The Day We Disappeared (23 page)

‘This is the happiest day,'
I said to Lizzy. ‘Look. Look at Dad, just
walking
.'

Lizzy nodded. ‘I can't
believe it,' she said softly. ‘Daddy.'

‘And he even seems to like
Stephen. Would you believe it, Dad agreeing to trust him, just like that?' Dad
laughed at something Stephen was saying.

‘There is literally nothing not to
like about your boyfriend, though.'

‘It makes it very easy, being with
a man who gets on so well with everyone. I have no idea how he does it – he just
seems to fit in wherever he goes. He's so bloody charming! And yet it's
all real, too.'

Lizzy made a
vomiting noise.

‘Sorry.'

‘No, I'm just jealous. And
you're right – having someone you know everyone'll like makes all the
difference. When's he going to meet Kate?'

A hawk was circling overhead,
uninterested in the monumental events that were unfolding below. ‘Soon,
hopefully. She's been quite shit at keeping in touch since she went off to
this farm, but Stephen's up for taking a trip to meet her, maybe in September.
I just need to get her to be a bit less vague and flaky so we can actually make a
plan. I mean, I don't even know if the farm's in Ireland! All I know is
that it's really remote because her phone doesn't work any more.
She's being very mysterious, you know.'

‘Sounds like a scandal to
me!'

‘Probably, knowing Kate. Well,
next time she calls I'm going to demand full disclosure and a farm invite. I
need her to meet Stephen – she's very excited about him.'

‘Ah, young love.' Lizzy
beamed. ‘You're so proud of him, and it's very sweet.'

‘Your turn next, Lizzy
Lou.'

‘Maybe.' She gazed out at
the view, a little shadow falling over her pretty face. ‘I really must stop
this stupid dating nonsense and try to meet a proper person I want to be with
all
the time.' She tucked a windblown strand of hair behind her
ear. ‘Although that's pretty scary.'

I wanted to hug my beautiful sister. I
wanted to tell her that what we'd been through was not a life sentence, that
it could be overcome and the patterns broken.

But I trusted
her to find this out for herself. She was a formidable woman, Lizzy Mulholland, and
the fact that we were even having this conversation meant that she was on her
way.

Later, we went to a pub tucked away by
the river outside Hathersage. We sat outside, even though it was still windy, and
ate scones, cream and jam, and drank three large pots of tea between us, which left
us a bit wired and maybe a little more open than we would normally have been.

‘I want to propose a toast to this
fine young man,' Dad said, raising his mug. ‘I think he's
superb.' Over the years Dad had picked up a faint Derbyshire accent. Lizzy and
I both smiled at the way he said ‘superb'. I couldn't have been
happier than I was at that moment, surrounded by the people who mattered to me most,
Dad making his way back into the world.

‘I was so embarrassed to crash
your day, but I'm glad I did,' Stephen said. ‘And I'd love
to have met Georgie so that I could thank her for bringing this beautiful little
hippie into the world … But I'm delighted to be meeting you, at least,
Bert.'

Dad's eyes filled with tears and
he raised his cup again. A blackbird landed in the tree behind him and broke into
song. ‘To my Georgie,' he whispered, ‘who would have been so happy
today.' He smiled at Stephen, as if to say thank you, and a tear slid quietly
down his face.

‘To Georgie,' Stephen
repeated. Then, softly: ‘And to my own lovely mum. Miss you.'

The vivid green
of the peaty grass blurred as my own eyes filled with tears. The blackbird warbled
again, a beautiful ripple of music against the chatter of the river.

‘I might go and ask if
they've got any cakes,' Lizzy said eventually. ‘Is that a good
plan, everyone?'

‘Yes,' said everyone, and
the mood was restored.

Hello, Mum
, I said in my head.
Isn't this a lovely day?

‘Bye, guys,' I said, waving
one last time before shutting down the Skype window.

I rested my head in my hands for a few
moments, fighting, as I did every time I saw my family, to steady myself before the
guilt took me over. They still hadn't the faintest idea. ‘Please come
home soon,' they'd said just now. ‘We miss you so much.'

It wasn't just the guilt that
killed me, though. There was something else that was beginning to happen when I
spoke to them. A jumpiness, a frustratingly unspecific sense of trouble ahead.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock
, it whispered, refusing to elaborate.
The summer had ambled into autumn and the trees had begun to speckle gold. Soon
winter would be here, with its freezing mornings and endless rug changes.

