The Girl With No Past (30 page)

The bookcases hadn’t been moved, but on every shelf the order of my books had been rearranged. I wasn’t one of those people who ordered them alphabetically, but I knew roughly where each book was, depending on when I’d bought it, and what I was looking at was all wrong.

I stood still, not daring to move. It wasn’t likely anyone was still in the flat – it was too small for hiding places – but I was petrified. Even though there was nobody there now, someone had been in my flat and they wanted me to know it.

The kitchen appeared to be undisturbed, but when I opened the cupboard to get a glass for some water, all my mugs and glasses had been swapped around and were now on the wrong shelves. If I’d had any doubts before, then this was firm evidence of an intruder. Perhaps I should have been, but I was no longer scared. Anger had replaced my fear and I just wanted an end to it.

My laptop was on the kitchen table and I switched it on, my stomach churning as I waited for Google to load. And then I did something I never thought I’d be able to: I wrote her name in the search box, each letter seeming to stare at me, accusing and sad at the same time.

Natalie Hollis.

The first few search suggestions clearly weren’t the woman I was looking for, but when I got to the bottom of the page, there she was. Miss Hollis. It was a newspaper article from 2000 and I wondered if it was the same one my emailer had sent me. Taking a deep breath, I began to read, trying to pretend it was just another news story that had nothing to do with me.

And then halfway down the page I saw his name. Her boyfriend. Tim Fletcher. It seemed such an ordinary name, out of place in this story, as if it wasn’t possible something so heinous could affect his life. But it had. And maybe he was making me pay for that now.

The article mentioned he was a business lecturer at West Herts College, but that had been fourteen years ago. I didn’t think it likely he’d still work there but I could call in a few hours and find out. And if he was still there then I would go to the college and speak to him directly, just like I’d done with Adam’s brother. I was sure with just a short conversation I would be able to tell whether or not he was the one doing this to me.

Once I had decided this I began to feel better. I still didn’t want to be in my flat, it felt wrong and uncomfortable, like wearing a stranger’s clothes. But there was nowhere else I could go. Instead of retreating to bed, I grabbed my duvet and sat on the floor by the window in the front room. I couldn’t explain it, but somehow it felt safer being there, cocooned in my duvet.

My mind was too alert to sleep so I tried to read. I still hadn’t finished rereading
The Color Purple
, when normally I got through a book in a couple of days, but instead of getting lost in Celie’s story, every few lines my mind kept flitting back to Miss Hollis and who had been in my flat.

A few hours later I showered and ate some cornflakes, passing the time before I could call the college. There was also another call I had to make. To Sam. I would have to resign; Maria had left me no choice. But as much as I loved my job, I had to focus on finding my emailer before I could worry about work.

Reluctantly, I emailed Sam, explaining there had been a family emergency and I needed to resign with immediate effect. Once I’d sent it, I forced the sadness away and once more went over in my head what I needed to do.

I waited until nine-thirty to call West Herts College. When someone answered, I was surprised to be told that Tim Fletcher did still work there and that he would be in work all day. Hanging up, I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed. Now I would have to face him, and it would be even harder than it had been to look Imogen’s mother and Adam’s brother in the face.

But as I left the flat and headed to the train station, a sense of calm washed over me. I felt safer being outside, even after the mugging and other attack, because now I was alert, watching everyone, as prepared as I could be for whatever might happen next.

I hadn’t told Mum I’d be back in Watford, and walking to the college, I prayed I wouldn’t bump into her. How would I explain being here if she saw me? She would know I was up to something and that it had everything to do with Miss Hollis. I could never bring myself to call her Natalie, it was best if I always thought of her as our teacher, someone who hadn’t exactly been human. I knew that made me seem cold-hearted, but it was just easier.

Reaching the college, I suddenly had second thoughts. If Tim Fletcher was my emailer then he would recognise me the second I appeared in front of him. But as was the case when I confronted Jeremy, we were in a public place so I had to tell myself there was nothing he could do to harm me here. And at least I would know. I hadn’t thought what I would do beyond that, I could only take this one step at a time.

I found the reception desk and asked if I could see Tim Fletcher. The receptionist must have been in her late fifties and I wondered if, like him, she had been here all these years. She checked something on the computer then flashed a smile.

‘You’re in luck. He’s finishing a lecture in about ten minutes and then he’s got a free hour. You can catch him in room fifty-four in the new building out the back. Just follow the corridor round and it will lead you outside.’ She pointed a manicured finger to her left.

It was too easy. I could be anyone and she was allowing me to walk around the college. Didn’t this place care about safety? Although, right now, I was thankful for their lack of security.

‘I’ll just give you a pass,’ she said, shoving a visitor’s book in front of me. ‘And sign this please.’ It was something, but still didn’t ensure safety.

I signed
Anna Proctor
and took my pass, turning it around as soon as I was out of her line of sight. It was unlikely anyone would recognise me, or the name around my neck, but I couldn’t take any chances.

Following the directions the receptionist had given me, I found room fifty-four easily enough. There was a narrow window in the door and I peered through to see a classroom full of students, all engrossed in their lecture. And then I saw him. He had aged a lot but there was no mistaking he was the man Miss Hollis had been seeing.

Instinctively, I moved away from the window and leaned back against the wall, but it was pointless to hide when in a few minutes I would be face-to-face with him. It was five to twelve, which meant I had five minutes to prepare myself for whatever might happen.

