Ali Harper - The Runaway

I leaned closer to her, inhaled some of her second-hand smoke. Its warmth crept down my throat. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Well, he does. Sometimes. But, I don’t know …’ She leant back in the chair. ‘I’m worried about him.’

‘Maybe the party isn’t over,’ said Jo.

‘It’s been four days,’ said Nikki, her voice rising.

‘You tried his family?’

‘I don’t know where they live.’

‘You’ve been together a year and you don’t know where his family live?’

‘I know it’s Somerset.’

‘He never took you to meet them?’ I was surprised at that. Not that I’d ever been to visit a boyfriend’s parents, but I’d never had a year-long relationship either. As I’ve probably already said, I’m not the relationship type. And one of the reasons I’ve never had a year-long relationship is because I don’t ever want to meet someone’s parents. Or, more to the point, have someone want to meet mine.

‘They don’t get on,’ Nikki said but I got the feeling she wasn’t happy with the situation.

Jo stretched out her fingers. ‘Best thing you can do is relax,’ she said. ‘Men are like dogs—’

Nikki wrinkled her nose. ‘I need to find him now.’

‘Dogs,’ said Jo, crossing her arms behind her head. ‘Simple needs. The trick is not to—’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Nikki, grinding out her half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. ‘I’ve not got time to—’

‘What’s the rush?’

As the question came out of my mouth I realized I already knew the answer. ‘You’re pregnant,’ I said.

She nodded and another wave of tears welled, smudging her eyeliner before spilling down her cheeks.

‘And Matt knows,’ said Jo. I knew from the tone of her voice what she was thinking.

‘No.’ Nikki shook her head and a tear flew from her cheek and landed on Jo’s new client interview form. I watched it absorb into the paper. ‘He doesn’t know. I didn’t even know. I only did the test the day before yesterday. It sounds stupid, but I never thought. I didn’t feel right Friday, thought I’d eaten something bad. Felt sick all weekend. Then Monday, I was watching Jeremy Kyle , and this girl with the most awful mother … well, anyway, it just hit me. I went to the chemist, got a test and two minutes later there’s these two blue fucking lines.’

‘How pregnant?’ Jo asked.

‘Who can remember the first day of their last period? I mean, Jesus.’ She paused and I felt the rage radiating from her.

I was lost, but fascinated. Like when you pass a car wreck on the motorway. I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t help myself.

‘How pregnant?’ said Jo again.

‘His birthday.’ She let the words hang in the air.

‘So,’ said Jo, re-reading the form, as I tried to remember whether Pisces was February or March. ‘What’s that, two months?’

I glanced at Jo. I know very little about pregnancy but I know there’s a cut-off point, when it all becomes a definite rather than a possibility. From the look of Nikki’s wide eyes, that point wasn’t too far away.

As if to reiterate my thoughts she said in a quiet voice, ‘I’ve not got long.’

The unspoken words hung between us all. I didn’t envy her. I dodge decisions whenever possible. This one was inescapable. Not deciding was a decision all in itself.

She seemed to sense my sympathy because she grabbed my arm and her eyes bored into mine. ‘I can’t do this, not without him. My mum’s going to flip her wig. And my dad …’ She didn’t finish the sentence, crumpled like a wet cardboard box. I wanted to say something comforting but I couldn’t think of the words.

Aunt Edie chose that moment to crash through the door.

I stood up, bashing my knee against the table leg. I took the tray from Aunt Edie and set it on the table in front of us. Aunt Edie passed a box of tissues to Nikki as I hovered by the door, my back to the wall. The room felt smaller than normal.

I try not to think about the past. Nothing good comes from raking over coals or making plans for an unpredictable future. There is only the here and the now. But I couldn’t stop the images flooding my brain. Another young woman I once knew, who didn’t mean to get pregnant.

Fiona.

My half-sister.

A sister I didn’t know I had until four or so years ago, when I first set out to find my dad, a man who’d disappeared the day I was born, a man I’d never met. A man I now wish I’d never met, pray I’ll never meet again. The man that haunts my nightmares. It’s his face I see when I jolt awake in the pitch-dark, panicked and drenched in cold, wet sweat.

I wasn’t there for my seventeen-year-old sister when she discovered she was pregnant. I wasn’t there when she had to break the news to our father. I wasn’t there to protect her. I’ll pay the price for that as long as I live.

I watched Aunt Edie cluck around, handing out mugs of builder-strength tea, and knew that it didn’t matter whether Nikki Cooper-Clarke could pay for our services. It didn’t matter that Jo was convinced Matt had done a runner because somehow he’d sensed his girlfriend was up the duff. I knew there and then that I’d go and find him and I’d force him to face up to the consequences of his actions. Decision implies rational consideration of the facts. Choice is a leap of faith. In that moment, I chose.

We’d got our second case.

I mumbled something about having to make a phone call and left the room. When the three of them came out, a few minutes later, I was behind the desk, pretending to type up case files. As Nikki left, her cheeks mascara-streaked, I asked her to bring in a photograph of Matt – the most recent she could find. She nodded and I promised her we’d give it everything we had. For an awful moment, I thought she was going to hug me, but the desk blocked the space between us. ‘We bill by the hour,’ I said.

‘I’ve paid the deposit.’ She gestured towards Jo, who, I noticed for the first time, held a wad of £20 notes in her left hand.

*

‘Poor lamb,’ Aunt Edie declared from the kitchenette, once Nikki had gone. ‘Still, least it’s not like it was in my day. She’d be shipped off faster than you could say, “Up the duff without a paddle.” Never knew who was going to disappear next. It was like those murder-mystery parties where they pick you off, one at a time.’

‘Let’s start with his mate,’ I said to Jo. ‘Clearly Nikki thinks he knows something.’

I googled the address Nikki had given us for Matt, The Turnways – up near the cricket ground. ‘No time like the present.’ I grabbed my jacket from the peg by the door. ‘Come on.’

Jo drove the company van as I gave directions. We found a nice little residential street in the heart of Headingley. At least, it was probably a nice little residential street once upon a time, before students had overrun the area and landlords disregarded their obligation to keep properties in a good state of repair. The houses were identical, substantial semi-detacheds, arranged in a gently curving semi-circle. Jo parked up and we knocked on the door, waited a few minutes, knocked some more. No answer. I patted my jacket pockets for a pen.

‘A note?’

Jo wrinkled her nose. ‘Let’s keep the element of surprise. Least till we know what we’re dealing with.’

‘What then?’ I glanced up, spotted an open window on the first floor. An open sash window. No window easier to get through, even without my ironing-board physique.

Jo caught me scoping it out and shook her head. ‘Give him a chance. We’ll come back.’ She left the garden and strode towards the van. ‘Let’s try the uni.’

*