Ghosted, p.18
Ghosted, page 18
When the episode finished, we had a game of hide-and-seek, which was raucously entertaining for about half an hour before it ended scarily when we really couldn’t find Coco. For ten horrible minutes I hyperventilated at the idea that I was going to have to tell Joe’s family that another child had gone missing. She turned up, curled in a ball, in a laundry basket under a towel.
‘I won! I won!’ She laughed as she jumped up. ‘You lost and I won!’
I was so relieved I was almost crying.
‘That was next-level hiding, Coco,’ I said. ‘Are you always this good?’
‘It’s easy for her,’ Zara said. ‘She’s small. She can squeeze in anywhere.’
‘Yes, I AM always so good,’ said Coco, and I looked at the clock. It was quarter to six. Joe would be gone now, and, in this world, Gus was about to come home.
‘We need to calm down a bit,’ I said, and I managed not to be persuaded to have one more game. ‘Does anyone need to do anything for school? Any reading?’
‘You read me a book!’ shouted Coco, pointing at me.
Zara turned her liquid eyes on me and she was entirely Joe. ‘I could read to you from my reading book?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘How about we do that, and then, Coco, I’ll read a story to you, if you find one you’d like?’
I felt like the number-one top babysitter in the entire world. I was brilliant at this. I was going to be an awesome aunt. I realized that nothing had made me feel confident for a long time.
Zara and I sat on the sofa and she read me a chapter of a fairy-tale book, but we diverted into talking about why a princess might need rescuing, which led us to the patriarchy. Then Coco arrived with a picture book about a mum turning into a monster when the children were crap at tidying up, and that gave me a vivid flash of grief, just when I wasn’t expecting it.
I was blinking back tears, and hoping the girls wouldn’t notice, when Gus walked in. He was wearing a suit and looking flustered, but I saw him making an effort to be polite and friendly to me. He didn’t look very much like Joe today; he was sandy-haired where Joe was darker, and his face was different. All those genes had gone right through him to his eldest daughter.
‘Ariel,’ he said. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve been a lifesaver. And I know you’ve got exams coming up, so thank you even more for making time for this.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ I said. ‘Really. The girls have been great.’
‘Ariel is going to be our babysitter now,’ said Coco. ‘She’s nicer than Jane. Me and Zara think so. We want Ariel all the time.’
Gus laughed. ‘Luckily you’re the queens of the world, so you get to make all the decisions. Ariel’s a bit busy, darling.’
I remembered what I’d promised Sasha. ‘I’ve got exams soon, so I will be a bit busy, but I can always do evening babysitting and bring my schoolwork with me.’
‘See,’ said Gus. ‘Ariel’s sensible and she gets on with her homework.’
‘Not always, but I do need to concentrate now. My exams finish in the middle of June. And after that I’ll be totally up for hanging out with you two. Though my sister’s baby’s due at the start of July, so I might be a bit tied up around then.’
I saw a look cross Gus’s face and recognized the feeling that had hit me when I read the book about the mum. Sibling things must be complicated for him. I felt it stabbing me through the stomach. Gus’s brother had gone out as normal and never came back. I imagined Sasha doing that.
‘I can’t wait to meet your sister’s baby,’ said Zara, and I was so happy I wanted to hug her.
‘That would be great, wouldn’t it?’ I said. ‘I’d love that too. You can come to our house, if you like.’
‘I do like.’
Gus went upstairs to change out of his suit and came back down in a T-shirt and the sort of shorts people’s dads wear. As he walked over to us, Coco scrambled to lie on the sofa and pretended to be asleep, pulling a blanket over herself.
‘Wake up!’ Gus said. ‘Wake up, Coco.’ He did a theatrical walk towards her. This was obviously something they did.
‘Can’t,’ she said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m a zombie.’
‘I am a zombie,’ said Gus in a monotone. ‘I will eat your brains.’
‘You used a robot voice to be a zombie!’ said Zara. ‘You’re silly!’
