Read The Day We Disappeared Online
Authors: Lucy Robinson
Christmas Eve. I'd never been in
London on Christmas Eve. It was barmy!
I fought my way through the
festival-strength crowds at St Pancras, searching for the Chesterfield train,
wondering how anyone was going to fit their luggage on to anything departing from
there. People were literally moving house, from what I could tell. Huge yellow
Selfridges bags, stripy John Lewis bags, H&M and Topshop, occasional Fortnum
& Mason and even a decent smattering of Primark bags, all bulging and torn. Long
rolls of wrapping paper, Christmas antlers, fat boxes of baubles,
panettones
, champagne, flowers. I looked down at my trusty Burmese bag
â containing almost nothing â and smiled.
Right. Platform five. I braced myself
and headed off into the fray. As people and suitcases swarmed past me, I thought
about all of the many journeys I'd taken to Dad's over the years. The
times I'd walked up this exact same escalator, hoping that something might
have changed, that he might have turned a corner. And then arriving back a few days
later, happy to have seen him but painfully aware of how much smaller his life had
got since I'd seen him last.
I love you, Daddy, I thought. You brave
and wonderful man. I love you with all my heart.
And then there he was. My daddy,
arriving in London
for the first time in
nearly thirty years, his lovely girlfriend holding his hand and her teenage son
stomping along, thumping things into his iPhone. Dad saw me almost straight
away.
âANNIE!' he cried.
âMERRY CHRISTMAS!'
And I ran forward to hug him, with tears
in my eyes. âWelcome to London, Daddy. Better late than never.'
âSo where's your French
friend?' Dad asked later. He was sitting on Lizzy's gigantic sofa, the
scale of which he found utterly hilarious, and was drunk on the champagne that a
beaming Lizzy was pouring continuously into his glass.
âHave my share,' she kept
saying. âAnd remember my share was always quite big, Dad.'
âClaudie's in Antigua on a
“luxury Christmas holiday”,' I said, tucking my slippers under
Mark's legs. He slid an arm around me, kissing the side of my forehead.
âShe met a guy about three months ago and it's been, er, shall we say,
intense? Although in a good way.'
Lizzy grinned. âShe'd have
killed us if we'd pulled a stunt like this three months into a
relationship!'
Dad looked at her, and then at me.
âWell, forgive me, girls, but you've pulled some major stunts quite
early in your own relationships, haven't you?' He looked pointedly at
Lizzy's pregnant belly, and at the ring on my finger. âYou haven't
really waited around.'
âOld birds,' Lizzy told him.
âWe didn't have time on our side, Dad.'
Dad's eyes twinkled. âWell,
I waited nearly thirty years for Linda,' he said, âso I firmly believe
there's nothing like
a good
old-fashioned dose of caution.' Mark chuckled and got to his feet to top up
everyone's glass. I smiled at the sight of my bear in a proper shirt.
He'd be getting a hairstyle at this rate. (He would not.)
âI'm just glad Linda was so
patient.' Lizzy grinned. âAnyone else would have given up months
before.'
Linda, who was without doubt the nicest
person I'd ever met, squeezed Dad's hand. âI knew I'd crack
him in the end,' she said kindly. âHe just needed careful
handling.' And without caring what any of us thought, Dad leaned in and kissed
her firmly on the mouth.
âSnuggums,' I distinctly
heard him say.
Mark squeezed my bottom, which was one
of his favourite things.
âAnd your friends from the
stables,' Dad said, âMark's old grooms, how are they? You are
still in touch, aren't you? They sounded so nice!'
âThey are,' I assured him.
âThey come to visit us at the new farm as often as they can. But they're
â¦' I trailed off. âOh, God, Mark, what will we
do
? I hardly
dare think about it, in case it gives me a stroke.'
Becca had called me a few days ago and
had spent half an hour saying strange things. When I'd eventually asked her
what was wrong, she'd taken a deep breath and said: âPet, there's
no easy way to say this, but I've been having it off with Joe. I'm sorry
if this sends you into cardiac arrest.'
I had not actually been able to say a
word.
Becca had continued. âIt kind of
crept up on us, pet, and we've not been apart for longer than about five
minutes in the last three months.'
Three months?
Joe's affairs
rarely lasted three days!
Becca's
voice had suddenly got deeper, and I imagined her blushing a deep, silky red.
