24th November 2019
Evening
Dad slept for most of the day in his armchair. I spent a large portion of that time tiptoeing around, tidying his house, watering the plants in the bathroom that were in desperate need of saving. I don’t know why, but I wanted my dad to wake and the world around him be a little brighter, happier – something new, even. Then, when I had run out of things to do that wouldn’t disturb him, I found myself sitting on the sofa opposite just watching him sleep. I couldn’t help but stare at the sagging skin and deep wrinkles that marred his once strong, and dare I say, handsome face. I thought about my dad when I was young. He wasn’t around much; the world here consisted of the shift patterns down the mine, and that meant he would often be having breakfast as I was getting ready for bed. Our lives, like most lives in the village, were just passing ships. And when I woke up each morning, he was there, covered in coal dust, tired, smelling like an unused fireplace, proud. He would kiss me, kiss Mum, eat a hot meal whilst I got ready for school and then go to bed.
But as I drifted back to those times, I remembered another side to our family – during the rare times when Dad took his holiday. I thought of a summer when I was around ten or eleven, Dad gently shaking me awake, a smile on his face. ‘Wake up, love, we’re going out.’ Sleepy and confused, I climbed into the back of the car, still in my pyjamas and we drove away from the village until, several hours later, Mum pointed to a stretch of blue that was the sea. Dad allowed me to bury him neck deep in the sand and Mum drew a funny body over him, making him look like he was wearing a bikini. She got out the video camera and filmed him. He feigned being embarrassed, but really, I could see he loved being someone who could laugh and play in the sunshine with his family. He fake-protested, begging my mum to stop filming him, but she didn’t, she told him to smile, say hello to the camera, and said that this moment would be something we could laugh about in years to come. We stayed in a tent, on a campsite close to the coast, the sound of the sea breathing at night matching the gentle breathing of Mum and Dad as they slept. Back then, life was clean, bright. It made sense. Then the mine shut, and overnight he became the aged, battered thing that slept in an armchair and only spoke of the small things. And that recording, I have no idea what happened to it.
When I was young, I couldn’t comprehend how sad Dad must have been to lose his purpose. And, as I watched him gently snore, I realised that I didn’t blame him for Mum leaving anymore. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t hers either. The fault lay with the mine. I understood why he was cold towards me, distant, because, like the mine, like Mum, I left him too.
Beside me, my phone lit up with an incoming Facebook message. It was Holly, asking if I was OK, and if I was still coming to meet the others. I said I was fine, and I would be there. She messaged back instantly, saying she’d be at The Miners’ Arms in half an hour. Derrick had put a sign out saying the pub would be closed for the next few days, understandably, but Holly was allowed to use it if she needed to. I guess it was the least he could do after all her efforts to try find his troubled son, even if they were in vain. I didn’t wake Dad and instead left a note saying I wouldn’t be long and that there was a sandwich in the fridge, in case he was hungry before I got back. As I set off to leave, I hoped he would just sleep until I was home. That way, he wouldn’t be alone.
I was shocked at how cold the air felt on my skin. My exhaled breath seemed to freeze above me. The walk towards the village felt tense, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t help but want to look behind me with each step, to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Frost had begun to form on car windows and the patches of the footpath that hadn’t seen any sun during the day crunched underfoot. I walked quickly and held my breath until I drew level with the pub.
Ironically, the one day Derrick didn’t open would have been his biggest opportunity for business, since over the hours the village had slowly filled with people from neighbouring communities, or media outlets, tying to understand what had happened. I hadn’t watched the news, because I knew they would link this new mystery with one from a long time ago, trying to connect dots. I knew, because I was doing exactly the same thing in my head, and as Holly wanted to meet, I knew she had too.
‘Hello?’ I called out, unable to see anyone else in the pub.
‘Over here,’ Holly called, emerging from the corner where I had seen the man watching me two nights earlier. I walked towards Holly’s voice, trying to appear in control, my nerves in check. I didn’t want to seem spooked – after all, I was the one who didn’t believe in ghosts.
Holly stood and greeted me with a warm hug before turning to the group, suddenly revealed in the dim light. Michael, Baz – and Georgia. It took a moment, but I released it had been her in the van, nearly hitting me, as it mounted the kerb. I hadn’t placed her yesterday, assuming she was older than I was. Of all of my old friends, Georgia looked like the one who had struggled the most with the past; besides Jamie, of course.
‘Well, here she is,’ Georgia said quietly.
‘Hi, Georgia. Nice to see you again,’ I said, indicating I knew it was her who’d scared me. She smiled enigmatically.
Holly gestured for me to take a seat as she sat back at hers. Picking up her cup of tea she blew on it.
‘That’s one’s yours,’ she said, pointing at a second steaming cup in front of me.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, but really, I wanted something much stronger. Having the group back together – well, most of it – made me feel uncomfortable. The last time we were all in the same place, at the same time, was after Chloe went missing. And even though I knew that I was transferring old feelings to the present, I couldn’t stop it.
Above me, I was sure the ceiling had cracked, like it did when I was at university. But I daren’t look.
‘Now we’re all here, we need to talk about what’s happened,’ Holly began.
‘Jamie has hurt himself,’ Michael said quietly.
‘But, the top on the ground, it’s just like…’
‘He’s done it as a cry for help. We all know he’s not coped well since Chloe died. He’s replicated what was found when we were kids, he wants us to know.’
‘But don’t you think…’ Georgia started.
‘No, don’t, I don’t want to hear it,’ Michael butted in. ‘I don’t want anyone to speak about ghosts and the past. I want to leave it well alone. Jamie is ill, and he needs our help. We need to find him.’
‘He’ll come back when he is ready,’ Baz agreed.
