Bring Me Back Read online

  I knew Finn would be annoyed that I’d sent a doll to Ellen. He wasn’t able to see beyond the complications to the endgame. It was also about control, or lack of it. I was unpredictable. He didn’t know what I was going to do next. He didn’t know that it depended on Ellen.

  Because Ellen had her secrets too.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Finn

  It’s three in the morning and I’m driving round Cheltenham. I know I’m not going to find Layla but I had to get out of the house. I couldn’t sleep, not after seeing the photos. I didn’t want to lie there and think about the life I’m living now, and be confronted with the truth, that it’s a pretend life, a second-best life, a life I chose only because being with Ellen makes me feel closer to Layla. I didn’t want to see Ellen lying next to me and wish it was Layla, as I had so many times before. Ellen deserved better than that. She deserved better than me. I wasn’t with her because I truly loved her. If she hadn’t been Layla’s sister, I would never have fallen for her in the first place. Ruby was right when she said that I’d been hoping to find Layla in Ellen.

  I can’t believe that I’m thinking like this but it’s the truth. When Ellen and I had first begun spending time together, the thing I’d been most afraid of was that she would talk about Layla non-stop, or ask about my relationship with her. I didn’t want to discuss Layla with anyone and, sensing my reticence, Ellen hadn’t asked any questions at all. If she did mention Layla – in relation to something from their childhood, for example – she did so hesitantly, in a testing-the-water kind of way. It’s the same now. Since her three-hour onslaught yesterday, when she told me about the Russian doll that came through the post, she’s hardly mentioned Layla at all. Sometimes, though, I catch her looking at me curiously and I don’t know if it’s because she’s wondering why I’m not mentioning Layla, or if it’s because she’s wondering if there are other things I’ve kept from her. Although I explained why I didn’t tell her about the Russian doll I found, I’m not sure she believed it. And because we agreed to wait and see what Layla does next, we’re living in a sort of no-man’s land.

  ‘Where did you go last night?’ Ellen asks over breakfast. She hadn’t moved when I’d climbed into bed beside her at four thirty, so I thought she hadn’t noticed I’d gone out.

  ‘For a drive. I couldn’t sleep. It’s this new client. He’s even harder work than Grant was.’ She looks at me sympathetically and, feeling guilty for lying yet again, I get to my feet. ‘I think I’ll go for a run.’

  It’s the waiting that’s driving me mad, I realise as I pound the river footpath back towards the house. The urge to contact Layla and push her into some sort of action is unbearable. I slow down as The Jackdaw comes into sight. It isn’t open yet but when I knock on the door, Ruby unlocks it.

  ‘You’re ten minutes too early for breakfast,’ Ruby remarks, pouring me a mug of coffee.

  ‘Ellen knows,’ I say. ‘She knows that Layla is back.’

  ‘Well, at least it’s out in the open. That’s a good thing, surely?’

  ‘You would have thought so.’ I sigh heavily. ‘But now things are awkward between me and Ellen, especially as she saw you and me discussing the Russian doll I found. She wanted to know why I didn’t tell her about it. I hate to think what she’d say if she knew about all the others that have turned up.’

  ‘Does she know Layla’s been emailing you?’

  I shift uncomfortably on my bar stool. ‘No. Nor that I’ve been to the cottage, or about the letter I left for Layla asking her to marry me, the letter that Layla now has.’

  Ruby raises her eyebrows. ‘That’s a lot of secrets, Finn.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So how does Ellen feel about Layla being back?’

  ‘Excited. Scared. She asked me if, now that I know Layla is back, I regretted asking her to marry me and of course I told her I didn’t.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Ruby says.

  ‘We’ve decided to wait and see what Layla does next,’ I go on, ignoring her vote of no-confidence. ‘It might be that she’ll suddenly turn up on the doorstep and put us all out of our misery. It’s these games she’s playing that are so frustrating.’

  ‘What do you think she wants?’

  ‘I know what she wants,’ I say grimly. ‘I asked her and she said she wanted me.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how I feel because it’s impossible. I’m with Ellen now. I can’t just ask her to leave because Layla has decided to come back. And I wouldn’t want to. I love her.’ Even to my ears the words sound hollow.

  ‘Then you need to make that clear to Layla.’

  ‘I’ve tried.’

  ‘Try harder. And if she still doesn’t get it, go to the police.’ She looks thoughtfully at me. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t already.’

  ‘I need to find out where she’s been for the last twelve years first.’

  ‘Hasn’t she told you?’

  ‘No, not yet. That’s why I need to see her before I involve the police.’

  ‘Be careful, Finn,’ Ruby says softly.

  Her words echo in my ears as I walk back to the house. Be careful of who, I want to ask her. Layla? Or myself?

