‘Are you seeing Melinda today after you’ve been to visit your parents?’
‘No. I’ll come back here and you can cheer me up instead. Melinda’s out all day shopping with her mum.’
Lewis was propped up in bed on one elbow. ‘Pity you have to go.’ He grinned at her wickedly.
‘You have a meeting with the accountants so forget it, Romeo. I’ll put the coffee on while you get showered and we’ll pick up where we left off later,’ she murmured, pressing her lips against his neck.
‘You’re on.’
Bryony strolled down the corridor of her flat. She could hear Lewis humming as he got ready. She smiled to herself. Maxwell was already a distant memory. Bryony had mended that particular hurt. She stooped to pick up a postcard and a large envelope on the doormat. The postcard was of a beach scene from her work colleague, Tim. On it he said the offer was still open. Bryony smiled. She’d ask Lewis if he fancied a few days on the coast and maybe surprise Tim and Suzanne. The large envelope was a puzzle. It had come from Paris but there was no sender address on it. She ripped it open and pulled out a maroon, leather-bound diary. She opened it, read the first few lines and gasped. Flicking through the pages she lighted on a lengthier entry and read...
Dear Diary,
Today was one of those days that you know is going to change everything. After school I headed off to town as usual. Mum was collecting Bryony from school so I said I was going to the library but instead I nicked some sweets from Woolworths and managed to blag I was eighteen and bought a pack of Player’s Number 10. Everyone seems to think butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. Stealing stuff is a real buzz. Part of me wants to get caught and see the look on my parents’ faces when they find out – it would be such a shock to learn the headmaster’s daughter is a common thief. I ended up by the Mecca Bingo Hall and lit up. It’s one of the few places I can go and not get spotted by someone who knows me. God how I hate being goody-goody Hannah! Some days I want to scream at all the teachers and the neighbours and all the kids at my school. ‘I’m not the perfect schoolgirl you all think I am. I’m normal like you. I want to have friends like you do and do stupid stuff like you do.’ One day my mask will slip and they’ll see the real me. Today I was leaning against the wall thinking about what a shit life I have when a boy came up to me. He was so handsome it was untrue. He had dark black hair and brown eyes with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. He was dressed fashionably in Levi jeans and a turtleneck jumper over which he wore a bigger jumper. He had a cigarette between his lips and asked if I had a light. I fumbled about in my jacket pocket and drew out my disposable lighter. He lit his cigarette and instead of clearing off, joined me leaning against the wall. He spoke after a few puffs. I didn’t know what to say to him so I nodded. I felt all hot and yet excited. He seemed interested in me. He’s so different to Rob who’s just a friend but wants to be more than that. This guy looked and acted grown up, not like Rob who has spots and wears sweatshirts with cartoon characters on them. He gazed into my eyes at one point and I thought my knees were going to give out. I didn’t want him to leave. He told me he’d spied me in the local supermarket trying to steal some sweets. My heart started hammering and I wondered if he was a security guard. I got ready to protest but he smiled, a lazy, handsome smile, and said something like, ‘If you’re going to nick stuff, make it expensive and worthwhile.’ Then he winked at me and walked away. I don’t know if I’ll see him again but I hope so. I’ll go to the same place tomorrow in case he passes by. I’m tingling with excitement. I met someone who knows who I really am and seemed to like me for it. I don’t want to be the Hannah everyone expects me to be and maybe I don’t have to be. I can’t explain what’s happened but this experience has triggered a switch in my mind. I don’t have to stay and be this person if I don’t want to. I can be who I want to be and be liked for it. I feel different. I feel lighter knowing this. It’s like being free at last.
Bryony turned the pages of the diary quickly, the coffee forgotten. There were more entries. With her ability to speed read, she raced through each neatly handwritten page, searching for the answers that were hidden in them.
