The Girl Who Never Came Back (13 page)

Today

"Where is she?" Charlotte asked, sitting at the kitchen table as Tony came through from the hallway. "Is she okay?"

It was a little after 8am, and while she'd managed to get a couple of hours' sleep, Charlotte was feeling wide awake and deathly tired at the same time, as if she was being pulled in two directions. She was having coffee for breakfast, and she'd decided that she didn't give a damn about actual food. Besides, she'd been feeling nauseous since she woke up, and she was worried she might vomit at any moment.

"Not smoking?" Tony asked as he put the kettle on.

"I quit," she replied.

"No more smoking and no more drinking?" he replied. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Charlotte?"

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out, preferring to dodge a few questions herself. "How's Ruth?"

"Resting," he replied. "Tea?"

"Sleeping?"

"Resting." He grabbed a cup and a teabag. "She's very tired after last night. Physically and emotionally. She..." He paused. "It seemed very certain at one point that Sophie was..." He paused again. "You saw her, didn't you? I mean, I know it was dark, but you
saw
her too!"

Charlotte nodded.

"So what the hell happened?" he continued.

"I don't know," Charlotte replied. She'd been trying to figure things out all morning, but nothing quite made sense. If she was honest, she was starting to wonder whether maybe she was losing her mind. That whole business with Ettolrahc seemed so long ago; according to her mother, she'd spent most of her childhood wrapped up in the fantasy of having some kind of invisible, imaginary best friend who lived inside her body. While she thought it was kind of cute that she'd maybe seen that best friend again last night, she also recognized that in terms of mental health, such a development was hardly ideal.

"I guess there's always next year," Tony muttered, as the kettle finished boiling.

"Next year?"

No reply.

"You can't be serious," she continued, realizing that far from coming to an end, the madness looked set to go on and on. "Tony, you have to stop this. Move on! You can't spend every year waiting for a lost little girl to come back." She waited for a reply, but he was being conspicuously attentive toward his tea, obviously trying to avoid the conversation. "What happened to me," Charlotte added finally, "was a fucking miracle, okay? It was never explained, and it'll probably
never
be explained." Above, there was the sound of movement in her mother's bedroom. "Great," she muttered. "All we need." She took a deep breath, and as she watched Tony fish his teabag from the cup, she realized that she had to say the one thing that she'd been holding back. "Tony?"

"What?"

She paused again, reluctant to say the words but convinced that it was the only option. "Sophie's dead."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I
do
!" She paused, filled with desperation as she tried to think of a way to get through to him. "I don't know how, or why, or when, or who did it or even whether anyone did it or if we're ever going to get all the answers, but you have to face the facts." She waited for a reply. "She's obviously dead, Tony. She's not coming back. I
hope
that one day we find out what happened to her, but in the meantime, you and Ruth have to get on with your lives."

"Then what was that thing last night?" he asked, turning to her. "If that wasn't Sophie, who was it?"

"An illusion," she replied, although she felt as if she was on less steady ground. "Sophie's not going to come back."

"
You
did."

"Barely." She paused. "Sometimes I feel as though only half of me came back. Less even. I know that's a shitty thing to say, and it's kinda melodramatic, but it's true." Instinctively, she raised a hand to her mouth, momentarily forgetting that she'd stopped smoking. "God," she muttered, "I need a fag."

"I'm sure you could have one," Tony replied. "Just this once."

She shook her head.

"Why the clean slate?" he asked. "I thought you were going to smoke and drink your way through life?"

"I decided to try another route," she said, finishing her coffee before getting to her feet and wandering over to the back door. "I think I might even give up coffee," she added, looking out across the still-misty lawn. "Really go for that detox shit, you know? For the future."

"That's the same reason we're not going to give up hope," he replied. "Whatever happens, I still believe that some day, somehow, Sophie's going to come back to us." He paused. "And there's nothing you can say, Charlotte, that'll ever change my mind, or Ruth's. Sophie's coming back. It's just a question of when."

***

A few minutes later, having made a polite excuse to get away from Tony, Charlotte found herself wandering across the lawn, making her way through the strands of mist that lingered from the night before. She didn't really know why she wanted to be outside, except that she was scared she might give in to her nicotine craving if she stayed in the house. Besides, she felt as if the entire house had been draped in a veil of sorrow, and at that particular moment, she wasn't sure whether she ever wanted to go back inside.

Making her way past the fence at the bottom of the garden, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, just in case there might be anyone around. The sight of her unmoving shadow the previous night had left a deep impression, and she was reliving all the stories her mother had previously told her about her childhood. Charlotte had never been able to remember much about her life before the day she disappeared, although thanks to tales told by her mother and sister she'd begun to piece things together, and she was well aware of the basic details surrounding her imaginary best friend. She found the idea of Ettolrahc amusing, although the thought that she might start
seeing
things after all these years was mildly disturbing. Still, she figured she at least had something to talk about next time she went to visit Dr. Gould.

