The woman staring back at her from behind the glass looked feeble and exhausted. The skin around her eyes hung almost lifelessly, and the pores of her cheeks were swollen and in need of rejuvenation. But it wasnāt just the face that made Zara Edwards despondent; the flaps of skin leading from her neck down to where the bra struggled to restrain her chest at an acceptable height were also old and flaky. Where had this sad, old woman come from? It seemed like only yesterday that sheād still thought of that reflection as a frivolous twenty-something with the world at her feet.
A shadow crossed the dressing table, and a suited figure suddenly appeared behind her in the mirror. He pressed his warm hands on her shoulders and stooped to kiss the top of her head.
āIāve booked the Uber for fifteen minutes; is that okay?ā
She patted his left hand with her right. āIāll be ready.ā
He stooped lower, one knee pushing into the pile of the carpet, so that his head was now in line with her shoulder. āYou have nothing to worry about,ā he said reassuringly, pressing his lips to the top of her arm.
āIām not worried,ā she replied uncertainly.
āRemember, itās just dinner with a few chums from university. Theyāre all very friendly, and I havenāt seen most of them for years. Weāll have dinner and a few drinks, and then weāll be back here. Remember what the counsellor said about us taking it slowly. Itās about one step at a time. We go from here to the Uber, then from the Uber to her house. And Iāll be with you the whole time.ā
She stared at his reflected eyes, and it was almost enough to flood hers with tears. Her rock, for all these years.
āPromise you wonāt abandon me tonight?ā
He kissed her arm again. āI promise, with the caveat that you let me use the bathroom alone.ā He smiled quickly to show he was only teasing. āIf it all gets too much, you only have to say and Iāll make our excuses and we can leave. Okay?ā
This was a big night for him, she knew, and that was why sheād spent the entire week psyching herself into the position where sheād at least made it to the dressing table to slap on her war paint. There was a time when her voice would have refused point-blank to even consider dinner at a friendās house, especially when sheād never met the host.
She tilted her head so it pressed into the hand still on her shoulder. āIām sorry for being such a drag. I donāt know why you put up with me.ā She sighed gently.
āI donāt put up with you,ā he reinforced. āI love you, Zara, and I understand you struggle with new places, especially when youāre unfamiliar with the people there. I understand it, and Iām happy to support you as you work towards finding resolution.ā
He paused and looked away for the briefest of moments, but she spotted it, quickly returning her eyes to the makeup bag before her so he wouldnāt see that sheād seen. If he knew the real reason why she was dreading tonightās dinner, he probably wouldnāt press for her to go with him. Sheād thought about suggesting he go alone ā he was sure to have more fun without her hanging on his arm ā but sheād bailed on too many nights out before, and even though he hadnāt said as much, she sensed he was starting to grow frustrated by the routine.
āI donāt know what Iād do without you,ā she said, moving her hand to his cheek where the long scar ran from his eye socket down to his chin.
When theyād first met, heād been shy of his scar, keeping it partially obscured by high scarves and low hats, but sheād managed to show him that the scar wasnāt something to be ashamed of. His standing up to his abusive father was precisely what had saved his mother and younger sister. The pink line where the skin had healed over the bottle slash was evidence of his resilience in the face of adversity. It was her favourite part of his face, even if it was his least.
āIām the lucky one,ā he whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear.
āAre you sure you wouldnāt prefer to go alone?ā The words were out before she had time to hold them in, and she instantly regretted them as disappointment filled his eyes.
āThat would be like Robin taking on Gothamās underworld without Batman, or Penfold without Danger Mouse.ā
Sheād never picked him up on it, but he always framed her as the powerhouse in their relationship, even though they both knew he wore the trousers. They just wouldnāt work if she had any level of real responsibility; she needed him more than he needed her.
āBesides,ā he continued, āsome of my friends are beginning to think that you donāt exist. If I donāt drag you out sooner or later, theyāre going to think Iām some kind of Norman Bates type character, secretly living out two lives.ā
This made her smile, and she craned her neck to kiss him on the lips. āIāll get dressed; why donāt you fix yourself a glass of wine while you wait for the taxi? You deserve it after the week youāve had.ā
He straightened. āCan I get you a glass too?ā
āNot just yet,ā she said, with a shake of the head. āIād rather wait until we get there.ā
She waited for him to leave before rummaging through the makeup bag, extracting lip gloss, foundation, and mascara, and systematically applying each until the woman staring back at her was virtually unrecognisable. She pulled her cheeks into a smile, and brushed her long, brittle auburn hair, until it resembled something less like a birdās nest. Finally, she stood and moved across to the built-in wardrobe in the wall behind her, and slipped the navy dress from the wire hanger. She pushed her arms in, fiddling with the zip at the side until her tired and less-than-poised body was covered. Taking one final look in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door, she sighed in remorseful satisfaction. It was the best she could do with what she had.
