Thirty years ago Emily remembered her mothers eyesfull of despair and something else. Margaret never blamed Emily outright, but Emily felt that from that moment she had lost her mother. Her mother hated her, silent and bitter.
Emily slammed the suitcase lid, stuffing in the last hastily folded sweater. The zipper stuck, refusing to close.
What are you going to do about it! Emily muttered, slamming her weight onto it.
A knock at the door made her jump.
Bob with his farewell speeches again, Emily thought irritably.
Sure enough, Bob was there, a bouquet of wilted roses in hand.
Back from Newcastle again? Bob asked, unable to hide his true feelings.
Yes, Bob, again, Emily replied, softer this time.
She knew how hard it was for him. It was hard for her too, but Charlie.
Emily, how long will this go on? You know this is madness, Bob said, searching for words that wouldnt hurt. Youre living in a past thats destroying you.
What am I supposed to do? Emily blurted. Forget? Tell myself, Its fine, my brother vanished, thirty years have passed, what does it matter? Is that what you want?
Bob, without pretense, nodded. That was exactly what he wanted.
I want you to be happy, Emily. To live in the present. To allow yourself maybe even to marry.
Emily lowered her eyes. She loved Bob in her own wayreliable, caring, patient. But Charlie Charlie was her endless ache.
I cant, Bob. I just cant. Until I find Charlie, I cant move on.
Youll never find him, Emily! Bob snapped. Think, thirty years have passed! Even if hes alive, he wont recognize you. He could be in a childrens home, have lost his memory, been adopted. Hed have grown up in another family, a different lifehed be a different person!
Bob avoided any other possibilities where Charlie might still be alive. They were too terrible to contemplate.
No! Emily shook her head. Its Charlie. Ill find him. I feel it.
Bob handed her the roses.
Then goodbye, Emily. This isnt a relationship, its a fiction.
Emily took the bouquet, feeling something snap inside herher feelings, once again. She knew she was losing Bob, but she could do nothing.
Goodbye, Bob, she whispered, closing the door.
She sat on the suitcase she had been dragging across the country, still wrestling with the stubborn zipper, and didnt notice her tears.
Why, Charlie? Why did it have to end like this? she asked silently, thinking of her brother whose face, voice, even eye colour were fading from memory.
At seven, Emily could no longer stand Charlie, who stole her freedom and attention. Summer in the village was a haven for childrenriver, woods, friends, latenight gameswhile Emily had Charlie, forever whimpering, forever clingy.
Emily, go play with your brother, her mother Margaret would say. It isnt hard.
It was hardso hard! Emily wanted to run to the river with Dan, Pete and Sue, build forts in the forest, simply be a child. Instead she had to push a pram with Charlie through dusty lanes, listening to his endless ahgoo. It was exhausting.
One day Dan suggested crossing to the other side of the river, where an abandoned mill was said to be haunted. No one believed in ghosts, but the idea of exploring unknown places thrilled them.
Emily, come with us! Dan urged. Just you, no Charlie.
Emily looked hopeful at her mother.
No, Emily, Margaret cut in. Either with your brother or stay home.
Emily gritted her teeth. Everything annoyed her. This wasnt life!
She took Dans hand anyway.
That day on the opposite bank was livelyhowls, laughter, tag in the derelict mill. Emily barely participated; Charlie was always with her. He was quick when he wanted to be, but he never chased the sevenyearolds through the ruins.
Then, for a brief moment, she let go of his hand to retrieve a yellowed, cracked ball from under a concrete slabperhaps left by previous children. She crawled in, grabbed the ball, climbed out, brushed herself off and when she turned, Charlie was gone.
Emily screamed his name. The boys searched, but he was nowhere.
Police, parents, neighbours combed the river, the woods, every house. They questioned anyone who might have seen something. Charlie was nowhere to be found.
Emily remembered her mothers eyesfull of despair. Margaret never scolded her, yet Emily felt shed lost her mother that day. Her mother hated her, silent and bitter.
A year later Margaret could not bear it any longer.
Emilys father, George, tried to stay upbeat, working hard and cheerfully encouraging Emily, but he too was broken. Emily watched him age day by day, heard the clink of empty bottles in his room. He never drank in front of her, but when she fell asleep he would open a fresh bottle, as if to drown his own loneliness.
Then Emily grew up. Her sole purpose became finding Charlieher duty, her redemption, her chance to reclaim who? Him or herself?
The plane touched down in Newcastle. Emily stepped out of the terminal, a slight tremor running through her. Newcastle was a beautiful city, but she had no time for its charms. She was there for Charlie.
She was convinced he was here.
She didnt understand why she travelled to every town with such certainty. It was as if each place held a clue.
The tip she received mentioned a man working at the local dock who resembled a faded photograph of Charlie taken many years ago, and a sketch of what Charlie might look like as an adult. The picture was blurry, yet something about it grabbed Emily. She felt it could be him.
