I knew why he was saying it. I knew what he was doing but I didn’t care. I wanted it. I wanted to feel beautiful again and he was touching me so slowly and he knew what he was doing, and so I took my clothes off and he took his off and there was a moment when I wanted to stop him. I knew I was drunk but it was too late by then. I didn’t want him to be mad at me and I was enjoying it. I was. I didn’t fight him off. It wasn’t rape. I said “yes” when he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this, Jess?” and I kissed him and I said, “Yes, I’m really sure,” because anything was better than being on my own and feeling so scared, and he said, “Have you got a condom, by any chance?” and I didn’t and he said, “Hang on. I’ll look in Ben’s room,” and I could have stopped at that moment but I didn’t. I lay on the sofa and when he came back and said, “I can’t find any but I’ll be careful, I promise,” I just let him do it. I let him and I can’t lie—I enjoyed it too. It was really good. It was actually nicer than it had been with any of my boyfriends in Australia—the champagne and everything, I suppose. And we actually did it a second time. This time we did use a condom. Zach got up and got dressed and said he’d be back in a minute and he was back in about fifteen minutes and he had bought some chocolate and a bunch of really cheap-looking flowers as well as the condoms.
We went into the spare bedroom then, my bedroom, and we did it again and it was even better that time. And we both fell asleep and he stayed in my room and then I was woken up when Ben came back with his friend and a few other people. He must have wondered where Zach was because he was supposed to be sleeping on the sofa, and he turned on the light in my room and Zach kept sleeping but I woke up and Ben was drunk, or stoned or on something else, I could see. And he just kind of laughed and said, “Well, I see the two of you are getting on much better,” and turned the light out again. I lay there and I could hear them all drinking and talking but I stayed where I was and eventually went back to sleep, and it was nice, it was really nice, to be in bed with someone. I felt safe for the first time since I’d got to London. And I actually slept and it was a good sleep, for about six hours, but when I woke up this morning it was a nightmare again.
Zach was gone, but I’d expected that because of his train, and he left a note (
Take care of yourself xx
) but when I went out into the living room, Ben had already gone to work and not only that—and this is what I will have to call the police about—my purse and my phone were missing. I’d left my handbag in the living room when Zach and I went to bed. I didn’t even think about it, and one of the people who came back with Ben must have seen it and taken out my purse and my phone. All they left was my diary and my tissues and makeup.
I panicked. It was so horrible. I was really thirsty and my head hurt from the champagne and the place was such a mess, glasses and ashtrays everywhere and a bong too. It really stank. I kept thinking, I’m jumping to conclusions. My phone and my purse will be here somewhere. I must have taken them out of my bag the night before and put them down somewhere. But they weren’t anywhere. I looked in the living room as well as Ben’s room and the room I’d slept in, in case I’d brought them in when I went in there with Zach. I even looked in the toilet and bathroom, but they were gone. It was the most horrible feeling. I’ve never been robbed before. I thought, I’ll have to ring Ben at the hotel, but there wasn’t a phone in his flat, because everyone has mobiles these days after all. And I couldn’t ring him on my mobile because it had been stolen.
I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t have any money to use in a public phone. I didn’t even know if there was a public phone nearby. It just all started to pile in on me. It was the most terrible feeling and I could feel my breathing going funny. But there was nothing I could do. I was there on my own; I had to handle it. I made myself calm down. I had to use everything the counselor had taught me.
I went back into Ben’s room and I found a pile of change on the dressing table and I went downstairs. I had to leave the flat door propped open with some shoes because I didn’t have a key, and I ran down the road until I found a phone box. I had trouble getting the number for the hotel and then the girl on reception wouldn’t get Ben until I started crying and crying (real crying, not acting-crying) and saying it was an emergency because it was. He eventually came on, and I told him what had happened and for a minute he thought I was accusing him, but it wasn’t him. I knew that. Ben is kind, and I had to ask, did he think Zach would have taken it? He said of course not. He could be a pain sometimes but he wasn’t a thief. It must have been one of the other guys who’d come back for a drink and a smoke.
