Losing You Read online

  Ashleigh shrugged and raised her perfect eyebrows. ‘She didn’t say anything to me, Nina. Honestly. She just said come to your birthday party at eleven, and don’t smoke.’

  ‘So you haven’t heard anything from her?’

  ‘Hang on.’ She pulled out a pink phone the size of a matchbox and jabbed at it with casual expertise. ‘No,’ she said, after a few seconds. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Happy birthday, gorgeous Nina,’ said a portly man, ambushing me from the side and giving me and the laundry a bear-hug. ‘Bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did you?’

  ‘No,’ I said truthfully. ‘I didn’t. Did Charlie –’

  ‘Yup. Lovely girl, your daughter. Growing up, isn’t she?’

  He winked.

  ‘Will you excuse me for a minute?’

  I wriggled free and crossed the room to the washing-machine, pushed in the sheets and selected quick-wash. That way I’d still have time to hang them out before we left. A cork shot past my face as I stood up, and there was another knock at the door. I squeezed my way through the crowd to get to it. A woman with untidy dark hair and a flushed red face was standing on the step. I had been so destabilized by the shock of the party that for a few seconds I didn’t speak, even though I knew her and had been expecting her. ‘Nina, what’s going on? It was today I was meant to arrive, wasn’t it?’

  Renata was my cousin, or a sort of cousin. I’d known her all my life without really knowing her, and now she was here to look after Sludge while we went to Florida. Or that was the excuse. She had just been left by her husband, having tried and failed for ten years to have children, and she had spent the last two months crying, unable to get out of bed. I’d thought maybe our house on Sandling Island, so far from her own where she’d been humiliated and abandoned, might do her some good. She had clearly put on her country clothes: green wellingtons, sensible trousers, a waxed jacket that looked brand new with a scarf tucked tidily into it. But nothing was quite right on her: it was as if she was acting a part whose lines she hadn’t properly learned. She had lost a lot of weight, so that her clothes hung off her. Her face was a bit puffy; there were wrinkles that hadn’t been there a few months ago. Her smile was too bright and brave. I’d always found her rather brisk and bossy, but now I softened. I hugged her, kissed her icy red cheeks. ‘How lovely to see you. Come in out of the cold. It’s the right day. Sorry. It’s all a bit mad, an aberration, but we’ll be gone soon and so will all of them.’

  ‘I’ll get my luggage, shall I?’

  ‘Do you mind if I leave you to it? I’ll put the door on the latch.’

  I edged back into the house. Someone pushed a glass of wine into my hand and I put it down on the nearest shelf. I sat on the stairs, half watching Karen jabbing the vicar repeatedly in the chest, making a point I couldn’t hear through the din. I had first met him the day after we arrived on the island. He had sat in my kitchen and drunk coffee, said I should call him Tom and told me about the best local shops and beaches. Right at the end he had wondered in an almost guilty murmur whether he might see us occasionally at St Peter’s. Everything in me wanted to say yes. I had already spotted and loved his church, a small medieval building, worn soft and smooth by the north wind and centuries of devotion. I could imagine being there and singing hymns alongside the islanders, except that, almost with regret, I lacked the belief. He had said with a smile that that didn’t stop most people. I had promised myself that I would go to his church at Christmas, but things had turned out differently and I would instead be on a beach in Florida.

  If we ever got there. I called Charlie’s mobile again. This was getting ridiculous. Surely she wouldn’t still be at the sleepover if she’d arranged all of this? I made out Alix in the living room, talking to a woman called Sarah, and reluctantly made my way over to her. ‘Sorry to butt in,’ I said.

  ‘Yes?’ She still talked to me in that voice of brittle, exquisite politeness. Perhaps she always would now.

  ‘I don’t know where Charlie is. Was she still at your house when you left?’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t think so – but that’s what these teenage sleepovers are like. You don’t know who’s there and you don’t know when they depart, unless you happen to bump into them in the bathroom. You just hope they’re not drinking vodka and that they clear up the mess when it’s all over.’

  ‘So you didn’t see her leave?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Have you lost her?’ She made Charlie sound like a bunch of keys.

  ‘Is Tam still at your house?’

