Читать книгу: «Down to Earth», страница 2

Because 15 April 2002 was today’s date. And I wasn’t missing at all.

Chapter Four

The pub toilet wasn’t the ideal place to hide. Apart from being less than hygienic, customers kept coming in to use the facilities to find me alternately splashing cold water onto my face and slapping or pinching myself in the hope that I’d wake up from this terrible nightmare. Most of the ladies coming in and out averted their eyes, though one or two looked at me sympathetically as they washed their hands or touched up their make-up.

Eventually the barman, who turned out to be the pub landlord, called me out and told me the pub was closing for the night.

‘There must be someone you can call,’ he said as he cleared the tables of glasses. I watched, perched on a bar stool as he picked up a discarded local newspaper and tossed it into a blue plastic bin.

‘Don’t throw it away!’ I exclaimed, reaching for the paper and smoothing it out.

‘I wasn’t throwing it away, love, I was recycling it. Look, that’s the recycling bin.’

I spread the paper out on the bar top and peered at the date. He hadn’t struck me as a save-the-planet type of guy, but I didn’t have time to wonder at his idiosyncrasies, because I was staring at the date printed in the top right hand corner of the paper. ‘Monday, 20 October 2008’.

‘Where did this newspaper come from?’ I demanded tremulously.

He shrugged. ‘One of the customers must have brought it in.’

‘Is it a joke or something?’

He stopped in mid-stride, his fingers full of glasses and stared at me suspiciously. ‘In what way might it be a joke?’

‘The date,’ I whispered. Something in his expression stopped me from protesting further and I backtracked quickly, a plausible lie leaping to my lips, ‘Sorry, I lost my reading glasses in the accident and I’m having trouble seeing the small print. This is today’s paper is it?’

He came over and took the paper out of my hand. ‘Of course it is. Look, love, I’ve got to close up and you can’t stay here. I don’t want to throw you out with nowhere to go, but what do you expect me to do with you?’

We stared at one another helplessly for a moment. No amount of prayer was going to help me now, I decided. Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked them furiously back, feeling in the jumpsuit pocket for a tissue, determined not to cry in front of this stranger. But it wasn’t a tissue my fingers located – it was a crumpled piece of paper with a telephone number scribbled in pencil.

‘Matt,’ I breathed.

‘Excuse me?’

‘There is someone else I could try, if you don’t mind letting me use the telephone one more time.’

He waved me towards the back. ‘Be my guest, but make it quick will you?’

I dialled the number with trembling fingers. Matt had only given me his number a couple of hours ago, but those few hours seemed to have turned into half a lifetime.

‘Please answer,’ I begged, shifting from one weary foot to the other as the phone rang in the distance. ‘Please, please pick up.’

And then there was a voice at the end of the line. ‘Hello?’

‘Matt?’

‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Michaela. Michaela Anderson. You gave me your number and asked me to give you a call …’

The silence at the end of the line seemed to stretch into eternity. I thought for a moment I had lost the connection, but then his voice came again, hesitant but clear.

‘Is … is it really you, Michaela?’

‘Yes. You suggested going for a drink sometime, but something has happened and I don’t know how to get home.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a pub near the airfield – the Royal Oak, I believe.’

‘Wait right there. Do not move, do not talk to anyone. Give me ten minutes and I’ll come and fetch you.’

The line went dead and I turned to find the landlord look -ing at me. ‘Is someone coming for you?’ he asked hopefully.

‘In ten minutes,’ I replied with the faint beginnings of a smile. ‘I’ll be out of your way as soon as he gets here if you don’t mind letting me wait a little while longer.’

The landlord grinned with obvious relief, indicating a seat by the door. ‘Be my guest,’ he said.

It was nearer fifteen minutes when the door opened startling the landlord, who was leaning against a wall, waiting, key in hand, to lock up and go to bed.

My head, which had drooped wearily onto my chest, shot up as the door swung inwards and I saw a figure emerge through the doorway. A tremor of something indefinable flooded through me.

