to happen to him? Why can’t he just have normal teenage worries, typical teenage thoughts? I need to find a way to allow Jack to move on. I thought I had, but clearly it’s not going to be enough. I should have known better. I’ve once again put my beautiful boy at risk; I thought back then it was hard enough to protect him, but now, with his growing independence, it’s all the more frightening.