I don’t call Joanna – I’ve had two glasses of red wine and I’m not thinking straight – but I’m angry at her for not telling me things about Katy. That The Old Duke was her favourite bar, that her favourite film was Alien, that she was working on something, something she shouldn’t have been.
Instead, I decide to walk to Joanna’s, to turn up and confront her, to direct all the anger and hurt I feel towards her. I know that’s what I’m doing as I storm through the streets, the hem of my jeans frayed and wet as I drag my feet.
When I get to Joanna’s my anger simmers; none of this is her fault, it is mine. I start to cry at the end of her path, one gloved hand clutching the rusty railing. I close my eyes, pulling the gate closed again, but there’s a hand on my shoulder and when I open my eyes Joanna is staring straight at me. She doesn’t look concerned, she understands, and she sweeps me into her arms and leads me towards her house.
She doesn’t say a word as I sit down on her sofa. I hear her flick on the kettle and start clattering about with plates. She’ll get me a slice of cake or some biscuits even though I never touch them. She’s seen me like this before, many times; she was the only person I stayed in touch with after Katy disappeared. I did more than stay in touch, though, I latched on to her, the only part of Katy I felt I could still keep near.
She places a plate of chocolate Hobnobs and a tea in front of me.
‘I have lemon drizzle?’ she says, and I realise it’s the first thing she’s said since I got here. ‘I didn’t know you were planning to stop by, otherwise I would have gotten some carrot cake. I know you prefer that.’
I shake my head. She sits in the chair opposite me and places a hand on my knee. ‘What’s going on, Grace?’
I can’t bear to look up at her. My anger has dissolved into shame. ‘I just miss her,’ I sob.
‘This show, it’s bringing up a lot,’ she says. There’s a patter of paws and Joanna’s dog, Beans, comes racing in from the kitchen trailing mud. She laughs bitterly and sighs. ‘Look, Beans, we’ve got a guest.’ He pushes his nose into my hand and I stroke his head gently. ‘Have you been busying yourself in the garden? Silly boy.’
‘Where’s Tom?’
‘He’s out with the baby seeing his mum. Don’t worry, it’s just us.’
‘I’m sorry to burst in like this,’ I say, taking a tissue from her.
‘You never have to apologise,’ she says. ‘Is it the show? You shouldn’t watch it.’
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s not that.’ I look up at her. ‘I just think, maybe I never really knew her.’
‘Katy? Of course you did. It was always you two against the world, you know that. Don’t start doubting it because of what some twats on the TV are saying.’
‘What’s her favourite film?’ I ask.
‘Alien, why?’
‘And her favourite bar?’
She thinks for a moment. ‘We used to go to The Old Duke a lot.’ She smiles remembering. ‘We had some fun nights there.’
‘Did she tell you everything?’ I ask.
She pushes her tongue against her bottom lip and leans forward to pick up a mug of tea. ‘I’m sure she didn’t tell me everything.’
‘What about what she was working on?’
She shakes her head. ‘If you’re talking about what that professor said last night, I had no idea what she was working on, she didn’t talk about her work. We both didn’t, it was kind of our thing.’ She shrugs. ‘Katy and I didn’t have this deep profound friendship I think everyone expected us to have. Maybe we were too young for that, we just wanted to have fun, you know?’
‘I just thought…’ I lick my lips, breaking the tissue apart in my hands. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’
‘You want to make sense of it,’ she says, as Beans lies down and rolls over onto Joanna’s feet. She bends down to stroke his tummy.
‘My mum thinks I’m foolish for getting involved in that show.’
‘Don’t listen to your mum, she’s being cynical. I don’t think it’s as bad as you think it is.’
I look up at her. ‘Do you know that Peter guy? Were they friends?’
‘The guy she worked with? No, of course not, he was just some creep.’ She sighs. ‘They’re making you doubt yourself. The whole thing is unbelievable, it’s just been made to stir up drama – that’s all this true crime nonsense is: shock and drama. It’s completely irresponsible. Don’t go down this road again, Grace, I know it’s been hard for you to move forward, and you never got that closure you needed, but you have people who love you.’