âWe both think it has legs,' she'd said. âI'm
appalled, pet, but actually very happy.'
Mark, next to me, was laughing. Deep
rumbles of amusement and disbelief. âIt's one of the more terrible
things I've ever heard,' he admitted, âbut I like it.'
âOh, me too! Can you imagine if
they actually make it? Oh, God!'
I leaned round and kissed him, because I
was too madly in love not to, just as Tim, who'd been stroking Lizzy's
pregnant belly, nuzzled into her neck and kissed her hair. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, I
saw him mouth into the side of her hair.
Rob the teenager got up.
âI'm leaving,' he said. âI can't take any
more.'
Everyone begged his forgiveness and we
all rearranged ourselves so we weren't anywhere near the person we wanted to
kiss. Poor Rob: it had been disgusting so far. If I were him I'd have set fire
to the flat.
âI think we should make a
toast,' Mark said.
âI agree!' I said, casting a
sideways glance at Dad. Would he want to drink to Mum? With Linda here?
He would not.
âI think we should toast all of us
who are in this room,' Dad said firmly. I hadn't heard him so confident
or direct in years. âBecause we're all starting over. We're
starting new memories now, together as a new family, and I think we're bloody
fantastic. Here's to us.'
âTo us,' we all said,
getting up to clink glasses.
In spite of Rob I somehow found myself
next to my man again, and as he slid his hand down my jeans and
scrunched my bum once more, and Lizzy said, âOh,
fuck it, the baby won't mind a little bit more champagne,' and Tim said,
âOh, yes, he will,' and Dad blew a kiss at Linda, and Rob stormed off
muttering that we were all disgusting, I thought,
I'm here.
Here in
my life.
And this is where I'm going to
stay.
It's only really authors and their
mates who read the acknowledgements before starting a book, but â just in case â this
page contains spoilers. Turn back!
My thanks, first and foremost, to the women
brave enough to talk to me about their experiences at the hands of men like Stephen. You
are all extraordinary. To S, my warmest gratitude.
Many thanks to top eventer Izzy Taylor, for
allowing me to follow her around and for answering many odd questions. Also to Jessica
Pidcock, for getting me started, and to Jane Tuckwell, from Badminton Horse Trials, for
showing me around the stunning stableyard.
Clare King, for facilitating all of my
eventing research and checking through the entire manuscript.
Dr Mark Cross, for his very useful advice on
psychopathy. I also drew on material I'd read in the following books:
The
Psychopath Test
by Jon Ronson,
Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to
Work
by Paul Babiak, and
Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the
Psychopaths Among Us
by Robert D. Hare.
Orthopaedic surgeon Alpesh Kothari, for the
many emails and phone calls spent devising terrible injuries for Mark.
Specialist horse vet Sally Cobbald, for her
above-and-beyond help with Stumpy. And Mike Rayment, who really should be charging
me.
David Martin, for
his very useful advice on Annie's legal situation.
Special thanks to my publisher at Michael
Joseph, Maxine Hitchcock, whose clear vision for the publication of this novel â not to
mention wonderful support â has kept me at it, day after day. You have been a rock.
Thank you to the brilliant Celine Kelly, who edits my books with such imagination and
skill! To my peerless copy-editor Hazel Orme â who really does make me a better writer â
and my brilliant publicist Francesca Pearce. Thanks to Sarah Arratoon, for marketing
greatness, and Lee Motley, for my very exciting new book jacket. Nick Lowndes, Anna
Derkacz, Sophie Overment, Olivia Whitehead and Helen Eka â again, thank you. I'm
so lucky to have you all.
Thank you to George, for making me laugh
every single day. You are my favourite. Thank you to my friends, who keep on pimping my
books to anyone who'll listen. To my fellow writers, without whom I would most
definitely go mad, and my readers, without whom I wouldn't have a career! Same to
you, tireless bloggers: I can't do it without you.
Thanks to my family for the happy years on
horseback. Wasn't it wonderful? Apart from when we had to try to get Wriggle and
Ben in a trailer.
Thanks to the crack team of brilliant people
at David Higham Associates: Harriet, Laura, Alice, Emma, Emily â I hope you know how
much I appreciate you.
And thank you, finally, to Lizzy Kremer,
without whom I would resign tomorrow. From everything. You are the finest agent on
earth.
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