Dear Diary,
I feel truly horrible about what’s happened. I’m so angry with my mum. I didn’t want to take Bryony to the park but she insisted. She shouldn’t have made me take her. If she hadn’t, Bryony would be okay. I’m even angrier with myself. I should have looked out for my baby sister. She’s only six and I’m sixteen. My mind was on other things that morning. I just wanted to scream for everyone to leave me alone. Everything’s so messed up in my head. I’ve got exams coming up and Dad keeps going on and on about me getting into university. I haven’t even taken these exams yet, let alone A-levels. I needed space but instead I had to take Bryony to the park and look what’s happened. Bryony’s seriously injured. She may even die. Oh God! Please don’t let her die. I can’t think about anything other than leaving now. I don’t care where I go. I must get away from here and go somewhere where there are no expectations to be the golden girl, and no parents nagging me to work harder; no one to stop me doing normal teenager stuff; no one to judge me and no one to hate me for what’s happened to Bryony. Everything went wrong when Rob turned up unexpectedly outside our house. I’ve been avoiding him for three weeks ever since I told him I didn’t want to be more than friends with him. He must have been hanging around near the house because he rushed up to me when I left with Bryony. He wanted to know why I was avoiding him and asked if I didn’t want to go out with him because I fancied the boy in the turtleneck jumper. He’d been following me and spying on me and I was furious about it. We got into an argument about it all. I let go of Bryony to face him and tell him to go away and leave me alone. That was all it took. It was no more than two minutes and suddenly I had a sense of impending doom. I turned. It happened like in films. Everything slowed. I could see Bryony running across the road towards that stupid puppy that is always escaping. It was staring at her, a small plastic pot by its feet. From the left I spotted a large car. I knew in an instant I would never reach Bryony in time. I screamed at her but as soon as the sound left my mouth there was a horrible screeching of tyres followed by a crunching, sickening thud and Bryony flew into the air before landing like a rag doll on the road. Her limbs went in all directions and I thought she was dead. Everything happened at once then. First came the noise – a babble of sounds as cars drew up and neighbours raced from their homes. People cried. I couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. Someone covered Bryony with a blanket. Someone else banged on our front door until my mother came outside, a look of sheer panic on her face. I shook and shook, unable to move from the spot. Rob turned away and was sick all over the pavement. My mother howled like a wild animal. It was a sound I’ll never forget and I could only think that I had killed my sister. The woman from two doors down held me against her chest and told me over and over again it would be all right. My parents were at the hospital all day and most of the night. The woman from two doors away stayed at our house and made me cocoa but I couldn’t drink it. Dad came home some time this morning, his eyes red. He said Bryony would be okay. She’d broken a few bones but she’d live and recover. I broke down then. He held me by the shoulders and told me it wasn’t my fault but I know it was. We both knew it was. Neither of my parents have any idea of what a bad daughter I truly am. They imagine I am a golden creature who is good, kind and clever. I’m not. I shoplift. I smoke. I’ve even dabbled with drugs. I can lie convincingly but I’m never going to be able to live up to their expectations. This episode proves it. A good daughter wouldn’t have been arguing with an ex-boyfriend because she didn’t want to sleep with him. A proper daughter would have kept an eye on her little sister who’s been sick and who suffers from St Vitus’ dance. I’m not a proper daughter. I have no choice. I’m going to run away. They’ll be far better off without me. I’ll move far away and change my appearance and my life. I’m sad but not afraid to leave. I’ll manage alone because I’m an expert in pretending to be one thing when, in fact, I am another.
Water like a heavy drizzle was running upstairs, occasional louder plops as it cascaded down the plastic screen and into the tray. Lewis was getting ready for his meeting. She had time to learn what happened next to her sister all those years before. She read on, absorbing every detail of the diary.
