After Anna (25 page)

But then a taxi did sound like a good idea. The thought of the walk home was not very appealing. She looked at the clock on the wall. She’d been gone forty minutes. She should probably be getting home.

‘I’ll call one,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my phone.’

‘All right,’ he said. He put her change – a ten pound note and some coins – on the countertop. ‘Have it your way.’

She left. There was a bus stop up the road. She went and sat on the bench inside. It was red, the paint chipping off it. She put her head in her hands and massaged her scalp. She felt like she was crazy. The guy was just doing his job, just an ordinary guy selling petrol and newspapers and snacks, and she was thinking he was a murderer or rapist or some kind of predatory paedophile. Was she going to turn into someone who saw bogeymen behind every shadow, who was paralysed by their own fear? She understood why she might but, nonetheless, it was ridiculous. She couldn’t go through life in terror. It would have to stop.

There was a knock on the glass window of the bus shelter.

The man from the garage was standing there.

Julia screamed. She jumped to her feet and backed into the corner of the bus shelter.

‘Please,’ she said, breathless. ‘Please, leave me alone.’

The man stared at her for a few seconds, then backed away.

‘Whoah,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I just came because you left your change at the garage. That’s all.’ He held out his left hand. It contained a ten pound note and a handful of coins. He bent down. ‘I’ll put it here,’ he said. ‘You pick it up when you’re ready.’ As he stood he paused. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you … ’

Julia nodded.

‘I’m glad your daughter came back. You should be getting home. Did you call a cab?’

‘Yes,’ Julia lied. ‘It’s on the way.’

The man smiled. ‘Good. You take care, now.’

Julia watched as he walked back to the garage. As he went inside, she called for a taxi.

The taxi pulled up at the house. She paid the driver and opened the back door. On the way back she’d made a decision. She didn’t think she was ready to be alone. The thought that Anna’s abductor was still out there was too unsettling. She couldn’t even go for a walk without ending up running home in a panic. She needed company. She needed support. She needed protection.

She was going to ask Brian to stay. She had to. They didn’t need to be a couple, they didn’t need to even talk, but she could not be alone right now. She didn’t need a husband; she needed a protector.

He’d understand, she was sure. Whatever had passed between them he was still a decent man and he’d see that she needed him. Even if he didn’t, he’d see that Anna needed him. What if the abductor was out there? She’d be safer with two parents than one.

Once this was over, he could go. But not now.

She turned the key in the top lock and the door swung open.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m back.’

There was no reply. In fact, there was no noise at all. The house was silent. No television, no footsteps, no murmured voices.

‘Anna!’ she shouted. ‘Brian! Where are you?’

Still no answer.

The garden
, she thought.
They’re in the garden. Of course.

She went through the kitchen to the back door. It was locked.

Which meant they were not outside.

Still, near frantic now, she grabbed the key from the windowsill – not the best place to keep it, she knew that – and turned it in the lock. The door opened.

She heard birds, car engines, the distant shouts of a Sunday football game.

But no Brian. And no Anna.

She grabbed her phone and called her husband’s mobile. It rang twice, then he answered.

‘Brian,’ she said. ‘Is Anna with you?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t leave her on her own, would I?’

‘What are you doing?’ Julia said. ‘Why aren’t you here?’

‘I’m taking her to Mum’s,’ he said. ‘It’s the best – the safest – place for her.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Julia said. ‘You can’t just take her without my permission!’

‘I knew you wouldn’t give it,’ Brian said. ‘But it’s best for her if she’s with me.’

‘You turn around right now and bring her back!’ Julia shouted. ‘You do that right fucking now or I’ll call the police!’

‘I already did. They needed to know to have the police guard outside this house.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Julia said. ‘You can’t.’

‘I can. I did. I had no choice, Julia. I have to do what’s best for my daughter.’

‘What’s best for her is to be with her mum!’

‘I don’t agree.’ He paused, and she heard Edna’s voice in the background. Edna. She should have known that Edna was behind this. ‘Mum says you should come to the house tomorrow to discuss things.’