  When another day passes without news from Layla, I do what I didn’t want to do and send her an email.

  We need to talk, Layla, face to face

  You don’t know how much I want to

  But I can’t, not while you’re with Ellen

  Why not?

  Because it would be too hard for me

  I love you, Finn

  No, you love who I was twelve years ago

  I’m not that person any more

  I’m with Ellen now

  Exactly. And while you’re with her, you can’t be with me

  So what do you want me to do?

  Do you truly love Ellen?

  If you do, I’ll leave you in peace

  That’s not what I want!

  So what is it you want?

  I’ve told you, to see you

  And I’ve told you it’s not possible, not while you’re with Ellen

  I don’t understand what you expect me to do

  And of course, there’s no reply, because she knows there’s nothing I can do. I can’t ask Ellen to leave, I can’t tell her that I’ve changed my mind about marrying her, not now that she knows Layla is back. I should have told her before, I realise bitterly, I should have told her I’d changed my mind the moment I knew that Layla had found my letter. I’d had the perfect opportunity; I’d stayed away that night, pretended I’d had a migraine. When I came back the next day, I should have told Ellen that the reason I hadn’t come home was because I’d been thinking about us, about our forthcoming marriage, and had realised I’d made a mistake. She would have been upset, tried to get me to change my mind perhaps. But if I’d stood firm, what could she have done except pack her bags and leave?

  An email comes in, from Layla, and I cross my fingers, hoping she’s relented.

  GET RID OF ELLEN

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Layla

  Deep down, I knew that Ellen wouldn’t relinquish Finn just because I was back. Why would she when she was happy with what she had? She knew Finn didn’t love her as much as he had loved me but second best was enough for her because it was better than what she’d had before. But it worried her that I was back; I could feel her digging her claws in, determined not to let me have him and that surprised me because I had never known her to be tenacious before. But the steely determination she’d had to cultivate over the years to get where she was must have had something to do with it.

  When I sent Finn the message, spelling out to him what he would have to do if he wanted to see me, I felt for him, I really did. But there isn’t room for both Ellen and me. Once upon a time, there had been. Once upon a time, we had shared everything. After our mother’s death, we’d been inseparable, standing firm against our father. And unable to rule us, he had divided
us. It was the only thing I ever learnt from my father. Divide and conquer.

  That’s what I’m planning to do to Ellen and Finn, divide them. And once I’ve managed to prise them apart, Finn will be exactly where I want him to be.

  And this time, it will be Ellen who will disappear.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Finn

  I’ve taken to watching Ellen as she stands by the cooker stirring something in a pan, or sits at the table, her head bent over a magazine, and try to imagine what would happen if I were to say the words aloud, the words that would rid me of her, the words that would buy me the freedom to see Layla. Sometimes I go as far as mouthing, ‘Ellen, I’m sorry but I can’t marry you’, trying the words for size, testing the weight of them in my mouth. And then I imagine her reaction, first the shock, then the bewilderment, followed by a dawning realisation that I’ve never truly loved her. And finally, a quiet acceptance that I am no longer hers, now that Layla is back.

  Except it wouldn’t be like that. There would be tears, which I couldn’t stand, and recriminations, which I couldn’t stomach. So the words remain trapped inside me until I feel as if I’m going to break under the strain of leaving them unsaid. Sometimes, when I’m watching Ellen, I wonder how it has come to this, how I can be contemplating life without her. But then I think of Layla, and Ellen fades into nothing. I remember Harry saying, all those years ago, that Layla had bewitched me. Well, now she’s bewitching me all over again.

  As the days go on, I become desperate. I email Layla, asking her again if we can meet, telling her that we need to talk, that I need to see her. But as I make no mention of having done as she asked, she doesn’t reply.

  ‘How much longer are we going to give Layla?’ Ellen asks one evening. We’re in the sitting room listening to music and supposedly reading but, like me, I’m not sure she’s actually turned any pages.

  I lift my head from my book and look across to where she’s curled up on the sofa, acknowledging that I would never normally sit so far away from her. Before Layla, I would have been next to her, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, playing for time, because I know very well what she means. It’s six days since Layla’s last message, seven since the Russian doll came through the post.

  ‘Before we tell Tony, or someone, that she’s alive.’ I hear the nervousness in her voice. ‘We can’t keep it a secret. The police need to know.’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say, for the third time. ‘We agreed that we’d wait.’

  ‘We said a few days. It’s been a week now,’ she persists. ‘If she was going to turn up of her own accord, surely she would have by now?’

  ‘She was missing for twelve years. We need to give her more time.’

  ‘Then can we at least tell Harry about the Russian doll that came through the post?’

