His Other Life

Suddenly I feel cold tendrils snaking up my spine and my heart rate speeds up. There’s something off about this call, and it can’t be coincidence that my husband vanished into the night five days ago. This is it, I think to myself. This is the moment when I find out what’s going on and my world crashes around me.

My fingers wrap around the phone more tightly and I press it to my head. ‘Yes, speaking. Who is this?’

‘It’s Leon, Sarah. I’m a friend of your husband’s. Is he there, by any chance?’

Ice-cold air seeps out of the phone and sends chills all the way through me. I think furiously about what this means. Should I answer him? Tell the truth? Lie? I have no idea. I had thought that Leon was involved in Adam’s disappearance, because of the message left on the answer phone the day he vanished; but now he’s ringing asking for him again, apparently not realising that he’s disappeared at all. Is Leon just a coincidence, then?

Or is Leon lying?

‘Hello?’ the voice comes again. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Um, yes, sorry, I’m here.’ I run my hand through my hair a few times as I think. What should I do, what should I do? Then something occurs to me. ‘How did you get this number, Leon?’

There’s a deep, throaty chortle. ‘Sarah, you’re starting to sound a bit suspicious of me suddenly. What do you take me for, some kind of criminal? Your husband gave it to me, of course.’

‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Now I’m thoroughly panicked. If Adam did give this person my mobile number, surely he would have said my name was Grace? He knows my real name of course, but only because I told him. He has never known me as Sarah, or called me that. It would be unnatural for him to tell someone his wife was called Sarah. That would just be weird, and of course nothing Adam did was ever weird. Ha ha.

But now there’s a tremor starting somewhere in my belly and I’m not sure if it’s anger, fear, desperation or hunger.

‘I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment,’ I say, if only to end the awkward silence that’s growing larger by the second. Leon must be thinking something’s up by now. If he wasn’t already. Which he obviously was. ‘Can I give him a message?’ God alone knows why I’m saying this. I can’t give Adam a message any more than I can give him a punch in the kidneys.

There’s a long pause from the other end, accompanied by some deep, slow breathing. ‘I don’t think so,’ Leon rasps eventually. ‘I really need to see him myself. When is he going to be in?’

I can feel my eyes widening and my breathing starting to quicken as fear-fuelled adrenalin floods my system. ‘Um, I’m not sure …’ I know I’m in fight or flight mode. Even though the perceived threat is on the other end of the phone, in an unknown location, the fear I’m experiencing is no less real just because Leon isn’t in the room with me. Everything about this call feels like a threat, and I start to glance around me, planning my escape. Or looking for a defensive weapon. My eyes land on the knife block and just as my hand is closing round the large bread knife, there’s a robust knock on the front door. I practically scream out loud where I am, right there by the toaster, and the knife block falls over with a clatter. I spin in place, heart thudding, to face the door. Through the opaque glass panels in the door I can see a dark, formless shape, indistinguishable as either man or woman, hunched and heavy. The top part of the shape swivels slightly as I watch, turning to look around it, observing its surroundings. Yet again it feels like the undead Adam, returning to me grey and cold and dripping with lake water.

‘I’ll get him to call you,’ I manage to croak. I need to be free of this call so I can focus on my fear of the front door. One frightening thing at a time is all I can handle. If that, actually. ‘What’s your number?’ I’m staring at the door as I advance slowly towards it.

‘No, don’t do that,’ the gravelly voice says. ‘I’ll call again. Soon.’ And finally, thankfully, the phone clicks off. I put it quickly down on the kitchen counter like a ticking bomb, then turn to face my next fear. I want to take the bread knife, but it could be awkward to answer the door holding it if it’s the postman, so I leave it there. As I walk down the hallway, my gaze is fixed on the lumpy shape behind the glass, and when I reach for the door catch, the image of a bloated, sallow-skinned Adam comes back into my head, and my hand hesitates in mid-air. I close my eyes. It won’t be him at all, in any condition, I tell myself, least of all a walking corpse. I’m just being ridiculous. My hand trembles a little as I’m opening the door, so I grab my arm with my other hand.

As soon as the door opens fully, I see it’s the female police liaison officer that was here before, Linda. She smiles at me, then frowns as apparently I go a bit pale.

‘You all right, Grace?’ she says, stepping nearer. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale. Are you poorly?’

