Helen Douglas - After Eden

‘I didn’t know you were drinking.’

‘Oh, yeah. I had quite a bit. I think I must have made a fool of myself.’

‘To be honest, I was worried that you didn’t like me and Connor hooking up. I thought perhaps it might be an issue?’

‘It’s not remotely an issue,’ I said. ‘I think it’s great the two of you got together.’

‘What time did Ryan leave?’

‘Midnight. They wanted to take advantage of the empty roads.’

‘Are they flying out of Heathrow?’

‘I think so.’

‘Has he called you today?’

‘No. We’re not going to stay in touch. Neither of us believes in long-distance relationships. They never work out.’

‘Really? Why? The world is getting smaller all the time, Eden.’

‘This is for the best.’

She sighed. ‘You’re probably right. You were never more than friends, were you?’

‘No,’ I said. There was no point in telling her we had kissed. She would probably try to persuade me that we must keep in touch.

‘I’d better go,’ said Megan. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?’

‘Don’t you want to do anything today?’

‘Well, the thing is,’ she said. ‘I’m kind of spending the day with Connor.’

‘Right. I see,’ I said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

I hit the end call button. So this was the way things were going to be now that Megan and Connor were a couple. I didn’t think I could stand it. Not only was Ryan gone, but I was stuck in a silent house on my own while my best friends hung out together without me.

Dusk was still several hours away, but the sky was already darkening. The wind blew wildly and the sun was obscured behind the low, glowering storm clouds gathering in the west. I pulled my hoodie over my dress, slipped the key to my car and the key to the farmhouse in my pocket, and headed down the lane.

I’d hoped being with Connor and Megan would help take my mind off Ryan; with neither of them available, Ryan was all I could think about. His name was like a charm. Ryan. Two syllables, like a heartbeat. Orion. Three syllables, like ‘I love you.’

I paused at the entrance to the farmhouse. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t come down here yet, but I needed to link with Ryan in some way. This was the only place I knew for sure he would visit, the only place where we might be separated, not by space, but just by time. I wanted to sit under our apple tree and feel him nearby, in the future.

My sandals crunched over the gravel. The lawn was still neatly cut. The silver car was parked in the driveway. Maybe I would give myself a driving lesson later. I walked across the lawn to the apple tree and sat beside it. We had planted it well. Although its trunk bent in the wind, it was going nowhere. I hugged myself. It was too cold to enjoy sitting outside.

It was strange, unlocking the door to the farmhouse and just going inside. Walking into the kitchen, I could still smell the coffee from the night before. The table and chair were just as I’d left them. The floor had been swept clean. I opened the cupboard where they kept the mugs. All of them were still there, stacked higgledy-piggledy on top of each other. I’m not sure what I expected. When Ryan said they’d cleaned out the farmhouse, I’d assumed they’d have got rid of everything. I checked the fridge. It had been cleaned out and turned off, but there were a few bottles of beer left inside.

I went across to the living room. All the books that had been on the bookshelf were gone. So was the television. The coffee table and the sofa remained. I tried the light switch. Nothing. So they’d had the electricity disconnected.

I ran up the stairs and into the bathroom. A small pile of towels was still neatly stacked inside and a half-used bar of soap sat by the basin. I checked the tap. Water flowed. It seemed they’d cleared out most of the furnishings and thrown away most of their personal stuff, but a few pieces remained behind.

I went into Ryan’s bedroom. The bed had been stripped and the bedding was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. There was nothing of his in the room. No sketch pad or book or dirty mug. No trace of him whatsoever. I was just about to head back downstairs when I heard a car approaching. I looked out of the window and saw a black car pulling into the drive. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone else would visit the farmhouse. But it made perfect sense. The house was empty. Presumably, Ben would have arranged for it to be sold. My heart ached at the thought of another family moving in. Of not being able to visit our apple tree. How long would I have? Days? Weeks? Months?

I didn’t like the thought of an estate agent or solicitor finding me inside the house. The problem was, the back door just led into the back garden. There was no way back on to the lane without coming round to the front and heading down the driveway. There was nothing for it: I would have to face them.

I headed back down the stairs and up to the front door. A man was facing away from me. He was bent over, pulling hard at something in the ground. Our apple tree. Why anyone would wish to destroy a tree was completely mystifying. But what was even more confusing was the person pulling it out of the ground. Because even though he had his back to me, I could tell immediately who it was: Travis.

I was just on the verge of running outside and yelling at him, when I stopped. Something wasn’t right. I backed away from the door and gently pushed it to. My blood had turned to ice. I went back into the kitchen and stood near the window. He tossed the sapling on to the ground and continued digging. If he went any deeper, he would find our time capsule. The tree and the time capsule were the only permanent reminders of me and Ryan, the only mark we had left on the Earth.

And that was when I realised what was happening.

Travis pulled the time capsule out of the ground and tossed it on to the lawn next to the tree. He dropped the shovel and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He turned to face the house. His face was pink from exertion and mud was smeared across his arms. I stepped back from the window.

I wasn’t sure if he had seen me or not. I’d only been there for about a second and it was much harder to see in through a window than out. I could run to the car, but he would probably intercept me on the way. Run out of the back door. That could work, but there was nowhere to hide. Hide in one of the rooms upstairs. But then if he found me, I’d be trapped. I had to face him.

I went to the front door and opened it. Travis was standing right in front of me.

‘Hey, Travis!’ I said, as though there was nothing that could have pleased me more than to bump into Travis at the farmhouse. ‘Did Miranda send you here to fetch me?’

‘We need to talk,’ he said.

‘Can we talk at home? I was just leaving.’

Travis put one hand in the small of my back and pushed me gently, but firmly, inside.

‘What’s going on, Travis?’ I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

‘I’m cleaning up your mess.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I think you do.’

‘Who are you?’ I whispered.

‘I’m sure you’ve worked that out by now. He told you everything else. He must have told you about the clean-up agents.’

I swallowed. Travis was Miranda’s boyfriend. They’d been together for months. He was a part of the family. When Ryan had mentioned cleaners, I’d imagined some sort of arch-villain from a James Bond movie. Not Travis.

‘We need to do some damage limitation,’ he said, steering me into the living room. ‘We can start with this.’

He held a piece of paper in front of my face. My letter to Ryan. I grabbed for it, but Travis held it out of reach.