THE DISAPPEARANCE: Part Three. ‘Mrs Fielding’ by Emma Harding

So you’ve left. I can’t say I’m all that surprised. You never seemed able to fully commit to life. To all its responsibilities. To all its difficulties. To everything you owed to people.

Eleanor called to let me know. Yes, I know. Ellie called to tell me you’d gone. She can’t even use her actual name, that one. What do . . . did . . . you see in her? With her dodgy ex-husband and her scruffy children. She can’t even give them proper names. What sort of name is ‘Cassie’ for goodness sake? Cassandra is such a beautiful name. A Greek goddess, I think. Was she the one who could predict the future but no one ever believed her?

Did you tell her? Ellie? She didn’t say anything about it on the phone but I think I should go and see her. Look her in the eyes. Only then will I know if she knows.

I visited your father yesterday. To tell him the news. There were signs you had been there recently. Was that before you left or after? I talked to him about you but he was no more help than he had been when he was alive. Always one for retreating into silence at the first sign of trouble. Then, as now, I suppose.

He’d know what to say to you though. You always had your heads together you two. Plotting some scheme or trip together. You never shared any of that with me. I used to hate it, you know, being left out like that. Now I miss it. Now I’d give anything to be able to walk into the room and find you both there smirking guiltily at each other. Anything.

My head is full of ‘if onlys’. Regrets that I can’t shake off. If only you’d finished your degree. You were intelligent enough. You could have been anything you wanted. I worked so hard to get you there, made so many sacrifices. But you frittered it away, shrugged it off as if it meant nothing to you. I had such dreams for you. Where did all that promise go? I used to watch you as a child, envying your energy, your delight in new things, new experiences. The way you would drink in life. But somewhere along the line you got scared. You refused to push yourself. If you had you could be a doctor by now, earning a good salary, living in a big house. That’s what I wanted for you. But instead you’re in a dead-end job, with a dead-end ‘wife’.

If only you’d stayed with Rebecca. Not Becky, never Becky. Beautiful, refined Rebecca. She had enough drive for both of you. She’d have made you what you should have been. She’d have given you children of your own. You would have been happy then. Settled.

If only your father was still alive. Yes I know what you said. That I was glad to be rid of him. I haven’t seen you since the day you said those awful things. I swore I’d wait for you to apologise. But you haven’t been back and now maybe you never will.

If only you hadn’t found those things. I’m sorry about that. You weren’t meant to. I meant to throw them out but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But it’s not what you thought. I tried to explain but you wouldn’t listen. You said such horrible things to me. I thought I’d let you stew for a bit and then I’d explain. Now, maybe I won’t get the chance. I loved your father you know. I couldn’t bear seeing him in so much pain.

There’s something I want you to know, wherever you are. I want you to know that your dad smiled at the end. He knew. And I knew. It was the right thing to do.