Dear Diary,
I haven’t written for a long while because so much has happened since the day I ran away. It all happened so quickly. One minute I was lying on my bed thinking again about leaving home, the next, I’d written a note, grabbed my bag, stuffed with what I thought I’d need, and was out of the door. I headed into town where I stole some hair dye and reading glasses with the weakest lenses in them from Superdrug, and then I cut my hair over a sink in the public toilets. It was the hardest thing imaginable and I cried as I did it, but it was for the best. I needed to become someone else – a person who wasn’t a dreadful daughter and a rotten sister, and not somebody who felt suffocated by parents who wanted her to be something she could never become. I had to get rid of the headmaster’s daughter who was never going to be the brilliant student he wanted her to be and disguise myself so I attracted no attention. I left the toilets a different girl. I instantly became almost invisible. No one turned to look at me in my baggy tracksuit bottoms and coat with my hair cut like a boy’s and my plain-framed spectacles. I hitchhiked to London and found a youth hostel. I’d taken enough money, saved over the months, to last a few weeks and I’d hoped to find work and better accommodation before it ran out. My luck was in and I discovered an advert asking for a flatmate in a newsagent’s window. I now live in a tiny bedroom on the first floor of a shabby Victorian house. My room’s next to the bathroom so it’s a bit noisy when the others who live here have a shower or bath but I won’t be here forever. I’m going to save up and rent a place of my own in time. I share the house with another girl, Vienna, and two guys, Rich and Fraser, along with various girlfriends of theirs who stop over for the night or hang about here for a few days. They’re all musicians and perform in the same group. They seem to have accepted me without knowing anything about me. I told them I’d been in a long-term relationship that had broken up and was looking to start over again. They’ve no idea I’m only sixteen. That’s one good thing about being here in this huge city; nobody knows anything about you. You can be whoever you want to be. Some days I get very depressed and wonder what I’ve done. I hope my parents and Bryony are okay. I tell myself Bryony will be fine. She’s such a tough little girl and so intelligent. She’s far cleverer than me. My parents were really proud of her over the way she dealt with having St Vitus’ dance and she was recovering from the accident when I left home. Bryony is strong and she’ll be a far better daughter to Mum and Dad than I could ever be. She won’t turn out like I did and be a huge disappointment to them. I sort of wish I could see them all again but I wouldn’t be welcome. By running away, I’ve only made matters worse. They’d never be able to trust me again. I hope Bryony can walk properly once more. I couldn’t bear it if I knew she couldn’t. I still have nightmares about that day. I wish I’d looked after my little sister as I was asked. I got a job this week at a dry-cleaning shop. I’m out the back where the clothes and machines are and the job is pretty boring. It’s hot in the shop and very noisy and there’s no chance to talk to anyone, not that there are many people to talk to. It suits me. I don’t want to chatter and I certainly don’t want to have to divulge too much about myself. At least I now earn enough to keep paying rent and for food. I no longer feel suffocated. I am trying hard to make this work. I don’t want to be the bad old Hannah Masters any more.
Each entry was a piece of the jigsaw puzzle of Hannah’s life. At last Bryony was beginning to understand why her sister had taken off and relief that she wasn’t solely to blame had flooded her body, warming it.
She shifted from one leg to the other. She’d been stood in the same position for too long, bent over the kitchen table, eyes glued to the diary. She glanced at the digital display on the cooker. She’d been reading for fifteen minutes, and her head was jumbled by emotions and the knowledge she now possessed.
Lewis appeared at the kitchen door, hair damp from the shower. ‘Hey, where’s this coffee you promised me? You haven’t even put the machine on. Bryony, you okay?’
She looked across at him, her face a mix of emotions and burst into tears. He rushed to her, held her tightly and let the tears flow. Eventually, she pulled away and said, ‘It’s okay. They’re happy tears. I understand why Hannah left and why she hasn’t contacted us before. It’s all in this, her diary.’
‘Her diary?’
‘I think she posted it to me. I’ve read half of it and I understand why she ran away. Listen, here’s one of her entries about a couple she lived with who ran a café. She lived above it and became very friendly with them:
‘They invited me to their house last night for a meal and were so kind to me I felt really sad. I’ve lied to them about who I am. They believe I’m an orphaned young woman who has no family. Josie gave me some curtains and matching cushions she’d made especially for my flat and hugged me. Their generosity really touched me.
‘When I got home, I wept for me and I wept for my parents and then I cried for Bryony who I deserted. I ought to be eating dinner with them and sharing my news, not with two kind strangers. As time’s gone by I’ve come to understand I let them all down. I wasn’t there to support them when I should have been, and worse still, I abandoned Bryony who adored me. I should have been braver and gone home, maybe after I left the house rather than try again on my own, or soon after I realized I’d been stupid. I should have faced up to my parent’s disappointment or anger and admitted my mistake but I buried my head in the sand and convinced myself staying away was the best course of action. I ignored what my heart was telling me and too much time has passed. I created this situation. I may have terrible regrets but now, it’s too late and I can never go back.
‘In spite of Tomasz and Josie, I feel so alone. I wish I’d never run away. Nevertheless, I can never go back. I have broken every rule and moral code installed in me. They’d never forgive me. I’m not the person they hoped I’d become.’
Bryony looked up at Lewis, eyes still damp with emotion. ‘She convinced herself we didn’t want her back.’
