The Stranger Within (32 page)

              That leaves only one other person.

He answers the door in his dressing gown, squinting into the darkness as if he cannot believe it is me standing here. At first he smiles but it quickly fades and I can only assume he is remembering what happened last time I was here. “Callie? What are you –”

              I take a step forward. “Please, Max, can I come in?” I know without having a mirror what a state I must look: my eyes bloodshot, black mascara stains on my cheeks and my hair greasy and dishevelled.

              He stands aside and lets me pass, checking outside before he closes the door. “Are you okay? What’s going on, Callie? What’s happened?”

              I think of the last time I was here and a flood of shame rushes through me, adding to everything else I am weighed down by. He shouldn’t let me in. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of. Or maybe he does. He has seen glimpses of me, after all. All those years ago. A couple of weeks ago. I recall his words during our last conversation:
You don’t want to deal with the truth. You brush it under the carpet and hope the pile won’t trip you up.
It is only now I realise Max knows me better than anyone else. And he was right.

              “I…” Shaking my head, I burst into tears.

              Max squeezes my arm. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it out. I’ll make us some tea and then you can talk to me, okay? Just take your time. You’re safe here.”

              I wonder if that’s true. What if Max calls someone? But no, just as he knows me, I know he wouldn’t do that.

              A nod is all I can manage in reply, but I hope he can see how grateful I am.

              I sit on the sofa while he is in the kitchen, in exactly the same place I sat last time. It is surreal that I’m about to have a cup of tea when my world has shattered around me. I have shattered it. Now I know why James has been giving me looks of disbelief every time I do something normal. But this is worse.

              By the time Max brings in our drinks, I have become numb and am no longer shaking. Perhaps it is a defence mechanism, to stop my mind twisting in on itself. I have become Dad. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

              Max lights a cigarette and waits for me to speak, but now that I am here, I know I won’t be able to say a word. I shake my head and he seems to realise what I mean. Perhaps that comes from spending so many years with someone.

              He exhales and a cloud of smoke floats above him. “I know you don’t want to talk but I’m guessing that pile under the carpet finally tripped you up?”

              How does he make it sound so harmless? So innocent? This is more than just being tripped up. I take a sip of tea, knowing with certainty this is what it is like for Dad. Hearing people but not having the ability to answer them.

              When I don’t respond, he continues. “You know what upset me most about the other night? Not that you threw the glass. It’s just a glass, after all, I don’t care about that. It bothered me that you got me so wrong. But even more than that, I was powerless to help you. And you need help, Callie. Before…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but stares at me. “Is this about that boy? Has someone else found out?”

              I shouldn’t have come here. Max can’t help me. I believe he wants to, but what can he do? My phone rings in my pocket, piercing the silence, and Max’s eyes drop to my jogging bottoms. “Don’t you need to answer that?”

              I pull it out and see James’ name flash on the screen. Ignoring it, I place it on the arm of the sofa and wait for the noise to stop. After a moment it becomes easy to pretend I can’t hear a thing.

              Max watches me and bites his lip. The ash on his cigarette is building up and will surely topple to the carpet any moment, but he doesn’t flick it. “Look, Callie, it might help to tell me what’s going on.”

              My phone rings again and I don’t even glance at it this time. My eyes are fixed on my tea. Max springs up and picks it up. “It’s James. Your husband.” He waves it in front of my face. Why aren’t you answering? Has he…Does he know?”

              I look at my watch. It is after ten p.m. “Probably by now,” I say, still not looking at Max. This is the first sentence I have managed to string together since I arrived.

              “Well, he obviously wants to talk to you. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

              Of course Max will think that. I ignore his question again. It won’t be long before he gets fed up and demands I leave. “Can I use your bathroom?”

              He nods and I stand up. “Second door on the right.”

              As soon as I’m inside, I lock the door and bolt to the toilet, throwing up more violently than I would have thought possible. Afterwards I feel drained and my stomach aches with emptiness. But it is also a good feeling.

              “Are you all right in there?” Max knocks on the door. “Your husband’s called twice more. And texted.”

              I quickly rinse my mouth and go back to the living room. My phone is still on the arm of the sofa and Max is on his chair, lighting another cigarette.

              Snatching it up, I open James’ text message. I will have to face it sooner or later. The words are a blur at first but quickly come into focus.

Where are you? Dillon is back!

Chapter Thirty-Four

He sits on the sofa, huddled in the corner. He looks smaller, thinner, like a helpless child in need of looking after, not a boy on the verge of manhood. His clothes are filthy and his hair is limp with grease. None of us can take our eyes off him.

              Emma is here too and she fusses around, trying to force him to eat a sandwich I am guessing she has made. But it remains untouched on his plate.

              He looks up at me, as if he is about to say something, but then bites his lip and remains silent.

              James nods towards the door so I walk out and wait for him in the kitchen. “He’s been sleeping rough. All this time.” He tugs at his hair. “I can’t believe what he’s been through.”

              “Did he say where? Or why?”

              He shakes his head. “No. Just that he needed to get away. From all of us. And that he’s done a lot of thinking since he’s been gone. He even said he threw his phone away so no one could find him.”

              I almost ask James to repeat these words. How is it possible that Dillon hasn’t told him I was the one who drove him away? Why hasn’t he repeated the horrific things I said to him, the truths that had been bubbling under my skin for too long?

