Cornwall 2016
‘So, Milly. I’m so happy you and mum are communicating again.’
She nods. ‘Yeah, it’s good. We’ve been over all the… stuff. He’s gone now, Mum’s boyfriend. I was scared that he’d come back. But Mum’s said she’ll go the police again if he does, so I’m kinda okay with it now. I got myself all worked up about it.’ She pulls back her sleeve. ‘Couldn’t get it out my head. I did this, the other night.’
I’m looking at a nasty cut, on her arm. ‘Okay, thank you for being honest.’ I smile at her. ‘Can I ask – what played through your mind when you hurt yourself? What did you tell yourself? Take your time, put yourself back in the exact moment, think about where you were, what you were wearing. What were you thinking, Milly?’
‘That I’ll feel better when it’s done. That I’ll be okay.’
‘Okay. And did you?’
‘Not this time. I felt guilty.’
‘Guilty?’
‘Yeah. ̛Cos of Mum. I promised her. And she’s really sad already.’
‘She is, but mostly because she’s been so worried about you. Perhaps you can see now, it’s the thought of harming yourself, rather than the actual act of doing it, that makes you feel better, for a moment?’ Two lost eyes search my face. ‘The expectation of what the harming will give you. Not the actual harming itself. The actual harming hurts, I’m guessing?’
‘It does, yeah.’
‘It probably hurts even more now, because now you realise Mum is there; is going through all this with you.’
‘Probably.’
‘The harming, it stops you from working out what makes you so unhappy and, more importantly, what to do about it. The bully, remember, the voice in your head, it tells you what to do, that it’s the only way and for the best. It’s the very thing that has locked you into a world of hurt. It lies to you, Milly. Prevents you from working through any problems, so it can keep control of you. For good reason, because if you fight back, stop listening to it – it will lose power, die. Does this make sense?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So today, let’s knock out the lies, and replace them with truths. Put a plan together, decide on a better way to deal with problems.’ She nods at me. Her happiness has fallen prey to the bullies in her life, aided by the Internet. I can’t remove her from this social world she now lives in, only help her to stay in control of her choices.
I drive home, thoughtful about Milly and the many others. Is this another victim of the instant satisfaction society? I’ve a problem; it needs instant resolution. I don’t want to think about it, wait and sort things through. But then, if I’d taken this approach instead, maybe Jack and I would be free by now. I had a bully in my head, I heard it and, on the surface, obeyed it; but I also repelled it. Needing to get close enough, in order to be rid of it. I always kept in mind just how convincing the lies were becoming. That bullies are cowards, and at some point they need to be faced. I’m fearful but also weirdly excited with the thought of being rid of you. Petrified of being in your presence again, but I’m stronger now; I’m as ready for you as I’ll ever be. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Last week, at 08.10 sharp, you called my mobile. Only this time, for some reason, you forgot to withhold your number – was this deliberate? Whilst sitting with Milly, I decided – tonight is the night, I am going to text you.
My journey home is lost in thought. Then when I arrive, straight away I notice Jack is not back yet. The house is in darkness. Where is he? He was supposed to be dropped home after football, before now? I call his mobile; it diverts to voicemail. Though I’m as sure as I can be it was a deliberate rejection. Why would he do this? He knows how worried I quickly become. My imagination begins to fire: is he with someone he shouldn’t be with? Doing something he shouldn’t be? Or has someone else taken his mobile from him? I drop my briefcase to the floor, suddenly aware of the weight. Should I go and look for him? I sweep through the ground floor, flicking light switches. My mobile pings in my hand:
Back in 5. Stop worrying x
My breathing begins to move down my chest – but why didn’t he pick up my call in the first place? I gather up my coat and briefcase; at least he’s safe. It’s all that matters. I clatter through the front room, towards the stairs as Humphrey bounces down the last step, meowing, twirling his soft fur around my legs.
