Chapter 13
Otis leads me towards the sleek car he had been driving earlier. The vehicle suits him, or the man I imagine he is when he isn’t crippled with worry.
‘It should take about thirty-five minutes to get to Manchester at this time,’ he says, unlocking the door. ‘Then I say we wait outside the store and look out for Lex. What do you think?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I reply, but I pause by the passenger door.
‘Janine, we have to go. It’s almost lunchtime already.’
‘I know, I just…’ I trail off. It’s clear at one glance that I haven’t made the most sensible choices today. With all the rumours swirling around about Otis, part of my brain wonders if I should get into a car with him alone.
Otis must be able to read my thoughts because he sighs.
‘Look, you showed up on my doorstep, not the other way around,’ he says.
‘You don’t have to come with me to Manchester if you don’t want to – I’m not forcing you.
All I care about is getting there as soon as possible.
If it makes you more comfortable, follow me in your own car. I don’t mind. We just need to go. Now.’
Making my choice, I slip into the passenger side of Otis’s car without another word. I’ve barely clipped my seatbelt in place before he powers the vehicle down the driveway, leaving a flurry of gravel in our wake.
Bramblethorpe blurs past us as we fly down a string of country lanes. Part of me debates asking Otis to slow down, but I don’t think he would pay attention to me even if I did.
As we zoom past the ‘Welcome to Bramblethorpe’ sign, a call comes through to Otis’s phone, connecting to the dashboard thanks to Bluetooth. The name Sonya West appears on the screen, but Otis declines it abruptly.
‘So,’ he says before I can ask whose call he was dodging, ‘you said you’re an author?’
‘That’s right.’
Otis takes a left so sharply I need to hold onto the dashboard to stop myself from sliding out of my seat. ‘What’s your last name? I’m not the biggest reader, but maybe I’ve heard of you.’
‘I write under a pen name. I’m published as S. K. Atherton. My parents’ initials and my maiden name.’
Otis shoots me an impressed glance. ‘S. K. Atherton, eh? I took one of your books on holiday last year.’
I hold my hands up. ‘Please don’t tell me you hated it. In fact, don’t tell me anything you thought about it. I’m barely comfortable with people knowing I write, never mind the idea that they’ve read my work.’
Despite the reason for our drive, Otis manages to laugh. ‘Can I tell you I didn’t get around to reading it because I took work on holiday too?’
Now it’s my turn to laugh. ‘Yes. That’s the kind of feedback my fragile ego can take.’
‘Lex is a big fan of yours, though. She’s the one who told me I had to read your book.’
I smile in response because smiling is easier than speaking now another tie between me and Alexa has come to light.
Pressing my lips together, I focus my attention on life outside the window.
Bramblethorpe is now far behind us. Otis’s driving makes a mockery of speed limits, but I find myself soothed by the intensity of the motion.
Moving this fast, it feels like nothing can catch me, as if all my problems are far away.
Of course, a person can put as much distance as they like between themselves and their problems, but they always catch up. As the grey-skied edges of Manchester come into view, everything I want to outrun does exactly that.
Before being here again breaks me, I look back to Otis. ‘Have you thought about what you’ll say to Alexa when you see her?’
A look flickers over his face, gone before I can put a name to it.
‘Honestly? I think I’ll be so relieved, I won’t say much. I’ll just want to give her a hug.’
My lips part to ask Otis what he’ll do if Alexa doesn’t want to hug him, but as his hands flex against the steering wheel, I decide better of it.
I don’t want to make him more tense or put words to thoughts he’s probably already thinking.
But even if I’m silent, there’s no denying that Otis needs to face the fact that maybe Alexa hasn’t left for some space.
Maybe, for her, this is the end of their relationship.
I glance at him, then settle my attention on the road ahead.
The tarmac is filled with cars now, central Manchester’s hustle and bustle well and truly around us.
Red-brick buildings mingle with glossy high-rise offices and ornate Victorian facades.