  Tam was Alix and Joel’s daughter: petite, blonde, fragile, demure, beloved of all teachers, and Charlie’s most persistent persecutor in and out of school.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Alix gave her chilly smile again. ‘But you know how it is with teenagers, they –’

  ‘Can you give me her mobile number, please? Charlie’s not answering hers. I’m getting a bit anxious. We’re meant to be leaving for a holiday in a couple of hours.’

  I punched in the number as she said it and listened to the ringing sound. The voicemail picked it up and I left a message, asking Tam to ring me back at once and leaving both my numbers.

  Behind me, I heard Karen say, ‘Well, there’s something to be said for toy-boys.’

  Renata came down the stairs. She had taken off her jacket and scarf, brushed her hair and put on some lipstick that was too bright for her. She looked a bit like a ghost, but she was making an effort. ‘Tell me who everyone is, then,’ she said. ‘You seem to have made a lot of friends here already.’

  ‘I don’t know who half of them are. Charlie invited them as a surprise. Anyway,’ I looked round the room, ‘that’s Joanna – or Josephine. She’s a solicitor. She lives in a lovely house further to the north of the island. That’s Carrie. She taught Jackson last year and he liked her. That’s Karen.’

  ‘The woman who’s a bit the worse for wear?’

  ‘Yes. I think she’d already had quite a bit by the time she arrived. She’s the medical secretary, and she’s married to a teacher at Charlie’s school, Rick, but I can’t see him at the moment. No – there. Tall, rather good-looking, curly dark hair. Her son, Eamonn, is the one who’s walked straight out of a scary movie. I think he’s all right, though. That’s Bill – you might bump into him because he works at a boatyard across the road. I’ll introduce you to him in a bit if you want. And that girl who’s smoking and thinks I can’t see is Ashleigh, Charlie’s best friend.’

  ‘Who’s that? He was trying to catch your eye. He looks nice.’

  ‘That’s Joel. He’s a tree-surgeon – that’s why he’s wearing those things.’

  I half turned away to hide a blush. My description of Joel had been incomplete. When I first met him, he had been separated from Alix for much of the year, by her choice and not his, and not long ago I had been left by Rory. We knew each other because of our daughters. He was the opposite of Rory in almost every way: capable, steady, practical. We’d drunk wine together, told each other stories of our life and relationships, practised our versions of what had happened to us, swapped confidences, become maudlin, sad and weepy together. We had tried to comfort each other. And we’d slept together a few times, although it had never been about desire. For me it had felt too much like two drowning swimmers clutching at each other, dragging each other down. I suppose I had wanted to know that I was still capable of attracting a man, but very quickly I felt guilty for allowing Joel to fall in love with me and to need me more than I needed him. I’d quickly broken it off and then a few weeks later Alix had taken Joel back. I thought it had all been kept secret but it had become apparent that Joel had told his wife everything. She communicated this only through icy stares and dry comments. I didn’t like to think of what had been said about us in the conversations between them, as they tried to repair their relationship. It wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t been for Alix’s unfriendly looks and Joel’s more covert friendly ones.

  The phone rang in my pocket.

>   ‘Excuse me,’ I said to Renata. ‘Hello. Nina here.’

  ‘This is Tam.’ Her voice was wary. ‘You said I should ring you.’

  ‘Yes, thanks. I wanted to know if Charlie was still there.’

  ‘Charlie? No. She left ages ago.’

  Something tightened in my chest. ‘What time did she go?’

  I heard Tam talking to someone else: ‘Jenna, what time did Charlie go? Do you reckon? Yeah, we think about nine thirty. Maybe before that. She had to do the paper round and then get things ready for your – um, you’re having it now, right? Your party?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘She was going to bake a cake or something. Or buy it.’

  ‘So she left about nine-thirty and you haven’t heard from her?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘How did she seem?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Tam, breezily.

  ‘So there was nothing…’ But I stopped. I didn’t know what I wanted to ask. ‘Thanks, Tam,’ I said, and rang off.

  ‘Not there?’ asked Renata.

  I shook my head distractedly, noticing out of the corner of my eye that Sludge had come out from under the rocking-chair and was now chomping her way through a bag of salted cashew nuts, her tail rotating wildly. ‘I don’t understand it. I mean, I know Charlie’s not the most reliable of girls, but we’re supposed to be going on holiday.’

