24th November 2019
Morning
Last night, when we found the top, Holly, Michael and I shared a knowing look, that people’s worst fears – my worst fears – had been confirmed. Jamie was dead. Now, I wasn’t so convinced – it wasn’t even confirmed we had found Jamie’s top. Really, we had jumped to that conclusion based on what we had experienced before. It had to be a coincidence, it had to, because there is no way what we found last night has anything to do with Chloe. She vanished a lifetime ago.
Getting out of bed, I looked out of the window to see the sun trying but failing to break through the dark, fast-moving clouds. It looked like one of those days where it was always just about to get dark. I needed to move, ring the doctor and then plan my escape. My phone had died sometime in the night, so I plugged it in to charge, then I concentrated on my muddy memories and tried to put yesterday together coherently.
Holly radioed to say she and Michael had found a top. The police were called, we waited, they took statements then told us to go home, they would be in touch. Instead Holly said she needed a drink – no, wait, I said that. Derrick took us back to The Miners’ Arms, and we had a few drinks. I must have drunk too much, as the rest is foggy. I recall others there, not just Holly, Michael and Derrick. I can’t remember who. I can’t remember how I got back to Dad’s either. It seemed, halfway through the night, my memories just vanished.
Beside me, the phone screen lit up as it came to life. A few more seconds and I’d be able to see the time, and check if Holly had messaged any update.
Eventually, the home screen appeared and a text message came through. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was from Oliver. Hovering my thumb over the screen I hestitated before tapping it. I didn’t know what to expect. What I saw confused me:
I didn’t understand, I’d not contacted him, had I? Checking my call log, I choked on my own breath. At the very top was Oliver, and I had called him eighteen times. Tapping the information symbol, I learnt I had called him that many times in an eleven-minute window between 1.18 a.m.–1.29 a.m.
‘Oh Neve, for fuck’s sake,’ I said out loud, too hungover to scream, too drained to sound anything other than numb.
I couldn’t believe I had rung him. OK, that wasn’t true. I could believe it, but eighteen times in eleven minutes? It didn’t exactly scream, ‘Let’s talk it through, maybe we do have a future.’ Looking at the message again, I tried to find something hidden within its words. But there was just a coldness I’d not heard from Oliver before. Then again, people change, I knew that more than most. I went to close my messages, but there was another message under Oliver’s, one from Esther.
She didn’t ask how I was, and more importantly, she said nothing about the village. Which meant that news of what had happened hadn’t broken out yet. But I knew it would soon. I almost texted her back, but in that moment, I knew I needed to hear her voice. She was the closest thing to family. Closer than my own blood – my dad – and I pined for that safe feeling. Her mobile ran three times before she picked up.
‘Hey, Neve! How are you?’
‘I’m all right.’ My voice was dry and cracking.
‘You sound rough,’ she said, and I couldn’t tell if she was smiling or concerned.
‘It’s been a weird couple of days,’ I said honestly. ‘How is everything? Is Tilly OK? How’s The Tea Tree?’
Esther updated me on her life, and said the shop was reopening today, a grand unveiling at noon. Esther told me how the local community had gathered round her in support. She had friends, their relatives and their friends help with the clean-up and restocking. And apparently the grand reopening was going to be busy, with everyone involved coming to support. Despite my hangover, I beamed. It was the best possible news. Esther would do well, and the guilt of my messing up and running away started to fade.
‘So, have you been anywhere nice?’ she asked.
‘You could say that.’
‘OK?’
‘I’m home.’
‘So, just chilling in the flat a bit, it sounds lush…’
‘No, Esther, I’m home. I’m back in the village.’
There was a pause. Esther knew more than most about my life in this place. She knew about Chloe, and on a night when she visited me in hospital after I dropped out of uni, she knew about the Drifter.
‘Neve, why are you back there?’
‘One of my old friends, he’s gone missing.’
I heard her take a short, sharp breath.
‘I think I’m losing it again,’ I said quietly.
‘You’re not, and anyway, you never lost it before.’
‘Since coming back, I keep seeing him.’
‘Who?’
‘The Drifter.’
There was a silence after I spoke those two familiar, haunting words. Saying it out loud felt strangely settling. The words had been lifted from a dark corner in my head and were out in the world. And I’m glad it was Esther I said them to. I knew she wouldn’t judge, belittle, think I was making it up. I knew she would believe me.
‘Have you told anyone?’
‘Only you.’
‘OK, keep it that way.’
‘Because I’m mad?’
‘Because it will scare people there. You always said how the Drifter caused so much tension. Don’t speak of him yet, it will only do the same again, and then they’ll… Have they found your friend?’
‘They found a top, a bloodstained top, just like…’ I didn’t finish my sentence; I didn’t need to.
‘Neve, I think you should leave.’
‘I can’t. I want to, I really do, but I can’t. Not yet.’
‘Neve…’
‘But I promise, as soon as I’ve sorted a few more things. I’m leaving. I promise.’
‘OK, listen, but please can you touch base with me?’
‘I will.’
‘Every day.’
‘OK.’
‘Promise.’
