Sarah Pinborough - Cross Her Heart

One photo missing, one broken. Was one left broken to draw attention to the missing one? Is it a message of some kind? A picture of my little girl taken, and the one of the two of us looking happy, smashed. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means, does it?

Ava. My baby. I must keep her safe.

My breath is hot and sour against the covers as I try to stay the right side of hysteria. I checked all the doors and windows. There was no sign of anyone breaking in. The kitchen door was locked. How could someone have got in and out without leaving a trace?

Maybe it was Ava. The thought is a tiny buoy to cling to in the dark ocean of fear. Maybe the evidence is hidden in her room somewhere. It’s the only place I haven’t been able to search. Maybe it was Ava, I repeat over and over but I’m not convincing myself. I keep seeing her face on the stairs. She was confused. She didn’t know what I was talking about.

My eyes burn, tired, despite my racing mind. They want to close, to rest, to sleep, but I can’t allow it. I dread the dreams. I can’t face Daniel, not tonight.

And I know he’ll come, because I can’t let him go. How can I ever let him go?

You have to learn to live in the present. Focus on every day. On Ava.

I thought it was crazy bullshit the first time a therapist said it to me, and I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried, but it remains impossible. The past is my shadow, always there, clinging to me.

Maybe I should ring Alison. She’d listen to me. Listen to what? my inner voice sneers. I have an odd feeling? A photo has gone missing? I heard a song on the radio? I know what she’d say. I’ve rung her too many times recently. She probably thinks I’m crazy. It’s only my imagination. Take deep breaths. Let it go. I should cancel dinner with Simon. Maybe then all this will stop. It was stupid to think I could go on a date. I should know better.

I’m withdrawing, a snail pulling back into its shell.

We’re gonna live wild and free, on the road, you and me,

It’s a deal, a done deal, now drive away baby …

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I am just going mad. Maybe I broke the photos. Maybe it’s me who’s broken.

AVA

My room is dark, except for the glow from my iPad and iPhone screens, like two moons in the night. Facebook is open on my iPad and I stare at it, waiting. I’m always waiting for him and it’s like an itch on the inside of my skin that I can’t reach. I think about him all the time. More when he’s like this – in a hurry or stuck doing something in his boring real life. He said he’d be back in ten minutes but it’s been nearly twenty.

Have I driven him away by ranting about my mum? Was it teenage and childish? The skin on my bottom lip is sore where I’ve been biting it. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was so understanding of how embarrassed I’d felt when she invited Jodie to stay for tea. She hadn’t invited the others so it was totally obvious I’d been talking about how Jodie’s mum is never here. I really like Jodie and I felt like I’d betrayed her somehow – sharing her weird mum’s behaviour with my own. Thankfully, Jodie didn’t mind. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything and seems pretty normal.

I look down at our last WhatsApps on my phone.

So, is it a teacher? Your crush?

I’d answered: Kind of.

She hadn’t asked more. It’s what I like about Jodie. She knows when not to push. If it was the other way round, I’d be nagging her to tell me. I make a mental note in my how to be a better person endless list to try not to do that any more when someone has a secret. In a lot of ways, it’s made me want to tell her more. I want to tell someone . I’m bursting with it.

My WhatsApp has three unanswered messages from Courtney too – even though he’s probably seen I’ve been online. I sent one to him earlier saying my mum was being a bitch about going out while my exams were on and he seemed to believe it.

It made me feel a bit bad because he’s being so nice but I don’t want anyone here in the evenings. Not past around nine or ten when he might be around to chat.

It’s midnight. Jodie went to bed an hour ago and Courtney’s given up on waiting for a reply, so I shut my iPad down and relax against the pillows, opening Messenger on my phone. Once, a while back, I sent a text to Lizzie meant for Angela. Thankfully, it wasn’t bitchy, but it made me paranoid about having too many conversations on the go at once on one device. I’d hate to send something meant for him to someone else.

In the silence of the house, I find myself listening out for sounds in the corridor. What if Mum comes in my room again like she did the other night? Maybe I should go under my covers.

You there, Beautiful?

All thoughts of anyone else vanish and I sit up in my bed, my heart racing. He’s back.

Yep. Right here, in bed. Waiting for you.;-)

I feel hot and awkward about my words, but I press send anyway. I’m trying to sound sexy and flirty but at the same time I don’t want to go too far down that road – to pictures and videos and things. He asked before, once, last week, and I said no. I was too shy. He hasn’t asked since, and apologised. He said he’d had a few drinks and was thinking about me and got carried away. I kind of liked it though. Him thinking of me like that. I wonder if I’m in his head all the time like he is in mine?

Still, maybe I should have sent something. In my underwear. Not with my face in it, obviously – I’m not stupid like Meg – but something to show him I’m a woman not a girl. But I hate my body and I can’t imagine it looking good at any selfie angle, like all those girls on Instagram do in their bikinis. My thighs would look awful. Maybe that’s what stopping me. My own embarrassment.

Can’t chat long. Just wanted to say goodnight.

My disappointment burns through me, a flame consuming curling paper.

I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m sorry I’m so shit at this. I will make more time, I promise. One day we’ll have all the time in the world.

I don’t say anything. I don’t want to sound moody and I need a moment to get myself together. He’s always saying he’ll make more time and in the future it will be different, but what about now ?

I thought you might have been with Courtney tonight. I’m glad you weren’t.

My skin tingles and I feel the power shift. I told him Courtney was there for my birthday. He knows we’re sort of going out, even though I’ve said I’m probably going to end it.

I thought about it , I type. He keeps texting me. He really wants to see me. I don’t know what to do.

I hadn’t thought about it. I haven’t answered Courtney’s messages but there’s no need for him to know that. Not while he’s clearly worrying about it. This isn’t how I expected love to be when I was little. I thought people fell in love and everything was perfect. I should have realised that wasn’t the case from my own family, but no one ever told me how selfish love is. How it eats you up. How many games you have to play to get what you want.

I don’t want you to see him, but that’s not fair on you.

My heart leaps.

Why? Are you jealous?

It’s too direct.

I’m annoyed at myself but I have to know. I don’t want him thinking I’ve been trying to make him jealous, which obviously I have.

A bit. He seems too young for you. You’re too mature for a boy like him. He’s not going to make you happy.

No, I answer. You make me happy. But you’re not here. We’ve never met. Courtney’s here.