  I made my way out into the back garden and, standing in the lee of the wall to shelter from the vicious wind, dialled again. ‘Christian?’

  ‘Hi again.’

  ‘Sorry. Listen. I don’t know where Charlie is. I’m sure it’s fine, but I thought I ought to warn you that we might be running late.’

  ‘You don’t know where she is?’

  ‘I know it’s nothing to worry about,’ I said, to damp down the immediate concern in his voice. ‘She’s probably had a flat tyre on her paper round or something. Or is rescuing some stray cat or… well, you know Charlie. She’s very impulsive. But she hasn’t packed and everything’s getting a bit behind schedule.’

  ‘It’s odd, though.’

  ‘I’ll call you as soon as she turns up.’

  Back in the house, the party showed no sign of coming to a close. Karen was half-way up the stairs now, swaying gently and trying to open another bottle of wine. Beneath her, Renata was being introduced to Sludge by Jackson, who still had the camcorder slung round his neck. Only Rick, coming down the stairs with his thick coat on, was mercifully making his way to the door.

  ‘Escaping to your beloved boat at last?’ I said to him. ‘I don’t blame you.’

  ‘The light starts to fail so early,’ he said. ‘This was a terrible idea of Charlie’s, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Terrible. And she’s not even here.’

  ‘If I see her, I’ll give her an earful.’

  ‘Just tell her to come home. I’m going to chuck everyone out now.’

  ‘That was a quick party!’

  ‘I’ve got things to do, Rick. Pack. Find my daughter. Catch a plane.’

  ‘Right. Well, then, I’ll say –’

  He never got the chance to finish. There was a yowl, and then a flying mass made up of black dog, a human figure or two and a terrible smashing of glass. Pieces fell and shattered on the hard floor. Sludge shot past me and up the stairs, a flash of whining black, and on the floor in front of us lay Karen and Renata, surrounded by a sudden silence.

  ‘Wow,’ said Jackson, and started to pull the camcorder into position, until I slapped down his arm.

  ‘Well,’ said Renata, getting up slowly, pulling her jacket into place, glancing from side to side as if she had wandered by mistake into a staged farce. ‘Well.’

  Karen, however, did not move, not at first. She had fallen from half-way up the staircase, and now lay at its foot, a smashed bottle beside her, and her arm twisted unnaturally at her side. I squatted down to her and smelt the sweet stench of alcohol on her breath. At least she was breathing. She opened an eye and stared glassily at me.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Rick. ‘Fuck fuck fuck. Now what?’

  ‘If she has to get drunk,’ said Eamonn, loudly, slouching over to where his mother lay, ‘she should have more fun.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Rick.

  All I could think, as I gazed at Karen’s spreadeagled body and blotchy face, was that I had to get hold of Charlie and none of this was going to get in my way.

  ‘Joel!’ I shouted, springing up. ‘Can you find Alix? There’s been an accident. Are you all right, Karen?’

  ‘I don’t think anything’s –’

  ‘Good. Sorry about all of this. Right, everyone, I think you’d all better go now. The party’s over.’

  Alix hurried into the room. Professional, concerned, she was a different person from the baleful presence she’d been earlier. She bent over Karen, who was now her patient. ‘Let’s see,’ she said. Karen was blearily opening her eyes and trying to shift into an upright position. She gave a shout of pain, and then there was another knock at the open door, which swung in on Ben from down the road, his bearded face beaming from behind a great bunch of flowers.

  ‘Sorry I’m late but I… Have I missed something?’

  Alix looked up at me as if I were nominally in charge. ‘She’s broken her arm,’ she said, ‘and there’s a nasty gash on her shoulder that needs attention before she loses more blood. I think we’d better call an ambulance.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Rick. ‘Are you sure it’s broken? It might just be – ’

  ‘It’s broken. Look.’

  ‘Ow! That’s agony! The dog jumped on me.’

  ‘You jumped on the dog,’ said Jackson, indignantly. ‘You fell like a tree.’

  ‘Call the ambulance, Rick,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to find Charlie. Renata, can you get rid of everyone?’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I’ve only just arrived,’ said Ben. ‘I thought this was going to go on for ages. Can I at least have a drink?’