‘No, no, I’m fine. I just thought, when you knocked …’

She smacks her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I’m so insensitive. I’m really sorry. Missing husband, unexpected visits from the police, of course you thought the worst.’

She has no idea.

‘I really am very sorry.’ She puts her hand out and gently squeezes my arm. ‘I did try to call your mobile from the car, but couldn’t get through. Not that that’s any excuse. I promise next time I will wait outside in the car until I’ve spoken to you on the phone. That way, you’ll always know I’m coming, and then if anyone ever turns up unannounced, you’ll know it’s because …’ She trails off and looks away. ‘Ahem. Anyway, you’ll know when I’m coming. OK?’

I nod wordlessly.

‘Can I come in then?’

As we walk along the hallway, Linda starts to go into the living room because that’s where we went last time she was here.

‘No!’ I almost shout, and block her path.

She looks at me sidelong. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No, nothing, just my friend, passed out drunk in there.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. She hit it a bit hard last night.’

‘Any reason for that?’

Bloody hell, you can really tell she’s a copper. I just manage to stop myself in time from saying that we had the news about Adam’s car last night. Matt told me off the record yesterday, from what he’d overheard in the stationery cupboard or something, so I can’t let on he’s said anything because it will probably get him into trouble. ‘Don’t think so. Quite standard for her. Plus, you know, this whole situation …’

‘Having a tough time, is she?’

I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Would she be happier if it was me sweating red wine on the sofa in there? I decide not to answer and just shrug as we go into the kitchen.

‘OK, well. I’ve got some news for you,’ she says, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘Come and sit down, Grace.’

My heart starts thudding in a dart of panic, but then I realise that she’s probably about to tell me officially about Adam’s car. I arrange my features into what I hope says, ‘Oh Christ what is this news you’ve come to tell me is it good or bad I don’t think I can take any more,’ and sit down in the chair next to Linda. ‘What is it? Have they found him?’

She narrows her eyes at me then, as if she’s found what I’ve asked a bit odd. Or is struggling to understand it. ‘Nooo,’ she says slowly. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my husband has vanished into the night and I was kind of hoping involving the police might lead to him being found.’ I widen my eyes. ‘Was I wrong?’

She takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. ‘No, Grace, you weren’t wrong, we’re obviously doing what we can to find him. It looks like it’s going to take a bit longer than we thought, though.’

‘Why? What’s changed?’

She presses her lips together and tilts her head on one side. I think she’s trying to look like she’s compassionate. ‘We’ve made a discovery, Grace. It’s what we were hoping for, a lead of some description, but now that we’ve found it, it’s turned out to be a dead end.’

‘Oh for the love of God, tell me already!’

She flinches a little, then resumes her calm, compassionate look. ‘It’s the car, Grace. We’ve found Adam’s car.’

She freezes at this point, with her head still tilted, her eyebrows still drawn together. I can tell that in her head she’s hearing the EastEnders theme tune starting. But this isn’t a cliff hanger, I already knew about it.

‘Oh. Right. I see.’

She almost imperceptibly narrows her eyes again. ‘Don’t you have any questions?’

‘Oh, er, yes, yes, of course I do. I mean, this is a bit of a shock so I’m, you know, I’m a bit … out of …’ I pause. Come on, Gracie, get it together. ‘Was there anything in it? Any evidence? A lead?’

She shakes her head. ‘Nothing obvious, I’m afraid. It’s being examined by our forensics team at the moment, though, so we might know more eventually.’

‘Oh, right.’ I nod thoughtfully, aware that she is scrutinising my reaction, not entirely sure that I’m coming across as convincing. ‘No curry then?’

‘No, love, not so much as a poppadum.’

‘Right. The bastard.’

She smiles. ‘Anything else you want to ask?’

Her face is enigmatic. It makes me think there is definitely something else I should ask. And if I don’t ask it, this could be one of those disastrous coincidences or shocking inaccuracies that pile up and pile up and ultimately find me languishing behind bars for the next forty years. Come on, Gracie, think! What else do I need to know? What did Matt tell us last night? The car was found, it had no curry in it …

‘Oh, I know,’ I burst out. ‘Where was it found?’

So she tells me about Linton and I ask where that is and she says North Yorkshire and I say I’ve never heard of it and hope to God she doesn’t see the print-out of the directions from Google Maps that’s lying on the kitchen side near the bread bin.

