Relieved that her attention was now on some cooking show, he thought of Christina again. Did everything I see really happen? he wondered. Or am I losing it?
But he knew that there was a way to prove it once and for all. He had to find out if Peter Young’s girlfriend was actually called Sophie, and whether or not their baby did die at birth. And if there really was a farmhouse owned by the Young family in St. Clears.
Where the hell is St. Clears? he asked himself. I’ve never even heard of it. He turned to Nicky. “Do you know where St. Clears is?”
She nodded, not looking at him, too engrossed in her show. “It’s in Wales. Near Carmarthen. Why?”
“Oh, no reason—just saw a show yesterday about it.” She didn’t delve any deeper.
He wondered where he could find a list of farms in the Carmarthen area. The Yellow Pages, he thought, excitedly. His excitement quickly deflated when he realized that his copy would never include Wales.
The library. They’re bound to have stacks of regional Yellow Pages. But it was Sunday, and the library would surely be closed.
The Internet!
But for that he knew he had to make a stand—so he asked, “Babe, can I have my laptop back?”
She turned to him, grinning. “Well, I’m not really sure you’re ready for it yet,” she said, playfully. “But seeing as there’s only two days left, I suppose it’s all right.”
Smiling eagerly, he lifted her legs off his lap and got up from the couch. “Thanks, babe. Where’d you hide it? Please tell me it’s in the house.”
She nodded, teasingly, delaying revealing its whereabouts. “I bet you’ve already searched the house for it, haven’t you?”
“Of course I have. But it’s nowhere. I’ve looked.”
“You can’t have looked that hard then.”
“Come on, tell me where it is.”
She hesitated, clearly wanting to savor his desperation. “It’s in my clothes drawer.”
Grimacing in disbelief, he took a step back. “Are you serious?”
Nodding, she said, “Yep. Under my jeans.”
He sighed loudly. “I can’t believe it. I looked everywhere.”
“Well, you can’t have looked everywhere, otherwise you would have found it, wouldn’t you?”
Shaking his head in amazement, he left the living room, leaving Nicky smirking on the couch.
After pulling out the laptop and modem from Nicky’s drawer, Richard set it back up in the office. A sudden feeling of control filled his entire body when the Internet powered up. He was no longer a stranger to the rest of the world. His world of computers and communication had returned. Two weeks had seemed like a lifetime to him.
Using a search engine, he entered the names ‘Peter Young’ and ‘Sophie’, followed by the words ‘Bristol, still born and suicide’.
Nothing came up.
Frustrated, he tried again, using various different combinations.
Still nothing came up, prompting him to doubt whether his experience was real at all.
It was real, he reassured himself. And so he tried again.
Unsuccessful, he decided to focus on the farmhouse. He entered ‘St. Clears’, followed by ‘Young’. A list of farms popped up on the screen. Scrolling down, he saw that there was in fact one farm owned by an S. Young. He couldn’t quite believe it. But was it simply an amazing coincidence? Or was it the real thing? Had Christina Long given him all the information he needed to find her baby? He shook his head in astonishment.
Sitting back on his chair, he stared at the phone number attached to the farmhouse. Maybe I should call just to see who answers, he thought. But what if Peter answers? What then? He sighed loudly. I’ll just hang up. No, I can’t do that—what if it rattles him and he makes a run for it? No, he won’t—it’s been nearly a year. He’s probably calmed down by now.