‘Matt?’ My voice came out as a hoarse croak. ‘You … you’ve had your hair cut.’

I knew it was an odd observation to make, considering the circumstances, but not as odd as the fact that although I could see quite clearly that it was Matt, he looked older, had put a little weight on his slim frame and just seemed … different.

And he was staring at me as if I were a ghostly apparition.

‘My God, Michaela … it really is you.’

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again in confusion.

He seemed to come to a decision and held out his hand. ‘Come on let’s get you out of here.’

I rose to my feet, ready to follow him goodness knows where but felt a sudden nagging doubt. What was I doing going off with someone I barely knew? I turned to the landlord, but he was holding the door open for me and I realised that I had little choice but to leave with Matt. ‘Thank you so much for letting me wait here, it was very kind of you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ He yawned widely. ‘I just wish I could remember where I’ve seen you before.’

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he had several posters of my face stuck all over his back walls, but Matt had taken my elbow and was guiding me out into the dark night. He released me as soon as we were outside. I saw a black car parked at the kerb and Matt walked towards it and indicated I should get in.

I would normally never get into a stranger’s car, but the alternative was to continue being lost and alone and that was something I could not contemplate a moment longer, so I slid onto the cream leather upholstery of the front passenger seat and clipped my safety belt into place. The driver’s door opened and Matt climbed in, started the engine and guided the car out onto the road.

‘Where are we going?’

‘I’m taking you straight to the police station.’

My insides gave an involuntary lurch. ‘Why?’

He risked taking his eyes off the road to glance at me. ‘Michaela, you’ve just turned up out of the blue after all this time. Everyone’s been searching for you. We have to let them know you’re back so that they can question you.’

So I had come down in the wrong place and they had been looking for me all day and all evening. My theory that I must have bumped my head and become disorientated was right. ‘Couldn’t it wait until the morning? I’m very tired and I’d rather just go home.’

‘I’m not sure that’s an option. It’s been a long time, things have changed.’ He shook his head and whistled through his teeth. ‘The press are going to have a field day with your reappearance.’

My stomach clenched at his words and the dread I’d felt earlier began to resurface. ‘Things can’t have become that urgent in the space of a day, surely?’

Matt slowed down and drew in to a small lay-by where he let the engine idle as he turned to face me. His expression was kind, but his voice firm. ‘People are going to want to know where you’ve been. The whole world is going to want to know what happened to you. Your reappearance is going to cause a sensation. Michaela, it hasn’t been a single day. You’ve been missing without trace for six and a half long years.’

Chapter Five

‘I don’t believe you.’ Even as I said it I pictured the newspaper in the pub dated October 2008; the faded leaflets and posters on the wall.

‘Well it’s true. Don’t you remember anything about what happened?’ Matt studied my blank face with an alarmed expression and after a moment swung the car out onto the road again.

I fixed my gaze on the road ahead, the dark tarmac illuminated in the car’s headlights, the hedgerows a black blur outlining the road as we sped by. ‘Nothing untoward happened,’ I insisted softly. ‘I jumped out of that aeroplane this morning and when I landed it was dark.’

‘I have to let the authorities know you’ve been found.’ He looked at me pityingly and his voice was gentle. ‘Whatever has happened to you, you need professional help.’

‘No!’ I turned to him beseechingly. I was beginning to feel exhausted and didn’t know what to think, the physical evidence seemed to support Matt’s claim, yet the suggestion that six and a half years of my life had simply vanished since this morning was farcical. ‘Please won’t you just give me a lift home? My boyfriend must be worried sick about me by now. I said I’d be home before nightfall.’

‘It’s not going to be as simple as that. After all this time you won’t be able to walk straight back into your old life. When you return, it’s going to be traumatic – there will be a lot of curiosity, not just from the police but from the media too. It’s going to be a shock for everyone, Michaela, your boyfriend particularly. It’s been a very long time.’

