Greenwich Park(54)

I lift the lid of the bread bin, reach inside. Empty. I sigh, crossly. Rachel must have finished the bread again. With the thought comes a memory. We argued last night, Rachel and I. The laptop! That’s right. I found the laptop in her room. I told her to leave. Did she leave?

When I knock on the spare-bedroom door, there is no answer. I push it open and stare. Rachel is gone. All her stuff is gone too. No suitcase, no mess. The bed has been stripped, the bedside table cleared. The sheets and the towels she’s been using have been piled into the laundry basket.

I go to wake Daniel. I push his books and glasses to one side on his bedside table to make space for the tea. Then I sit down on the bed, lay my hand on his chest. He is still sleeping, but fitfully. His T-shirt is drenched in sweat. When I move my hand to his arm, his eyes snap open.

‘Daniel?’

He sits up, wincing, as if his body aches all over, too. Oh God. I hope it isn’t flu.

‘What?’

He rubs his eye sockets with his fingers. He sits up, takes the coffee and drinks deeply from it. Pats around for his glasses, then fumblingly pushes them onto his face with a flattened palm.

‘What’s up? Why are you looking like that?’



‘Rachel’s gone.’

Daniel stares at me. He doesn’t look at all well. His skin is almost green, as if he is about to throw up.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Rachel. She’s gone. All her stuff is gone. She stripped the bed and everything.’

Daniel throws his legs over the side of the bed and marches down the stairs in his T-shirt and pants, as if he doesn’t believe me, wants to see it for himself. After a few minutes he returns. He looks agitated.

‘Didn’t she say where she was going?’

I shake my head. ‘No. I feel terrible now – we had an argument last night …’

‘What about?’

‘You’re not going to believe this. I found your laptop in her room.’

‘Seriously? She stole it?’

I shrug. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Jesus. And then what?’

‘That’s the thing,’ I say slowly. ‘I know I told her to leave. But – it’s so weird – I can’t seem to properly remember what happened afterwards. Going to bed, and stuff like that – I only remember it really vaguely. It’s almost like I’d been drinking.’

Daniel sits down on the bed next to me, pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘Could you have drunk something by mistake?’

‘Of course not.’ I pause, start to pick at the skin around my thumbnail.

‘Oh, Helen.’ Daniel pulls me towards him, holds me tightly. ‘You’ve just been so tired.’ He starts to rock me gently.



I squirm away from him. ‘Something’s not right. Did you see her, before she left? Was she upset? Did she tell you she was leaving?’

‘She didn’t say anything to me.’

‘Did you actually see her leave the party last night?’

‘No. I must have already gone to bed.’

He stretches his head one way, then the other, his neck clicking slightly. Then he takes my hand.

‘Do you think we should do anything?’ I ask.

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’ I rub my eyes with my hands.

‘Come on, Helen,’ Daniel says. ‘Rachel is an adult. She can look after herself. And I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but I’m glad she’s gone. I don’t think it was good for us. Her being here.’

I look at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing. It’s just – I don’t think we need any extra stress. Look, I’m sorry, you were right about the party. I should have been firmer with Charlie. I had no idea he would invite all those people into our house.’

‘What’s that got to do with Rachel?’

‘Nothing. I know you didn’t want to have the party, that’s all. I’m sorry I said yes to it. I’ll clear everything up.’

I pull at a loose thread from my jumper sleeve. The seam inside is unravelling.

‘Do you think we should report her missing or something?’

Daniel looks at me. ‘What? Why?’

‘I don’t know … I mean, it’s weird, her just disappearing. Isn’t it?’

Daniel shrugs. ‘Although you did ask her to leave, didn’t you?’ He puts his hand over mine again. ‘I just think we need to get back to normal. Focus on us, and the baby.’ He pauses. ‘I can repaint that room, now, can’t I, if it’s empty? If you still want me to.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

Daniel pulls his T-shirt over his head, throws it on the floor and heads to the bathroom for a shower. As I listen to the sound of the water, I lie down on the bed. The room is spinning. I close my eyes, try to remember exactly how I left things with Rachel. But my mind isn’t working. It’s like when you wake up and you can’t quite remember a dream. Every time you try to snatch at it, it edges further out of reach.

Daniel emerges, rubbing his hair dry. When he sees my expression, he stops, throws the towel into the laundry basket and comes to sit beside me.

‘All right,’ he says. ‘I can see you’re worried. But first things first. Why don’t you just send her a text, asking if she’s OK? She’s probably fine. You might be worrying about nothing.’