Tick tock, tick tock.

It wasn't just the changing
seasons, though. It was something else. Something bigger.

You've stayed here too
long
, whispered the Bad Shit, as I pulled on some riding gloves.
You're going to get found out …

‘I want you to start riding
Stumpy,' Mark said that evening. I'd just padded into his dining room in
my socks and
jodhpurs, as I'd been
doing every day since he'd had his accident and Joe and I had agreed to keep
Sandra company in the evenings. When Mark had come home we'd somehow just
carried on eating there: we were no substitute for Ana Luisa but we made sure things
were lively and upbeat.

‘What?'

‘I want you to start riding
Stumpy.'

‘But you've retired
him!'

Mark sat down, moving a pile of
paperwork to one side so I could have a space opposite him. ‘Retiring him
doesn't mean he needs to sit in his stable with a pipe and dressing gown,
Kate. He's young and strong and he'll get really depressed if he never
goes out.'

I gaped at him. Nobody was allowed to
ride Stumpy! Mark had broken him in when he was four and had been Stumpy's
sole rider ever since. But last week, after months in the stable with his enormous
bandage, Stumpy's X-ray had indicated that his pastern had healed and he was
to be allowed some controlled exercise on the lead-rope, followed by gentle
riding.

‘Are you
serious
?'

‘Yes. I know how much you love
him. I heard that you threatened to – what was it? – to deck Maria if she had him
put down.'

I blushed. ‘Oh, that.'

‘So that's settled.
You'll ride Stumpy. And don't you dare get emotional.'

‘Roger,' I muttered,
fighting tears with an iron fist. ‘Um, where's your mum, anyway?'
The kitchen was dark and Dirk and Woody were sitting in the doorway looking
suicidal, which meant they hadn't been fed.

Mark glanced
around. ‘Oh! Of course. She's gone on a date with George.'

‘REALLY?'

Mark grinned. ‘Yes. She was
wearing a skirt when she left. I nearly fainted.'

‘Well well well.' I giggled.
‘I've a mind to put a curfew on that one if she gets frisky. Oh, good
old Sandra. And good old George!' George was one of the owners of the livery
horses. He was a delightful man who wore a tweed jacket and a tie every single day,
and he'd been asking Sandra out for ages.

‘Ana Luisa said, “Gran, be
careful. George might get ideas if you show him too much leg.”' He shook
his head, laughing at the memory. Ana Luisa was staying for the half-term holidays
and Mark couldn't have been happier. ‘She's an outrage, my
daughter.'

‘She'll need feeding,'
I said.

‘She will. Ana Luisa?'

Nothing.

‘Ana Luisa!'

‘Dad, I'm busy,' came
the shout from upstairs. ‘Will you leave my dinner outside my bedroom door,
please? And soon. I'm starving.'

Mark and I looked at each other. Joe was
out seducing the new receptionist at the vet's and he was normally the back-up
cook when Sandra wasn't around. It was dawning on us both that we were going
to have to cook a meal. Together. And eat it together, without even the ferocious
company of Ana Luisa.

Get a grip, Brady, I told myself. You
are more than capable of having some food with your boss.

Forty minutes
later we had something that was reasonably similar to sausage and mash. I'd
shoved the sausages head first into the mash so they stood up out of the potato and
Mark had put together some quite bad gravy and overcooked peas.

Ana Luisa, unable to wait any longer,
had come down to harry us along.

‘Dad!' she shouted, when he
put the dish on the table.

‘Yes?'

‘DAD!'

‘What?' Mark had his hands
on his hips.

‘
Everything
,' she
replied derisively. ‘Just everything. This is the worst meal I've ever
seen!'

‘It's an unpleasant-looking
thing,' Mark admitted. ‘But it tastes good. Look!' He pulled a
sausage out of its mash mooring and dipped it into his thin gravy.
‘Mmmm!' He ruffled her hair and she slapped him off, smoothing down her
shiny mane.

‘You are a tragedy,' she
told him. ‘This is a terrible dinner! What if Granny goes off and marries
George? What are you going to eat then, Daddy? You could die of bad food!'

Mark was shaking with laughter.
‘You may well be right,' he said.

‘I'm going to get a packet
of crisps and I want you to think about what you've done,' she told him.
‘I love you, Daddy, but this is just not good enough.'