‘At least I have you.’ I drop my briefcase again to pick him up, as he nuzzles his cold nose against my cheek. But there’s a scent of something. Not in the air; a foreign scent, not unpleasant, more – unknown. I sniff at Humphrey’s fur again. It’s on him, the strange smell. He must have been in all day, with no way out. Yet, someone else has stroked him. A subtle smell of something woody, slightly sweet, hand cream? Aftershave? I tread through to the kitchen; everything looks the same. I try the back door; it’s locked. I scan the room looking for deviations; nothing as it shouldn’t be. Then it occurs to me, how is Humphrey in the house? When I left this morning, he was outside. I’m sure he was, or was that yesterday?
‘Mum?’ Jack calls from the front door. I start, turning to face him.
‘Where have you been, Jack? You’re really late!’ I spot his mobile flashing in his hand as he flings his bag to the floor.
‘Yeah, sorry. It went into extra time.’
‘Extra time? I thought it was training tonight?’
‘No.’ He tilts his head. ‘I did say I’d a match, not training. This morning.’
Did he? Am I really becoming so absent-minded? I’d normally have made the effort to go and watch. Or is he just making excuses? ‘I don’t remember. Even so, how long is extra time? You’re still really late.’ Why am I doing this? Because I’m angry with myself for forgetting? Because I’m so stressed? Or because I’m so frightened for him?
‘What the hell, Mum? The usual time, then penalties. How about, did you win, Jack?’ He stomps past me.
‘You don’t look very dirty.’ I follow him.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll go outside now, roll in the mud, shall I?’ He turns back from the kitchen, grabbing his bag from the floor.
‘I’m sorry, baby. Come here, give me a hug.’ I throw my arms around him, drawing him in to plant a kiss on his cold cheek; he smells of fresh air. ‘I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to be horrible. I just get so worried. How did you get on? Did you win?’
‘Yeah, 3-2 after penalties.’ He walks through to the kitchen to pour himself an obligatory glass of milk.
I follow. ‘Brilliant; that’s great, well done. Wish I could have been there. I’ll make us something nice to eat, shall I?’
He nods. ‘Please, I’m starving.’ His mobile vibrates on the table; he lays it face down, disregarding the alert. I warn myself, stop reading into things. Trust.
‘Bet you are. There’s some cake left in the fridge, if you can’t wait. I’ll go and get out of these work clothes first.’
‘Nah… it’s fine. I’ll wait, thanks.’
‘Put the TV on, please, can’t stand the silence – oh, and can you feed Humph, please?’
I’m halfway up the stairs, when he calls out, ‘There’s already food in his bowl. He’s eating it now.’
I halt, remembering the scent from Humphrey’s fur. Remembering swilling out the food bowl, leaving it empty on the tray on top of the tumble drier, before I left this morning.
‘Is this window open for a reason? Can I shut it? It’s like an ice box in here.’
‘Which window?’
‘The one in the utility. It’s flipping freezing. Thought, Humph wouldn’t use the window? That’s why we needed a cat flap, you said?’
He doesn’t. He’s always refused to use it, even when I showed him how. He’d rather sit and wait on the window sill, in defiance, feeling sorry for himself.
I scramble back down the stairs to join Jack in the utility. ‘Let me see.’ I squeeze in beside him, with literally only enough room to swing a cat in here. I study the window. If someone was intent, they could have squeezed through it. It opens upwards on an angle; it’s just about big enough. But I didn’t leave it open; I know I didn’t. I wouldn’t have – for what purpose?
‘Just close it, please. I must have left it open, yes.’ I wander back into the kitchen. I should go and check upstairs. I don’t want to alarm Jack, so I take my chance whilst he’s busy with Humphrey.
I start with his room, throw open the wardrobe, look under the bed, all clear. Then the bathroom: nowhere to hide in there. The spare room is empty. Then my bedroom: no one under the bed, no one in the wardrobe. They’d have a job, with all my stuff crammed in. I sit on the edge of my bed, that feeling again. Am I reaching the edge of psychosis here? My dreams and imaginings are beginning to blur with reality. Is this you? I shiver at the thought. Surely, you wouldn’t fit through the window? Who else would it be, though? Whoever planted the envelope in my briefcase?
Jack sticks his head around my door.
‘By the way... and don’t start panicking.’
My heart skips a beat. ‘What, Jack? What is it?’
