The Forgetting(81)

Zahira places a hand on my arm. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not on your own.’

The alarm in Zahira’s voice makes me sit back down, and it takes a few moments for me to understand the cause of it. ‘Stephen’s not dangerous. He wouldn’t hurt me.’ Even as I say it, there is a voice inside my head, whispering, probing, like a finger jabbed into the flesh of an arm: Are you sure?

‘What time did Stephen say he’d be home?’

I try to straighten out my thoughts, rewind my memory. ‘About five o’clock.’ I glance down at my watch, see there are still three hours to go, do not know how it will be possible to fill such a great gap of time.

‘Call him. Ask him to meet you in the park when he gets home.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I think if you want to see him, you should meet him in a public place. I’ll come with you, sit nearby with Elyas, be on hand in case you need me.’

I feel myself hesitate. ‘Do you really think that’s necessary?’

‘Maybe not. But just indulge me on this, okay?’

I release a breath I was not aware of holding. ‘Thank you.’

‘No need to thank me. Just phone him before I change my mind and insist you go straight to the police.’

I pick up my bag from the floor, empty save for a packet of tissues and the phone Zahira gave me, retrieve the folded piece of paper that has Stephen’s number on it, and dial.





ANNA


LONDON

I press a finger down on the speaker button, do not feel I have the fortitude to manage this call alone.

It takes four rings for him to answer. ‘Hello?’ His voice is suspicious, guarded, and I realise he will not recognise the number.

‘It’s me.’ The words catch in my throat. It’s only in saying them aloud that I understand I do not know who ‘me’ really is.

‘Anna? Where are you? I’ve been calling home for ages and you haven’t been answering.’

I peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth. ‘What time will you be home?’

There is a pause at the other end of the line and I hear the click of an indicator, realise he must already be driving.

‘That’s why I’ve been trying to call. I managed to get away early. I’ll be home in half an hour.’

An involuntary gasp escapes my lips and Zahira catches my eye, mouths silently at me. It’s okay.

‘Anna, where are you? What’s this number you’re calling me from?’

Zahira shakes her head, forms a silent ‘no’ with her lips.

‘Can you meet me in the park when you get back?’ My heart pounds in my chest and I have a sense that Stephen will not appreciate my evasion of his questions.

‘What’s going on?’

There is concern in his voice, and for a second I feel myself falter, think of all the kindness and patience he has shown me since the accident. But then I glance at the laptop, see the photo of Stephen with a different name, think about the photo of me with my parents and my son. ‘I just need to talk to you. Can you come straight to the park?’

The line goes quiet and I wonder, if I were watching his face right now, what expression I would see: whether it would be forbearance, irritation or something else entirely.

‘This is ridiculous. I’ve had a hectic couple of days at this conference and I’ve managed to leave early to see you. I just want to get home. I’ll see you there in half an hour, okay?’

This conference. I have no idea whether it is real, can no longer locate the dividing line between Stephen’s truths and his lies. ‘I won’t be at home. I’ll be in the park, on the benches near the playground. If you want to see me, that’s where I’ll be.’ I don’t know where this assertiveness is coming from, just that this is what I need to do.

Zahira smiles, nods, gives me a thumbs up.

There is a sigh on the other end of the line, filled with barely contained frustration. ‘Okay. But I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.’

Across the table, Zahira shakes her head, gesticulates for me to say no more. My fingers ache from gripping the phone so tightly, and I steel myself to reply. ‘I’ll see you in about half an hour.’

‘Fine.’ He hangs up before either of us has a chance to say anything more.

‘Well done. You did really well. Are you okay?’

I nod in spite of the thrumming in my chest.

Zahira stands up. ‘Right, I’d better get Elyas up from his nap.’

As Zahira leaves the room, I sit at her kitchen table, trying to imagine meeting Stephen in half an hour’s time. I think about everything I’ve uncovered and I do not know how, when I come to face him, I will know where to begin.





ANNA


LONDON

My heart hammers against my ribs. On a bench a few yards away, Zahira blows bubbles through a plastic stick for Elyas, who runs after them, trying to catch them between his palms. Her eyes flit towards me and I wonder if I would have the courage to do this without her. Above my head, streaks of sunlight vein the sky, punctuated by thin shreds of cloud like cigarette smoke.

I pivot my gaze, look towards the entrance, scan the road encircling the park. For a moment I think perhaps he is not going to come, but then I spy Stephen’s Toyota Prius reversing into a parking space that is only just big enough, watch him inch back and forth as he squeezes into the spot.