Just before she leaves, she tells me that there’s been no break-in at Adam’s work premises, so no lead in that direction either. I nod and say, ‘OK’, and eventually she goes. As I watch her little police Clio speeding off up the road, I spot Pam’s head from next door looking out of her side window at me. She’s not being remotely discreet as she spies, with the net curtain pulled all the way back so her shiny white china figurine of two people dancing is completely visible. What room is that? Must be a study, or possibly a side window in the dining room. Either way, she didn’t just happen to be in there at ten o’clock in the morning; she’s gone in there deliberately to have a good old look out of the window at the catastrophe that’s befallen me so she can report all the interesting bits back to Mike later.

‘Oooh, there was another police car there this morning, Mike, must be something really bad, mustn’t it? For them to be there again today like that, can’t just be a parking fine or something.’

‘Yeah, you’re right, love. She’s probably executed him and hidden his dismembered body in black bags under the upstairs floorboards. Pass the gravy.’

I deliberately lock eyes with Pam to make sure she knows I’ve seen her looking, but she doesn’t turn away in shame or embarrassment. She just keeps on staring, as if she’s trying to memorise every little detail about me. Probably thinks she’s going to have to give a description to the police at some point in the future. I raise my hand and wave sarcastically. She waves back, then glances at her watch. ‘She waved at me, officer, it was exactly ten oh five.’

Christ. I shake my head and go back inside, closing the door behind me with relief. I actually do feel a bit like a murderer desperately trying to hide what I’ve done from a prying detective. I’ve got away with it this time, but I know I won’t be so lucky in the future. It’s time to move the body …

‘Oh my fucking God, what the crying out loud is this?’ comes suddenly from the living room, followed by some rather fat, throaty laughter. I hurry in there to find a newly conscious Ginger sitting up on the sofa and giggling delightedly over a copy of Keeping the Magic Alive: How to Get and Give Satisfying Lifelong Sex by Dr Cristina Markowitz.

FIVE

As soon as Linda has left, I realise that I completely forgot to tell her about Leon’s phone call, so Ginge and I spend the next twenty minutes hunting throughout the entire house, swearing and stamping and throwing things around until I eventually find Linda’s business card on the coffee table under the sex book.

‘You must have put the bloody book down on top of it!’

‘Well I can’t believe you didn’t look there!’

‘I thought you had!’

‘I distinctly remember you saying that you had.’

So anyway, I ring Linda’s number and leave her a message about Leon calling me and ask her to ring me back to discuss it.

Which leaves me with some nice empty free time to call Julia and Ray.

Ginge makes herself a large bowl of Shreddies and goes back to the living room to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark on DVD. I take my phone into the kitchen and sit down to make the call. Julia answers on the first ring. Was she sitting by the phone, waiting for news?

‘Hello?’ Her voice is breathy, expectant.

‘Hi Julia. It’s Grace.’

‘Oh. Grace.’ Definite disappointment.

‘Listen, I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to ring you. I’ve just been a bit … Well, you know. How are you doing?’

There’s a very brief pause as Julia processes the fact that it’s not Adam on the phone, or the police, or anyone with any information about what’s happened to him or where he is. Then she takes a deep breath in, and starts to speak, and what she says next disturbs me almost as much as Leon.

‘Oh, love, it’s so kind of you to ring. It’s so terrible, isn’t it, this whole thing? I just can’t … I just can’t think … But listen, Grace, I’ve had an idea. About three this morning, I’m sitting in the kitchen, OK, and I’m trying to work out the answers to the crossword, only the coffee time one, I never get the hang of those cryptic ones, they don’t make sense, do they? And of course the neighbour’s dog is barking – must have been shut outside again. I hate that, drives me totally bananas. On and on it went, bark bark bark, and then the occasional howl. Poor thing. Good job I was awake anyway, otherwise it would’ve woken me up. Anyway, it goes on and on and suddenly it starts to sound different, not like barking any more but more like someone whispering to me, over and over, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. What do you make of that?’

This is the most she’s ever said to me. My ears are thinking, ‘Hang on a minute, we weren’t ready, can you start again?’ I blink. ‘Um, well, I don’t …’

‘It must have been Adam! Mustn’t it? I was thinking, you know, that it was probably definitely him, wasn’t it, trying to contact me, don’t you think? From the other side, or wherever he is, I mean. Because of course he would try to get in touch, wouldn’t he, if he could. He’d definitely try and contact me, I know he would. I’m his mum after all, aren’t I?’