‘I promise, I’ll ring or message.’
‘Every day.’
‘Yes, Esther, every day.’
‘All right.’
‘I should go,’ I said, not wanting to, but knowing I should. Esther’s concern made me feel guilty for taking up yet more of her time. ‘And no doubt you have lots to do today?’
‘Yeah,’ she agreed with a laugh. ‘Call me if you need me.’
‘I will, thanks, Esther.’
Esther reassured me it was OK, and hung up. I cradled the phone to my ear for a little longer, sucking in the last of her kindness and understanding. As soon as I did what I needed to do here, I would go home, buy a nice bottle of wine and go to Esther’s. I would drink moderately and be honest with how I’m feeling about everything – about life, about Oliver and home. I would tell her I was scared I was regressing back to that girl she visited in hospital once before.
First, I had to resolve what was happening here. Going into the Facebook messenger app I saw Holly had been in touch. Her message made my blood run cold. All of that warmth and security I had rushing though me, thanks to Esther, drained out of my body. Holly’s message said that the police were confident it was Jamie’s blood that we found last night. And that, as of an hour ago, they still hadn’t found him. She also asked if I would meet with everyone later. She didn’t say who she meant by ‘everyone’. But I knew.
Grabbing a quick shower, I tried to wash away the unease I had felt since arriving back in the village. An unease that was growing with each passing minute. As the tepid water ran over my scalp, making the cut from the wing mirror sting, I planned my day. I needed to get Dad to the doctor, that was my priority, then I needed to see Holly and ‘everyone’ and once we’d raked over the past once more, I would leave. I didn’t care how much pressure would be put on me to stay: I did it once, I could do it again.
Once dressed, I made my way downstairs, the thumping in my head intensifying with each heavy, clumsy footstep. Reaching the bottom, I looked into the lounge: Dad’s chair was empty. Walking through into the kitchen I looked into the garden, in case there as a repeat of the previous morning, but there was no sign of him there either. There was, however, a scribbled note next to the kettle. Dad’s handwriting, saying the doctor called this morning, and asked him to come in for 8.30 a.m. Maybe Dad had managed to get through yesterday when I was out? It was only 8.44 a.m. I must have only just missed him – perhaps him closing the front door on his way out was what startled me awake. I felt I needed to be with Dad when the doctor was talking to him, for support, but also, because I knew if I didn’t hear what he or she had to say with my own ears, I’d never know what was going on. I grabbed my coat and headed out.
As I made my way down towards the village, I couldn’t help noticing the roads seemed busier. The quiet, stagnant feel of the place was gone, replaced with something I recalled from years ago. As I turned onto the main road, I could see people milling around, strangers waiting to find out more details about what we discovered last night, or locals waiting for their fifteen minutes of fame. There was a constant ebb and flow, a sense of the place coming back to life again. Seeing people this way – excited, speculative, quick to spread rumours – renewed my resolve.
I had no intention of staying a second longer than I absolutely needed to. I didn’t want to be dragged back in speculation from two decades before. I wanted to be in my bed in London tonight, putting all of this behind me. I would delete Holly from Facebook, change my number if I needed to, focus only on helping Esther with our business, which was hopefully turning a corner. I knew it was awful to think that way, I knew it was shallow and I was being a coward. Something had happened to Jamie, but I didn’t know who he was anymore. I didn’t know who anyone was anymore.
I opened the doctor’s surgery door and made my way to the desk. I tried to smile, but wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all the receptionist who removed her glasses to hold my gaze.
‘May I help you?’ she asked, her tone clipped.
‘Yes, could you tell me which doctor Sean Chambers is with, please.’
‘Oh, I’m afraid I can’t, it’s doctor – patient confidentiality. If you would like to take a seat, I’m sure he will be out soon.’ She smiled.
‘No, you see, I should be in there with him. He gets confused.’
‘I’m really sorry. I can’t,’ she said, still smiling.
‘Please,’ I tried again, raising my voice a little, causing the few waiting patients to turn in their chairs and look disapprovingly at me.
‘Neve.’
I turned to see a wide man standing in the doorway of the nearest doctor’s office. He smiled and gestured for me to come in. Only when I was close could I tell it was someone I knew.
‘Baz?’
He looked around, embarrassed, hoping other patients hadn’t heard him being referred to by his teenage name. ‘It’s Barry now. Come in, Neve, your dad is in here.’ He waved back to the receptionist who dropped her smile and replaced her glasses.
‘You’re his doctor?”
‘Yes,’ he said with a laugh.
‘I had no idea,’ I said, stepping past him into his office. ‘Hi, Dad,’ I smiled.
‘Hello, love,’ he replied, and I couldn’t help but feel the warmth of it. He had not called me love in a very long time.
‘Please, sit down. I was just talking with your dad about the concerns you raised with me last night.’
‘Concerns I raised?’
‘We met, in the pub after…’ he hesitated.
‘Did we?’
He looked at me, a small smile, as if to say, ‘Yes, we did and yes, Neve, you were very drunk.’ Thankfully, he didn’t articulate it, but continued in his professional manner. ‘You spoke of your concern, and that’s why we are here. So, Mr Chambers, let’s continue. You said you’ve been noticing things for the last few months, what sort of things?’