‘I’m coming today. I’m coming right now!’

‘You need to calm down first. It’ll just upset Anna. Tomorrow. Nine a.m.’

The line went dead. Julia pressed redial, but it went straight to voicemail.

Fuck tomorrow. Fuck nine a.m. She was going there right that instant.

12

Losing Control

i.

So the mother had lost her daughter. You did not expect it to soon but that is ok.

You will adapt. That is another of your skills: you recognize when things change and you change yourself accordingly. It’s like evolution. Adapt, or die. The difference is that evolution is dumb. Animals don’t know that they are adapting. They don’t see the changes in their environment. They don’t sense the world shifting around them. You do. You stand outside events and observe them. You see yourself and your place in the world, understand your role, what your strengths and weaknesses are, where your threats and opportunities lie. When something changes, you see how you need to change. You are not surprised by events.

You are a watcher. A waiter.

But you also act. When necessary, you act swiftly and decisively.

And the time is coming for action. For the final action.

ii.

Julia banged on the front door of Edna’s house. There was no doorbell: Edna thought they were vulgar, and vulgar was not what she wanted for her not-so-humble abode. The house was an old carriage house. Years back Edna and Jim had agreed to sell some of the land it sat on to a developer, who had put a large detached house on it. They made a killing from the sale; money which, recognizing even then that Brian was not going to become rich from his own efforts, they intended to use to fund their grandchildren’s educations. Now, with only one grandchild to pay for, Edna regretted it bitterly; she didn’t need the money and she hated having the new house visible from her garden. It wasn’t that they were ugly; far from it, the architect had done a fine job of fitting them sensitively into their surroundings, but that they reminded Edna both that she had made a mistake in selling the land and the reason it was a mistake was that her plans for Brian had failed.

‘Brian!’ Julia shouted. ‘Brian!’

She thumped on the door with the side of her fist.

‘Brian! Edna!’

The door opened. Brian was standing in a small vestibule. Behind him the door into the main house was closed.

‘Julia,’ Brian said. ‘Calm down. You were supposed to be coming tomorrow.’

‘Fuck you, Brian!’ Julia shouted. ‘I want Anna. I want my daughter!’

‘She’s better off here,’ Brian said. ‘It’s quieter. There’s no press. And like you said, whoever took her is still running around out there. This is the best place for her.’

‘The best place for her is with me.’

‘Julia, we have to be grown up about this. We have to do what’s best for our daughter. I know you’re upset but our feelings don’t come into it.’

‘You took her. You kidnapped her!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Bringing her to her grandmother’s house is hardly kidnapping. And even if it is, I think the fact I told you where she is rather disproves your theory.’

Julia could see what he was saying made sense; she also knew that, whether it made sense or not, it was just a convenient excuse for taking her daughter from her.

And she was not going to allow that. Rage narrowed her world to one thought: get Anna.

‘I want to come in. I want to see her.’

‘No. She’s sleeping. And she doesn’t need to see this.’

‘See what?’

‘Us fighting.’

‘Then stop fighting! I’ll come in and take her home quiet as a fucking mouse!’

‘Julia. You need to calm down. We have guests. Don’t make a scene. Mum’ll be embarrassed.’

Julia’s rage intensified. They had taken her daughter and she was supposed to be nice and polite and genteel because Edna had some fucking guests for Sunday lunch? And what the fuck was that anyway? In the midst of all this, Edna found time to have a nice dinner party? It was fucking typical.

‘You think I give a shit about upsetting your guests?’ she shouted. ‘I want to see Anna, and I want to see her now.’

She tried to dart past Brian to the inner door, but he put his right arm out and caught her around the waist.

‘Let me go!’ she shouted. ‘Get your fucking hands off me!’

She hated him at that moment, would have snapped his neck in two in the beat of a drum had she been able to. As it was, she lashed out with her right hand, her nails clawing at his cheek.

He shrieked, a high-pitched wail that infuriated her even more, and she shoved him as hard as she could. He lost his balance and fell against the tiled wall of the vestibule, his hand clutching his cheeks. She could see the red scratch above his fingers.