When she got to the tow-path and looked down into the river, she found herself trying to remember specific events from her childhood. There were leaves floating on the water now, the first stirrings of autumn, and each leaf seemed like a lost memory, destined to be carried away forever. Her oldest memory, or at least her oldest clear memory, was of the moment she wandered along the tow-path once she'd returned from her year's absence. Everything before her disappearance was somewhat vague and distorted, despite her mother's attempts to help her clarify things by telling her stories and making gentle attempts to nudge her in the right direction. Even after her sessions with Dr. Gould, she'd been unable to dig to far back into her past. It was as if her life before the disappearance was a darkened space from which no memories could escape, and into which she was forbidden from venturing.

After a few minutes, she decided to make her way along the tow-path, toward the cave. She was starting to feel as if this might be the very last time she ever came to the house, at least for a while. It was clear that Ruth and Tony were now locked into their own private pattern of grief, with no immediate indication that they had the will or the ability to get free. If they persisted in waiting for Sophie to come back, there was clearly no chance that they'd be able to live normal lives. Charlotte desperately wanted them to move on, to have another child, but the specter of Sophie seemed set to haunt them for many years to come. Matters weren't helped, of course, by the bizarre sight that had greeted them all last night, when -

As she reached the approach to the cave, Charlotte suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

It couldn't be...

She stared into the water, her body suddenly gripped by the most terrible fear. She wanted to believe that her eyes were deceiving her, that somehow she was imagining the whole thing, but deep down she knew that it was so horribly real. More and more leaves were slowly drifting past, borne on the current that kept the river moving, but among those leaves there was something else, something larger, something spread out in the shape of a star, with leaves on its back as it drifted face-down along the surface of the water, slowly bumping into the edge of the river before beginning the slow, lifeless drift back out into the river's middle, parting the carpet of leaves as she went.

A dead girl. Young, her arms and legs outstretched. She looked so peaceful, and so natural, that Charlotte didn't scream at all. She simply took a step back, with tears in her eyes, and she realized with terrible finality that Sophie had finally come back after all.

Today

"A pound for a bag of crisps?" Charlotte said, staring dry-eyed at the vending machine's prices. "Are you fucking kidding me? A pound?"

She took a step back, before glancing along the corridor and realizing that there was no-one nearby to hear her protest. Sighing, she searched through her pocket for some coins, before slipping two fifty pences into the slot and pressing the green button. Slowly, the bag of crisps was pushed forward before dropping down into the slot, and Charlotte fished them out, opened them, and took a bite.

"Tastes like shit," she muttered.

It was getting late, and she was in a corridor at the local police station. She was trying to fill her mind with dull, awkward thoughts, in the hope that she could prevent herself from thinking about anything more difficult. So far, by focusing on the vending machine and other banal objects, she'd managed to almost completely avoid contemplating the reason for her visit, although occasional distant voices were a reminder that elsewhere in the building, the job of 'processing' Sophie's body was well underway.

"Can I help you?" asked a voice nearby.

Turning, Charlotte saw a young female police officer waiting by a nearby door.

"Sorry?" Charlotte asked.

"Are you here to see someone?"

"I'm just pissed off about this vending machine," she replied. "I mean, I could get these same crisps for half the price in town, so why am I being ripped off in a police station, of all places? People are vulnerable in a place like this, so it seems kinda unfair to rip them off when they're hardly in a state to be dealing with this kind of shit."

The officer stared at her.

"And another thing," Charlotte continued, "why don't you offer free food and drinks for people, huh? You'd think it'd be a nice thing to do, wouldn't it? Just fucking... give a little, you know? Hell, if I ran the police, I'd give out a free shot of whiskey to anyone who's had a bad time. I really think you need to rethink how you deal with people who've... who've been traumatized, you know? People who've had really fucking bad days."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"So can I help you in any way?" the officer asked eventually.

"I'm fine," Charlotte replied, turning and hurrying off in the opposite direction. The last thing she wanted was to get dragged into a conversation with some random woman, so she made her way quickly around the next corner, finally coming face to face with Tony, who was slouched in a chair in the small waiting room. While Charlotte had been spending her time trying to burn off all her excess energy, and trying to forget the image of the girl's body floating along the river, Tony seemed to have gone the opposite way: he'd fallen completely still, as if he was off in some other, inner world.

"Hey," he said flatly.

"Crisp?" Charlotte asked, holding the bag out to him.