Coco leaped up and put her arms out like a zombie. ‘You are silly,’ she said in a robot voice. ‘I will eat your silly brain.’
Gus looked at me. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s a game called robot zombies. It goes years back.’
I was standing on the doorstep, saying goodbye, before I got a chance to blurt something out to Gus.
‘Zara told me about your brother,’ I said, and I saw the jolt of surprise. I thought of Joe singing the Teletubbies theme song in my history class today, then pushed the memory away. ‘I’m really sorry. My mum died last year and I know how …’ I couldn’t say any more because a tide of sobs was trying to come up instead of words. I was supposed to be talking about Joe, not my own feelings. But it wasn’t something you could compartmentalize.
Gus reached out, but his hand hovered above my shoulder before he retracted it.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what Zara said, but she’s become … interested in Joe lately. My brother. I suppose it’s a fascinating thing: the uncle you never met, who you’ll never get to meet. That whole robot zombies game back there? That’s based on the last conversation I can remember having with him. Zara asked me and I told her, and she absolutely seized on it. Why not, you know? It’s nice to see him in her.’ He sighed. ‘But yeah, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that he probably died years ago, but we’ve never had any certainty over it. It’s hellish. I’m so sorry to hear about your mother too. These things are awful.’
I wanted so much to tell him everything, but I couldn’t.
‘Same,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry about Joe, I mean. I can’t even imagine. He just vanished?’
Gus nodded. ‘I can only think that either he had some kind of accident without witnesses, or he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was killed and his body hidden. Both of them are unthinkably awful and we’ve never had the first clue about any of it, though I used to think one of his friends knew something he wasn’t saying.’
This brought me up short. I bit back the word Lucas just before I said it. He had to mean him, though.
‘Seriously?’ I said instead. ‘How come? Who?’
Gus ignored that. ‘But then you end up suspecting everyone. And, in turn, people automatically, and forever, suspect the family, which is grim as hell.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry, Ariel. You’ve lost your mum. I’m not trying to trump that. It’s just interesting that Zara spoke to you about Joe. She usually takes longer to warm to people, but she’s really taken to you.’
‘I hope that one day you find out what happened to him.’
‘Thanks. Me too. Abby wants to get married, but I just can’t have a wedding without my brother. Other family weddings have had this gaping hole in them, where he should have been. My parents aren’t in the best of health and it would be nice if they knew what happened to him before they died, but we know that it’s unlikely now.’ He looked bleak.
‘Do your parents live locally?’ I regretted that at once, since I’d met Jasper. I was juggling a bit too much here.
‘Yeah,’ said Gus, and he looked back over his shoulder at a shriek from Coco. I could see that the conversation was coming to a close. ‘My dad and stepmum are just up the hill. They’re great. My actual mum’s here for a few months of the year generally, and in India the rest of the time. She only comes over to spend time with the girls. After Joe she just couldn’t bear it, you know?’
‘I can imagine,’ I said. ‘Well, I can’t.’
‘Right. Better go and see what’s happening,’ said Gus. ‘But thanks so much, Ariel. And sorry to talk about my brother like that. I don’t usually, least of all on the doorstep. You’re a wonderful find. Not sure how Abby discovered you, but we’re all glad she did.’
‘I put notes through doors offering babysitting work,’ I said. While you were out jogging on the field just over there, I didn’t say. ‘I tried to target houses that had kids, so it was that car that got you one.’ I nodded at the battered red-and-yellow pedal car that was on the gravelly front garden.
‘Oh, that old thing!’ Gus laughed. ‘I should get rid of it. Look at it! It was Joe’s and mine when we were little. We loved it so much that Dad kept it for imaginary future grandchildren, and now even they’re too old for it. Time marches on, I guess.’
I pictured a toddler Joe playing in it, scooting himself along with his feet, feeling like the coolest guy with his own car, and smiled.
‘It does,’ I said.