‘She didn’t speak to you about Peter?’ I say, ignoring her.
‘No,’ she says, raising her voice slightly. ‘Why would she?’
‘No reason,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry about this, I better go.’
‘Stop beating yourself up and don’t watch the show tonight. It’s not good for you. You’re unravelling, when you worked so hard to get to where you are.’
I didn’t work hard, I just moved through every day with hope, then resentment, then anger. I never worked to fight any feelings I had, and that’s what pushed everyone away. That’s why I came here today, to push away the only person that had stuck around.
‘None of it makes sense,’ I whisper. My lips are dry from the wine and my head starts to pulse, my temples aching.
‘Maybe we just didn’t know her as well as we thought we did,’ she says.
The front door opens and her husband Tom calls, ‘Hello, are you in?’
‘Be there in a minute, I’ve got Grace round.’
He says nothing back, but appears in the doorway cradling their baby. He doesn’t look at me, but stares at Joanna.
‘I better get going anyway,’ I say, sensing the tension between them. ‘Hi, Tom. Sorry I stopped by, was just a bit worked up, that’s all.’
He smiles sympathetically at me. ‘Of course.’
I wave awkwardly at their baby, Stella, whom I can’t see as she’s shielded by Tom’s arms. I realise I haven’t visited Joanna as much as I should have since she was born. Joanna quietly understood how painful it was for me to see her baby girl, but that doesn’t make it fair.
I walk over to Tom and reach out a hand, slowly peeling back the blanket to see Stella’s rosy cheeks and a tuft of dark hair.
‘She’s beautiful,’ I say as she opens her eyes, her mouth falling into a large O, spit bubbling from the corners. She smiles up at me, and then scrunches her entire body. Tom softens, leaning her towards me.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit since.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Joanna says quickly, but Tom sighs.
‘Hopefully you’ll be in her life now. That would mean a lot to Jo,’ he says.
‘Tom,’ Joanna says quietly.
I shake my head. ‘No, you’re right, I’m sorry.’
Stella starts to gurgle softly. ‘I better get her changed and sorted,’ Tom says. ‘Was nice seeing you, Grace.’
‘You too,’ I say, as he walks up the stairs.
As I turn around, Joanna has already thrown her arms around my neck and pulls me in tightly. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she says.
‘I won’t,’ I reply, letting my arms fall to my side.
She closes the door and I’m left alone again. I walk home slowly through the darkening streets repeating all the things I have to do to try and think about anything apart from today. The look on Tom’s face when he saw me sitting in his lounge. The light grip of Peter’s hand when he tried to stop me leaving. The sound of Joanna’s voice as she attempted to comfort me.
But it all comes back to Katy.
I stick my hands in my pockets and start picking at the edge of the piece of paper Peter gave me. I take it out and peel it open to see a phone number on it. What could I possibly have to say to him? He’s trying to wheedle his way back into Katy’s life in some way and this is all he could think of?
There was an urgency in what he had to say to me today, like he had to get in there first, before the next episode of The Disappearance of Katy Harper airs tonight, before he knows I’ll never meet him because of what it’ll say about him.
I grip the piece of paper, just in case. He spent a lot of time looking at Katy’s desk, but that’s all it was, some schoolboy crush, and he thinks he knew her?
But I’m not angry with him. I’m upset. That note I’ve treasured, that I’ve gotten out over the years and used to remind me that Katy was thinking of me, that she was happy and we were going to celebrate my birthday together, it was never about me. It was something else entirely.
Once I start processing that thought, it allows room to think about what Peter said in a new way. If they were the things on her desk, why write them down? Was she thinking about leaving NTV, or was it something else? It’s the last page in her notepad, and I ripped it out and kept it for myself as a reminder that she loved me.
But what if it wasn’t that at all?