I hadn’t thought of that. Since the phone call, I had kept a burning desire that Emma had been taken against her will and she didn’t want to go. At least then she could still love me.
‘It just makes no sense, mate. She faked her whole life including your wedding and leaves you a note. Doesn’t sound like a kidnapping. Sounds more like she’s been planning it from the start,’ he said, before adding, ‘Sorry mate.’
‘I know you’re right deep down, Jack. I’m just too afraid to admit it.’
‘Not a chance,’ I interrupted. Jack looked taken aback but I wasn’t listening. ‘I’m sorry Jack, I know you only want to help but I can’t. I need to keep looking, not just hide. What if she is in trouble for a reason I can’t explain and I go straight to the police. They will know. I have to go home as normal, live life as normal and work out my plan from there.’
Jack tried to convince me otherwise but I wasn’t having any of it.
‘I came to you because I thought you’d listen. I want your advice not to be taken in by the police. Please try and understand.’
‘Fine Tom, I don’t like it but I know what you’re like when Emma is involved. You won’t stop at anything. But I warn you now; I can’t protect you if you don’t come in with me. You understand that, don’t you?’ He looked worried but tried to hide it from me.
‘I do Jack, and thanks.’
‘So...what can I do to help?’
I thought for a second and racked my brains for any police resources that might help me.
‘Right, I know. Can you run her name in the computer? See if any hits come up with any information that could help. Then why don’t you and Rachel come down for the weekend to London? Come have some food or something. It would be nice to have the company and you can check the flat and see if you think it’s been bugged.’
‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll check with Rach and we’ll see you on the weekend. Maybe go see a game or something?’
Both of us knew we wouldn’t go and see a football match but it was nice for one brief second to chat like we used to.
‘Look after yourself Tom,’ he said caringly. ‘I mean it. I’ll run her name and see what comes up and I’ll bring anything I can find down with us. Try to relax and act normal until then. Maybe go back to work or something to take your mind of it.’
‘OK mate, I’ll try.’
‘We’ll get you through this buddy, I swear. One way or another.’
‘Thanks,’ was all I was able to muster.
Chapter Six
‘How are you feeling?’
Going back to work was not really an option I wanted to consider. I certainly didn’t feel like I was in the right state of mind to be working, especially in a crowded office block, but I couldn’t see any other options. I had no other leads and until I heard back from Jack, pacing around the flat all day wasn’t going to do anybody any good.
It wasn’t quite as easy as just going back to work either. The flat was a complete disaster and resembled a bomb-site more than accommodation. I was wearing my last clean pair of socks and wasn’t far away from running out of clothes completely. I had decided to take a small stand against my state of affairs and sort everything out. After four hours of strenuous cleaning my washing machine was groaning with exhaustion and my back was about to give out. The kitchen hadn’t taken long to clean; it was really just a case of recycling all the takeaway packaging. The hoover had worked overtime and was now paying dividends as I could at least see the carpet now. It felt good. Well, to be honest, I felt sore and exhausted but it felt like an achievement. A small part of my terrifyingly confusing life was back under control. I fell into bed, relieved to take the pressure off my legs and back, and was asleep in record time.
I don’t know if there is a more sickening feeling than the first moments of consciousness after your alarm goes off. I literally hate my alarm clock. I looked at it blearily and managed to set it on to snooze, which only prolonged my agony as three minutes later it went off again. My alarm clock is held together loosely with tape as I’ve taken out my unfounded dislike for it by throwing it at the wall numerous times. Poor alarm clock. All it does is the exact function I bought it to do and then gets punished for it.
After I had dragged my lifeless body out of my bed and showered, I turned my attention to breakfast. I hadn’t been shopping and had nothing suitable in the house, but for the first time in a while I was ravenous with hunger. I searched through the cupboards that were only opened when a home-cooked meal was being prepared and, in desperation, dug out an out of date pot-noodle and some rice pudding. I could lie and say I forced my way through it, but honestly, I loved it. The flavours were incredible; strong and vibrant. I feel I should explain now, the two foods were not mixed. They were served warm as a two course meal. Considerably fuller, I set about ironing my newly cleaned clothes and headed to the car. The offices for Hamilton Accountants were only a few miles away and I had got into the good routine of cycling to work every day. Somehow, I didn’t feel like exerting myself too much today. One step at a time, as it were.
At the second time of asking my car started cleanly and I was off. Twenty minutes later, I was sat in the car-park, giving myself some sort of pre-match team talk. I remember remarking to myself (again out loud) that it would have been quicker to cycle to work then sit in London traffic like that. I didn’t mind though. The longer it took to get there, the longer it was before I had to face everyone again.
I'd been back to work the day after Emma left. I remember very little of my return but it was clear to everybody that something was wrong and after confiding my problems to one colleague, it was common knowledge to everyone there within half an hour. I tried to work through it but it wasn’t long before people started commenting with their own brand of ‘advice.’ After the fifth person had told me to take a few days off, I lost it. If my memory serves me right, I threw a chair into my own desk and smashed the computer screen whilst shouting, ‘I don’t need to take any fucking time off...’
