The Missing One by Lucy Atkins Read Free Book Online Page A

white kitchen cabinets. I hear the door close behind me and Alice’s light feet on the stairs. Then I reach out and gather Finn’s solid body tight in my arms. He smells of Marmite and milk and, somewhere beneath it, sleep. I squeeze my eyes shut so that stars appear. This is the only thing that really matters. How could Doug throw this away? Finn wraps his arms around my neck and presses his sticky face into my hair. ‘Mama,’ he coos. ‘Mamamamamamamama.’
    *
    At some point I am going to have to confront Doug. I can’t just run away from this. And then suddenly, with Alice’s strong coffee buzzing through my head, I think I’ll just do it. Now. Tell him that I saw the texts and that I know he’s having an affair. I put Finn down, kiss him and get several pans and a wooden spoon from the cupboard. He seizes the spoon and begins to bash.
    And before I can change my mind, I press ‘Doug’. The room spins as it rings, twice, and he picks up.
    â€˜Thank God, Kal. I’ve been calling and calling you! Why didn’t you answer? Oh my love – are you OK? What’shappening down there? I’ve been going out of my mind – I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me come down, why … ’ But I hold the phone away from my ear. I breathe in and out.
    I can feel his guilt bouncing off the base stations towards me, and my body vibrates with it. I can’t hear what he is actually saying because everything else is too loud. He has taken our small family and smashed it to pieces. The past eight years suddenly feels like a story that I made up because I needed to believe that love could be simple and constant and he has ripped it up now. This cannot be happening.
    â€˜Stop,’ I say.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜I saw your phone. I saw it, Doug. Stop lying to me.’
    A pause. ‘What did you see?’
    â€˜You know.’
    â€˜You mean … ? OK. OK. Now, OK – look … this isn’t … ’
    â€˜I can’t talk to you about this now!’ I yell. ‘Jesus!’
    â€˜No – listen to me, Kal … I … ’
    But I can’t hear it. I hang up.
    A moment later, it rings again. I throw it across the room and it bounces off the plasterwork, making a dent.
    Finn looks up – his eyebrows are knitted, his eyes wide.
    â€˜It’s OK, sweetie, it’s OK.’
    For a while, I don’t know how long, I sit and stare at the pier painting above the table, unable to move, or think, while Finn crashes the spoon on to my mother’s redundant Le Creusets.
    Then my father comes in. His face is still ashen against his white shirt and navy-blue jumper, his cords hangingloosely off his long legs. He asks, slightly formally, whether Finn might like to come into the garden for a stroll. I bustle around, finding Finn’s coat, hat and his red wellies. I wonder what my father overheard, and I am embarrassed, but also rather touched that he is stepping in like this. Then again, I suppose he knows all about infidelity.
    The two of them go out the front door together, my father bending sideways like a tree in a gale, to reach Finn’s small hand.
    *
    I sit at the kitchen table. I can’t go home today, that’s clear. The thought of confronting Doug makes waves of fury and fear rise inside me one after the other so I have to steady myself with both hands on the table edge. I just have to find a way to think clearly. All I want is to get as far away as possible from this mess. I can’t think – or talk to Doug. I can’t go home. But I can’t stay here, surrounded by my mother’s belongings, and all the memories of my complicated childhood and the ghosts of so many lost opportunities. I have to get away so I won’t have to face this any more. I basically want to vanish.
    I always thought there would be time. I never thought she’d die like this, before