Shopfronts advertise sales and must-have purchases, shouting that the path to happiness is through spending more, more, more.
Everywhere I look, I see colour, signage and people.
Dark spots dance in my vision as I remember who I used to be when I lived here.
A woman who went for cocktails with friends.
Who loved to listen to live music. I haven’t done any of those things in so long.
I haven’t been back here in a long time, either.
Not since the last loss pushed me out. The panicked tingling in my head tells me I was wise to stay away.
‘The car park is up ahead, a few buildings down from the university,’ Otis says, his steady voice freeing me from the jaws of anxiety. A few moments later, he swings into the four-storey concrete structure, going so fast he almost clips his wing mirror.
With a nervous glance at Otis, I wonder what’s going through his mind right now. I wonder how he will feel when he sees Alexa.
Let’s just hope she wants to see him, I think.
While Otis searches for a parking spot, an awful worry undermines my confidence. Alexa’s disappearance is strange – stranger than even the village gossip suggested – but maybe she designed it to be that way. Maybe by helping Otis, I am doing the opposite of providing the help I want to give her.
The decision to assist a man I don’t know in hunting for his wife might not be the wisest choice I could have made, but as Otis parks, it’s too late for me to back out now.
‘Ready?’ he asks.
‘Ready,’ I confirm.
Together, we head towards Albion Street. The crowds are even more intimidating now I’m out of the car. Walking through the mass of people, I make my body as small as possible, but shrinking can’t protect me from the sensory overload.
I’m preoccupied with putting one foot in front of the other when Otis comes to a sudden stop.
‘There it is,’ he says, pulling me into an empty doorway and pointing to a shabby building ahead with Variety Food Store written above the door in fading red letters. Otis can’t hide his shock. ‘Is this really where Lex has been going for the last few days?’
‘It must be.’
‘But look at it. The place is a crumbling wreck! It’s not the type of shop Lex would be drawn to. So why is she?’
‘I don’t know, Otis. Your guess is as good as mine.’
Otis lets out a long, steady breath before glancing at his watch. ‘It’s half-twelve now. What should we do?’
‘We should wait.’
So, that’s what we do. We perch on a bench opposite the storefront, observing the people who enter the nondescript building.
With it being around lunchtime, there’s a steady stream of customers.
Two men in business shirts buy a soft drink each and a man in a tracksuit purchases a pack of cigarettes.
A herd of students stop for snacks. The customers make their purchases and go, but none of them is Alexa Clarke.
My bum is numb from sitting in the cold by the time Otis checks his watch again.
‘It’s after three,’ he says. ‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, scanning the street to see if Alexa has miraculously appeared. ‘Maybe she didn’t come here today?’
‘But Lex has gone to this shop at one o’clock for the last two days. Why would she stop today?’
‘Maybe she isn’t in Manchester anymore, or maybe she saw us waiting outside and walked away.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because she might not be ready to see you, Otis,’ I say softly, but my answer only upsets him further.
‘No, that can’t be it.’ Otis pulls out his phone and logs into Alexa’s bank. He chokes when the page loads.
‘What?’ I ask.
Otis is so distressed, he can’t reply. Instead, he turns the phone to me. Sure enough, there’s a transaction logged at Variety Food Store two hours ago.
‘How did we miss her, Janine?’ he croaks. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’ I reach for the phone so I can check the transaction, mistrusting of its validity even though it’s written in black and white. ‘I don’t think we did. We couldn’t have.’
‘But there’s a transaction here, on her card.’
‘I know, but maybe…’ My voice wobbles, wishing I didn’t have to be the person seeing the situation as it is, not as they wish it would be. ‘Otis, have you stopped to think that maybe Alexa isn’t the person using her card?’
Otis’s head jerks back as if he’s been slapped. ‘Who else would be using it?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it was stolen. Maybe someone Alexa is with is using it on her behalf. Either way, Alexa hasn’t used her card today, no matter what her account says. Maybe she never has.’
As those chilling words hang in the air, Otis pulls back.