Ben was really apologetic, asking me how much was in the purse and was it a valuable phone, but he didn’t really understand how bad it was. He said to just stay there until he got back from work and he’d help me, but I could hear it in his voice, that he thought I should just ring my parents and get them to sort everything out. I asked him did he think I should call the police and he said “No!” really firmly. “What, Jess—have them come and search the flat?” and I realized he meant all the stolen stuff from the hotel, not to mention the bong. And then he said he didn’t even know the guys who came back, they’d all just met at some club, but it must have been one of them who took my stuff. “But what can I do?” I kept saying, and he said, “Just stay there. I’ll help you sort it out when I get back,” and then I heard a voice in the background and he said, “Sorry, Jess. I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can after my shift.”
And that was an hour ago. I can’t ring the police. What could they do anyway? The first thing they would probably say is for me to ring my parents but I’m not doing that. I’m not. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t ring anyone else because there isn’t anyone for me to ring. I don’t know what to do. I want to do it again. I want to hurt myself again. But I can’t. I won’t. But I don’t know what else to do.
I
was waiting at Charlie’s gate thirty minutes before his flight landed. I saw him before he saw me. I had to stop myself running past the barrier to hug him. Then he saw me too and he started walking quickly and then his bag was on the ground and we were hugging. I had forgotten what a fantastic hugger Charlie was. No one hugged as well as he did.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Nor am I,” he said.
I stepped back. It was nearly two years since I’d seen him. He looked just the same. He hadn’t lost any weight. He had the same big smile, the same mop of black hair. I hugged him again.
“It’s been too long, Ella,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. How’s Lucy?”
Ask him. “
How are the kids?”
“They’ve all missed you too.”
The arrivals area of Heathrow wasn’t the place for all we wanted to say. We switched into business mode. No, he had no luggage, just his cabin bag. We could go straight into London.
Did he need a cup of tea, something to eat? He must be starving, I said.
“I’m just off a flight, the first time you’ve seen me in years, and already you’re making remarks about my weight? Ella, I’m like a camel. I could live off my own body fat for months.”
I could hear the American twang in his accent. “I’ve some snacks in my handbag if you need them.”
“I’ll gnaw on my own arm if I get hungry. Thanks anyway. Let’s go straight to Lucas’s, drop off my bag and get to work.”
We joined the stream of people walking toward the platform for the Heathrow Express.
“Are you okay, Ella?” he said. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Lucas had asked me the same question. I nodded.
It felt so good to be sitting there on the train beside him. I wanted to hug him again. I remembered telling him for the first time that I loved him, when we were kids.
I said it again now. “I love you, Charlie.”
I thought he’d make a joke. He didn’t. “I love you too, Ella.”
He asked for an update on Jess. I told him all that Lucas and I had done that day. He’d checked his e-mail as soon as he’d landed. Walter and Mum still hadn’t heard from her. They were packed and ready to get on a plane to London themselves, just as soon as Charlie gave the word.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I asked him.
“Of course she is. Of course.”
He sounded confident, but how could he be? Jess was just a kid, alone in a huge city. What had Mum and Walter been thinking, letting her come here? I ignored the voice reminding me I was twenty-two when I came here on my own. It was different for me. I had Lucas. Jess had nobody.
I’d made this happen to her. I didn’t say it out loud, but the thought wouldn’t go away. I’d wished bad things on her for twenty months and now something had happened.
“You’re not responsible for this, Ella.”
I turned. “You’re mind-reading now?”
“I don’t need to. Ella, she’s nearly twenty-three years old. Having an adventure in London. Dad and Meredith are just overreacting. She’s probably just lost her phone. And the credit card. You know how careless she is with her belongings.”
Jess wasn’t careless with her belongings. She never had been. I let the lie go. It soothed me.
“Besides,” Charlie added, “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to come over to see you. I’m glad she’s gone missing. Walter wouldn’t have paid for my airfare otherwise.”
“Charlie!”
“I’m joking. I paid for my own airfare. I like your new do, by the way. I’ve never seen you with short hair. It suits you.”
I pulled at the short strands. “It’s easier like this.”
“Very now. Very gamine.” He said it in an exaggerated French accent. “Very chic.”
“Merci,”
I said.
“What about me? Do I look any skinnier?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m not. I don’t want to be. As I keep telling the doctor, being this fat means there’s more of me to love.”
I smiled. I wanted to tell him again that I loved him. I didn’t need to. He knew.
