Now You See Me (27 page)

“Let go!” I manage to yell. “Let go – or we'll both drown!”

For a second I get a foothold on a rock beneath me and yank his arm away. Eric flounders in the water, his limbs thrashing violently, something like a scream escaping from his throat. I grab his hand again and press it to my shoulder.

“Kick! Keep your head up and I'll keep you afloat.”

I plunge back in and try to swim round the tip of the headland. It's almost impossible. Eric keeps dragging me back down under the surface.

“For god's sake, kick your legs!” I shout, before going under and swallowing another mouthful of water. I fight my way back up, coughing and gulping air, my throat burning.

For the first time I'm really scared. The currents round this coastline are notorious – we could easily be pulled further out to sea. Second by second I feel more dazed and exhausted, but I force myself forwards, dragging Eric with me.

With every scrap of energy I have left, I swim, thrusting my arms and legs through the waves, trying to stop both of us from sinking. I think of Danny, of the strength in his stroke, the effortless way it propelled him through the water. I think of Danny and try to swim, Eric's weight pulling me forever downwards like an anchor.

I struggle until the muscles in my arms and legs scream with agony and the salt blurs my vision. But the beach isn't getting any closer.

Danny, I think, as I realize we're not going to make it. Danny, I'm sorry.

I can see his face so clearly now, so vividly, that it's like he's here with me. Danny, I'm sorry, I repeat to him silently. I'm so sorry. I really tried.

I'm so tired now it's easier to let myself sink, to take a final breath then allow the waves to pull me under and the water to close over my head. It feels almost comforting to stop struggling, to let the tide suck me down into oblivion.

Then another face fills my mind. Mum, whose last moments were flooded with fear and desperation and the cold, cold river rushing in around her. I think of Mum and how she must have struggled to get free, and know her final thoughts were of me, and know that this, here, now, is the very last thing she'd ever have wanted.

I force myself to make one last effort, striking out against the current, fighting for air, ignoring Eric's weight on my shoulders and the exhaustion in my limbs and the voice in my head telling me that it's useless, it's hopeless, it's all over.

And then my foot scrapes something hard. A rock, I realize, legs floundering, hope resurfacing like a gasp. I smash my ankle against another, causing a flash of pain that's almost welcome.

Moments later we're on solid ground.

We scrabble to the shore and drag ourselves up onto pebbles at the top of the cove, beyond the reach of the sea.

We're safe.

I can hardly let myself believe it. Even if we can't find a way back up to the cliff path, we're safe. Cold, wet, exhausted, but we won't drown.

I flop onto the stones, unable to stand any longer. Eric lies panting beside me.

“You okay?” I ask, once my breathing has settled enough to speak.

A choking sound.

“I think so.” He coughs violently for several seconds, then rakes more air into his lungs. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely.

I shrug.

Eric clears his throat. “I nearly drowned once.”

I gaze at him. All his self-assurance has gone. He looks so limp and bedraggled that my fear seems a distant memory – Eric is no threat to me now.

“In a swimming pool. My mother's boyfriend thought it would be funny to throw me in. I was only two.”

“Jesus. You can remember that?”

“I never forget anything,” Eric sighs.

“Anything? That must be handy.” I consider all the stuff he had to remember about Danny. About all of us.

“It's a curse,” he says, shaking his head. “Believe me.”

I think for a moment, trying not to focus on how cold I'm growing now we're no longer moving. I lift the leg of my jeans and examine the gash on my ankle, at the blood mingling with seawater, edging towards my foot.

“You okay?” Eric nods at the wound.

“Yeah.” Even if it needs stitches, it's better than drowning. I cover it with my wet sock, ignoring the sting that follows. Then look back up at Eric.

“How old are you anyway?”

He coughs again. It's almost a laugh. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

His look weighs me up. “Twenty-two.”

Five years older than Danny. He's right. I'm lost for words. I search his features again for clues as to how I could ever have thought he was my friend, but the darkness is deepening around us and it's hard to see much.

