23rd November 2019
Morning
When I woke, my head throbbed and for a moment I thought I was in the wrong place – it wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in a strange bed, but not something I’d done since meeting Oliver. I pieced together where I was and the previous day. I checked my phone, still hopeful that Oliver would have messaged. He hadn’t. I did, however, have a Facebook message from Holly – news really had travelled fast.
I sat up quickly, and my head stung. Touching the back of it I felt a lump and when I pulled my hand away there was blood on it. The same applied to the pillow. For a moment I couldn’t remember what had happened, then recalled breaking the wing mirror. Pressing my hand to the lump again I felt the small cut. Nothing to worry about, apart from not realising I had done it. Unsteadily rising to my feet, I looked into the mirror beside what used to be my wardrobe. My eyes were bloodshot and heavy, my skin looked desperate for some sunshine, and as I turned my head, I could just about see a matted red splodge in my hair from where I had bled.
Opening my bedroom door, I looked across the small landing to my dad’s room. If I squinted I could just about make out his bed which looked like it hadn’t been slept in. I took a few steps to confirm I was alone up here, and the floorboards squeaked angrily underfoot. Downstairs, I could hear the TV playing. I couldn’t help but feel nervous as I made my way towards the sound. Last night I had seen my father for the first time in years, but it was late, and I was drunk. Today I would face him properly.
Knowing I couldn’t see him looking as I did, I found a towel in the airing cupboard and went back up to the bathroom, I had a quick shower that dribbled lukewarm water over me. I had forgotten how shit the shower was here, and how Dad only put the hot water on for an hour a day. The tepid water was yet another thing I didn’t miss about this place. Stepping out of the shower I dashed back to my old bedroom and shut the door to get dressed. Feeling slighter better as each layer of clean clothes went onto my body, I pulled my hair into a messy bun, and grabbed my glasses which had somehow survived unscathed. I appraised myself one more time before going down to see him. I looked OK, which in the circumstances was better than I could have wished for. Would he even notice, anyway?
I was shocked to see the lounge was empty, and grabbing the remote I turned down the TV. I expected him to be in his armchair, where he was last night. After Mum left, he’d often fall asleep in front of the telly. From the lounge I went into the kitchen, having to fold my arms over my chest as the room was freezing. The back door was wide open, and outside, standing in the middle of the lawn was my dad, wrapped in his dressing gown. He was looking at the old tree at the end of the garden that once had a rope swing attached. For a moment, I could hear my giggles, asking him to push me higher.
‘Dad?’ I called out, but he mustn’t have heard me. ‘Dad!’ I said louder, and he turned, startled to see me stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘What are you doing? It’s freezing out here!’
‘Oh, I’m umm, just getting some air,’ he said, half smiling.
‘Come back in here, you’ll catch a cold,’ I said, waving him towards me. He did as I asked, and I closed the door behind me. I expected him to perhaps offer a cup of tea, but by the time I locked the back door, he had shuffled back into the living room.
‘I’ll put the kettle on?’ I called out.
‘OK,’ he replied, turning up the TV.
‘OK,’ I echoed, defeated.
I watched Dad as I waited for the kettle to boil. He looked frail, too frail, and although he was dismissive as ever, there was something else. He wasn’t one to step outside and get fresh air, and he wasn’t one to forget to make someone a cup of tea. He may not be the most emotionally connected person in the world, but he’d always used tea to bridge the gap.
The kettle boiled and I opened the fridge door looking for milk. Where the milk should have been sat a bag of sugar. I looked in the cupboard where the sugar was kept, and sure enough, there was the milk. That in itself wasn’t alarming, but combined with everything else… what was going on?
I made our drinks and sat on the sofa, where we sipped in silence.
‘I’m going to the social to meet Holly, and see if I can help.’
‘The social is shut.’
‘I know. It’s open just as a base for people to meet and help.’
‘Help with what?’ he asked, his eyes still on the screen.
‘Finding Jamie.’
‘Oh, yes. Well, I’m sure he will turn up,’ he said, dismissing the seriousness of it.
Putting on my coat I called goodbye, and waited – perhaps longer than I should have – for him to say something back, but my farewell was unanswered. Quietly, I closed the door behind me. As I stepped onto the footpath that led to town I looked up, heavy dark clouds above me moved apace. The wind was strong up there, adding to my sense of disorientation. A horn blared behind me and I spun around to see a white van, half on the footpath, half on the road. I thought it was someone trying to run me down, but the driver had slammed on the brakes. Instinctively, I covered myself, waiting to be hit. Thankfully, it came to a halt inches before that happened. I stumbled backward, looked up at the van. A sign said it was for GM Cleaning Services. I mumbled an apology, even though I wasn’t in the wrong. I expected the driver to say something, offer a sorry like I had, or perhaps even shout at me, but she just stared towards me. As I began to walk away again, I looked over my shoulder and saw the woman, who was probably in her late forties, get out. She would have been too old to know who I was back then. But still, as she looked at me, I couldn’t help but think she was judging me silently, it was like she was trying to scare me. Perhaps Derrick had told more people than Brenda and Holly I was back, and she was letting me know the village knew. And that I should be careful.
I turned, put my head down, and walked on.
It wasn’t until I was halfway down my dad’s road and heading towards the village centre did I stop to think about where I was going. I was walking to meet Holly, someone who I had not seen since the summer Chloe vanished, to help her look for Jamie. I suspected there would be lots of people there; people who had known me before. My heart began to race.