āAnd when Professor Sweeten entered his office and saw that the engineers had reassembled that bloody MG inside, well I could have wet myself!ā
Most of the rest of the guests sitting around the table laughed at Tomās anecdote from their time at university together, as he reached for his glass and took a long swig of wine. Heād always been able to make Zara laugh, but he wasnāt the sort of man constantly looking to keep others entertained. Sheād wondered whether heād been a bit of a class clown at school, but according to his younger sister Mable, he had been very shy until university had helped coax him from his shell. In another life he probably could have pursued a career in comedy, such was his ability to find the humour in almost any situation, but then again, in another life she too could have been someone different.
āYouāre lucky none of you got arrested!ā Harriet cautioned. āHow would that have looked on your applications to the bar? Criminal charges on a future barristerās record would not do.ā
Harriet was Willās wife ā they were hosting tonightās dinner party ā and whilst it had been pitched as a party of six, there were now twelve of them squashed in around the large dining table in the cramped room. For etiquetteās sake, the men had agreed to use the selection of emergency chairs that had been drafted in to ensure everyone had a place. As soon as Zara had seen the number of guests sheād desperately wanted to turn around and chase after the Uber, but she hadnāt mentioned her fear when Tom had checked if she was okay. He deserved better than to have his evening out ruined. Heād been working such long hours recently that it was important he have a break from chambers, and from their two-bedroom house.
Despite his earlier promise not to leave her side, he hadnāt challenged Harrietās suggestion that the friends from university sit together, while their partners gathered at the opposite end of the table.
āTheyāll just be talking about times that none of us experienced,ā Harriet had said. āFar better to leave them to it.ā
That meant Zara was now seated between a secondary school teacher and a literary agent, with whom she doubted she shared many interests. Sheād spent most of the evening just watching Tom as he regaled those nearest to him with anecdote after anecdote.
āSo what do you do for a living, Zara?ā the literary agent asked now, dabbing her lips with a cotton napkin.
She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. āI work in an independent bookshop.ā
āOh really? Iām in the publishing industry too. Youāve probably got some of my clientsā books in your store.ā
āWe mainly sell specialist reference books, rather than fiction,ā Zara corrected. In truth it had been years since sheād worked in her godfatherās shop, but it was an easier lie than admitting sheād been made redundant from her role as a legal secretary before Christmas.
āAh, okay, fair enough. Do you enjoy working there?ā
Zara reached for her glass of chilled wine. āWe never get too busy, and most of the customers who come in usually know what theyāre looking for; in fact, a lot of the time they come in to collect a book theyāve pre-ordered. I get on really well with the owner who trusts me to lock up at night, and yeah, I enjoy reading up on subjects I know nothing about.ā
āSounds wonderful! Passion for reading is what attracted me to publishing too. I love finding a submission from a prospective client that just grabs me by the shirttails and drags me on their journey. Itās hard work sorting the wheat from the chaff, but so worth it when I see a manuscript Iāve sweated over reach the top of a chart.ā
Zara sipped the wine, but it did nothing to cool her cheeks.
āDo you and Tom have children?ā
The inevitable question that always seemed to come up at such engagements, and another reason Zara dreaded attending them. āNo we donāt,ā she replied evenly. āNeither Tom nor I want them, to be honest. Donāt get me wrong, we love spending time with Tomās niece ā his sisterās daughter ā but Iām just not very maternal. You?ā
āI did, but my son died.ā
Zara quickly covered her hand with her mouth. āOh gosh, Iām so sorry. I had no idea.ā
āItās okay. It was a number of years ago. A shock at the time ā no parent ever expects to bury their child ā but Iāve come to terms with it now. Thatās not to say I donāt miss him like crazy.ā
Zara fixed her with a sincere look. āI am so sorry. If Iād known I wouldnāt have asked.ā
The agent smiled back. āDonāt worry about it. Really, Iām fine.ā
āMaddie, Maddie,ā Harriet was calling from the foot of the table, āyouāll be able to help us settle this debate. Deborah was just saying that sheād read a statistic that claimed over a hundred thousand children are reported missing every year in the UK, but we donāt get to hear about even one per cent of them. One of your clients writes about missing children, doesnāt she?ā
Zara felt her chest constrict as the breath caught in her throat, but she remained perfectly still.
āThatās right. Emma Hunter is my number one client at the moment. Iāve heard that statistic too, but you have to bear in mind that a large proportion of those reported cases relate to children whoāve run away but who do eventually turn up. A prime example is...
