The Forgetting(89)
As I put my phone back in my pocket, I feel a prickle at the back of my neck. My heart beats percussively in my chest and I tighten my grip on the handlebar of Leo’s pushchair. I try to breathe slowly, tell myself there’s nothing to worry about, it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me. I remind myself that this happens a lot, this feeling of being watched, studied, observed from a distance. Lena has tried to reassure me it is only to be expected after all I have been through: moments of paranoia, anxiety, fear. ‘You know that if Dominic ever comes near you or Leo, you only have to phone the police and they will be there in a flash. Your case is logged with them. If your mobile number ever dials 999, they will prioritise your call.’ And yet I cannot help envisaging all the scenarios where the police would not be able to help: Dominic appearing suddenly, snatching Leo before I have a chance to stop him, the police arriving too late. Dominic taking my son with him, never to be seen again. It is a fear so real, so potent, that tears begin to prick my eyes, and I stretch out a hand, take hold of Leo’s, hold on to him tightly. A voice in my head tells me not to worry, Dominic is not here, he wouldn’t risk it with the restraining order in place and the magistrates’ hearing next week. I instruct myself not to look around, not to submit to my own worst fears. I rub a hand along the back of my neck, as if to brush away the sense of disquiet. But in the end, my apprehension wins, as it always does, and I whip my head around, scan the park, search for any sign of him. My eyes dart from one person to the next – elderly couples, women on bikes, men jogging, children playing – searching for a face I know too well and would be happy never to see again. But there is no one I recognise. Just my own anxiety, lurking in the shadows, refusing to believe he will ever let us be free.
‘Hello, you!’
I turn back, see Bea striding towards us. We hug before she bends down, unclips Leo from his buggy, picks him up and showers him with kisses.
I watch them together, my son and my sister, and tell myself to stop worrying. Bea will look out for me. I think of my mum back home making soup, my dad preparing the spare bedroom for Zahira and Elyas, and try to find the reassurance I need in these acts of familial love. I remember what Lena said to me at the end of one of our sessions recently: ‘Dominic has already stolen months of your life from you. It’s up to you now whether you let him steal your future.’
Somewhere at the back of my neck a faint prickling persists, but I refuse to turn around, refuse to look back. With one hand, I take hold of Leo’s, the other I slip through Bea’s arm, and together we head for the swings.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’m incredibly grateful to the team at Lake Union for their professionalism and creativity. Thanks to my Lake Union editor Victoria Pepe, editorial director Sammia Hamer, marketing guru Bekah Graham, the ever-patient Nicole Wagner, and Christiana Demetriou in production. The book’s jacket was masterminded by senior art director Liron Gilenberg, and the team at Brilliance oversaw the audiobook production.
Special thanks to Sophie Wilson, editor extraordinaire, whose input into this book I cannot overstate; thank you for the brainstorms, the invaluable suggestions, the careful reads and the cheerleading. You have been transformative, yet again.
Fellow authors never cease to amaze me with their generosity. Thanks to Adam Kay for the medical advice and Clare Mackintosh for insights into police procedure. Any mistakes are entirely my own.
My thanks to Ruth Jones and Rachel Joyce for the book chats, life chats and everything in between. Thanks to Katie Leah and Georg Ell for the dinners, the laughs and the VR expeditions to Antarctica. And eternal thanks to my mum and stepdad, Tania and Jerry Bowler, for their boundless love, encouragement and pride in everything I do. Jerry: you are the stepfather (and grandfather) I always hoped we’d have in our lives. Thank you for bringing such love into my mum’s life and such kindness, generosity and care to the whole of our family. Mum: thank you for always being on the other end of the phone, for your endless support and for yet another superlative proofread.
Beginning to write a new novel during a pandemic was never going to be ideal timing, so my deepest thanks, as ever, are to the only people with whom I could spend months trapped inside a house and yet still love them more at the end of it; Adam and Aurelia, I know we always say that there’s no such thing as perfection, but our trio comes pretty close. Thank you for being my perfect family.