‘But what if he’s…’
‘This is going to sound awful, and I’m sorry. But if Jamie is dead, then there would have been a body, wouldn’t there? Besides, who would have hurt him? One of us?’
‘I agree, Jamie is calling for help, but you know the press are starting to dig up the past,’ said Georgia. ‘It won’t be long before they make the connection.’
I knew I should have said something about the man I’d seen, the man who reminded me of the Drifter, but I didn’t. What was being said made sense, as sad as it was. Jamie hadn’t recovered from the summer of 1998. I remember it hitting him hard. He questioned life, mortality. He panicked that the Drifter would come for him.
‘So, what do we do now?’ Baz asked no one in particular. ‘What do we say if they start to bring up what happened here in 1998?’
‘Well, Neve will run away again.’
‘Georgia!’ Holly said, standing up in my defence.
‘What, am I not allowed to voice my opinion?’
‘Yes, but you don’t need to be a bitch about it.’
‘I’m the bitch? I didn’t fuck off when Chloe went missing, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces, did I, Holly?’
‘Georgia, just calm down.’
‘I didn’t leave us all high and dry when Chloe’s top turned up, covered in her blood. Did I? And I bet, Holly, you’ve not told her how much it hurt you for her to go like that.’
‘Georgia, please calm down.’
‘No, I will not fucking calm down. She hasn’t been here; she hasn’t had to deal with everything since.’
‘Enough!’ Michael said, his voice booming above Holly and Georgia’s. ‘Come out for a fag, calm down, this isn’t going to help anything, is it?’
Georgia didn’t respond. Instead she grabbed her coat and bag and stormed out, followed closely behind by Michael; in their wake, a heavy silence.
‘Neve…’ Holly broke it. ‘Georgia had it rougher than the rest of us when Chloe… her dad was arrested.’
‘What, why?’
‘After we told the police about the Drifter, they started to look at who he might be, they went door to door, and Georgia’s dad… Well, he lived alone, isolated, and remember how we all suspected he mistreated Georgia?’
‘Yes, I remember…’
‘Well, they discovered it was true. Then they found Chloe’s diary. She had written a few times about how Georgia’s dad creeped her out. They got a warrant to search his house and found pictures.’
My throat was dry. ‘Pictures. Of what?’
‘Of Chloe.’
‘What the fuck?’
‘Nothing like what you might be thinking. They were mostly copies of Georgia’s pictures of us all hanging out. But we had been coloured over with a biro.’
‘God.’
‘Obviously, he was arrested.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘They tried to make him the Drifter, but he didn’t fit. He was awful to Georgia, and perhaps he had a thing for Chloe, but he was never near the mine. He was never charged, there was nothing to actually link him to Chloe going missing. But for a few days, all the village spoke of was how strange he was, how it must have been him. Some think it was him, even now.’
I didn’t reply but nodded my head. I was back there in darkness, the silence and then that terrifying din, metal banging against metal. It was that which made us split up, lose sight of each other. And then I never saw Chloe again.
‘I can see why they thought it was him,’ I said quietly.
‘It’s been rough on her, the questions about her dad. They tried to get her to press charges for how he treated her, but she wouldn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Who else has she got, Neve?’
‘So, she stayed with him?’
‘No, social services got involved. She had to live away with her aunt and uncle until she was eighteen, and, then she came back.’
‘Shit.’
‘She’s had it rough. It doesn’t excuse her lashing out like that but…’
‘No wonder she hates me.’
‘That still doesn’t…’
‘I didn’t know her dad had been dragged into it,’ I just managed to say before my words choked on a sob.
Holly rubbed my shoulder and got up, walking towards the bar. Baz sat unblinking, like he was facing a patient who he had given bad news.
‘I still can’t believe you’re a GP,’ I said, laughing through my tears.
‘I know, right.’
‘I’d never have called it.’
‘Well, after Chloe, I wanted to help.’
‘I’m really pleased you’re doing what you’re doing. It gives you hope, you know?’
Before Baz could answer, Holly was back, holding a tray with a few glasses of red wine and some beers.
‘Holly, are you stealing from the bar?’
She grinned. ‘No, of course not, Baz. I’ve left some money on the till.’
Holly sat down beside me and took a glass of red, Baz joined her, and I went for a pint and we quietly drank. After a minute I heard the pub door open and close and over my shoulder I saw Michael and Georgia return. They sat down and picked up their drinks.
‘Georgia, I…’ I began.
‘Leave it, Neve,’ she replied, but without the anger I heard before. This was more of a defeated, tired sound.
‘So, now we have calmed down…’ began Baz quietly. ‘What do we do?’
‘Nothing,’ said Holly. ‘We keep looking for him, we keep trying to find him. We find Jamie, this all stops.’
‘And if we don’t find him, what then?’ Michael asked the group.
‘I don’t know,’ Holly replied.
‘I might sound stupid – this probably is – but have we considered, what if Jamie hasn’t done this to himself?’
‘What are you saying, Georgia?’
‘I mean, we’re assuming because it seems obvious it can’t be true, but what if it’s him? What if it’s the one from when we were young?’
She couldn’t say the Drifter, and I didn’t blame her.
‘I don’t want to hear about ghosts,’ Michael said, punctuating each word.
‘I think I’ve seen him,’ I blurted out, before I could stop myself.
‘Who?’ asked Holly, even though she knew.
‘Him. I think I’ve seen the Drifter.’
‘What? When?’ asked Baz, his calm demeanour gone.
‘Are you sure?’ Holly said, her voice high and panicked.
‘Yes, no. I don’t know. I thought it was just my imagination, but with the top and…’
‘When did you last see him?’
Until that moment I hadn’t considered the importance of that question.
‘I think I saw him last night, just before you radioed.’
‘Impossible.’
‘I wanted to think that too. It’s been too long. But I’m sure it was him. What if he is back?’