Come Back to Me

ironing, drinking tea, perfectly well, and completely oblivious to the effect you have had on me – to the kind of stress you’ve caused me today – when I’m, I’m pregnant -’ the secret was out of her mouth once again, and she registered the lack of shock on George’s and June’s faces with no real surprise – of course her mother had told them, her mouth was bigger than the Channel tunnel – ‘and when my husband is god knows where’ – at this, they did all look surprised ‘- but that’s okay, Mum, my life is going down the toilet, but as long as you’re fine…’

Margaret’s face was a picture of shock. Having returned to the iron, she put it down absent-mindedly, not noticing as June discreetly righted it so it wouldn’t burn a hole in the cover. ‘Chloe -’ she began.

‘Save it,’ Chloe said, holding up her hand. ‘I don’t want to hear it. Just stay away from me. Just leave me alone from now on.’

And she ran out of the room, down the hallway, and through the front door.

She was clutching her car keys, trying to find the right key on the fob, when she heard steps behind her. She swung round ready to launch into another tirade, to find George there.

‘George, don’t -’ she said.

He put his arm around her. ‘I’m not,’ he replied. ‘Just… don’t drive all the way back tonight,’ he said, pressing something into her hand. She looked down to see two fifty-pound notes there, and reacted by trying to give them back to him.

‘Chloe,’ he said, ignoring her and holding her shoulders gently. ‘I’m your uncle, or as good as. I’m paying for you to find a hotel for the night. Humour me. Okay?’

She nodded, looked quickly into his eyes and then down at the gravel drive.

He kissed her on the forehead. ‘We’ll call you,’ he said, walking back towards the front door as she got into the car, and stopping the two women, who had come behind him, from going any further.

‘Chloe,’ Margaret called, and her voice was high and unnerved. ‘Please.’ But Chloe was in her vehicle now, and she drove away without looking back.

79

As the sun cast the dusky pinks and mellow oranges of dawn onto the river, the first boats were already making their leisurely way along. The city was lazily yawning and stretching, preparing for another busy day. By contrast, as he stood on the hotel room balcony, Alex’s mind was frantic. He had given up all thought of rest some hours ago.

He was out of his depth here. How had it come to this? How come it always felt like he was on the back foot, desperately parrying what everyone else could throw at him?

In his hand was his plane ticket. He had been thinking all night of heading to the airport, catching a plane back to Chloe. He’d been intent on calling her yesterday evening, but Amy’s revelation had thrown him completely off- kilter again. He didn’t know how much more he could take; the whole thing was becoming a bigger and bigger mess. He tried to imagine how he would be feeling in Chloe’s position. He felt he had let her down, and for what? A girl from his past he thought he owed something to; a girl who this morning he didn’t feel he knew at all any more.

He was so angry with Amy.

But then, as always, his thoughts came back to the fact that nothing was her fault. She, more than anyone else, was the victim in this.

He was not that far away from the street where she’d been snatched. He wondered if it would be cathartic to go back there, or whether he would be torturing himself by retracing the steps of a journey that was immeasurably painful the first time around. He had no fucking idea. No clue about the rights and wrongs of any of this.

He leaned against the balcony railing and breathed in the fresh morning air, trying to think of the way forward. Maybe the problem was that he was letting things happen; the empathy he had for everyone else was colouring every action he thought about taking, converting them to inaction. In fact, his decision-making abilities seemed so far to have been paralysed.

But not any more.

He stood back from the railing, stretched, and headed inside.

Amy was asleep, a mound under the sheets, her face buried in the pillow. Alex grabbed his phone and went down to the lobby.

Chloe’s mobile rang until her voicemail cut in. He had forgotten it was late at night there; she might well be asleep. The soft, cheerful sound of her voice made him unbearably homesick. After the beep, he tried to leave a message.

‘Chloe, I’m so sorry about all of this. I -’ He paused, trying to think of what to say. ‘I want to explain, please give me that chance -’ He didn’t know what else to add, so in desperation he hung up and tried the number again, not expecting an answer, but then heard a click as it connected.

‘Alex?’ Chloe’s voice came on the line, low and cautious; for him it was like water on parched skin.

‘Thank god. Chloe, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’ There was a pause. ‘No, of course not. Stupid question. Did you get any of the messages I left? I’ve wanted to talk to you so much; to explain. I shouldn’t have left like that -’

‘I deleted a lot of the messages, Alex. I was too upset to listen to them.’ She sounded weary and reserved. Not like her usual self at all. He cringed at having done this to her. To them.

‘Okay, then I need to tell you – we’re in Australia because there’s a trial – for the murder of another girl. It’s the same people, Chloe… Amy wanted to come back… she’s completely alone; I felt I owed her this. And it was now or never. Last time I let her down… this time I wanted to do something… These monsters need to get put away.’

‘And what do you think you’re doing to me now? For god’s sake, Alex – Australia?’

He didn’t know what to say to that.

‘Just how long are you planning to be in Australia? Why haven’t you called before?’ she said, still sounding tired.

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ he began. ‘It’s just, it’s hard to get a moment alone…’

He trailed off, but she didn’t miss a beat. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re sharing a room with her, Alex.’ There was an edge to her voice, and his mind was shouting, Lie, lie, don’t let her think this of you, but the words wouldn’t reach his mouth, so, stupidly, he paused for too long, until saying anything would have been worthless.

There was an almighty silence. Then he heard her voice again, and it was cracked with rage. ‘And what about a bed, Alex, are you sharing a bed too?’

‘NO! Chloe, don’t…’ he said, but the line was already dead.

He remained frozen for a moment with the phone dangling uselessly from his hand. Then a wave of weariness crashed over him, and he headed back to the hotel room, lay on his bed, and tried to rein in his rising emotions.

After what seemed like hours, sleep finally descended on him.

When he woke up, Amy was dressed and sitting by the window.

‘What time is it?’ he asked, trying to clear the fug from his head; remembering with a pang that his conversation with Chloe hadn’t been a dream.

‘Half-past twelve,’ she replied.

‘Bloody hell.’ He ran his hand over his face, slowly coming to. ‘How long have you been awake?’

‘A while.’ She wouldn’t look at him.

‘Amy?’

She remained stone-still.

‘Amy, look at me.’

Slowly, she turned her head. His heart sank. Her face was stricken and tear-stained.