I can’t answer for a few moments. There are so many things about this outburst that have surprised me, I’m not sure which one to react to first. She called me ‘love’. She thinks Adam’s dead. She’s not sleeping. She thought she heard Adam trying to contact her in a dog’s bark. She thinks Adam’s dead.

‘Julia, he’s not even dead.’

There’s a brief pause during which I can hear pages turning, or paper shuffling. Sounds like she’s looking through a newspaper. ‘Oh, my love, no, no, no, I know that. It’s just we have to, you know, consider every alternative, don’t we? I mean, if he did try to contact me, somehow, from wherever he’s been taken, I’d want to try and get back in touch, you know, to try and find out what … or who … you know …’

Ginger appears suddenly in the doorway and gestures at the phone, making ‘Who’s that?’ movements.

I mouth ‘Julia’ at her, and roll my eyes. She grins and makes drinking motions with her hand, then crosses her eyes and sways. I shake my head and look away. Ginger’s theory for Julia’s erratic behaviour is that she’s an alcoholic, or a drug-oholic, or sniffs glue or marker pens or air freshener. I don’t agree. Well, I’m not sure what I think, but I’m pretty sure I don’t think it’s stimulants.

I remember my birthday last year, when we’d all gone out for a meal. Ginger was completely psyched-up about seeing what Julia was likely to get up to, and arrived at the restaurant in a high state of anticipatory tension. She kept looking around for Julia, longing for her to arrive, wondering when she would. She had brought Fletch along, of course, and they were being loud and demonstrably loving with each other, in a mutually abusive kind of way. Adam and Fletch always seemed to get on, in the way that men whose girlfriends are close are forced to. Adam used to smile and nod and clutch Fletch’s shoulder, but I’d sometimes wished he’d join in with their banter a bit more.

‘All right buddy!’ Fletch always said when he and Adam met. ‘Still alive then?’

‘Hello, Fletch. How’s things?’

‘Living the dream, man. Doesn’t get much better, does it, eh?’

‘Damn straight,’ Ginger cut in at this point, punching Fletch’s arm. ‘Just remind yourself every ten minutes how bloody lucky you are, you snivelling wretch.’

‘Gotta love her, the whore,’ Fletch said with an affectionate smile.

We were in the Harvester because it was simple food with large tables, not too intimate. The four parents sat together at one end of the table, while we four youngsters sat at the other end. Adam and I were in the middle, effectively screening his parents from Ginger and Fletch. A sour expression had appeared on Ray’s face the second he’d heard the night before that Fletch was going to be there, and now that he could see him, it was only getting worse. His hands were starting to fist-up, probably without him even realising it. Ray watched Fletch; I watched Ray; Ginger watched Julia. Fletch and Adam, oblivious to all of it, had a conversation about Arsenal.

The reason behind Ray’s hostility was that the first time Julia had met Fletch, something very odd and uncomfortable had happened. It was another occasion, someone’s birthday – probably Adam’s – and he’d brought Ginge and Fletch over to where Julia was standing, to introduce them. Julia had not even acknowledged Ginger. She had kept her gaze firmly locked on Fletch’s face the entire time. And as Adam had said, ‘This is Gracie’s friend, Fletcher’, she had sidled in very close to Fletch and put her hand on his chest.

‘Fletcher,’ she had breathed huskily. Fletch’s head had moved back almost imperceptibly. ‘It’s so very lovely to meet you.’ She had put her nose even closer, practically touching the skin at Fletch’s neck, and had taken a deep breath in through her nose. ‘Mmm, you smell lovely.’ She hadn’t moved then for another four or five seconds, but had carried on staring straight at Fletch’s neck, which was just about at eye level for her, lost in some kind of trance. Or overpowered by his liberal use of Lynx. Ginger and I glanced at each other, wondering what to do, and I remember the panicked look in poor Fletch’s eyes, like a small animal in a snare. He thought he was going to be consumed. Eventually, Ginger pulled on Fletcher’s arm, saying, ‘You can move, you know’, and Julia had wandered hazily away.