I fell silent, trying to stay alert despite the weariness that was creeping through me. Forcing my eyes to remain open I stared at the road, thinking about what he’d said. My head had begun to spin and my mouth felt dry. I began to doubt that I could make the journey home to Surrey without being ill. Like a confused and wounded animal, I wanted nothing more than to find a safe dark place where I could curl into a ball and hide. ‘I don’t want to be questioned; not tonight. If you don’t want to drive me all the way home, maybe I could stay at your place … just for tonight?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

Despite the fact that all sense of reason seemed to be shutting down, I detected the doubt creeping into his voice and latched onto it with the desperation of someone about to drown. ‘Please, Matt, just one night while I collect my thoughts.’

‘I ought to take you straight to the police.’

‘Please …?’

He rolled his eyes and after a moment or two’s hesitation he nodded and I felt the panic inside me subside. Whatever had befallen me, I had one night to rest and to buffer whatever horrors I might have to face next.

‘Thank you.’

We hardly spoke for the rest of the journey back to his place, but it seemed that in no time at all he was turning into the shingle driveway of what appeared to be a smart detached house. The house was in darkness save for a single light in the porch. He drove into a narrow garage before killing the engine and turning to face me again.

‘It was really kind of you to come and fetch me …’ I began lamely.

He shook his head. ‘It was the least I could do. I just wish I hadn’t let you persuade me to bring you here instead of taking you to the authorities. I must be crazy.’

‘I tried ringing my boyfriend but he didn’t pick up and a stranger answered my parents’ phone – I’m sure I dialled the right number.’

‘Yes, you probably did.’

Raising my eyes to his, I asked the questions that had been foremost on my mind all evening, ‘But why? I can’t believe what you said about six and a half years having passed, so what’s happened to everyone? How come the airfield was deserted, my car gone and a newspaper in the pub said it was October 2008?’

‘Do you remember anything, anything at all about where you’ve been?’

‘I remember everything very clearly and I haven’t been anywhere. That’s why this is all so confusing. I remember the early morning call from Graham saying the jump was going ahead, the drive down to Kent, the exercises and the briefing, the parachute jump … you telling me I’d regret it if I didn’t go through with it, I remember every detail.’

He reached out and ran a finger over the material of my jumpsuit as if not really believing I was actually wearing it. ‘So you have no memory of anything in between?’

‘There has been no “in between”. It was only this morning you were teaching me my rolling fall! I didn’t want to jump, remember? But I did it and it was all so beautiful once I had got over the terror of falling. You were right, I did love it. Then that strange wind hit me and when I landed it was dark and everyone had gone.’

Matt’s eyebrows shot up and he looked sceptical, yet I had the uncanny feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

‘Maybe Kevin has been right all along,’ he murmured with a smile.

‘Kevin? Oh, so he does exist then?’ I countered, thinking he was mocking me. ‘I was beginning to think my whole life had been some sort of weird dream and I’d imagined him and my job and my family and friends.’

‘No, but something has happened to you and if you don’t remember what, then I don’t know what to think any more than you do.’ He opened his door. ‘Look, come into the house and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.’

I followed him into a brightly lit, very modern but rather messy looking kitchen. Hovering awkwardly by the door, I watched warily as he filled a see-through plastic kettle and switched it on.

‘You look exactly as you did when I last saw you,’ he said, shaking his head in obvious disbelief as he pulled out a stool for me at a breakfast bar. ‘It’s unbelievable.’

‘Well, you only saw me this morning.’ I was getting a bit fed up with the look of amazement on his face. I slid onto the stool, wrinkling my brow as I took in every detail of his appearance. ‘You look different though,’ I commented wearily. ‘Maybe it’s the hair cut, but you look – I don’t know – a bit older.’

‘That’s because I am.’ He turned to face me with that penetrating gaze of his. Taking the seat next to me, he rubbed his palms on the knees of his jeans. ‘Look, Michaela, I don’t want to frighten you, but after you parachuted out of that plane back in April 2002, you simply vanished without trace. You really have been missing all this time: it was as if you’d been completely wiped off the face of the earth.’