Mark and I cried with laughter as his
daughter marched into the kitchen and then back out with a packet of McCoy's
hanging disdainfully from her fingers. ‘Shocking,' she said.
‘Absolutely shocking, the pair of you.'

She paused to
kiss her dad on the way, then stomped out, her hair all flicky and stylish, a proper
little lady.

Mark mopped his eyes. ‘Right.
Well, it's just you and me, then.'

‘Indeed. A date!'

What
had I just said? I had
never hated myself as much as I did at this moment.

‘Er, yes …' Mark said. Then:
‘Um, no. Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha.'

‘Obviously I was joking
…'

At least Mark had the decency to look as
embarrassed as I felt. I sat down and pulled one of my legs up on the chair next to
me. Just to show how casual I was. Just to show this was not, and never would be, a
date, Mark pulled out a sausage with his thumb and forefinger and started eating it
like that.
Casual.

Ana Luisa reappeared in the doorway. She
leaned against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other, appraising us coolly.
‘You're on a date, did you say?' She ate a crisp. ‘I was
just outside, listening in.'

Mark started to tell her that
eavesdropping was not a great quality in any human being but she interrupted him.
‘You
are
on a date, aren't you?' she said.
‘You're both looking very strange in the face, and Kate is wearing
make-up and she never wears make-up.' She looked at me. ‘Do you fancy my
dad?' she asked.

I had a forkful of mash halfway up to my
mouth. ‘Huh?'

‘Do you fancy my dad?' she
repeated. ‘Everyone else does, apart from Mum. All the mothers at school and
all the women he teaches riding to. And everyone else. Everyone fancies my dad. Do
you?'

‘Of course
not!'

Ana Luisa wasn't pleased.
‘Why not?'

Oh, holy God.

‘Ana Luisa …' Mark began. I
could see he was torn between terrible fear and terrible amusement. ‘Look here
–'

But she cut across him: ‘She
fancies you, Dad. Why don't you grow a pair and ask her out?'

Autumn. London grew colder and brighter;
the days shorter and the nights sharp. I was still as high as a kite, dizzy with
looping, spiralling love.

Le Cloob were meeting tonight, having
had quite a poor summer.

Stephen was in West Sussex with his
father. I was rather relieved he was there because if he'd been at home
I'd probably have cancelled Le Cloob. He would never have tried to stop me
seeing my friends, of course, but I couldn't stand the guilt of leaving him in
that great big house, all stressed and lonely.

Poor Stephen was having a horrible time.
Something – everything, it seemed – was going wrong at his New York office and he
was having to spend half his life either working late in London or, frequently,
flying to New York to deal with it in person. Meanwhile his father, whose grief was
rolling on with the grim determination of a five-tonne lorry, had become suddenly
needy and Stephen had been summoned down there several times, often late at
night.

He was exhausted. Eating badly, drinking
too much, often very scratchy and tense. I watched him running around, trying to
make things better for his grieving father and I loved him. The man was at his
physical and mental
limits, yet still he
took his dad's calls, still he drove down to West Sussex, even though the
round trip took more than four hours, and even though he was on his knees with
tiredness.

I had no idea what I could do for him,
so I'd decided just to be the best girlfriend I could be.

Tim and Claudine were at a table next
to the bar, talking over a candle. My heart swelled.

‘Hello!' I cried.

Claudine had a scowl as long as a
baguette. And Tim looked like someone had stuck a baguette up his bottom.

‘I am surprised you came,'
Claudine said, by way of a greeting. ‘And where is your sister? She is always
late. I am sick of it.'

‘I'm sure she's on her
way,' I said. ‘What do you mean, you're surprised I
came?'

Claudine just shook her head.

‘Um, hello,' I said, bending
down to kiss Tim.

He took my hand and squeezed it very
tightly. ‘I've missed you,' he said. He looked tired and unusually
scruffy.

As summer had turned into autumn Tim had
seemed to become sadder, not happier. Stephen thought it was because he was pining
for me; I thought he just wasn't over Mel.

Claudine poured some Merlot then fixed
her beady eyes on me. ‘So, Stephen has kidnapped you and you are not allowed
to spend time with us,' she said.

‘Sorry?' Not this again.

She merely raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, he's having a pretty
bad time at the moment,' I
began.
I glanced at Tim –
help me out here –
but he was just watching me with
glassy detachment. ‘But, um, I've only missed one Le Cloob,
haven't I?'