Needless to say, I was called straight into a small office where both our general manager and team leader suggested rather forcefully that I go and see somebody as I ‘obviously had some unresolved issues to work through.’ David Colt, the general manager, had even given me the contact details of Dr. Veronica Davies and offered to book my first appointment.
So, as I marched slowly up the steps which fronted Hamilton Accountants, I did so with a flurry of butterflies flying around my stomach. How was I going to play it? Should I play it cool and walk in like nothing had happened? That didn’t work so well last time. Should I be honest and tell them what I was going through? Again, history didn’t favour this option. I decided to go in looking ill and exhausted (which I felt) and hope people would feel sorry for me and give me some privacy. I loosened my tie a bit, ran my hand roughly through my hair and pushed open the doors. As I stumbled through reception I gave a small, courteous nod to the two receptionists, both of whom took an unmistakable double-take at seeing me. That was their gossip sorted for lunchtime. I scanned my personnel identification card and walked through another set of doors. Most people take the impressive elevators here but as I only work on the second floor, and because I have a small fear of dying violently in a lift as the cables snap and I fall rapidly to my death in a small tin can, I normally use the stairs. Even though it can’t be any more than twenty-five steps, I could feel myself struggling for breath as I reached the top. ‘I really am not fighting fit at the moment,’ I thought.
The design of the second floor is sadly open-plan and although I had been given my own office with a door and blinds, it was situated right at the back of a long narrow room with at least fifteen other people working in there, watching. That’s twenty nine eyes (Doug from Human Resources has a lazy eye and cannot point both in the same direction) that would be pinned on me as I walked down the central aisle. Knowing this beforehand, I took a deep breath and walked in, trying to hold my h
ead up high.
The silence that fell across the office was instant, rippling to the furthest seats as they presently turned their heads to look. There was no pretence from most, who openly stared and pointed, which I found a little rude.
I could feel the stares burning into my back as I strolled through the office and could audibly hear the ‘whispers.’ They could at least wait until I got into my office, surely! After what seemed like an eternity, I reached my office door and after a brief fumble with my keys I managed to unlock the door and shut out the gossiping.
They say ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ but I have my doubts. I had survived walking through the office, which was an achievement, but I certainly didn’t feel any stronger. I knew they were talking about me, partly because I had been in this place for years and partly because I could hear them clearly through my door. The second my door was closed, the whispers disappeared and were replaced with pandemonium. I didn’t care. Let them talk. I guess it’s human nature to want to gossip and, years ago, I’m sure I would have been one of them. But I certainly wasn’t anymore.
It felt weird but in a strange way good to feel these ‘human’ emotions again. I felt embarrassed, I felt nervous and I felt shaken up, but I was feeling again. I might have felt pretty horrendous but I certainly felt alive, which I greeted secretly like an old friend. Maybe going back to work was a good idea after all.
I pulled closed the blinds, settled into my chair and switched on my new computer. It was a shiny, black thing that operated a lot faster than my old one had. Moments after turning it on, it was ready to go and to my surprise all my previous files had been transferred over. They must have been able to save stuff off the hard drive. I should have trashed my computer years ago.
After half an hour, there was nothing else to do except work. My procrastinating had lasted so long but with my desk organised and my files rearranged, I had to concede defeat and get on with the job I was paid for.
Processing numbers is not exciting: fact. Nobody in the world wants to do it and nobody enjoys it. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong. But for those of us that can do it, it is simple enough work and there are plenty of opportunities for good money. Eventually. I slipped into my old life for a while and it felt comfortable. It felt good. I began wondering how long it would take before I was disturbed. I had thought ahead enough to stop at a corner shop and pick up lunch and I harboured a small hope that I might be able to get through the entire day without seeing another person. If I didn’t drink anything and was dehydrated enough, maybe I wouldn’t need the toilet either. Optimistic.
My hopes were dashed about twenty minutes later when there was a knock at the door. I froze silently for a second, hoping they might go away again but they persevered, knocking louder than before.
‘Come in,’ I called out generically, trying not to convey any weakness in my voice.
There was a hesitation before the door moved and team-leader Jeff stood in its place, beaming at me.
‘Tommy. Glad to see you’re back son. It’s good to see you,’ he said, starting into the room. He stopped quickly and glanced at me a little more carefully. Perhaps he had just remembered the way I behaved last time we saw each other.
‘You...feeling better? Back to your old self?’ The questions were casual enough but I could tell he was attempting to judge my mental state. I put him out of his misery.
‘I feel fine Jeff. Much better. I’m sorry about last... you know... the way I...’
‘Hey Tommy son, don’t say another word. Water under the bridge. I’m just glad you're feeling better,’ he replied, seemingly more relaxed.
We chatted for a while and I was eventually left with considerably more work than I was doing minutes before. Case loads of work were dumped on my desk; some I had been working on before Emma left and some I did not recognise. It was a Wednesday when I had gone back to work and I promised to catch up before the weekend. Jack was right: the more work I had, the more my mind would be off situations I couldn’t avoid and the more normal I would appear if someone was watching me.
