Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(32)

Eventually, the train came in. The end carriage was mercifully empty and I chose a seat at the back, where I was less likely to be disturbed at subsequent stations. And then, as carefully as my trembling fingers would allow, I unsealed the envelope and gently pulled out the sheets of paper. My heart was in my mouth as I unfolded the pages, and as I did, something slid out and onto my lap. Looking down, I found myself staring at a ring.

I picked it up. It was gold, with a solitary diamond, like an engagement ring. My breath caught in my chest. I felt dizzy, sick. My vision blurred, and fearing I was going to pass out, I forced air into my lungs. The breath that escaped was huge. It shook the whole of my body so violently that the letter slid to the floor. Scared that the ring would too, and that I would never find it, I tried to slide it onto my finger. It was too big for my ring finger so I jammed it onto the middle one. It fitted perfectly. And then I stooped down, rescued the letter from the floor and unfolded it.

The words danced before my eyes. It was a while before I could focus on them and as I read, my whole world, the one I had created for myself, came crashing down around me.





TWENTY-EIGHT

Finn

Since the email from Layla yesterday, I haven’t been able to relax, which is why I’m out for a run. It was the capital letters that did it. They creeped me out. I’d felt threatened, which is stupid, I know. And now I keep wondering what will happen if Layla suddenly appears on the doorstep.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she did. Sometimes I go as far as imagining it – hearing the ring of the doorbell, going into the hall, opening the door, seeing her standing there. But I can’t imagine giving her a hug, ushering into the hall, then into the kitchen where Ellen is waiting. What I can imagine is taking her in my arms and never letting her go. Or taking her by the hand and leading her far, far away from everyone and everything. That’s what makes me afraid.

I arrive at the fence that borders the back of our garden and jump over it onto the lawn. I stand for a moment breathing heavily, stretching my calf muscles, then take out my mobile to check my emails. There’s nothing from Layla, probably because I haven’t replied to her last message, the one where she said she’d found me. I feel I owe her a reply, even if it’s only to tell her to stay away from me, from us, from Ellen and me. But that seems a bit harsh considering we’re her family. So I reply I’m glad you have.

I don’t want to bump into Ellen so I decide to delay my shower and go to my office instead. I log on to my computer and sit there, waiting. A few minutes later, an email comes in.

Have you told Ellen I’m alive?

Truth or lie? Because I’m on uncharted territory, I go for the truth.

No, not yet.

Why not?

Because I want to know where you’ve been for all these years first.

I shouldn’t have come back

What do you mean?

You’re going to marry Ellen My fingers pick out letters of their own accord so it’s only when I’m about to press send that I realise what I’ve written. Snatching my hands away, I push my chair back abruptly, putting distance between me and the keyboard. I take a moment, then reach down with one finger and press the delete button until the three little words – No, I’m not – disappear. I need to reply something, but what? Something benign.

How are you? Are you OK?





Maybe we should meet


I feel a prickle of something like danger. Or maybe it’s excitement.

When?

I’ll let you know

I stare at the screen in frustration. Maybe it’s the fact that she suggested we meet but suddenly I miss her, I miss the Layla I knew twelve years ago. I miss the way we were together. It’s so different from the way I am with Ellen. With Layla, there were highs and lows, with Ellen, everything is constant. There are no ups and downs. We never argue – but we don’t laugh either, not like I laughed with Layla. I tell myself it’s because we’re older but I know that it isn’t. Ellen is more – I search for the word and when I realise I was going to use boring, I quickly substitute it for serious, ashamed at myself. I’ll be alright once I’ve seen Layla, I tell myself. When I see her, I’ll explain that I’m now with Ellen, that it’s Ellen I love, and everything will be alright.

Another email comes in. I open it, thinking she’s going to tell me when we can meet.

I’M WEARING YOUR RING, FINN





TWENTY-NINE

Layla

The words went round and round in my head and the train picked them up, taunting me with them as it trundled along – there’d been no need to run that night, there’d been no need to run. If I hadn’t disappeared, it would have been alright. But I’d thought he was going to kill me.

I should never have told him that I’d slept with someone else. But he knew something was wrong and he kept trying to find out why I’d been so quiet since my return from London. At first he thought I was homesick, or missing Ellen, and the mention of Ellen had made me cry, because of course I was missing her. But it compounded the guilt I felt, because Ellen would have been horrified at what I’d done. If she’d met someone like Finn, she would never have betrayed him, she would have loved him and cherished him and thanked God every waking moment that she’d found a good, kind and decent man, as different as possible from our father in every single way. At least that’s what I’d thought, until I saw a side of him I hadn’t known existed.