We were both quiet for a few minutes, watching the weather forecast on the carriage’s small TV screen. There was more cold weather ahead, even sleet, a forecast of four degrees Celsius.
Charlie broke the silence. “Do you remember that time you met me and Dad at the airport, Ella? After we’d been in Germany?”
I nodded. Of course I remembered. They had been in Germany for his mother’s funeral.
“That was really nice of you. What you did. I don’t know if I ever thanked you.”
“You did.”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’d made a banner. I’d needed to do something to mark his homecoming. He and Walter had been gone for a fortnight. It was Charlie’s first trip to Germany, to bury the mother he hadn’t seen for more than ten years. We’d never talked about her much at home. If I asked Charlie, he just shrugged and said he didn’t really remember her. I never dared ask Walter for any details. It wasn’t until Mum and I were on the way back from dropping them at the airport that Mum told me the whole story. I was just old enough to take it all in. Old enough, too, to feel sad not just for Walter and Charlie but for Birgitte, Charlie’s mother, as well. She’d had addiction problems, Mum told me. Not alcohol or hard drugs, but prescription tablets—Valium and painkillers. She’d had difficulties before she and Walter left Germany. They’d got worse once they came to Australia. There was a good period while she was pregnant with Charlie, and during the first year of his life. But then she started taking the tablets again. In secret at first. Soon there had been no hiding what she was doing. Walter did what he could. He stayed with her until Charlie started school, but her problems became more serious. She’d been in and out of treatment centers. She told Walter repeatedly that she hated him. She had no real relationship with Charlie. Eventually, her older sister came out from Munich and took her back home. Walter filed for divorce and was granted custody of Charlie. He met Mum in the garden center the year Charlie turned eleven.
While he and Charlie were away for Birgitte’s funeral, Walter rang home every day, but not for long. I didn’t speak to Charlie for the entire two weeks. I really missed him. So did his friends at school. Throughout that fortnight I was stopped at least once a day by one of Charlie’s friends. Had I heard from him? How was he?
“Fine,” I told them all. “Fine. Very sad, though, of course.”
I was lying. I’d talked about it with him before he left, after his aunt had rung with the news that his mother had died, and to say they would delay the funeral until Charlie and Walter could get there if they wanted to come.
“Do you want to go?” I asked Charlie.
“Ja, natürlich,”
he said.
He was trying to joke. I wasn’t in a joking mood.
“Do you remember her?”
“Not much.”
“Are you sad?”
“Not really.”
“But she’s your mother, Charlie.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know her, Ella. I can’t miss someone I didn’t know.”
The night before they arrived home, I spent hours on my banner. When they came out into the arrivals hall, I was there holding it up.
Welcome home Charlie (and Walter)! I missed you (both)! xxxx
I’d originally only had Charlie on it but Mum told me to add Walter in case his feelings were hurt.
Charlie burst into tears when he saw it. He cried for hours afterward.
“Are you cross that I didn’t make you a banner today?” I said.
“No. I just wanted another excuse to cry. I’ve really missed you, Ella.”
“I’ve really missed you too.”
“We all have. Me. Lucy. The kids.”
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
I couldn’t say more than that, not in public. I hoped he knew what I meant. I was sorry for not reading his family reports. For not coming to see him. For not sending his four children birthday presents or Christmas presents. For having nothing to do with his family for the past twenty months.
“You know you’re welcome anytime. Whenever you’re ready.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you’ll come and see us when you’ve finished your detective work with Lucas?”
“I have. Didn’t Lucas tell you? It was Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the candlestick.”
“Oh.” He gave a sheepish smile. “You know?”
“Lucas confessed.”
“Lucas has a big mouth. Are you angry with us?”
“For bringing me all the way to London under false pretenses? For putting four innocent tutors under suspicion?”
He nodded.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Ella. We were so worried about you. We wanted you to stay still, even for a month or two, to see if—”
“Lucas explained, Charlie. It’s okay.”
We were approaching Paddington. The woman on TV was thanking us for traveling with her. I needed to tell Charlie something else. Now.
I reached into my bag, took out Aidan’s letter and handed it to him. I watched as he read it. I didn’t need to read it again. I already knew it by heart.
Dear Ella,
I’m working in London next week. If you’d like to see me, I’m staying at the Paddington Hilton.