‘That car went past again.’ The look on his face tells me he’s obviously worried about it too.
‘That car? You mean…’
‘The 911. I’m pretty sure it was the same reg plate as the one last week. You know, coming from the beach?’
‘Where, Jack? Where did it pass you?’
‘Just outside now, heading down towards the beach. When I was walking through our gate.’
I jump up. ‘Stay here, I’m going to look.’
‘No way, Mum.’ He holds his hands out. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Jack, I have to. Stay here and lock the door.’
‘No, Mum, no. If you’re going I’m coming with you.’
‘Not a chance, you’re not.’
He stands blocking my doorway. ‘I’m bigger than you. I’m not letting you through without me.’
Those worried eyes, the same eyes as before. ‘Okay,’ I tell him. What am I doing? What I have to do.
We fasten our seat belts, no words between us, and set off for the beach. I haven’t even considered how I’m to handle this, if you’re there. You may have already left, be somewhere else by now. I flashback to the night I met Bea and Ruan in The Wheal; my blood runs cold. The mystery patron – to think we could have been sitting back to back. Then last night, a mere few steps away from you. All the dark shadows, outside the windows, every night since the start of the phone calls. In all honesty, each and every night, since I last saw you, you’ve never actually left my side, have you?
We pull down towards the cove, slowing to a crawl. I glance through the pub windows as we pass. The usual suspects loiter, but if you’re sitting at the table I won’t see you anyhow. Next to me, Jack clenches and unclenches his fists.
‘There.’ He points.
My stomach floats away; I see it. ‘I see it.’ A Porsche 911, sitting proud in the unattended car park overlooking the beach. What do I do now? I’m not quite ready. I wish to God Jack weren’t with me but, then again, I’m so relieved he is. I didn’t ever want for him to have to face you again, but maybe he needs to. We edge closer to the car.
‘There’s no one in it,’ he says.
A brief sense of reprieve flushes over me.
‘What now?’ he asks.
I look at him. ‘Not sure,’ I say, crawling at a snail’s pace. I park up, not more than fifteen feet from the Porsche. I can’t get any closer; this is too close as it is. ‘I’m going to have a quick look round.’ I undo my seat belt. ‘You stay here, Jack, please.’ Jack unfastens his seat belt, reaching out to release his door. ‘No, Jack, please. I promise I’ll not move more than a few feet from the car. I’m only going to have a quick look.’ He ignores me, stepping from the car anyway.
Together we walk the few feet to the steel railings overlooking the beach. It’s dark and so difficult to make anything out. I scan as far as I can along the beach and pathway beyond, dimly lit by the half-moon. Nothing. The Atlantic lashes at the rocks to our side, warning us to take a step back. I’m about to suggest we leave, when Jack taps my arm, making me jump. Placing his finger to his lips, informing me not to speak, he nods to the level below us, to the bench looking out to sea.
I lean over. Straining my eyes, I can just about make the solitary figure out. What? Why sit down there? What are you up to? Is this a coincidence? Or are you the driver of the car?
I indicate to Jack to backtrack and follow me back to the car. We ease the doors open, despite appreciating the noise of the sea will drown out anything we do, and climb inside.
‘Promise me you’ll stay here.’
‘Why? What now? It’s not him, so where are you going? Who is it?’
‘I’m not going anywhere. Well, only to confirm it is who I think it is, but you don’t need to be with me, okay. Lock the doors, though, after me.’
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s okay – it’s only one of my clients. I’ll be a minute or two, that’s all. Just need to check all is okay with them, so you can’t be with me. Do you understand? This time you stay in the car.’
He nods. ‘But I’m only giving you a few minutes, then, if you’re not back, I’m coming to find you.’
Gingerly, I tread the moonlit steps down towards the clash of the waves. Praying and hoping I’m doing the right thing. That Jack locked the doors as I told him to. That I’m correct in thinking, assuming, he was definitely alone down here? Or did I miss something? I catch my breath as a gust of wind pushes me off my track. Yesterday, I had my suspicions, standing with Susie. What am I doing? Did I miss something, a few moments ago, looking down in the dark?
You?