‘You 'ave missed
three,' Claudine said coolly. ‘And you do not reply to my messages, and
Tim said you've ignored several voicemails that he 'as left you. Tell
me, Annabel, is this the behaviour of an old friend?'

I stared stupidly at them. ‘What
do you mean I've missed three? What? Voicemails? Messages?'

Claudine looked impatient. ‘Oh,
please,' she muttered.

I began to panic. I surely
couldn't have been that bad? Could I?

Shit
, I thought miserably. I
probably could. There had definitely been voicemails I hadn't listened to and
it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if I'd managed to completely
overlook text messages. I'd been doing it for years. But never to the extent
that I'd offended Le Cloob.
I have to sort myself out
, I thought
anxiously.
These people would move mountains for me, yet I can't even
reply to their text messages?

‘I'm really sorry,' I
said, slumping into my chair. ‘I … It's been really busy. We went on a
few little holidays in the summer … And now, well, there's just lots of shit
going on for Stephen. I've been trying to help him. Dry cleaning, looking
after his house, cooking for him, that sort of stuff.'

Claudine was disgusted. ‘You
'ave been acting as 'is
'ousekeeper
?'

‘No! Of course not! And he's
forever trying to stop me! I'm just helping out when I can.' I tried to
look stronger than I felt. ‘That's what you do in a relationship,'
I added.

‘Good to have some variation,
though, don't you think?'
Tim said mildly. ‘You do seem to be with him most
nights, Pumpkin. And doing his laundry the rest of the time. Do you not think it
might be a good idea to have some other things going on?'

I stared at him in disbelief. Tim? Tim
was jumping on the bandwagon, too? ‘I am
not
with him all the
time!' I said. ‘And the laundry was just an example! Stop acting like
I'm That Girl!'

Claudine fixed me with her deadliest
stare. ‘Well, then, stop
being
That Girl.'

Lizzy arrived. ‘Hi,
darlings,' she said, without kissing any of us. She fell into her seat and
reached over to grab my wine, which she downed in one. ‘Urgh,' she
said.

Well, I'm glad I came
tonight
, I thought.
Cheers, everyone! Good health!
I went to the
loo and asked myself to please be nice and consider that not everyone was as lucky
as I was right now. I had a little text-off with Stephen and as usual I felt better.
He was the best drug. He should have been available on the NHS.

When I got back to the table, Lizzy
asked me what was going on. ‘You've disappeared off the face of the
earth, darling,' she said.

I sighed. After Le Cloob had bollocked
me
en masse
in the summer I'd tried really hard to improve matters,
but Stephen was having such a particularly difficult time at the moment, and on the
rare occasions he was free he had a rather lovely habit of whisking me away for
nights at beautiful hotels. What was I meant to do? Tell him, ‘No,
thanks'? ‘You all just think I've gone mad, don't
you?' I said. ‘You just think I'm in this mad whirlwind of
obsession and I'm letting my life slip by the wayside.'

Nobody argued,
and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

‘It's fine,
sweetheart,' Lizzy said flatly. ‘Just make a bit more you time. And
reply to your bloody messages!'

‘I do!'

Le Cloob rolled a collective eye.

The evening limped on in a crappy
fashion. Lizzy told us that both of the men she was dating had found out about each
other and dumped her. She was ‘a bit upset'. ‘But more just
disappointed in myself,' she said, in a moment of uncharacteristic
self-reflection. ‘What am I doing?'

Tim, who probably knew exactly what she
was doing, merely stared at her in an unfocused sort of a way.

I went to the toilet again.

Everything there was a lot more jolly:
I'd had another text message from Stephen, who was making dinner for his dad.
How is Le Cloob? Have you told them our news? I cannot wait, my little
Pumpkin. Literally cannot wait. Love you xxxx

Funny. Tim had always called me Pumpkin.
Maybe I looked like one.

I called him.

‘Everything all right?' he
said. The TV in the background faded as he moved off to talk to me.

I sighed. ‘Not really. Stephen,
have I just been with you for the last few months? Have I really just shut myself
off from the world? They said I'm either with you or running around doing your
errands.'

There was a silence. Then: ‘Well,
my little Pumpkin, I guess, thinking about it, you have been a bit too kind to me
recently. Perhaps they're right. Perhaps you should be spending more time with
them.'

I bit my
lip.

‘I mean, you love spending time
with them, don't you?' he continued. ‘They're your best
friends.'