*****
It’s amazing how life really does go on. By Friday things were feeling more and more normal. Of course, my mind still obsessed over her ever ten seconds, and I was still having terrible nightmares, but I was coping at last. Something about going to work was calming me. Perhaps it was the routine and structure that was helping. I was waking up early. I was showering. I was shaving (every other day.) These may seem fairly mundane to you but there were times when I thought I would never bother to be clean again.
Friday was passing amiably enough. The whispering had stopped and what has caused such a furore two days ago was now old, forgotten news. People greeted me as I entered, some of the women smiled sympathetically and lazy-eyed Doug even tried to talk sports with me. I normally could talk with authority to most people about any sport but right now I was completely out of the loop. I had no clue where Arsenal were in the league and made a mental note to check, before realising it would only be disappointing and decided against it. I didn’t think I could take any more bad news.
I was pretty swamped with the work I was catching up on and had decided to push on through lunch. My appetite still hadn’t returned fully and it didn’t bother me either way whether I ate or not. I felt adequate at work, which was nice. I had spent the last month asking questions my brain was too stupid to comprehend and came up empty handed every time. Finally here I was, solving problems and having a purpose again.
I was interrupted momentarily by Jenny, the young new temp who had started the week before. She came bearing gifts (a cup of tea and a biscuit) and some forms for me to sign. As I checked through the forms she perched on the edge of my desk, swinging her legs seductively. Was she flirting with me? She was certainly showing all the signs. There was definite extended eye contact, soft giggling after everything I said (when most of the time I hadn’t intended it to be funny) and the good, old-fashioned squeeze of the arm as if to say ‘oh you’re so funny’ when really it said ‘I want to touch your body.’ Can I just clarify here that I’m not an expert in this field but I think those are all positive signs of the female mating ritual. I handed the forms back to her and she thanked me, before slinking out of the room slowly.
It may sound strange but I’d never really looked at her before. Sure, I was never going to follow it up; she was far too young and I couldn’t even think about women right now, but it felt good. It was nice to feel wanted, attractive. Perhaps I wasn’t quite as dishevelled as I thought. Perhaps I was one of those men that looked better a bit rugged and scruffy. Catching a glance of myself in the computers reflection, I decided not. Maybe Jenny had problems.
*****
It was late into the afternoon when I received Jack’s text. If truth is told, I had half forgotten my invitation for the weekend but was glad to be reminded of it. The text read:
‘Rach and I will be with you by 11 on Sat. We alright to stay over? Got some news... J’
Typical Jack. It was short and formal, despite being friends for years. I was delighted to be seeing them and momentarily got that same excitement in the pit of my stomach I would get when we were kids. Jack is coming over! Good times. But I was distracted by the last sentence. ‘Got some news.’
Immediately the world I was trying to avoid hit me in the face. What exactly did ‘news’ mean. Did he know something about Emma? What if he knew where Ems was? Oh God, what if she was hurt or... No she won’t be. Somehow I knew she would be OK.
As hard as I tried, work had fallen from my list of priorities and it wasn’t coming back. I grabbed my coat and bag, logged off the new computer and paced out of the door. I slipped out of the building and decided I could explain why I was behind on the work on Monday. I was desperate to phone Jack but knew he would be busy. It surely couldn’t be that important or he would phone me, wouldn’t he? How was I going to take my mind off worrying for a whole night? Then the sudden realisat
ion dawned on me that I had guests coming over and my flat was disgusting. I had work to do.
Chapter Seven
‘You don’t look like shit like Jack said!’
Promptly on the dot of 11am, Jack and Rachel knocked on my door. I knew Jack too well to know he would never be anything but on time and luckily had prepared the flat early. Sleep had been limited the night before but, looking at the flat, it was a sacrifice worth making. It scrubbed up pretty good.
I took a deep breath, tried to put my best ‘I’m fine honestly’ look on my face and opened the door. I can’t explain how good it was to see them.
Rachel stood there first, looking fantastic and holding a bottle. At first I assumed it was a bottle of wine but when I gave it my full attention I was corrected. Tequila. They were here to party. Rachel must have been 4 inches shorter than me, but certainly tried to close the gap with amazing heels. She looked well, no scratch that, she looked great. I had always been really fond of Rachel. When your best mate meets a girl and it looks like they could get serious it is natural to get a bit defensive around her. It hadn’t lasted long though. Rachel was strong and forceful but her personality suited me down to the ground and we had spent countless nights with Jack and Emma, laughing and drinking and feeling alive. It was good to see her.
She stepped up into the apartment, hugged me tightly and kissed me on the cheek.
‘You don’t look like shit like Jack said!’
I laughed, probably for the first time in a month. ‘You’ve looked worse I suppose,’ I replied.
Jack followed her into the flat, pretending to punch me in the stomach before hugging me as well. They were familiar; a memory of happier times and something I needed right now. Gone were the worries of following dead ends and getting upset. For one day I was going to be happy and smile and laugh and...drink.