‘Stop it!’ I got to my feet again, and began pacing up and down, my jump-boots clattering across the quarry-tiled flooring. Eventually I stopped and turned to face him. ‘How can you expect me to believe that?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But whether you believe it or not your disappearance changed a lot of lives, includ -ing mine. I was the last one to see you; I was the one who told you when and where to jump. The mystery of your disappearance has haunted me ever since. At one point the police even had me down as a suspect for your possible murder.’

‘But I didn’t vanish,’ I protested faintly, the anger ebbing away as quickly as it had come. ‘I’ve been here all along.’

He went to the counter and spooned instant coffee into mugs. I watched as he poured the hot water into the mugs and added milk.

‘When you didn’t land on the airfield we scoured the surrounding fields and woods for you.’ He brought the mugs over to the breakfast bar and took a seat. Somewhat begrudg-ingly I took one of the steaming mugs as he went on. ‘We assumed you’d somehow gone off course and landed outside the airfield, but there was no sign of you anywhere. After several hours of fruitless searching we called the police who widened the hunt to farmland, people’s back gardens, sheds and outhouses but you were nowhere to be found. The search went on for months with door-to-door questioning and television appeals, but there were no leads. It was if you’d just vanished into thin air. Your parents refused to give up on you long after the police had put your case on the back burner. They had leaflets made and circulated them in the area. That was six long years ago, Michaela. After a year or so everyone except your parents – and Kevin and I – believed you would never be seen again.’

I tried lifting the coffee mug to my lips but my hands were shaking so much I could barely hold it. Resting it back down on the counter I gripped my head in my hands and closed my eyes.

‘You must remember something about where you’ve been?’ he pressed again.

‘I told you,’ my voice came out muffled between my elbows and from under my long hair. ‘I remember everything very clearly. Today is 15th April. It’s 2002 …’

He reached over to the back of the counter and pulled a folded newspaper towards me. Scanning the date in the top corner I closed my eyes again and groaned.

‘It can’t be … it just can’t.’

Because this newspaper also proclaimed that today was Monday 20th October, and it was definitely 2008.

Chapter Six

‘Wait here.’ Matt left the room, returning a moment later with a large envelope filled with piles of posters, leaflets and newspaper cuttings. Tilting my head to one side, I watched as he sifted through them.

The first reports had apparently made front-page headlines; ‘Girl vanishes in parachute jump’, and ‘Missing girl in charity jump mystery’, then, ‘Missing jump-girl’s parents in TV plea’, ‘Police quiz instructor in parachute puzzle’, and finally, ‘Michaela – abducted by aliens?’

I read each article with a growing sense of unease. My fingers lingered on a black and white picture of my parents in which they looked haggard and distressed. What must they have been through if what Matt was saying was true?

‘I’ve got to try ringing Calum and my parents again.’ I struggled to my feet and stood swaying dangerously. My ears were ringing with a horrible high-pitched buzzing sound and I felt nauseous again.

The floor, which had seemed so solid only a moment before, tipped towards me and I would have gone down hard if Matt hadn’t grabbed me and helped me down gently onto the cold floor. My hand hurt where the small cut had grazed against the kitchen tiles.

Matt crouched down so his head was only inches from mine. ‘What have you done to your hand?’

‘I caught it on the door of the plane as we were climbing in before the jump,’ I told him.

He fell very still. ‘I remember you doing that,’ he murmured, so quietly that I thought he was talking to himself. ‘But it can’t be the same injury … not after all this time.’

‘What’s happened to me?’ I asked faintly as I stared down at the laces of my boots.

‘That,’ he said firmly, ‘is what I intend to find out.’

I decided not to try ringing anyone again that evening. If even half of what Matt had told me was true, then after six and a half years, one more night wasn’t going to hurt. I asked him about driving me home to Calum or even to Ingrid’s house, but he repeated that it would probably be more sensible if I were to tackle picking up the threads of my life in the morning.

‘Think of the shock you are going to give everyone when you return from the dead,’ he reminded me. ‘If you don’t want to go to the authorities or tell the world you’re back just yet then I suggest you get a good night’s sleep and we’ll go first thing tomorrow. No one is going to believe this you know, not until you’re standing right in front of them in person.’