‘You’re a piece of shit,’ she said. ‘A worthless piece of—’

‘What on earth is going on here?’ Edna had opened the inner door and was standing there, arms folded. Behind her was a man of her age, dressed in the smart casual attire of the upper middle classes out to Sunday lunch at the home of a distinguished doctor.

‘Is everything ok?’ he said.

‘She scratched my face,’ Brian said. ‘She’s crazy.’

‘I think you need to leave,’ Edna said. ‘Now.’

‘I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,’ Julia said. ‘I’ll stand here all day and all night until you let me see her.’

Edna’s expression hardened. ‘Don’t make the mistake of threatening me, young lady,’ she said. ‘And especially not in my own home.’

She took a smart step forward and took hold of Julia’s elbow. Her grip was strong, and as she pushed, Julia pivoted towards the front door.

‘Out,’ Edna said. ‘Out you go.’

Julia twisted in her grip. ‘I’m not going,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me.’

‘Can’t I?’ Edna said. ‘We’ll see about that.’

She grabbed Julia’s other elbow and backed her over the threshold of the front door.

‘No,’ Julia shouted. ‘No! Get off me!’

She bucked violently and shoved her shoulder against Edna. Edna stumbled backwards into the door jamb, still holding onto her.

‘You let me see my daughter!’ Julia shouted. ‘Or I’ll claw your eyes out, you fucking bitch!’

She felt someone grab her arms and pin them to her sides. She looked up. Brian was on one side of her, the lunch guest on the other.

‘Should I call the police?’ the man said.

Edna stared at Julia. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think so. I think Julia is about to leave.’

Julia felt the rage drain from her like air from an untied balloon. She didn’t reply.

‘Julia?’ Edna said. ‘Should Michael call the police? Or will you go of your own accord.’

Julia let her head fall forwards. ‘I’m going,’ she mumbled.

‘Good,’ Edna said. ‘Let her go.’

Brian and Michael released their grip on her, and she turned to walk back to her car. As she did so, she heard Edna call out to her.

‘I suggest you come by tomorrow. We need to talk.’

It was not a talk that Julia was looking forward to.

iii.

Julia was up early, unable to sleep. Her mind was stuck in a loop in which variations of the previous day’s events played out. In the end, she gave in and slumped in front of the television, a mug of tea cradled between her palms, the base balanced on her stomach. It was the way her dad had sat when he watched
Match of the Day
or
Grandstand
, before the evening came and he pulled on his weekend shoes and coat and left the house.

Just off out early doors, love
, he’d say, before kissing his wife, always on the lips and often more than once. Julia had grown up thinking that all parents kissed each other hello and goodbye and danced around the kitchen to the radio and cuddled on the couch like teenagers to watch whatever film the Beeb was showing. It was only when she was a little older that she realized that her mum and dad were the exception; that the fruitful, abiding love at the heart of their marriage was an island in an ocean of desiccated, hollow relationships.

I’ll be back in a while
, he’d say.
You get your dancing clothes on while I’m gone.

And he’d be back an hour or two later, smelling of cigarette smoke and beer, to take his bride for a meal or to the movies, or, in later years, to the wine bar that had opened in the village. Sometimes he’d sit with Julia while he waited for her mum, and he’d talk to her, share his thoughts about the world, his mood opened by the beer he’d drunk. She remembered these times well, remembered the advice he’d given her:

You can spend a long time listing out all the things you’ve not got, Julia; so long, that you never find time to enjoy the things you do have.

Most people are all right, at heart, but never forget that there’s some buggers in the world who’ll do things you’d never dream of to get what they want.

And her favourite, the one that summed up her mum and dad and their marriage:

A man can count his friends on the fingers of one hand, and one of them’s his wife.

They would never have divorced. The thought would never have entered their minds. Theirs was a love story, and Julia missed both it and them.

She fell asleep in the armchair. When she woke up it was nearly eight. Brian was expecting her at nine, so she went to shower and dress and see what exactly he had to say.