‘Lovely. But did you see who was driving it? Did you see the man get out?’
‘Yeah, I did, yeah. Seemed in a bit of a hurry, he did. Needs to slow down. Gave me a fiver, then drove off before I could tell him, there’s no charge for night-time functions. Mad.’ He tuts to himself as if we’re talking about hundreds of pounds. ‘Mad. Bloody emits. Need to learn to slow down, they do. Come down ’ere…’
I touch his arm. ‘Where’d he go, Charlie? Did you see where he went?’ No response; a blank look greets me. ‘It’s quite important. Try and think for me, please.’
‘You know him, then, do you, Evie?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.’ It’s like pulling teeth.
‘Oh, I see. Well, I dunno, think he went up over the footpath. Seemed in a hurry, like, now I think of it.’ He nods to the footpath meandering out of sight towards Trevellas Porth. There’s nothing in that direction, not for the non-rambler or rock jumpers anyway. So it’s odd, to say the least. Why would you be going up there?
As if reading my mind, Charlie continues, ‘Perhaps he’s meeting his lover. You know how mad you girls get when us men are late.’ He giggles. ‘Didn’t notice anyone else, mind.’
I lean back against my car; there’s no way I’m going to follow him. I know the footpath well; I don’t fancy it alone. I’d be out of view from the village and my head is knocking at the door telling me not to do anything foolish.
‘Shit,’ I whisper.
‘You okay, Evie? Was he supposed to be waiting for you, then?’
‘No, no, not at all. I’m fine, thanks.’ He nods. ‘Did you get a look at him, though? Can you describe him? Anything at all?’
‘What? Aww, I dunno, love, all look the same to me. Quite ’andsome, I guess. Not my type, though.’ He chuckles.
I can’t help but smile at him, such a lovable guy. I just wish he could have tried a bit harder. But I’m doing it again, expecting everyone to be privy to my needs without bestowing the details. The bits that make my behaviours understandable. ‘Okay, thanks, Charlie, not to worry. You take care. Catch you soon.’ I squeeze his shoulder.
‘Okay, my lovely. You too. Maybe see you at the quiz night, then?’ I turn and wander back to my car. Charlie’s voice echoes in the distance of my world.
‘Odd, though, isn’t it?’ he calls after me.
I halt, then turn. ‘What? Charlie, what’s odd?’
‘Well, him asking if I knew you, like, then you just turning up like that. I mean, he could’ve waited for you at least, couldn’t he? No manners, you see. Got the car, but no manners.’
I freeze as an overwhelming sickness creeps up from my gut. Then my feet walk back towards Charlie. ‘Go on, what else?’
‘I told him, no, don’t know no Eve Austin. We’ve an Evie, though. Evie Sands we have; proper clever she is. Then he said - that’s what he meant to say, like, Evie Sands.’
I knew it. I catch my breath from running away from me. ‘What else did you say, Charlie?’ I realise from the startled look on his face I’ve worried the poor guy.
‘Nothing, love. Well, just that you live up there, top of that hill there. But he said he knew that anyway, what with him already calling on you earlier. Didn’t say nothing else. He asked if I knew you, like, then drove off, parked up, walked off without his money. A fiver he gave me. Weird.’
I touch Charlie’s arm in reassurance of his worried expression and leave. I could wait to see who comes back but it’s pointless, I know who it is. I feel like a child who’s realised the game’s up; I now need to face the consequences.
It’s always only ever been a matter of time.
With a lack of awareness, I make my way home. Hoping Gloria has abandoned her garden. I really can’t face the thought of conversation. Leaving my car against the wall, I gingerly open my gate, kicking over the silver candle lantern as I and everyone do, to creep to the sanctuary of my cottage. I feel violated. Each time I think I’ve turned a corner, I dare to breathe, something or someone blocks my way. I open the door to darkness, fumbling to locate the light switch. Jack’s out for the night with friends, staying over. I wish he weren’t. For a moment, I fight with myself not to call him, check he’s okay. A paranoid mum. Passing through the front room, I put the TV on, the silence being all too much, then take myself upstairs. A cursory glimpse over all dark spaces.
I replace clinic clothes for lounge pants and patter back downstairs to pour myself a large glass of wine, before slumping into my squidgy sofa. Only to get straight back up – did I lock the doors? I’m sure I did but sure isn’t good enough. Why would you go to Trevellas Porth, or along that pathway anyway? Did you think I would follow you? How do you even know about the path, Trevellas Porth – have you been here before, checked it out? Sitting back down, I pull my legs up under me, I flick absent-mindedly through TV channels, in need of light-hearted distraction. Anything to stop me thinking, listening for each and every alien noise. Why is there so much tosh on? It’s either depressing or gloomy, mostly a combination of the two. For God’s sake. Is it just me? Do people really watch this stuff? I’ve become so damn miserable without noticing. I opt for a film, not appreciating how sadly it is all going to end.
As I sip wine, I taste the familiar tang of blackberries combined with home-grown trickles of salty hurt. I quickly switch over to a documentary on crazy mothers-in-law; how apt. Have these programmes been especially chosen for me tonight? The thought of my mother-in-law crashes through my mind. I couldn’t stand the woman. It still grates on me. I only met her once – why didn’t it resonate more, as so obviously odd? Who only meets the mother-in-law just the once? She was vile. But now I wonder, was she trying to warn me? Help me? Did I get her wrong? Though she’s never attempted to make any contact, even after you disappeared. I remind myself everything always feels worse at night. I tell others this, so it has to be true. But when it doesn’t feel any better in the day, you know you’ve got problems.
I leave the TV running in the background as I begin to skim through my mobile; a craziness of missed calls, voicemails and emails. Go away; leave me alone. Then I notice the text; a withheld number again, but with a voicemail notification attached? I hurriedly dial my voicemail; skipping through to the relevant time. My fingers, not able to work quickly enough. 15.17? This isn’t the usual time. Pressing my mobile hard against my ear, as if it may help me hear more, I strain to listen. Nothing. Silence. A distant breathing; a rising chest, a falling smugness... the foundations of a smirk. An evocative presence. No words; but so much passes between us. So, you’re upping your contact to twice a day. Is this some form of sign you’re getting closer? This isn’t a client not wanting to speak. This is you.
It’s definitely you, isn’t it? I feel you.
The silence breathes a haunted murmur: I’m coming, Eve; not long now.
Chapter Ten
Before
My mind drifts back to the first time I met your mother. A whole new experience. I’d thought experiences were supposed to enrich, or at least inform. But then, on reflection, I guess it did the latter; I just didn’t understand at the time. Talk about the need for alarm bells. I didn’t think too much into it other than it was a little odd and perhaps not ideal for when you first meet your partner’s parents. Your parents didn’t come to our wedding. You refused to invite them. Providing such compelling reasoning, I even felt sorry for you.
Six months into our relationship we wandered hand in hand through the streets of Stratford-upon-Avon. It was nearly Christmas, the dark shut-up shopfronts lit up to reflect seasonal atmosphere. Medieval Tudor buildings hidden between recent repugnant appearances. Shakespeare hiding in the background. Or was that me?