Underneath he’d listed his dates. He was here now. He’d arrived yesterday and was staying for two more nights. He’d signed his name under that. Just his name, not
Love, Aidan
, or
All the best, Aidan
. Just
Aidan
.
Charlie read it, returned it to the envelope and handed it back.
“Did you know?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I talked to him recently but he didn’t mention any work in London. What are you going to do? Are you going to see him?”
“You talked to him recently?”
“Ella—”
“Charlie, please. I need to know.”
Charlie hesitated. “I’d arranged to meet him in Washington. We wanted to convince him to come see you while you were staying at Lucas’s house.”
“We?”
“Lucas and I. But Aidan canceled at the last minute. Lucas told him what my visit was about and he canceled. He told me he appreciated our concern but that it was between you and him.”
“Were you going to tell me any of this?”
“Eventually.” He paused. “Actually, no.”
“Charlie, is Aidan seeing anyone?”
“What?”
“When I got the letter . . . Charlie, I haven’t heard from him in months. Nearly a year. I think he wants to tell me he’s met someone else. He wants to ask for a divorce.”
“Ella, I’m sorry. I don’t know. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times since he came to Washington but he only ever asked about you. He didn’t mention anyone else.”
The train pulled into Paddington Station. I knew the Hilton was close by. As we walked along the platform I could see it through the glass roof of the station.
Charlie saw it too. “Go, Ella. I can find Lucas’s house on my own.”
This wasn’t the right time. He was here until the end of the week. I had two more days.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
• • •
Lucas greeted Charlie with a hug. I was struck by how close they seemed. How easy their conversation was. I remembered Lucas saying he had talked to my mother regularly. It seemed he had talked regularly to Charlie too.
Lucas had been busy. He’d phoned the police and reported Jess missing. The policewoman had taken all the details, but she’d been skeptical, he reported. “She said she’d put out a bulletin about it, but it sounded to her like Jess was off having either a big love affair, a sulk or an adventure.”
Lucas had also printed some simple flyers, using a photo of Jess from her Facebook page, and adding our contact numbers. We decided to take them to as many places in the West End we could think of. We’d just put on our coats to leave when Charlie turned to Lucas.
“Did Ella tell you Aidan’s in London, Lucas?”
I passed the letter to him. He read it. “Go, Ella. Charlie and I can look for Jess on our own.”
“I want to help.”
“Ella—”
“Please, Lucas.”
He didn’t look happy. But he let me come with them.
• • •
Six hours later, we were back, cold, tired and footsore. Our mood was grim. We had passed out nearly a hundred flyers, but we had no leads and no news. We’d called in to theatrical agents, casting agents and cafés all around the West End. No one remembered seeing Jess.
We called in to other hotels in the area, in case she had booked in there. Nothing. We waited until the theaters began to open for business, watched as the crowds gathered outside. Jess wasn’t among them. We showed her photo to ushers after most of the crowds had taken their seats inside. No one knew her.
It had been very cold walking around the West End. We’d seen homeless people huddling for warmth in doorways; others, some of them just kids, begging for change. We’d walked through Soho, where many of the theatrical agencies had their offices. I’d seen the lap-dancing clubs, the strip clubs. Could Jess have ended up in one of those? On the Tube on the way home, Charlie raised the same theory. We’d agreed to return to Soho tomorrow with more flyers.
It was nearly eleven. Charlie wanted to phone Walter and Mum. Lucas thought it was better to wait until there was something definite to report. He phoned the police for an update. They had no news either. Charlie compromised by sending an e-mail:
No news yet, but we’ll find her. Don’t worry,
he wrote.
There was nothing more we could do tonight. We turned to practical issues. Charlie offered to cook some pasta. Lucas lit the fire. I made up Charlie’s bed. I’d given him my room and moved a mattress up to the attic for myself. Of the four tutors, only Darin was in the house. The others had gone home for midterm break. He came into the kitchen just after we arrived home, met Charlie, took a handful of biscuits out of the tin and went to his room. We didn’t see him again.
We ate in front of the fire, in Lucas’s withdrawing room. I let Charlie and Lucas do the talking. Neither of them mentioned Felix, or Aidan. I was relieved.
Just after dinner, Charlie started to yawn. We were all tired. We agreed to meet again for breakfast at eight a.m. Lucas would call the police for an update and then we would go out with the flyers again.