Every now and again he’d pick one up to try and catch Simon’s voice, in case he was lost at the seaside and needed his help to find his way home. I tried it myself once, but I heard nothing but the echo of my emptiness.
Northampton, today
8.55 a.m.
She glared at him with unflinching venom she’d only felt for one other man. But she’d long buried that person in her past – along with her husband.
Her forehead was so furrowed it felt sore. It was difficult to find the words to respond to what he’d recalled about his first few weeks without them. Of all the possible outcomes she’d considered – and there had been many – she hadn’t envisaged he’d simply taken a holiday. While she’d been frantic with worry, he’d been lying on a beach.
She wanted him to understand how their lives had fallen to pieces when he disappeared. She needed him to know that while he was creating a whole new persona, her destiny hadn’t been one of choice. But if she could have conveyed to him even a small sense of what she’d gone through, it was apparent that he still couldn’t comprehend how the agony of a missing soulmate felt. That he could so easily disregard the first thirty-three years of his life, and those who were an integral part of it, beggared belief.
‘Did even a tiny bit of you consider what it might have been like for us here, while you were getting stoned with a bunch of teenagers?’ she asked.
‘It wasn’t like that, but at the time, I suppose not,’ he replied with brutal honesty. ‘I assumed you thought I’d had an accident but couldn’t find my body.’
‘And please correct me if I’m wrong here, but you actually made yourself forget we even existed?’
He nodded.
‘What about birthdays, or anniversaries?’ she persisted, hoping to find a glimpse of remorse. ‘Did you ever think of us then?’
‘Not at first, no, but I had no choice. It was the only way I could move on.’
‘That’s the difference between you and me, Simon. I’d never have wanted to move anywhere if it wasn’t with you and the children.’
‘I had to get away, I was suffocating.’
‘Oh, spare me the melodrama,’ she snapped. ‘You could have asked for a separation if you didn’t want to be married to me anymore. I’d have been heartbroken, of course, but I’d have worked through it eventually. And leaving me was one thing, but your children? I will never understand that.’
Feeling her voice begin to crack, she swallowed hard. She had vowed many years ago not to shed another tear over him and she wasn’t going back on her word now.
‘You asked me where I went, so I told you,’ he replied quietly. ‘I’m not responsible if you don’t like what you’ve heard.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘No, you’re right. Responsibility isn’t a word you’re familiar with, is it?’
‘I’m not here to argue with you,’ he said with maddening calm.
‘Then why are you here? Because I’ve got a lot of anger in me that I’m trying my damnedest to contain. Only you’re not making it easy when you tell me how you just put us out of your mind.’
‘Of course I thought about you. I thought about you all – in time. What I’m saying is that it wasn’t beneficial for me to dwell on the past straight away. I had to block you all out to carry on. I apologise if that sounds callous, but at the time I did what I thought was best.’
She shook her head in disbelief and ran her hands across her cheeks. They were burning up. She walked over to the window and unlatched the lever arch to release the claustrophobia from the room.
As the light hit her hair and revealed her scalp, he thought he noticed what looked like a crescent-shaped scar on the side of her head.
She turned around quickly. ‘Were you sick of us all, or was it just me? What did I do to make you not want me anymore? Did you get a better offer from someone else?’
He looked towards the fireplace, not yet ready to explain his reasons. He recognised a familiar object. ‘Is that the one Baishali and Steven bought us for our wedding present?’ he asked, pointing to a round orange vase.
His change of subject threw her, but she nodded regardless.
‘How is he? Has he retired yet?’
‘Yes, he has. One of his sons runs the business you threw away. Then he and Baishali retired to the south of France. Funny he didn’t bump into you on the beach. You’d have had so much to catch up on.’
He didn’t ask about Roger. Now wasn’t the right time.
‘Anyway, I doubt you’ve risen from the grave to make small talk,’ she continued. ‘So either tell me why you’re here or go back to where you came from.’
‘You need to know the full story first.’
‘What, more riveting tales from Club 18–30? I don’t have time for this.’ She walked towards the porch as if to open the front door, but she knew it was an empty gesture. She had waited too many years for answers for it to end now.
‘Please, Catherine. I need you to know what became of my life. And I want to know what you did with yours.’
‘You don’t deserve to know a thing about me.’
‘I know I don’t have any right to, but it’s been a long time. We both need closure.’
Sod closure, she thought. All she wanted to know was why. Even after all this time, she still felt she had to be to blame. The puzzle was missing key pieces she couldn’t place by herself. So she told herself that while she’d indulge him, she wouldn’t make it easy for him – whatever happened that day.
CHAPTER FIVE
CATHERINE
Northampton, twenty-five years earlier
17 July
A long, loud knock on the front door woke me up at sunrise with a jolt, scaring the life out of me. I jumped out of bed, looked nervously out of the landing window and saw Roger’s unmarked police car and a van parked by the curb. My mouth was dry.
I threw on my dressing gown and felt my legs wobble as I dashed downstairs, hoping the noise hadn’t woken the children. They’ve found your body. I’ve really lost him.
Roger stood awkwardly with his head bowed, unable to look me in the eye.
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ I began.
‘Can I come in?’
‘You’ve found him, haven’t you? You can tell me.’
‘No, we haven’t, Catherine. But I need to talk to you.’
Roger entered, while a handful of officers carrying torches and wearing overalls and boots wrapped in blue polythene bags stayed by the garden gate. None of them looked at me.
‘I’m really sorry about this, but it’s out of my hands,’ he began apologetically. ‘We’ve been offered an alternate line of enquiry that my chief inspector’s ordered me to follow up.’
‘I don’t understand.’
He paused. ‘We’ve received a tip-off that suggested we need to examine your garden for . . . signs of recent disturbance.’
‘Signs of recent disturbance,’ I repeated. ‘What does that mean?’
‘There’s no easy way to say it, but there’s a suggestion Simon’s remains may be buried here.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘I only wish it was, but I have a search warrant.’ He pulled out a document from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. I threw it back at him without reading it all, choking at the absurdity of it.
‘You seriously believe I buried my husband in the garden?’