‘Well,’ Dad started quietly, uneasy with what he needed to say. ‘Things like what happened yesterday, you know, with the cooker,’ he said, looking at me.
‘What happened with the cooker?’
‘Dad put some food in the oven and forgot about it. I came home and the house was filled with smoke.’
‘I see. Have there been any other instances?’
‘Well.’ Dad shifted in his seat, cleared his throat. Balled his hands into a fist on his lap. ‘Sometimes, I’ll wake up in the morning and the back door is open, but I was sure I closed it and locked it the day before. And I keep misplacing things like keys. They always turn up, just not where I remember leaving them.’
‘And how are you sleeping?’
‘Well, I sleep at night, but I’m sleeping more in the day too. And sometimes, I’ll swear it’s early in the day, but it’s later, and I lose track of where the time has gone.’
‘I think what we need to do is run some tests.’
‘What kind of tests?’ I asked.
‘They vary, we need to take some bloods to check liver function, kidney function, that sort of thing. We will also schedule you a mental ability test.’
‘I see,’ said Dad, defeated.
‘Mr Chambers, I know you’re assuming the worst. Co-ordination and memory issues aren’t just confined to what we automatically think of.’
He didn’t say dementia. He didn’t need to. My father’s father had it in the last few years of his life.
‘There could be one of a hundred things that could cause your symptoms. Let’s not get too disheartened, let’s do the tests and then go from there. All right?’
‘Yes, all right. Thank you, doctor,’ Dad said, getting to his feet and shaking Baz’s hand. He opened the door and showed Dad out. ‘Just down the corridor is the nurse’s office. Go and sit down there, I’ll ring across now and they will call you in. Is that OK, Mr Chambers?’
Dad nodded. ‘Thank you, doctor.’
‘Not at all. Neve, have you got a second?’ he asked, as I began to follow Dad.
‘Sure. Dad, I’ll be quick, do you want me to come in with you?’
‘No, it’s just a blood test.’
‘OK, well, I’ll be at reception when you’re done.’
He nodded at me, and I couldn’t help but feel he looked lost as he walked down the corridor that led to the nurse’s room; so alone. I watched him until the door was closed again.
‘Hi, Neve.’
‘Hi. So, you’re a doctor, and I should know that because we talked about it last night. Sorry,’ I said, embarrassed.
‘Don’t be, I would have had a few drinks too if I found what you found. How are you holding up, you know, being back here?’
‘Weird.’
‘I bet. Listen, I know you might not want to hear this, but, until we’ve established what’s going on with your dad, he will need someone nearby. I’m not saying you have to be a full-time carer or anything like that, but he’s alone, and he needs someone to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble. Keep his spirits up.’
‘Yes, yes of course. So, what do you think is wrong?’
‘It’s hard to say categorically,’ he replied, pulling on his earlobe, unable to hold my eye. He almost looked apologetic at what he wasn’t telling me.
‘I see.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, sorry, yes, I’m fine. I should go, see he’s all right with the nurse, then get him home.’
‘OK, and Neve – has Holly messaged yet, about meeting?’ I nodded. ‘So, I’ll see you there?’ he asked, his eyes firing an intensity into me.
‘I’ll be there. See you later.’
I opened the door to leave, but turned back as I was about to step out. ‘Baz, Jamie’s top, do you think…’ I couldn’t finish my sentence. ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, Neve, I do,’ he said emphatically. ‘Do you?’
‘I wished I didn’t, but how can I not?’
‘Let’s talk about it later?’
‘OK.’
The door to the office closed and composing myself, I waited for Dad to return.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked once he rounded the corner and could see me.
‘Yes, just catching up,’ I lied. ‘I’ve not seen Baz in years. Shall we go home? Have a bit of cake or something.’
If anything, there were more people, talking, waiting, milling about, as we made our way home. We crossed the road, heading for Dad’s, and on the other side a man who was approaching from the opposite direction, stopped. His eye on us. His sudden halt rippled through me, and I stopped too, just for a beat, before forcing my step back in unison with Dad’s. I didn’t know who he was, but it seemed he knew me. Two words shot into my mind: the Drifter. But it couldn’t be him, could it? Before I could turn away or lower my head, he whipped out a camera and took a photo and I knew he was a journalist, trying to make a story. I wanted to challenge him on it, tell him to delete it, but my words were caught. Besides, Dad hadn’t noticed, and I didn’t want to upset him or cause him alarm. The man opposite smiled at me, an unkind smile. I kept my head down for the rest of the walk.
Opening the front door to Dad’s, I went straight to flick the kettle on as he sank into his chair. He looked fragile, vulnerable, and despite being desperate to get out of this place, I knew I couldn’t leave him. He needed someone to keep an eye on him, make sure he was safe, and as I thought about it, I realised what else would I be doing that could be more important? My dad needed me, and despite our challenges, I loved him with all my heart.
I was here, I was needed. Baz said Dad needed me, not anyone else, me.
I was stuck in the village.