Time moved excruciatingly slowly but eventually the first of the students shuffled out, not even glancing in my direction. I held my breath and waited, counting them all as they poured out of the room, their voices raised now that they were free to make noise. There were twenty-two of them and I found myself wondering whether Miss Hollis would have made a better college lecturer than secondary school teacher if things had been different. What had made her choose that age group when she clearly hadn’t enjoyed a second of it?

‘Can I help you?’ a deep voice said, snapping me out of my reverie. I looked up and Tim Fletcher was standing in front of me, towering over me. He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance with his wide body. I didn’t remember him being so large, but then I hadn’t been the most observant person back then. His tone was not unkind, but he did look as if he could do without having to talk to a stranger.

‘I, um, sorry, I was looking for Tim Fletcher.’ I didn’t let on that I already knew I had found him.

‘That would be me. Can I help you with something?’ His eyes darted back and forth, as if he was taking me in and forming opinions before I’d even announced who I was.

I glanced behind him, checking his classroom was empty. ‘Do you have time for a quick chat? Perhaps in there?’

Looking at his watch, he let out a small sigh. ‘Yes, we can. But can I ask what this is about? Are you a student?’

I had to tell him now, I couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘No. I’m a…I knew… Natalie Hollis… years ago.’ Her name jabbed at my throat like a knife. ‘She taught me actually and I was passing by and just wanted to say…how sorry I am about…’

‘You’d better come inside,’ he said, his face suddenly as white as paper.

The classroom was cold and I wrapped my arms around my body, despite wearing my thick wool coat.

Tim Fletcher sat at his desk then turned to me. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I always keep the heating off in here. It stops the students falling asleep.’ He gave a halfhearted chuckle then stared at me again, and I wondered if he expected me to laugh too. But that didn’t seem appropriate given what I had told him I was doing there. ‘Please, have a seat,’ he said, gesturing to the table directly in front of his desk.

Sitting across from him, I felt like I was back in school again and it made me shudder. Those days were forever tainted. Tim Fletcher looked away from me and stared at his hands. ‘So you were a student of Nat’s?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘Yes. But I left the year before…you know. Before it happened.’

‘What’s your name? Perhaps she mentioned you?’

‘Anna Proctor. But I doubt she would have mentioned me.’ I studied his face, but there was no flicker of recognition.

‘Well, I can’t say your name’s familiar, but then she did have a lot of students.’

‘She was a great teacher,’ I said, trying not to pull away from his gaze.

What he said next surprised me. ‘Oh, I’m not sure that’s true. I think she struggled. She never really enjoyed teaching but felt she had to stick it out. I think she would have retrained as a nurse. If she’d had the chance.’

‘I’m so sorry about what happened to her.’

‘Well, thanks for saying that.’ He fell silent and I could tell he was revisiting his memories. Good or bad, both would be painful. ‘But is that what you’ve tracked me down for? Because it’s been a long, long time.’

My excuse was already in place. ‘I know, it’s just that I moved abroad with my parents soon after and have only just come back. And she left an impression on me so I just wanted to pay my respects to her.’

He fell quiet as he contemplated my words and I could see he was finding this difficult. ‘I’ve got her mother’s phone number, if that’s any help? She was a friend of my mother’s, actually, so I kept in touch with her for a long time afterward, but I haven’t spoken to her for years now. Nat had such a small family and I don’t even think any of them are still alive. The truth is, it took me a long time but I’ve moved on. I’m married with teenage kids now and, to be honest, the last thing I want to do is revisit the past. I loved Nat, of course I did, but I can’t undo anything and it was so long ago.’

‘I completely understand. Thank you for your time.’ I stood up, by then convinced the man wasn’t my emailer. Nothing about him screamed that he was lying and all I could do was trust my instincts.

‘Let me get you that number.’ He pulled out his mobile and began scrolling through it. I found it strange that he would have Miss Hollis’s mother’s number in his phone after all these years but shrugged it off. It’s possible every time he bought a new phone he just copied all the numbers across without checking them.

‘Here you go,’ he said, scribbling on a piece of scrap paper. ‘I have to say, though, she’s quite elderly and the last time I spoke to her she wasn’t very lucid, so if you call her I don’t know how much sense you’ll get out of her. That was years ago and I know Alzheimer’s can progress rapidly.’

Reaching across for the paper, I thanked him and got out of there as quickly as I could. So that was that. The chances of Miss Hollis’s family being involved were almost zero. Rushing past the reception desk, I didn’t bother handing back my pass.

When I got home my flat felt even colder and emptier than usual. It hit me how bleak my surroundings were and how my attempt to have more had failed. How could I have ever thought I could have something with Julian? But it still bothered me that I had no explanation for his actions, and my heart fought against my head, determined not to let me move on.

Even though I knew he was no longer moderating Two Become One, I still checked it, soaking up my disappointment when there was still no sign of him. And then, even though I knew it was terrible to think this way, it struck me how I had come out worse in all of this. Imogen, Corey and Adam had got off lightly. I was the one who was still being punished.

I took my laptop to bed with me and began looking at flats to rent. I would never be able to afford anything in Putney but I checked what was available anyway. And when I stared at the bright and modern flats, with their magnolia walls and sparkling white kitchens, I saw a glimpse of the life I could have had with Adam. I pictured us curled up on a leather sofa, drinking wine and chatting about what kind of day we’d had at work. And only then did the tears I’d kept trapped within me come flooding out, spilling onto my laptop like droplets of rain.