              James bangs his fist on the worktop. “I saw this programme once. A documentary. About runaways. It said they’re never the same when they come back.”

              I rub his arm, trying to offer comfort, but I am expecting the house phone to ring any second. I can hear it in my head already, taunting me. Dillon appearing like this is a surprise, but I have bigger concerns. I rushed back here without thinking of the consequences. I should have stayed with Max. Nobody would have found me there. “It’s okay now, isn’t it? He’s back. That’s all that matters.” This couldn’t be further from the truth. James thinks we have got through the worst, but he has no idea our world is about to change.

              “What do we do now?” he asks.

              “We go back in there and we treat Dillon normally. Don’t push him. He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

              We move towards the door but James stops and turns to me. “What if something happened to him? While he was out there?”

              “Then he’ll tell us when he can. Don’t let that eat you up.”

              He nods. “You’re right. Where were you, anyway? I’ve been trying to call you for ages.”

              “Just driving around. Looking for Dillon.”

              “What would I do without you?” he says, kissing my forehead.

              Back in the living room, Luke is recounting something funny that happened to a teacher at their school last week, in an attempt to make his brother laugh. Dillon forces a smile, but I can tell he is only half-listening.

              “You can sit next to me if you want,” Luke says to me. Beside him Dillon frowns but stays silent. Luke shrugs at him, as if sending him a private message. Dillon will think it strange that in such a short time – although it would have felt like an eternity to him – things have changed so much. But he has nothing to worry about. This is only temporary.

              “I’m glad you’re home, Dillon,” I say, sitting next to Luke.

              He looks at me and forces out a thank you, his words barely audible.

              Then Emma starts talking again, still encouraging him to eat the sandwich he doesn’t want.

It’s torture to sit here in fear, waiting and wondering when it will happen. But until Dillon decides he wants to go to bed, it is not possible for me to leave. After the developments with Luke, I have to be here for Dillon, showing him that I care, just in case the impossible happens and the phone doesn’t ring.

              But I don’t have long to wait before Dillon says he’s tired and stands up. Luke jumps up too and we all say goodnight, as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn’t been missing for days and is now refusing to talk about it.

              When the boys have gone, an idea occurs to me. “Has anyone called the police? To tell them Dillon’s back?”

              “I didn’t think of that,” James says. “I was just so happy to see him. I’ll do it now.”

              I jump up before anyone can object. “No, I’ll do it. You stay here with Emma.”

              In the hallway, I grab the phone and take it to the kitchen. I’m put through to an officer called PC Emnett who says he’s glad Dillon has turned up and he’ll update their system. It is a strange name, I think. Emnett. But then, it is even stranger that I notice this, in the midst of everything that’s happened. When I finish the call, I put the phone back in its charger and bend down to reach behind the phone table. Pulling out the cord, I shove it under the table so no one will notice it’s not plugged in. At least for now I won’t have to worry about the phone ringing. I can’t stop anyone knocking on the door, but I can try to get to it first.

              Somehow I manage to sleep for a few hours, but I wake to the sound of footsteps. It’s not difficult to work out that it is Dillon, pacing up and down in his room, the floorboards creaking with every step he takes. Beside me, James doesn’t wake; he is able to sleep deeply now that Dillon is back. How long will this last?

              I think about going to check he is okay, but I can’t be sure of the response I’ll get. Just because Luke has warmed to me it doesn’t mean his brother will do the same, especially as I am the reason he ran away. But he didn’t seem angry with me tonight. Something, yes, but not angry. I almost wish he
had
shouted at me or told James about our argument. Maybe he will. It will make things so much easier if he still hates me.

              Eventually silence fills the house again and I drift back to sleep. But my dreams give me no relief.

The second time I wake, it is to the sound of James’ mobile blaring out. It is barely six a.m. Within seconds he is awake and upright, speaking softly into the phone, and for a moment it feels as if my heart has stopped, until I realise the caller must be Tabitha.

              “I don’t know what to do,” he says, gently nudging me.

I roll over to face him and ask him what he means.

“There’s a photo shoot in Putney today. The freelancer had an emergency and can’t make it and it’s too short notice for Tabby to find someone else. I don’t want to let these people down, but how can I leave Dillon?”

I squeeze his hand. “James, he’ll understand. And he’ll be okay now. He came back, didn’t he?” 

              “I know.” James lets out a heavy sigh. “But I don’t think he should go to school. Would you –”

              “I’ll be here all day,” I say. We both know what he means. Although if Dillon wants to leave again, I will hardly be able to stop him.

              “Thanks. I could be out most of the day.”

              This is good. It buys me more time.

              James gets up and pulls on a checked shirt. He showered before bed last night, for the first time since Dillon went missing. “I think Luke should go to school, though. He’ll probably make a fuss but if he does, just call me and I’ll speak to him.”

              Once he’s gone, I head downstairs and plug in the phone. I could leave it unplugged, but isn’t it better to know? And as long as James isn’t here, there is still a chance I can control the situation. I am numb, unable to feel anything but the desperate need to protect my marriage. If there is any hope left at all.

              When it’s time to get him up, Luke groans himself awake but doesn’t hurl insults or abuse at me. Even when I tell him Dillon will be staying at home today, he nods and doesn’t grumble.

You don’t deserve this, not now, after what you have done
.