Eric inhales, lets out a long sigh. The relief of someone who almost died. “Like I said, it is easy to convince people of something they want to believe.”

I laugh, though I'm not particularly amused. “No wonder you weren't bothered about your exams.”

“I didn't need to bother,” Eric says. “I've done much harder stuff than that. I got a distinction in my bac.”

His baccalaureate. The exams they take in France. I've heard they're hard.

We sit for a minute or two, listening to the screech of the gulls coming in to roost for the night. All my anger has been dowsed by the ordeal of getting us both back to safety. I just feel wrung out and empty.

“So who's Mat?” I ask.

A long pause before Eric speaks. “My sister.”

I give myself a moment to process this. “Does she know you're here? I mean, why would she let you do this?”

“She doesn't know anything,” Eric says hastily.

“You're not close then?”

“I never saw much of her – we were both put in different homes – but we're closer now.” He turns away, stares out across the water. I have a feeling I've touched a nerve.

“Eric,” I say, breaking the silence. “You know I can't…”

“Yes.” He sighs again, wrapping his arms around himself. “Never mind, the game's up anyway. It's no fun if it goes on too long. Especially with your awful English food.”

He wrinkles his nose, and I'm reminded of the rice pudding, his grimace of distaste. I feel another rush of indignation for Martha.

“Eric, for Christ's sake, this isn't a bloody game.” I jump to my feet and stare at him aghast. “Nobody's winning here.”

“No?” He looks up at me and laughs. “Never wonder why I didn't better hide that box? Or burn those letters?”

So someone would catch him, I realize. Eric would never be that careless. Eric didn't really want to play happy families – he was more interested in playing cat and mouse.

“You wanted to be found out,” I say. “So we'd all know how clever you are. Was that what all this was really about?”

A silence. When Eric speaks his voice sounds softer, more serious. “Not so much. It's hard to explain. All my life I wanted a family. A proper family, not all those different people I was sent to live with. So I go to parents who need a child, their missing child, and for a while it's everything I dreamed of.”

He gazes at me, his eyes glinting in the dusk. “But it's not real, Hannah, don't you see? It's only a dream. In the end you can't escape that – it always catches up with you and then the spell is broken.”

I shiver, and not just from the chill of sitting in wet clothes. For a moment I get a glimpse into Eric's world, and it's a cold, hard, desperate sort of place. Not somewhere I want to be.

He gets to his feet and scans the darkening beach. “Anyway, I'll be glad to go. All this mud and seaweed. Your freezing, dirty water.”

I glance out over the channel and for a moment see it through his eyes. I guess it's not much to look at if you're used to the sandy beaches and bright blue waters of the Med.

“So, you win, Hannah,” Eric sighs. “It's time for me to leave. For me to move on – if you'll let me.”

I consider the appeal behind these words. He's asking me to give him a chance to get away. He knows I could go straight to the police and it's likely they'd catch him, even if Eric Fougère isn't his real name.

Though somehow I suspect it is.

“I can't, Eric. I have to tell…”

Eric moves towards me and I resist the urge to step back. “Just remember, Hannah,” he whispers, “you and me – we're not so different.”

“What do you mean?”

Eric leans forwards and peers right into my eyes. I force myself not to blink or look away. “Let's face it, it's not like you're above a bit of snooping, is it? Or breaking and entering, for that matter.”

“How did you know…?”

“That call on my phone, my missing notebook.” He eyes me, amused. “Not to mention the house was locked today – you left your key and I took the spare from under the bird bath. So how else did you get in?”

Despite the chill in my body, I feel my face flush with heat. “That was different – I was only…”

“Face it, Hannah, we're more alike than you want to admit. Only you're the lucky one – you have people who are there for you.” He gives me a look that almost pierces. “Though not perhaps in the way you assume.”

“What do you mean by that?” I snap.