After following Matt upstairs I stood back as he held open the door to a good-sized guest room, pleasantly decorated in navy blue and white, with a queen-sized bed in the centre. Crossing to a chest of drawers, he rummaged about and returned with a couple of neatly folded white T-shirts, one with a panda on the front, the other with the picture of a leaping dolphin.

‘Here, you can sleep in one of these if you like.’

I took the T-shirts and trailed after him to the bathroom where he produced a clean towel and a brand new toothbrush.

‘I’ll let you get sorted out then,’ he said.

When the door closed behind him, I unfolded the T-shirts and held one against me. It was just long enough to cover my bottom and I decided it would make a decent enough nightdress. Holding the fabric to my face I inhaled the scent, expecting to detect the scent of perfume or some other residual hint of the person this had belonged to, because they certainly weren’t Matt’s. As I contemplated my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t help but wonder how many women had passed through his life since he’d invited me for a drink that morning.

It was a relief to get out of the jumpsuit however, and I looked down at the jeans and T-shirt I had on underneath, glad to see something familiar that belonged to me and which hadn’t miraculously vanished during the day. After brushing my teeth I emerged onto the landing holding the hem of the T-shirt self-consciously down round my thighs. Matt was waiting outside the bathroom door.

‘Have you got everything you need?’

I nodded but as he turned and walked away from me I felt a moment of panic.

What if I closed my eyes and disappeared again? What if I awoke to find another six years had gone by? One of the newspaper articles swam before my eyes; what if I really had been abducted by aliens and they came for me again in the night?

Matt was already halfway along the landing but I called his name and he turned to look questioningly at me. ‘Yes?’

‘I know this is going to sound pathetic, but I don’t want to be left on my own. I don’t suppose I could sleep with you in your room, could I?’ I felt myself blush as his eyes widened in surprise. ‘It’s just that I don’t want to be alone … with all that’s happened I’d feel safer sleeping with someone there. Just as a friend, you understand … no funny business.’

He hesitated as if thinking things over. ‘I’d be crazy to say no to an offer like that,’ he laughed easily and I realised how good looking he was. ‘There’s only one bed in my room, but I promise to be the perfect gentleman or I could sleep on the floor if you want.’

I recalled the undeniable attraction I’d felt towards him this morning when he’d been coaching us for the jump. I’d been surprised and flattered when he’d given me his telephone number instead of Ingrid, though the terror of the impending jump and my feelings for Calum had quelled any thoughts of a possible romance.

‘You don’t need to sleep on the floor,’ I murmured sheepishly.

He turned on the lights to his room and I took in the black sheets, black and gold-trimmed duvet and pillows piled high on his king-sized bed and almost changed my mind. Apart from various items of his previously discarded clothing lying about on the floor, the room was reasonably clean. But by the look of the place I got the feeling he was a confirmed Casanova and here I was, begging to be allowed to sleep with him.

Matt disappeared into an en suite bathroom and returned a few minutes later wearing a towelling robe. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he discarded the robe, giving me a view of broad muscular shoulders tapering to a neat waist before he slid discreetly between the covers. I had the impression he was still wearing boxer shorts and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Embarrassed by my neediness, I climbed quickly into the near-side of the bed, turning my back quickly to his. I heard the rustle of the bedding as he reached out to extinguish the light and I lay as still as I could until he asked if I was alright.

‘Yes, thank you, I’m fine,’ I answered stiffly. I had the duvet drawn up to my chin, my hands crossed protectively over my chest. He murmured ‘goodnight’ and within seconds I could hear his even breathing turn to a light snoring. I waited until I was absolutely sure he was asleep before carefully moving my foot until it was resting gently against his lower leg.

As the warmth of Matt’s flesh seeped into me I felt secure in the knowledge that I was safely anchored to the world by another living, human being and closed my eyes, allowing myself to relax at last and succumb to sleep.