On the way home I got my phone out to read Izzy’s messages. Or at least I would have done, if she’d sent any. I had been so certain she would have fired me loads of things about Joe, and the girls, but she hadn’t sent anything.
Her life wasn’t all about me.
I had no idea where Izzy was or what she was doing. She hadn’t told me who she was meeting at five. I sent a quick one saying Thanks for listening, can’t wait to hear your news, but she didn’t reply to that either.
When I got home, Sasha said, ‘What’s up with you? Izzy was worrying about you. I called her back after work, but she said that actually everything was OK. All a bit mysterious. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. It really is. She was concerned about me, but we talked and it was just a misunderstanding.’
Sasha nodded. ‘OK. How was babysitting? What’s for dinner?’
I looked at the fifteen pounds I’d just earned and said, ‘A takeaway.’ While we waited for a curry delivery I sent another message to Izzy:
Sorry I’ve been such a shit friend, and thanks for picking up the girls with me. Whatever your thing is tonight I hope it’s been good and can’t wait to hear about it. Are you still OK for Saturday? We can talk about everything then. I have a mission in London, if you’re up for it.
I looked at the little grey dots of her typing and stopping, typing and stopping, but when her reply came it just said, Let’s do your mission. I had an amazing evening. Loads to tell xxx
30
I creep out of the house before six, leaving a note:
Had to finish homework. Went to school early. See you later.
It’s lame and they won’t believe it, but it doesn’t matter.
I walk to the beach first and stand on the sand, in the early-morning light, fake breathing the sea air that doesn’t smell of anything at all. I do my best to hang on to the feeling of being alive, even though I’m not. I run across the sand and look back at my footprints, pleased to see that they’re there. I take my shoes and socks off, hitch up my trousers and wade into the sea. I try to walk on top of the water, but it doesn’t work. Instead I paddle round the headland to the other beach, and sledge down the cliff a few times. I practise my cartwheels, wondering how long I’ll have to do that before I can backflip across the beach and look cool. I decide to learn a language and take up an instrument, though we don’t have a piano at home, so it will have to be an instrument I can easily find every morning.
The dog walkers look at me. I don’t care. It turns out that if you don’t care what people are saying about you, you can pretty much do whatever you like.
I run as fast as I can and I don’t get out of breath. I stand on my head. I am, weirdly, having fun.
Today is my death day, and I am as certain as I could possibly be that I’m not suicidal, despite what everyone thinks. That means I either had an accident or someone else was involved.
Someone killed me.
If it was an accident they would have found my body.
It’s probably near Beachview because there’s no trail. In fact, I’m likely to be looking at it: my twenty-years-ago bones are probably somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean where they will never be found. You can see the roof of the mall from the main beach. It’s no distance at all.
I think back to the things Ariel writes in her notes. We haven’t got anywhere. I know a lot about the people who have moved on, but nothing about what happened to me.
I start walking towards the station, still wet but perfectly comfortable.
My thoughts always go back to Lucas.
I examine my feelings about him. There’s something different there. Something new. I’m almost at the station by the time I admit to myself that the word for it is almost certainly guilt. But it’s not his guilt.
Every time I see Lucas, I say something mean to him. Ariel has seen me do it. I remember the look on her face when I said fuck off to him. She was surprised and disappointed.
Was I awful to him?
Was I a bully?
I put on my headphones. I only have Different Class on me, but that’s fine. I know every word of that album.
Lara is knitting a blue thing today, and she puts it down and moves her stuff so I can sit next to her.
‘Joe!’ she says. ‘I thought I’d scared you off. Oh my God, I’m glad you came back.’
‘Sorry I didn’t come before,’ I say. ‘I needed to think. Guess what, Lara? I found out that my mum’s not in India! She’s in Reading.’
She laughs. ‘Easy mistake.’
‘I know. I feel such an idiot. I just filled in the blanks and got it wrong.’
‘Oh, darling.’