‘Oh my God, how gone was she?’ Ginger had stage whispered, then giggled. Adam had tried, unsuccessfully, to eviscerate her with his eyes, before stalking off after Julia.

So a few months later on my birthday, Ginge had been fidgety with interest, waiting to see what was going to happen. ‘Oh God, I hope she gets stoned again,’ she kept repeating, much to Fletch’s annoyance. ‘Oh shut up moaning, Fletcher. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.’

‘I fucking well didn’t,’ he snarled, and opened his mouth to elaborate on the awfulness of it all. Then closed it abruptly as Adam joined us.

‘What are you all talking about?’ he’d asked, taking his jacket off.

Ginger had grinned. ‘Remember on your birthday?’ she started, but I couldn’t let her continue.

‘Yeah, remember that delicious tiramisu I had?’ I cut in. ‘I was just wondering if they did anything like that here.’

Ginger had frowned at me, but I ignored it. Talking about Adam’s family was completely off the agenda. Particularly his mother. I didn’t need that lesson twice.

‘Um, Julia,’ I start now, not because I have anything at all to add to this awkward rambling, but just to cut her off so I can ring my own parents, ‘do you want me to pop round and see you both? Today? So we can talk about this properly?’

There’s a brief pause, then she’s off again. ‘Oh, yes, yes, it would be wonderful to see you, love. I want to talk to you about my idea, Ray won’t listen, he’s just gone into a trance, with his headphones on, you know, that’s his way of dealing with things. But he’ll definitely want to see you too. Yes, it will help to have you here. When are you coming?’

I close my eyes. I have never been to Julia and Ray’s place without Adam. In fact, I’ve never been in their company without him. I offered to go out of duty, really, and didn’t really expect her to take me up on it. She’s never shown much interest in me before. But at least we’ll have a good, solid conversation starter. ‘I’ll leave as soon as I can,’ I tell her. ‘Probably within an hour.’

After we’ve hung up, I realise I don’t have any means of getting there as my normal ride is currently languishing in Linton, so I sit down on the sofa next to Ginger, who is now glued to SpongeBob SquarePants.

‘Ginge, you’ve got to drive me.’

She turns to me with her thirteen-year-old’s face and says, ‘Why do I? And more to the point, where?’

‘I’ll tell you in the car. Come on, make yourself decent. You can use my toothbrush.’

Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up outside the house. I had to drive in the end, as Ginger claimed to be too ill. We get out of the car slowly and carefully – Ginge with a poorly head, me with almost overwhelming reluctance – then stand together on the pavement for a few moments, trying to get up the nerve to go in. At least one of the people inside that house is going to be sympathetic to Adam’s position here, and I’m not sure I can stomach it.

‘Don’t just stand there like buffoons,’ Ray says suddenly from the front lawn, ‘come inside. Julia’s desperate to see you.’

We both start a little, neither of us having spotted the grown man standing right in front of us. We both greet him with a dutiful cheek-peck, and follow him in through the open front door. As we enter, I feel immense gratitude for the fact that Ginger is here with me. I’m not one of those selfless kinds of friends for whom a descent into hell is made more bearable by the knowledge that at least all their friends and loved ones are not there to endure it also. I need as many people around to support me as I can get.

Ray leads us into the living room, and there in front of us is Julia.

I’m shocked at the sight of her and find myself staring to take it all in. She’s absolutely immaculate. She is dressed smartly and conservatively as usual in navy trousers, a pale pink blouse and a navy and white patterned scarf looped loosely round her neck. Her hair is washed and smooth. Her make-up is flawless. Her hands, one on her chest, even have polish on the fingernails. There isn’t one thing out of place. I am absolutely staggered.

‘Hi Julia,’ I hear Ginge saying next to me as she moves forward to kiss Julia’s cheek and give her a brief hug. Oh, yes, good idea. Can’t believe I didn’t do that first.

‘Hi Julia,’ I say then, and move in to repeat Ginger’s actions. ‘How are you doing? You look very well.’

‘Oh I’m not well, Gracie, I’m not at all well. How could I possibly be? I’m a complete wreck.’

She really isn’t. ‘Oh dear …’

‘Well what did you expect? Of course I’m going to be a mess, my only son has disappeared off to who knows where, probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or dying, panting his last breath right now, this very second, wishing his mummy would just come and get him and take him home.’