At the airport, she was met by Andrew, the source of the information.
Thank you for coming, Emily said, shaking his hand. Im very grateful.
I hope I havent wasted your time, Andrew replied. Ill take you to him. He refused to speak with me, but perhaps seeing you will change that. They say kindred spirits recognise each other.
They drove in silence. Emily watched unfamiliar countryside roll by.
Finally they arrived at the docks parking area. Andrew stopped; they had to walk the rest on foot.
There he is, he said, pointing to a man tinkering under the bonnet of an old Toyota.
Emily stared. He had the same light hair, the same blue eyessomething else, elusive, made her freeze.
Charlie? she whispered.
The man snapped upright, wiping his hands on a grimy rag. Emily realised instantly he was not him. Not him. Yet she could not admit it to herself.
Do I know you? he asked, spotting Andrew behind her. Andrew, whats this about?
Emily began to sob.
Charlie, its me, Emily, your sister she tried, though she knew he could not possibly be her brother.
Sister? I have no sister. Andrew, what kind of joke is this? I told you I have no relatives.
There is one! Emily lunged, grabbing his wrists. Charlie, dont you remember? We played by the river. You got lost. I was seven, you were two and a half. You dont remember?
He stepped back.
Sorry, I dont understand. If this is a prank, it isnt funny. Im Ian. I grew up in a childrens home. I havent seen my family since I was four. I know I have no sister.
But you look just like Charlie! Emily exclaimed. Same eyes, same hair!
Maybe. There are plenty of lookalikes, Ian shrugged. Ive been looking for my own family for years, and Im not yours. Youve got the wrong person.
Emily refused to believe him. She knew he wasnt her brother, yet the disappointment was crushing. She was so close, and it slipped away again. She wanted to hug him, tell him everything would be alright, that after all those years she had finally found him. He stared at her with puzzlement, even a hint of fear. People began to keep their distance.
I I can do a test, Emily stammered. To be sure.
Im not opposed, Ian said, but I doubt it will change anything. My family were drinkers. After they took me, my mother had three more children, who were also taken. I never met them, but Ive heard their story. I cannot be your brother.
Please. It wont take long.
Alright.
The results arrived days later: negative. Ian was not Emilys brother.
Emily returned to her flat, locked herself in, stared out at the perpetual grey rain. The hope that had flared in Newcastle dimmed to ash. Perhaps she should have listened to Bob?
Bob never returned. He had probably found another woman who lived in the present, who could offer him a real life. Emily didnt blame him. She could only live in the past, forever stuck in the day her brother vanished.
It was time to let go of hope
She opened her laptop again, scrolling through listings of missing children, lost people, those searching for relatives. Somewhere, perhaps, a trace remained.
She knew she would never stop looking for Charlie. It was her curse, her burden until death.
Six months passed.
Emily visited two more towns, nearby, spoke to dozens more people. Nothing.
Then a break. Ian from Newcastle called her. He wasnt in Newcastle; he was actually in the same city Emily was now in, and out of curiosity she agreed to meet.
He sat across from her, recounting:
My job fell through after a clash at work. People were fired, I left. A friend from the childrens home called, offered a position here. I thought of you and felt it was fate. Emily, I liked you from the first moment I saw you. I have nothing to lose.
Liked me? Emilys cheeks flushed.
When was the last time shed sat in a quiet restaurant, talking openly with someone, not about Charlie, not in a hurry, not in a strangers cafeteria?
Very much. I thought Id ask Andrew for your number and call you when I moved. I moved and called.
His straightforwardness amused her.
Im just about to pack my bags. My flight is tomorrow.
Where to this time?
To the Midlands.
The clue was flimsy, but Emily would go. She no longer believed in anything. It had become a frantic chase, and if she stopped, her own thoughts would drive her mad.
Youre trying to drown your guilt, Ian said suddenly, honestly.
Perhaps, Emily admitted. I was responsible for him. I should have brought him home. For thirty years Ive only tried to bring him back. But
He paused.
We barely know each other, so I cant advise you on your life. I can tell you about mine. I remember the first four years of my childhood better than most. I also remember feeling utterly useless. When they took me to the home, I didnt cry. Yet until I left, I wanted to see my parents, to fix the brokenness that followed me all life. I found them. They barely cared where I was. I let it go. That chapter ended, another began. I move easily, fit in, adapt. I dont run; I keep moving forward. You run, chasing a past that haunts you.
Emily stayed silent for a long moment.
Our situations differ. Yours has a fixed answer; mine is unknown. Sorry, I have work.
Emily was about to leave, but she wanted to staynot out of guilt or duty, but because she truly wished to.
She turned back.
But I wouldnt mind going on a date with you. Tomorrow.
What about your trip?
The man who looks like Charlie isnt him. I know that now. Im tired of this chase. Youre right in some ways. So Ill go on a date.
Ill be happy.
