Cecelia Ahern - There’s No Place Like Here

Jack sat on the gravel surface beside what he assumed to be the now abandoned car. His overactive mind contemplated every possible scenario as to where Sandy Shortt was, why her car was in the middle of the trees in an old parking lot, why she hadn’t turned up for their meeting the previous day, and why she hadn’t returned to her car for the entire day. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He hadn’t moved from the car’s vicinity all day. A quick search of the surroundings showed no sign of her or of any other life for that matter. It was late now, the forest area was black, the only lights being those from distant ships out at sea and Glin Castle in the distance behind the tall pines. Jack could barely see past the end of his nose. The blackness of the night was thick and engulfing, yet he was afraid to leave in case he missed her, in case somebody towed the car away, which in turn would take away Donal and all possible traces of him.

The file sat on the dashboard. The mobile phone beside it was the only immediate source of light, flashing every few seconds to signal a dying battery. If Sandy wasn’t going to arrive at her car anytime soon, Jack needed to get his hands on that phone to see her recent call list and, with luck, trace somebody from her phonebook who would help find her. If her battery went dead it was possible he wouldn’t be able to switch it back on without a PIN code.

His own mobile phone rang again: Gloria looking for him, no doubt. It was eleven o’clock and he couldn’t bring himself to answer; he didn’t know what he could possibly say to her. He didn’t want to lie, so lately he had avoided conversation with her altogether, leaving the house before she woke, arriving home after she had fallen asleep. He knew his behavior would most definitely be upsetting her, sweet, patient Gloria, who never nagged as friends of his claimed their partners did. She always gave him the space he needed, and felt secure enough in herself to know that he wouldn’t betray her. But he was; he was betraying her patience now and perhaps even driving her away. Maybe that’s what he wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. All he knew was that Donal’s disappearance had brought an end to talks of family and marriage that had previously seemed so important to him, to them both. Right now he was putting their relationship aside and focusing on finding his missing brother. Somehow he felt that by finding Sandy, he would be one step closer to finding Donal, or perhaps that was just another excuse, another obsession to delay moving on with life, to delay confronting Gloria over a relationship he no longer knew how he felt about.

He did the only thing he could think of. He picked up his phone and rang Graham Turner, the guard Jack and his family had been dealing with during the search for Donal.

“Hello?” Graham answered. The background was noisy with shouts, chatter, and laughter. Pub noises.

“Graham, it’s Jack,” Jack shouted in the silent wooded area.

“Hello?” Graham shouted again.

“It’s Jack.” He raised his voice even higher, startling whatever animals had taken refuge in the nearby trees.

“Hold on, I’m going outside,” Graham shouted. The voices and noise grew louder as the phone was carried through the pub. Finally there was silence. “Hello?” Graham said more quietly.

“Graham, it’s Jack.” He kept his voice down now. “Sorry to call you so late.”

“No problem, is everything OK?” Graham asked with concern, used to Jack’s late-night calls over the past year.

“Yeah, things are OK,” Jack lied.

“Any news on Donal?”

“No, no news. Actually I was calling you about something else.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

How on earth was he going to explain this? “I’m just a bit worried about someone. I was due to meet them yesterday morning in Glin but they didn’t show up.”

Silence.

“I see.”

“A message on my answering machine was left before leaving Dublin to let me know they were on their way down but they never showed and the car is parked down by the Estuary.”

Silence.

“Yeah.”

“I’m just starting to get worried, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re bound to under the circumstances.”

That one statement suddenly made Jack feel like a raving paranoid lunatic. Maybe he was.

“I know it sounds like nothing but I think it’s something, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Graham said hurriedly. “Sorry, hold on one minute.” The phone was covered as voices became muffled. “Yeah, another pint. Cheers, Damian. I’ll be in as soon as I finish my smoke,” he said, and then came back on the line. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Look, I know it’s late and you’re out. I apologize for calling.” Jack held his head in his hands, feeling like a fool. His story had sounded stupid and his concern for Sandy unnecessary as soon as he had expressed them but he knew deep down that things weren’t right.

“Don’t worry about it. What do you want me to do? What’s the guy’s name and I’ll ask around?”

“Sandy Shortt.”

“Sandy Shortt.” Yep, the guy was a woman.

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“And you were to meet her…?”

“In Glin yesterday. We passed each other at Lloyds station, you know, the one on-”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Yeah, well, we met there at about five thirty A.M. but she didn’t show up later that morning.”

“She didn’t say where she was going when you met her?”

“No, we hardly spoke.”

“What does she look like?”

“Very tall, curly black hair…” He trailed off, realizing he had no idea what Sandy Shortt looked like, he had no reason to believe that the woman he had passed at the petrol station even was Sandy Shortt. The only proof he had was a file on the dashboard with Donal’s name on it. The driver could have been anyone. He had allowed all the pieces to fit together nicely without even questioning its sense, which right now seemed liked none at all.

“Jack?” Graham was calling him.

“Yeah.”

“She’s tall with curly black hair. Know anything else? Her age or where she’s from or anything?”

“No, I don’t know, Graham. I’m not even sure what she looks like. We only ever spoke over the phone, I don’t even know if that was her at the station.” He suddenly had a thought. “She used to be a garda. In Dublin. She quit four years ago. That’s all I know.” He gave up.

“OK. Right, well, I’ll make a few phone calls and get back to you.”

“Thanks.” Jack felt humiliated, his story was full of holes. “You’ll keep this between us, won’t you?” he asked quietly.

“Will do. All well with Gloria?” The tone was accusing. Or maybe it wasn’t, it was possible Jack was misjudging everything these days.

“Great, yeah.”

“Good. Send her my regards. You’ve got a saint there, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied defensively.

Silence. Then pub atmosphere.

“I’ll get back to you, Jack,” Graham shouted. The line went dead.

Jack thumped his head, feeling like an idiot.

At midnight, as he ran a finger up and down the side of the cold metal car as he paced, his phone rang. He had already texted Gloria to let her know he would be home late, and so he knew it wasn’t her when he answered.

“Jack, it’s Graham here.” His tone was gentler than before. “Listen, I made a few calls, asked around the lads to see if any of them knew a Sandy Shortt.”

“Go on.” His heart thumped.

“You should have told me, Jack,” Graham said softly.

Jack nodded in the darkness, though Graham couldn’t see him. Graham continued, “Seems you shouldn’t worry about her. A good few of the lads knew her.” He laughed, and stopped himself. “They said she disappears all the time without letting anyone know. She’s a hermit, keeps to herself and comes and goes as she pleases but always comes back within a week or so. I wouldn’t worry about her, Jack. This seems to be in keeping with her usual behavior.”