He shook his head.

"They're pretty rank," Charlotte continued, looking down into the bag. "I don't even know why I'm eating them, really. I guess it's 'cause I paid a pound for them. A whole fucking pound. I mean, can you believe that? People don't come to police stations for fun. They come because something bad has happened, and then they're fucking gouged for a pound just 'cause they want to eat a packet of crisps. Can you believe the fucking... cruelty and hypocrisy of the whole thing?"

Tony stared at her.

"You know what I mean," she muttered.

"Ruth's talking to someone," Tony said after a moment. "They're still trying to work out Sophie's movements before she ended up in the river, and for some reason, they want to talk to us separately." He paused, his face completely devoid of emotion. "I guess they want to make sure that we give honest answers, rather than getting our stories all mixed up together. Makes sense, if you think about it. They should -" He paused, with tears in his eyes, and it was as if suddenly he'd seized up completely.

"Have they..." Charlotte paused. "I mean, have they formally identified the..."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Sorry," she added.

"Not yet," Tony replied, "but, I mean, there's no..." His voice tailed off. "It's not like there were any other eight-year-old girls missing in that area," he added finally, "so I think it's safe to..." He took a deep breath, before looking down at his hands. "I know it's stupid," he continued after a moment, "and I know I really had no reason to think it, but I swear to God, I was convinced she was going to come back to us. Right up until the end, I was certain this would all be okay." There were tears in his eyes again, and his voice was cracking. "Deep down in my heart, I was absolutely sure that she'd..."

Charlotte watched as he broke down into a fit of sobs. After a moment, she took another crisp from the packet and gave it a nibble. She felt hopelessly useless around people who were exhibiting real emotions. Her usual tactics - sarcasm, humor and, at a push, escape - seemed inappropriate, and she didn't feel that she had anything else to offer.

"She was such a good girl," Tony continued eventually. "She was so smart and energetic and creative. I know every parent thinks that about their child, but with Sophie, it was really true. Even her teachers said so."

Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She just kept replaying those final moments over and over again, when she'd been teasing Sophie.

"Do you know the weird part?" Tony asked. "I'd actually started to believe that she might come back the same way
you
came back. I thought she'd stay away for a year and then come wandering back to the house. It sounds ridiculous now, but somehow it started to make sense. I didn't even care how it was going to happen. I just figured... somehow, she was going to return. I told myself to be cautious and not to expect too much, but at the same time, I couldn't stop believing. It all feels so stupid now."

"It's not stupid," Charlotte replied, trying to fight the nausea she was starting to feel. "I was the same."

"Really?"

She nodded. "And Ruth -"

"Ruth has been frantic over the past year," he continued. "She used to go out for long walks every day. She pretended she was just getting some air, but I knew the real reason. She was looking for her. She probably scoured every inch of the countryside around our house, terrified that any moment she might uncover..." He paused for a moment. "And all along she was so close to the house. I guess she must have been wedged somewhere, and eventually she came loose. I still don't get why the divers didn't find her, though. They said they looked everywhere."

"There's no point blaming anyone," Charlotte pointed out, hearing footsteps nearby. Glancing along the corridor, she saw a couple of police officers heading through a set of double doors. One of them was Eve, the officer she remembered from the previous year, and she had a stern, worried look on her face.

"I don't know if I can face this," Tony said quietly.

"It's okay," Charlotte said, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Hi," Eve said as she and the other officers reached them. There was a clear sense of nervousness in her voice, as if she was reluctant to deliver whatever news she was supposed to bring. "We've completed the identification procedure regarding the body," she continued uncertainly. "We... had to go back into some of the old files, some of the records from quite a while ago, but I'm afraid we now have a formal, confirmed identification. It's been signed off by the coroner, and the details have now been entered into the official record."

"It's okay," Tony said, his voice sounding weak and forlorn. "I know there's -"

"It's not Sophie," Eve said suddenly.

Charlotte stared at her, while Tony seemed not to have heard. It seemed as if time had stood still for a moment, as if the whole of the universe had suddenly swiveled and begun to pivot on that cool, flickering corridor.

"What?" Charlotte said eventually.

"It's not Sophie," Eve continued, but she didn't seem relieved. "Absolutely, one hundred per cent, we are positive that it's not Sophie." She paused. "We've... Actually, we've completed the identification procedure, and we know whose body it is."

Charlotte and Tony exchanged a stunned glance, before both turning to Eve.

"Who is it?" Charlotte asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

"It's..." Eve stared at her for a moment, as if she could barely bring herself to say the words. "It's you, Charlotte," she continued eventually. "The body we pulled from the river is you. It's Charlotte Abernathy."