‘They don't feel very
friendly, these days,' I admitted. As soon as I'd said it, I hated
myself. But it's true, I thought. They've given me nothing but shit
since I started going out with Stephen. Which would be reasonable if he was bad
news, but he's the nicest man in London!

‘Pumpkin?'

‘Tim calls me …'

‘Tim calls you what?'
Stephen sounded faintly suspicious.

‘Nothing.' I didn't
want to tell him Tim called me Pumpkin too. Something told me he wouldn't like
that.

‘Look, Pumpkin,' Stephen
said. ‘The most important people to spend time with are the ones who make you
feel fantastic about yourself. Who you enjoy seeing every time, even when the chips
are down. If Le Cloob make you feel like that then of course see them more.
I'm certainly not expecting you to run around doing my chores, even though
it's been unbelievably sweet of you to do so.'

But they don't make me feel
fantastic about myself, I thought. In fact, these days, they make me feel
rubbish.

‘Go and tell them our news,'
Stephen urged. ‘I think their reaction will tell you all you need to know!
I'm sure they'll be thrilled.'

He was right. It'd be a good
test.

‘I love you,' I told him,
and marched back out to the restaurant.

‘I have news!' I said,
sitting back down. ‘I'm moving in with Stephen!'

Le Cloob
stared.

‘I finally told Mr Pegler what his
house was worth, and he tried to let me stay on at the same rent but his son had
other ideas. It's going to cost me a fortune now so I've handed in my
notice. And Stephen asked me to move in. So – ta-da! We're going to cohabit
from Christmas onwards!'

‘
What?
' said
Claudine, eventually.

‘Jesus!' said Lizzy, looking
really upset.

And: ‘Oh,' said Tim.

I took a good look at them. All three of
them.
None
of them was happy for me. Not even Lizzy. In fact Lizzy, to my
horror, burst into tears.

‘My lovely Annie,' she said,
wiping her eyes with her sleeve and trying to hug me sideways. ‘I'm so,
so sorry. Ignore me. I'm truly excited for you, darling, I really am, but I
just … Oh, God, I'm sorry.'

I pulled back, staring at her in
bewilderment. ‘But what? What's going on?'

Lizzy grabbed a napkin from the bread
basket and shoved it in her face, crumbs flying everywhere and sticking to her
tears. This was not like my beautifully presented sister at all. I repeated my
question.

‘Love,' she replied sadly.
‘Or lack of it. I'm so sorry, I don't want to ruin your moment,
darling, but you've kind of pulled the rug from under my feet. We'd been
doing so well at avoiding love, you and me, and then you went and got all brave and
let Stephen love you and I just …' She sobbed into the napkin until Tim, as if
roused from the dead, passed her the packet of tissues he always carried around.

Lizzy eventually
cleared up her face. Claudine, I noticed, had not said anything.

‘Apols,' Lizzy said weakly.
‘This is awful behaviour. I'm just feeling rather sad and left behind.
Scared I'll never be able to do it. Bollocks, maybe
I
need
therapy.'

‘You'll be fine, Lizzy
Lou,' I said gently. ‘If you're ready for love then love will sure
as hell be ready for you. You're every man's dream, darling, you have it
all.'

‘You do,' Tim chimed in,
although he sounded fairly unconvincing. ‘You're lovely, Lizzy. And
gorgeous. Not to mention super-clever.'

Lizzy made her best and bravest attempt
at a smile. ‘Kate,' she said. ‘We need Kate Brady. I'm sure
she'll be thrilled for you, Annie, my love. None of the awful reactions
you're getting from us bunch of old goats.'

Privately, I couldn't have agreed
more. I hoped Kate would ring me soon. I needed a friend who was always happy for
me, whatever I did, whatever I said. A friend who didn't always have my past
in mind, who didn't think they knew what was best for me.

‘She will be happy,' I
agreed. ‘And, Lizzy, I mean it. Your time will come soon.'

Claudine said, ‘I am going to
order the plum clafoutis for dessert.'

‘
Really?
' I said.
‘That's all you have to say?'

Claudine's eyes flashed and my
heart sank. I had roused the tiger. We all went out of our way to avoid rousing the
tiger.

‘Actually, I am not 'aving
the plum clafoutis,' she said stiffly. ‘If I 'ave to listen to
this bullshit a moment longer I will have to poison your desserts. So I am leaving.
I am
sick of having friends who
disappear up the arsehole of their own love-lives. Call me when you 'ave
something better to talk about.'