THE DISAPPEARANCE: Part One. 'Ellie' by Virginia Hainsworth

It’s three o’clock in the morning.  I am awake.  Again.  I gaze through the open curtains at the bare-faced moon.  It is a delicate, dreamy blue and it stares back, unblinkingly, at me.  I wish it could tell me where you are.

I turn to your empty pillow and hug it pathetically.  Where are you?  I know you are out there, somewhere, alive.  I would sense it if you weren’t.

I’ve told the children that you have gone away for a few days with work.  I hate lying to them, but what can I do?  Cassie asked if you had gone to stay with her dad.

For what must be the hundredth time, I trawl every quadrant of my brain for anything unusual in the days leading up to Tuesday morning when you left for work, as normal.  I’ve been over this so many times in my head and with the police.  You left, as you always do, in a rush.  You didn’t take your wallet and bank cards.  You never do.  Just enough money for the day.  I can never understand why you do that.

I’m afraid I’ve looked through all your papers, in your desk drawer, to see if there is anything out of the ordinary.  I’m sorry, but I just felt that I had to and, anyway, the police told me to search.  I felt like a snoop.  I couldn’t find anything odd.  Your passport wasn’t there, of course, but we couldn’t find it when we got back from holiday a couple of weeks ago.  We thought you must have lost it coming out of the airport on the way home.  Did you remember to report it missing?  I bet you’ve forgotten.  That’s so like you.

It’s past four o’clock now.  The moon is dipping down behind the houses at the back.  Just peeping over the chimney pots.  It’s teasing me.  It’s taunting me with the thought that you may have left me for someone else.  I know you haven’t, but the police referred to the possibility.  As did your mother.  She asked if everything was alright ‘between the two of you, if you know what I mean.’  As if I would tell her if there was anything wrong.  She wants to come and stay but I just couldn’t cope with that.  Part of me feels bad about saying no because she must be feeling pretty wretched.  The sliding moon has another disquieting thought for me as it slinks down even lower.  Your mother seemed a bit evasive when we spoke today.  Hesitant.  I try to cancel that thought.  She always sounds cagey with me.

And your closest friend, Jim.  Have you confided anything in him?  He said not.  No, you wouldn’t, would you?  You wouldn’t tell Jim anything you hadn’t told me.  Not Jim, of all people.

It’s five a.m now and the guilty moon has disappeared completely, leaving me feeling even more alone.  I must have slept a little, because remnants of a dream claw at my mind.  You in a dark place.  You’re calling my name, but it’s not my name you’re calling.  It’s my old name.  The one you don’t know about, the one you can’t possibly know, can never know.  I’m back in the children’s home, where I grew up.  The one I told you about.  Then I can hear my mother calling me, the mother I never knew.  But I can’t hear what name she’s using.  Her voice turns into yours.  You’re in a sunless place.  Your voice grows fainter and more fragile.  It disappears completely as I become fully awake. 

Six a.m now and the sun is well over the horizon, sweeping into the corners of my mind and casting away all shadowy thoughts.  For the time being at least.

I am left with the certain knowledge that you must be ill.  Certain, that is, until the next thought.  You’re ill.  That can be the only explanation.  I’m sorry I didn’t realise.  Can you forgive me for not noticing?  I’ll come and find you.  I’ll bring you home and look after you.  I’ll help you to get better.  No-one need know you’re ill.  I feel as though I should know where you are. 

I suddenly notice the faint outline of the moon.  It hasn’t gone after all.