Besides, she hasn’t absorbed it properly yet. Still wonders if it’s her imagination playing tricks. She keeps checking the screenshots she took of the website on her phone, zooming in, looking at them in different lights. There’s no mistaking it’s Will – especially on the close-up photo of the cosy log burner, flames burning bright, the fat oak beam above it bedecked with fairy lights and candles. And the three large photographs of Will, leaning against the bare brickwork of the chimney as if he were part of a shrine.
‘You can’t come, Lou,’ Jo says, not meaning to sound abrupt. ‘It’s too close to your due date. You need to stay near the hospital. Near Archie. Near everything familiar.’
‘Guess you’re right,’ Louise says flatly, instinctively knowing not to crow too much about Speck’s imminent arrival. Jo is happy for her friends, of course – knows they are ecstatic about their baby, too – but she also knows that Louise has played down her pregnancy, almost been reserved about it, despite Jo insisting she should just act normally, that if she and Will were meant to have conceived then… he wouldn’t have disappeared, would he?
‘Anyway, it’s probably best I take the time to be alone. You know. To reflect. On stuff.’
‘I understand,’ Louise says, pausing for a moment. ‘Have you applied?’
‘No, no, I haven’t yet,’ Jo says, suddenly feeling light-headed at the thought. ‘I’m still thinking about it. Anyway, I’ve got to go, Lou.’ And the two women say their goodbyes.
Oh, Christ… she thinks. What the hell am I supposed to do?
Jo opens up the screenshots on her phone again, shaking her head slowly, biting her lip. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen these photos before,’ she whispers to herself. ‘I think I probably took them.’ She stares at them a moment longer before pulling up the contact number of the family liaison officer she was assigned at Warwickshire Police. PC Janine Daniels. A pleasant woman, Jo thinks, remembering her visits in the early days. But they soon fell away as the police enquiries scaled down after several months.
‘People go missing,’ the officer in charge of the case had told her when they’d run out of leads and, most likely, resources to keep the search going. ‘And what you have to remember is that sometimes they don’t want to be found.’
Jo tucks her phone back in her bag, staring out of the window, not knowing what to do.
Five
Then
The first time I met Will Carter, I was down on bended knee.
‘Shouldn’t it be the other way around?’ were his first words to me as I stooped beneath him.
And ‘Oh Christ, I’m so sorry!’ were my first words to him. I’d managed to stick myself in the cheek with the same pin that I’d just jabbed into Will’s thigh, unable to help the squeak.
‘Blood brothers now,’ Will said from above. I looked up. My smile matched his.
‘I’m so, so sorry. I… I’m not usually this chaotic.’ My hand shook as I reached for another pin from the pot on the floor. ‘Well, actually,’ I said, pausing. ‘Some would argue with that.’ I laughed nervously.
‘I wouldn’t argue with you about anything,’ Will said calmly in that deep voice of his that I would come to love so much.
I glanced up again, my left hand folding in the brocade fabric of his split breeches while the fingers of my right hand carefully slid the pin in place so I knew where to stitch it to prevent the same thing happening again – a large split seam where there really shouldn’t have been one. Apparently there had been complaints. There were schoolchildren in the audience.
‘I didn’t see a problem with it, actually,’ Will added, a wry smile breaking. ‘I was wearing full hose beneath.’
I kept my eyes firmly focused on the fabric, trying to stop the smile, choking back the nervous laughs. ‘I don’t think it’s your hose that was the problem,’ I said, daring a quick glance up. ‘Right, that should do it. Keeps the feel of the costume without being too—’
‘Revealing?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Well, nice work, Mrs…?’ Will raised one eyebrow, another little trait I’d come to love over the following months. The following years.
‘Oh, it’s not Mrs,’ I said immediately. ‘It’s Miss. Miss Langham, and pleased to meet you… Mr Carter.’ I stood up, trying to be graceful except I lost my balance and my foot caught the pot of pins as I staggered, upending them everywhere. I froze, my shoulders dropping briefly, my head shaking, as I bent down to pick them up. Before I could protest, Will was down on his hands and knees helping me.
Cast and crew members were bustling around as some of the actors were called to rehearse a specific scene. Aside from breeches splitting and a few other costume glitches, there had been some technical issues that needed ironing out. The play had only been running a week and had garnered some pleasing national reviews.
‘’Scuse me there,’ a prop hand said, wheeling part of the set past, ushering Will and me aside. He ran over the remaining pins.
‘I’m not needed for a while,’ Will said, standing up and squeezing close to me as the backstage bustle took hold. ‘I shall change out of my breeches in order that you may stitch them up before it is time, once again, for me to tread the boards.’
I laughed at his silly, overstated voice and hand flourishes, giving a quick salute in return. ‘I’ll be right here, with my needle and thread awaiting said breeches.’ My eyes locked onto his for a second. Then I shook my head. ‘It won’t take me long,’ I added. ‘To… to stitch them up. I’ll have you put back together in no time.’
Will walked off, his gaze lingering on mine as he glanced back before heading down to his dressing room.
Meantime, I busied myself with tweaks and tidy-ups on other costumes that had already suffered the ravages of the first week after opening. Margot and I worked tirelessly keeping the garments pristine, organising both the laundering and dry-cleaning as well as general repairs. There were always buttons to be sewn back, rips to stitch up, embellishments to replace and alterations if a cast member either felt uncomfortable or had put on or lost a few pounds.
Having been through college together, Margot and I were a dedicated team with big plans. One day, we swore, we’d have our own business premises – we’d already chosen the name. Sew Perfect was going to be the go-to place in the county for unique designs and professional alterations, with an emphasis on bridal. We’d been trained by the best in London, but had moved back to the Midlands when we couldn’t afford the rent in the south. But for now, what we were doing – ducking and diving from one job to another – sufficed. We were still young – in our mid-twenties – and, compared to many our age, already living the dream. Albeit in a shared studio flat with piecemeal dressmaking work, stints waitressing or working behind a bar, and a few weeks here and there signing on when necessary. But mainly, we were loving life.
‘I saw him looking at you,’ Margot said, her prominent jaw jutting, her eyes twinkling. ‘Othello.’ She swung her legs back and forth, perched on a couple of stacked crates backstage.