Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(39)

‘Finn, what’s the matter?’ When I don’t reply she comes to stand in front of me, forcing me to look at her. ‘Is it because you regret asking me to marry you now that there’s a possibility that Layla is back?’ she asks, her voice faltering.

‘Never,’ I say, putting my arms around her. ‘How could I regret that?’

‘So if it is Layla who sent me the doll, if she is alive, you wouldn’t want to be with her?’

‘Not in that way, no. I’d be glad to see her, of course I would. But twelve years have gone by. We’re not the same people, we’re not in the same place.’

‘Thank you,’ she says softly. ‘Thank you for that. When the doll arrived yesterday, I was so happy. But then I was worried, worried that Layla being back would change things. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about it. Because she is back, Finn, surely you must see that? Between us we’ve found three Russian dolls.’

‘But why is she leaving the dolls in the first place?’ I ask, hoping she might have a different insight. ‘Why not just come to the house and tell us she’s back? She obviously knows where we live.’

‘I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. Maybe she’s scared.’ She raises her head and looks up at me. ‘We should tell Tony. He’ll know what to do.’

‘Not yet,’ I say quickly, needing more time. ‘We don’t know for sure that it is Layla behind the dolls.’ She opens her mouth to protest but I carry on. ‘Let’s wait a few days, see if anything else happens. You never know, she might turn up on the doorstep,’ I add, hoping that she won’t, because how could I choose between them if they asked me to? ‘Maybe the Russian dolls are a way of preparing us for her arrival.’

‘I never thought of that,’ Ellen says. She thinks for a moment. ‘But it’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’

‘We don’t know where’s she’s been or what she’s been through, if she has come back. Her mind might not be as stable as it was.’

Ellen frowns at this. I take her hand. ‘Have you got the envelope the doll came in?’

‘Yes, it’s in the kitchen.’

‘I’d like to have a look at it.’

‘Come on, then.’

The envelope is brown, the sticker with our typed address, white. Even though Ellen had said it came in the post, I’d presumed it had been put through the door, because the other Russian dolls had all been hand-delivered. But there are stamps, and a postmark. I bring it up to eye level.

‘Cheltenham,’ says Ellen. ‘It was the first thing I checked when I saw what was inside.’ Again her voice has that mixture of excitement and fear. ‘She’s here, Finn, close by. After all these years. It’s incredible.’ She hesitates. ‘But also a bit scary. I mean, it’s wonderful that she’s alive, but it’s not going to be easy, is it?’

‘No, probably not,’ I say, acknowledging the understatement.

By the time I go out to my office three hours later I feel mentally exhausted from trying to keep up with Ellen’s continual speculation about where Layla has been for the past twelve years and what will happen now that she’s back. It had been hard to find reasons as to why I shouldn’t phone Tony to ask his advice, or Harry to tell him the good news. When she asked me if I would be willing for Layla to stay with us if she needed to, just until she had sorted herself out, I began to realise something of the nightmare I could soon be in and I felt real anger towards Layla for sending the doll to Ellen. How much longer was I going to be able to stall before Ellen insisted that I speak to Tony? Did Layla understand what she had set in motion? I take out my mobile, determined to spell it out to her. But she’s beaten me to it.

Did Ellen receive the Russian doll I sent her?

Yes

Does she know we’re in contact?

No. Can we meet now?





Soon


What is it you want, Layla?

The answer is so long in coming that I think she’s going to leave me hanging again. But then a message comes in, no text, just attachments. I open the first one and find myself looking at a photo of the two of us, taken on Tower Bridge by one of Layla’s friends from the wine bar. Then other photos, set up by Layla on a delayed timer so that she could run and join me in front of the camera, her arms round my neck, her lips on my cheek. It’s painful to remember how much in love we were. I continue to scroll through photo after photo, evidence of how happy we were together, and the pain intensifies. And at the end, a one-word answer to my question.





YOU





THIRTY-FIVE

Layla

I asked Finn to tell Ellen I was back as a kind of test. He’d said he wanted to see me but I didn’t want us to meet, not yet.

The voice rejoiced when he didn’t do as I asked. ‘You see,’ it said. ‘He doesn’t want to see you that much. If he did, he would tell Ellen.’ I didn’t care. The way I saw it, the fact that Finn wouldn’t tell her meant he wanted to keep me to himself. More importantly, it meant he was keeping secrets from her.

I gave him a week, then sent a doll to Ellen so that she and Finn could have that conversation, the one where they both acknowledged I was back. I worried that I’d played my hand too soon but Finn and I had reached an impasse and I was eager to move things forward. Now it was up to Ellen. I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her but I needed her to do the right thing, and leave me and Finn to get on with the rest of our lives together. I knew it was na?ve to expect her to walk out so that I could walk back in again but it was only the reverse of what had happened before, when I had walked out and she had walked in. At the time, I’d been happy for her to have Finn. But now it was time to give him back.