‘I knew I didn’t see Mum today, and I think over the years it all stretched to make me feel I hadn’t seen her for ages and I developed a story for that. I took the fact that she wasn’t there, and that she was retraining as a yoga teacher, and made up a scenario where she was doing yoga in India. And in fact –’
‘In fact, she’s doing yoga in Reading?’
‘Yeah. She’s only away Monday to Friday, and only this week. Sucks that it’s always Thursday.’
‘Doesn’t it? Are you getting off this train at Reading then?’
‘Yep.’
She smiles broadly and pats my arm. ‘You’re going to find your mum!’ She looks genuinely delighted. I beam back.
‘I got the address of where she is. Some place called the Yoga Dojo.’
‘Yoga Dojo? Someone’s a bit confused.’
‘I’m glad it has a silly name because it’s easy to remember when you reset. So we have two and a bit hours until we get there, don’t we? Right. Ariel looked you up. Most importantly, if you’re going for traditional colours you had it right last time.’ I nod at her knitting and wait for her to realize what I’m saying.
‘I should be knitting in pink? The baby’s a girl?’
‘Mabel Lara Billingham. She’s going to be born on Monday, June the seventh.’
‘Her due date! How perfect. And they gave her my name.’
I can see Lara’s emotion, and I understand it in a way that I don’t really understand anything else. ‘She goes to university in Leeds, doing engineering. She has long hair, very straight, and wears lipgloss. She’s doing really well, Lara. So you don’t need to worry about her anyway. She’s OK. I’ve seen her social media, and she really does seem happy.’ I look at her face. ‘Social media is the writing and photos on the internet. It’s how Ariel finds out about people. I wish I could show you.’
We talk about Mabel for ages, and I think about the amount of love that goes into Lara’s daily knitting, for an unborn baby who’s grown up and gone to university. Knitting is the only way she can demonstrate how much she loves her granddaughter. It’s the only thing she can do for her and it’s completely pointless.
‘Thank you, Joe,’ she says in the end, visibly making an effort to calm herself. ‘This is incredible. They did say they liked Mabel as a name. I said it was a bit old-ladyish, but I guess by the time she was born it didn’t matter what I thought.’
I checked the time.
‘Next thing,’ I said. ‘I didn’t see what happened to you last time. We’d driven off by then. Want me to try again sometime?’
‘Would you?’
‘Course. I’ll come back in a couple of days. I’m sure I can cover my tracks so the police aren’t there to meet me. I’ll at least buy enough time to walk up that slope with you. If you want me to.’
‘Thank you,’ she says. She takes my hand and it’s the most real contact I’ve had in twenty years. I never want to let go.
There are no police waiting at Reading. I get into a taxi and ask for the Yoga Dojo, and the guy knows where it is and starts driving. I watch the meter, wishing I’d taken more money from home. I have £8.25, but of course it doesn’t matter if I run away without paying for the cab. Also, it’s taking me to my mum. She’ll pay because she’s my mum.
In the end, though, it’s close to the station and I have £4.50 left over. There’s a shop selling flowers just down the road, and £4.50 gets me a bunch of pink and white carnations, and I steal a box of chocolates on my way out too, because Mum probably still likes chocolates. Everyone does.
The dojo is on the first floor of an office building, and no one stops me when I go in through the main door.
No one stops me going up the stairs.
There’s a reception desk with a man sitting behind it. He has a ponytail and is dressed all in black: his air is more dojo than yoga. The whole place smells of cinnamon, I think, and the floor is polished with rugs on it. I’m glad Mum’s been somewhere nice all this time.
‘Hey there!’ he says with such huge enthusiasm that I wonder whether he’s on drugs. ‘Can I help you?’
I plaster on my best smile. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I hope so. This might sound a bit weird, but my mum’s doing a course here this week. It’s her birthday so I’ve brought her some flowers and chocolates as a surprise from me and my brother.’
‘Ahhh,’ he says. ‘Well, aren’t you adorable?’ He checks the time. ‘They’re in studio two, and there’s a break coming up at half ten. You OK to wait? Who’s your mum? Hang on – Claire, right?’