  ‘No. Sorry, but no.’

  I ran up the stairs, away from the heat and the noise, the mess and the confusion. I saw the clock radio by my bed. Eleven thirty-six. For just a few seconds I stood by the window, staring out at the sea that was drawing closer all the time, at the grey sky that rocked gently against the grey water, the grey light falling in wide faint shafts. I could see how the wind was riffling the waves into the tightly corrugated patterns of squalls and how the sea-birds, a long way out, gathered in spiralling patterns around a lone fishing-boat, half shrouded in the faint mist.

  I lifted the phone. ‘Christian? It’s me again… Yes… No, no, she hasn’t. Listen, I’m very sorry about this but you’ll have to make your own way to Heathrow. I’ll join you there… Yes, once Charlie’s come home. Sorry, sorry. ’Bye.’

  I took a deep breath and walked downstairs. Alix was talking on the phone in an authoritative tone. She had taken control now. For just a tiny fraction of a second I resented this, then told myself not to be so bloody stupid. Karen was lying on the floor covered with one of our blankets. Her face was white. Her eyes were open but she looked sleepy. The shoulder of her blouse was dark with blood.

  Alix put down the phone and addressed Rick decisively: ‘You have to drive Karen to the hospital,’ she said. ‘I’ll come with you. Joel can follow behind us.’

  ‘The tree,’ said Joel. ‘I’ve got to see to the tree.’

  ‘But the ambulance…’ said Rick. He seemed dazed, as if he was finding it hard to take in the seriousness of what had occurred. In a way that was almost comic, he seemed to want to pretend that this was a normal Saturday, that he could carry on with the weekend he had planned.

  ‘It’ll take too long,’ said Alix, in a tone that permitted no disagreement. ‘I’m concerned about shock and loss of blood. We must go at once.’ Now she turned to me. ‘Sorry to spoil your party.’

  That was pure Alix. In the middle of a crisis, she still had the presence of mind to aim a jab at me. Clearly her feelings about me and her
husband were still raw.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ I said.

  Alix asked if they could take the blanket with them. Since it was wrapped round Karen and possibly preventing her falling into severe shock, I wasn’t about to refuse. It was a grim conclusion to what had already been an awkward social occasion. Karen was half led, half carried out to her car by her husband and Joel. She was laid on the back seat, then Rick and Alix drove away.

  Joel gave me a constrained hug. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  He looked round to see if anybody was within earshot. ‘Alix is still a bit funny about all this,’ he said. ‘I mean about us.’

  ‘That’s all in the past,’ I said, wishing he would leave.

  ‘You’re going away for Christmas,’ he said.

  I opened my mouth to tell him that this wasn’t the time or the place for a chat about holidays, then shrugged. ‘If I can track down Charlie,’ I said.

  ‘You’re going with your new, er… you know…’

  ‘Joel,’ I said. ‘You’re meant to be following Alix.’

  ‘I know the way,’ he said. ‘So.’ He paused, as if we were still at the party having a desultory conversation, rather than in the middle of an emergency. ‘So, have a really good holiday. And happy Christmas and I hope you have a really good new year.’

  He leaned across and gave me a peck on the cheek.

  ‘You’ve got to go, Joel. And I’ve got so much to do.’

  He still hovered as if he was trying to think of a pretext to stay.

  ‘So if I don’t see you –’ he began.

  ‘Go,’ I said, in as soothing a tone as I could manage and almost pushed him into the car.

  I watched him drive away but I wasn’t really seeing anything. I was thinking. This was ridiculous. I had to do something straight away. Did you dial 999 for something like this? Was it enough of an emergency? When I got back into the house I opened a cupboard and fumbled for the phone book. I looked in the Yellow Pages. There was nothing between ‘Point of Sale Advertising’ and ‘Political Organisations’. Finally I found a whole page of police numbers. There were numbers for recruitment, a drugs-crackdown hotline, abnormal loads. There was a gay and lesbian helpline, victim support, Crimestoppers, ChildLine, domestic violence. You could even report a crime online. I ran my thumbnail down the page and found the number for the service desk for Sandling Island.