Page 39 of The Silent Bride
NOW
I step out of the car into the warm London afternoon and the air is sucked from my lungs as I’m hit with a hailstorm of memories: Seth looking out of his window, waving down at me; the time my car broke down in the middle of the road just a few hundred yards from his flat; the two of us coming back to his place, tipsy after a night out; the list goes on. But overlaying each of these memories is a strange blur where I can’t quite make out Seth’s face.
The realisation I had on Saturday after Laurence’s counselling session keeps flying back to me like a sucker punch – the fact that I no longer remember what my Seth looks like. I’m starting to comprehend that fake Seth could very well be my Seth. That all this time, I’m the one who’s got it wrong. But, despite all the evidence mounting up to prove they’re the same person, a kernel of doubt is still wriggling around in my gut. A voice in my ear still whispering that something’s off.
I met up with Seth again yesterday, even though I didn’t want to. Everything in me was screaming to stay away from him, but after Saturday’s horrible realisation, I came to the conclusion that it might be helpful for us to talk again. To see if this time I might recognise him.
We met on neutral ground in a local park. As soon as I saw him there, sitting on that scuffed wooden bench, I wanted to turn around and go home again. I must have visibly recoiled because his smile disappeared the instant he saw my expression. Again, I was blindsided by his unfamiliarity. By the knowledge that this was not my fiancé. Needless to say, our meeting was short and unproductive. I barely said two words to him and came away feeling worse than ever. Which is why I’ve made the trip to London to see if I might discover what’s really going on.
I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly. Just ... something.
I feed the parking meter and cross the road, and walk towards Seth’s building as though in a dream. My throat is scratchy and my vision blurs as I reach the entrance and wave my key fob over the sensor. The door swings open with a click. Seth’s building is a seventies yellow-brick block – ugly on the outside, but spacious and airy on the inside, with large rooms and huge windows that face the park. I press the lift button and wait in the empty lobby, wrinkling my nose against warring smells of cooked food and fake-pine air freshener.
I startle as the lift door slides open with a loud ping, pushing away the thought that I probably shouldn’t be doing this. That I’m here without ‘Seth’s’ knowledge. I reason that he gave me a key so that I could come and go as I please. But that was then. Back when everything was normal. Now, as I walk into the lift and press the button for the fifth floor, I feel like an intruder.
My stomach swoops as the lift lurches upwards. The last time I was here, we were excitedly planning our wedding. Now, I don’t even know who Seth is, and my life is in tatters. The lift stops and I take a breath and step out, turning left towards his front door. I’m about to put the key in the lock, but a growing feeling of unease makes me pause. What if I’ve been right all this time and the real Seth is here in his flat? Restrained, hurt ... or worse. My heartbegins to pound and I tell myself not to be so stupid. So melodramatic. But I pull out my mobile phone, just in case I need to call for help quickly.
I decide to press the bell first. The pounding of my heartbeat in my ears mingles with the echo of the ringing bell. I wait for a moment, and then a moment more, still harbouring the improbable hope that my Seth will open the door with some perfectly reasonable explanation for it all. But I soon realise no one’s coming to the door, so I unlock it and push it open.
I stare into the wide hallway. So familiar and yet so, so different now. Like a view to another life. Even though we were going to be living in Hampshire together, Seth had planned to keep hold of the flat to rent it out. Consequently, there are boxes, bags and cases stacked in the hall, waiting to be shifted. Waiting for our new life to begin.
I listen carefully, but there are no sounds from within. Gingerly, I step over the threshold and let the door close behind me, leaving it on the latch so I can get out quickly if needed. I feel a bit silly being this paranoid, this scared, but my life has flipped around so much that I don’t feel as though I can trust anything or anyone fully right now.
I peer into the bedroom first. It’s dark in there. My pulse pounds.
‘Hello?’ I call out. ‘Seth?’
The air is warm and musty, but I can’t smell anything untoward like a dead body, thank goodness. I walk into the bedroom and pull the cord to open the blinds, flooding the large space with light. I blink and glance around the empty room. The king-size bed has been stripped of bedding, the triple wardrobe is open but empty, the chest of drawers is cleared of clutter, the rug rolled up and leaning against the wall. I relax my shoulders. There’s no one here. I’m not sure whether to feel relief or disappointment. The room feelsso strange without its personality. I run my fingers over the chest of drawers, remembering how much I liked seeing my make-up and perfume sitting alongside his aftershave and razors. How happy I used to be that our lives were so entwined.
The bathroom is similarly empty. The kitchen has only been partially cleared out. The fridge is bare aside from a small unopened carton of orange juice, but the cupboards still contain a few packets and tins of food. Finally, I head into the living room. Apart from the furniture, it too is bare. No personal decoration, cushions, art, photos ... nothing. No sign of Seth. Of the life he had here.
What now?
I was hoping so badly that I’d find something. If not my fiancé, then a clue at least. But this empty flat has yielded nothing, unless ...
I stride back into the hall. Thankfully, Seth has labelled each packing box in black marker pen. The first three are bedding and clothes, but then I spy one that could be promising, marked ‘Pictures etc’. I crouch beside it, peel back the brown parcel tape and open the box. Everything has been wrapped in paper. There are a couple of plant pots, some sporting trophies, candles, and other knick-knacks. I lift them all out until I come to what I’m looking for – the framed photos that used to sit in the lounge and bedroom. I hold my breath as I unwrap the first one. But then I almost drop it as the front door flies open.
I yelp and clasp the photo to my chest, looking up into the open doorway.
A middle-aged man stands there, his eyes narrowed, his belly straining under navy work overalls, his hands stained with white paint.
‘What the hell?’ I back up before realising that I recognise him.
He scowls. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Seth’s fiancée,’ I reply.
‘Well, I know that’s not true,’ he says.
‘Excuse me?’ I get to my feet, dropping the framed photograph back into the box.
He clears his throat and straightens up. ‘I live in the flat opposite. He told me he was going on honeymoon. Asked me to keep an eye on the place.’ He points a finger at me. ‘So, how can you be his fiancée if he’s on his honeymoon? If you leave now I won’t call the coppers, all right? There’s nothing of any value here anyway. He’s moving out.’
‘Yes, that’s because he’s moving in with me!’ I snap. No need to tell him what’s really going on. ‘We’ve met before. You’re Rob, right? I’m Alice.’ I’m nervous that he won’t remember me. That this whole situation is about to get even more complicated.
He squints. ‘Alice?’ He relaxes. ‘Oh, right, it is you. Sorry, not wearing my glasses. Thought you were a burglar. We’ve had a few break-ins in the area recently.’
Well at least that’s something– I recognise Seth’s neighbour and he recognises me. ‘The honeymoon’s been delayed,’ I reply. ‘I’ve just popped back to pick up some things.’