‘That’s bullshit,’ he says, taking the phone from me. ‘Lex has to be using her card.’
‘Otis, we’ve sat here for hours. We haven’t seen Alexa.’
But no matter how calmly I speak, my words inspire a fear in Otis that he can only handle by being defensive.
‘Fine, maybe someone is buying food for her,’ he snaps. ‘Maybe she’s given her card to a friend, I don’t know. But something weird is happening here, and I’m going to prove it.’
With that, Otis sets off towards the store.
‘Wait! Where are you going?’ I shout, chasing after him, but he’s too enraged to answer.
An electronic chime rings out to announce our entry to Variety Food Store.
I’m unsurprised to find the shop is as small and worn as its exterior suggests.
Confectionery and carb-based snacks fill the head-height shelves, and a stand of gossip magazines lines the back wall.
In the corner, a dated drinks fridge emits a low humming noise.
Otis doesn’t stop to take any of this in. Instead, he walks to the teenager texting behind the counter, clearing his throat to command his attention.
‘Have you seen this woman?’ Otis asks, holding up his phone to show a photo of Alexa.
The teenager shrugs, barely looking up from the message he’s typing. His rudeness provokes Otis enough to slam his hand on the counter.
‘I said, have you seen this woman?’ he barks at the now wide-eyed teenager.
‘Hey, let’s take this down a notch,’ I say, pulling the phone from Otis’s hand. ‘I’m sorry about my friend. His wife hasn’t been home in a few days. I’m sure you can understand why he’s upset. That’s why we need to know if you’ve seen this woman in here recently?’
This time when he’s shown Alexa’s photograph, the teenager studies the image. His eyes narrow, but then he shakes his head. ‘Sorry, never seen her before.’
‘Please, think carefully,’ I urge. ‘She might look different than she does in this picture. Maybe she’s cut her hair, maybe she’s not wearing make-up, maybe—’
The teenager shakes his head to cut me off. ‘I told you, I’ve not seen her.’
‘That’s impossible,’ Otis says, taking the phone back and holding it closer to the cashier. ‘Look again. Look at Lex’s face.’
‘I’ve seen it, but I’ve still no idea who she is.’
‘You’re lying!’ Otis cries. ‘My wife’s bank statement says she’s been coming here every day at one o’clock. It says she was here today, so you must have seen her.’
‘Mate, I’m telling you, I’ve never seen that woman before.’
Stumbling backwards, Otis’s jaw slackens. ‘You must have,’ he whispers. ‘Otherwise, what the hell have I been doing for the last few days?’
As Otis’s upset takes over, I make the mistake of reaching for him. ‘Otis,’ I begin, but the sound of my voice wakes his self-consciousness.
‘Forget it. He doesn’t know anything,’ he sniffs before fleeing the store.
Pained, I watch him go before facing the cashier once more. ‘You’re sure you haven’t seen Alexa?’
When the teenager shakes his head, I follow Otis out onto Albion Street.
It’s started to rain while we were in the store. People scurry past us, desperate to reach the comfort of their workplaces. I follow Otis as he ploughs through the damp streets with reckless abandon.
‘Otis, stop!’ I demand when he knocks into yet another bewildered stranger.
Otis takes a few lurching steps onwards before sense tells him to follow my instructions. When he turns to face me, there’s a weariness to his movements that’s haunting.
‘Where is she, Janine? Where’s Lex?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, even though I know from the manic air surrounding Otis that he wasn’t really wanting me to answer – he simply needed to get the words out in the open.
‘I never should have left when she was so upset,’ he groans, bending at the waist with his hands clamped to his thighs. ‘What if she went out in a state and something bad happened? What if she got hurt? What if—’
‘What ifs don’t help right now,’ I cut in. ‘You need to calm down and call the police.’
Otis flicks his attention to me, his expression tight with terror. ‘The police?’
‘Alexa isn’t using her card. And the fact of the matter is that no one has seen or heard from your wife in days. The police need to know what’s going on, Otis. It’s time.’