‘She’s sent you the diary to help you understand how she felt. Maybe she’s also testing the waters and wants to see how you respond once you know.’
‘I think you’re right. She says in this section: “It’s been almost two and a half years since I left my family and there’s not been one day when I haven’t thought them and wonder how they’re doing without me. There were so many times when I almost rang them, just to hear their voices but chickened out at the last minute, then last week, I made the call only to find their number is no longer in service. They’ve given up on me.
“It was only to be expected. I left them a note asking them not to look for me and they haven’t. They’ve probably erased me from their lives. I don’t know why I’m so upset about it after all, that’s what I wanted them to do.” Then there’s a bit about meeting a new man and wanting to tell him the truth about herself and she goes on to write, “You can’t run away and expect to be forgiven and welcomed home with open arms after two and a half years. I’ve been fooling myself to think I could. I’m going to have to try harder to forget them all and just be Hannah.”
‘I must tell her I forgive her, that we all forgive her and persuade her to come home but I don’t know how to contact her. She may have found out my address and posted her diary to me but I’ve no idea how to get in touch with her. It was posted in Paris.’
Lewis shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Check your blog again. She must have left you a comment. She wouldn’t send you the diary without any explanation or contact details. It makes no sense. She’s clearly paving the way for a return. Want me to look at the Facebook page in case she left a message to you on it?’
‘Have you got time?’
‘The accountants can wait for me. This is way more important. You want to carry on reading while I look?’ He picked up his mobile and trawled through the sites.
‘No. I’ll read it later. I’ll check too.’ Bryony fired up the laptop on the kitchen table. The blog came into view immediately. ‘Stacks more comments,’ she mumbled.
‘And on the Facebook page.’
A hiatus fell as both concentrated on the numerous messages, some lengthy, offering advice, names of agencies Bryony could get in touch with to help her quest, and others sympathizing with her or wishing her luck. She rubbed her forehead. There were so many missing people in the country, some who’d been gone for decades and some for weeks. It was heart-rending to read the comments from those, like her, who’d been searching for loved ones: a mother looking for her twelve-year-old daughter, a family hunting for their father, another parent whose son had disappeared leaving no note. They were all heart-breaking stories written in a few paragraphs but all the commenters shared one thing – they all had hope.
Lewis, scrolling through the numerous comments on the Facebook page, looked up. ‘Nothing,’ he said.
Bryony wasn’t surprised. She’d decided Hannah or somebody who knew her had sent the diary to help Bryony understand why Hannah had left home, but her sister was either dead, or didn’t want to come home.
She was about to log off when she noticed an unread comment flashing on the administration page. It hadn’t been placed under her last post as all the others were. It had been written under the information about Hannah. Her eyes skimmed over it and she gasped.
‘Lewis.’
He turned to face her.
She read out loud. ‘Mouse. Birthday. Birmingham airport. 2 p.m. flight from Paris.’
Bryony felt incredulity, a surge of love and immense excitement.
‘It’s Hannah,’ she cried. ‘She’s coming home at last. It has to be from her.’
‘It’s a bit cryptic, Bryony,’ Lewis cautioned.
‘No. It’s her. No one else could possibly know my nickname, Mouse.’
A large grin cracked Lewis’s face. ‘Mouse?’
‘I was very small as a child and incredibly quiet so my family called me Mouse. No one else could know other than my parents and Hannah. It’s definitely Hannah. She’s coming today on her birthday. Oh-my-gosh, this is actually happening. And it’s all come about because you and I went to that game show audition and then you agreed to partner me in France!’ She yelled and jumped up and down, holding onto Lewis’s hands. He threw his arms around her. She hugged him then drew away, still holding onto his hands.
‘This is amazing. Melinda. I must tell Melinda. Ah, she won’t have her phone turned on. She never does when she goes shopping. Could you visit her when you finish at the accountants? Tell her Hannah is coming home. Tell her about the diary.’
‘Of course I will. Do you want me to come with you to the airport? Be your support team? I can wait outside.’
‘As lovely as that is, I’d rather go alone.’
‘I figured as much. Go on, then. Get ready. Got to look your best. I’ll be here when you get back.’
‘You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.’
‘I’ll always be here, Bryony.’
He drew her into his arms again and they shared a tender kiss.
‘Now. Go!’