Eric eyes me for a few seconds. “Never mind. All I'm asking for, Hannah, is a few hours, okay? Nothing more.”

I press my lips together and force myself to think. My phone must be wrecked, but if I ran back now, I could go to the police and they'd pick Eric up before he had a chance to get away. After all, how far could he get in half an hour?

And then what would happen? Getting Eric arrested wouldn't bring Danny back. And very soon Martha will be forced to face the truth anyway. Her son is gone, and he's never coming home.

“Hannah?” Eric is still staring at me, his wet clothes clinging to his skin. He looks ghostly pale in the near darkness, and up close I can see his face betrays a shock and exhaustion he's not quite managing to hide.

Where's he going to go now? I wonder. What on earth will he do?

“Let me go, Hannah, and I can offer you something in return.”

“What?” My mind is spinning. What could Eric have that I could possibly want?

“The truth.”

I look up at him in panic. What does he mean?

He holds my gaze and suddenly I understand. What would I rather – to live like Martha, happy to believe a stranger is her son? Or to know what's really going on?

Just for a second I'm tempted. Just for a second, I choose an easy life.

But only for a second.

“Tell me.” Suddenly I'm shaking rather than shivering. Have to clamp my jaw shut to stop myself from stuttering.

Eric remains silent.

“It's about Danny, isn't it?” I say, my heart sinking.

But Eric shakes his head, then smiles. The way a teacher smiles when you're struggling to find the answer to a difficult question. When you're close, but not quite there.

“Martha's bedroom,” he says. “The cabinet in her wardrobe. The key is in the drawer beside her bed.”

“What cabinet? What am I looking for?”

But Eric is on his feet now and already backing away. “You'll know when you find it.”

Before I can react, he's heading off towards the cliff, scrabbling over the rocks until he's nearly reached the path. I stare after him for a moment, and then it hits me.

There's something else I have to ask him. Something I should have asked him much earlier. The only thing that matters at all.

“Stop!” I yell, running after him, stumbling and nearly falling in the dark. “Eric, please…wait!”

The shadowy figure in front pauses long enough for me to catch up.

“You called me ‘titch',” I gasp, grabbing his arm and pulling him round to face me. “From the first time you saw me you called me ‘titch'.”

Eric just stares at me, saying nothing.

“Only Danny ever called me that. You couldn't have got that from a website or anything.”

Eric still doesn't respond.

“And you knew what he said, the last time we spoke.”

I see Danny now, as he pushes off on his bike. See the little wave he gives me as he glides off down the road, out of my sight and out of my life.

“See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya.” The last thing he ever said to me.

“You've met him, haven't you? You know Danny, don't you?” I grip his arm tighter. “Where is he, Eric?
Tell me!
”

Eric's eyes are fixed on me. For the first time in all these months, he appears flustered, indecisive.

“And those phone calls. The prank calls we've been getting. It's him, isn't it?”

Eric looks like he's going to say something, then hesitates.

“For Christ's sake, Eric. At least just let me know if he's still alive.”

“I can't talk about this, Hannah.” He looks past me into the gloom surrounding us.

I tug on his arm. “You have to!” I'm shouting now, my voice harsh and desperate. “Please, Eric. You have to tell me. I
have
to know!”

He grips my fingers and gently prises them off his arm. “I can't tell you anything, Hannah. I'm sorry.” He starts to back away.

“Why, Eric?” I scream after him. “WHY NOT?”

“Because I gave my word,” he says, picking up speed. “I made a promise, and some promises you just can't break.”

I watch as he moves into a run along the cliff path, heading towards the distant lights of town.

This time I let him go.

“Hannah!”

Martha's face registers surprise when she sees me, a flush colouring her cheeks as she watches Alice bound towards me and hug me tight around the waist.

“I called round at your house yesterday evening,” Martha says, facing me. “Just to check you're okay. And to, you know…apologize for the other day.” She masks her discomfort with a thin smile.