  ‘Why?’ I say, perplexed. ‘What good would that do?’

  ‘I want him to know that I was right when I said that Layla was back. I could tell that he didn’t know what to think, despite the Russian doll I found.’ Something occurs to her. ‘Did you tell him about the one you found on the plate in The Jackdaw, the one you showed Ruby?’ she asks.

  ‘No,’ I admit.

  Now she looks perplexed. ‘But it would have backed up my theory.’

  ‘As I said, I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up until I was sure.’

  ‘But you’re sure now,’ she says emphatically, making it impossible for me to stall any longer.

  ‘Alright, I’ll give Tony a ring.’

  Ellen looks relieved. ‘Three heads are better than two. He’ll know what to do. What about Ruby? How much does she know?’

  Her question takes me by surprise. I make a quick calculation. I can’t tell her that Ruby knows ten times more than she does, that she knows as much as I do, so how much is it feasible that Ruby would know?

  ‘She knows why I was upset to find the Russian doll on the plate,’ I say slowly, trying to work it out as I go along. ‘She knows I thought it came from Layla. When I accused her, I mentioned the story from your childhood, so she knows that now.’

  ‘Does she know that I thought I saw Layla in Cheltenham?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I mentioned it to her,’ I say, keeping it vague.

  She’s quiet for a moment and I hope it’s a sign that she’s going to leave it alone for the moment. ‘But what if—’ She stops.

  ‘What?’ I prompt.

  ‘You said that you didn’t want to get my hopes up until you were sure it wasn’t some kind of sick joke,’ she says slowly. ‘But what if it is? What if it’s just someone who wants us to think that Layla is back?’

  ‘But as you rightly said, who would do such a thing? And nobody really knows the story of the Russian dolls except us.’

  ‘And Harry.’

  I frown. ‘You don’t seriously think that Harry has anything to do with it?’

  She bursts out laughing. ‘No, of course not, not Harry! I was thinking more of Ruby.’

  ‘Ruby? But—’

  ‘Yes, I know, she didn’t know the story of the Russian dolls until you told her in The Jackdaw.’ She leans forward urgently. ‘But what if you had told her before? I mean, you thought you had, which was why you thought she was behind them. So maybe you had and she just pretended that you hadn’t.’

  My head feels as if it’s going to explode with trying to keep up. ‘But what about you seeing Layla in Cheltenham?’

  She shrugs. ‘Maybe you were right all along, maybe it was only someone who had the same sort of hair as Layla.’ She pauses. ‘Ruby has the same sort of hair, long and curly.’

  ‘But not the same colour,’ I say.

  ‘Maybe she wore a wig.’

  ‘Anybody could have worn a wig. Anyway, Ruby didn’t know we were going to be in Cheltenham that day.’

  ‘She could have seen us leave and followed us.’

  ‘So are you telling me that you don’t think Layla is back any more, that you think Ruby is behind it?’ I ask, frustrated.

  ‘But isn’t that what you thought at first? That Ruby put the Russian doll outside the house and then one on the plate so you would think Layla was back and change your mind about marrying me?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t any more.’

  ‘So what changed your mind about Ruby? The only thing that has happened since then is that I received a Russian doll through the post. Is that what convinced you that Layla is back? Because if it is, it could easily have been sent by Ruby.’

  But I’m not thinking about Ruby, I’m thinking about something else she said, something so shocking that a strange weariness comes over me, as if I’m finally having to accept something I’ve suspected all along, but have hidden from. The air around me suddenly feels heavy. It presses on my chest, making it tight and I realise I can barely breathe. Ellen jumps to her feet and the look of alarm on her face as she hurries over to me makes me wonder if I’m having some kind of heart attack. Craving fresh air, I push her out of the way, go through to the hall and wrench open the front door, gulping in the cool night air.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Ellen’s voice comes from the hallway behind me.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I just need some air – it was hot in there.’

  She hovers for a moment but when I don’t say anything more, she disappears into the kitchen.

  I sit down on the step and wait for normality to return. It’s a long time coming. I know what did it, why I felt suddenly ill. I push the thought away but it bounces straight back, forcing me to look at it, examine it, consider it. Is it possible that this whole thing with Layla is a hoax after all? Is it possible that I’ve been betrayed by the one person I would trust with my life – Harry, the person I love like a brother?

  It was something Ellen said – no, the way she had laughed when I’d thought she was pointing the finger at Harry when in fact she’d been pointing it at Ruby. ‘No, of course not!’ she’d said, ‘Not Harry!’ because i
t was unthinkable that Harry would do such a thing. But I know better than anyone that love makes us behave out of character, that it drives us to do things we never thought we’d do. Hadn’t Harry told me only the other day that he wished he had married, settled down?

  I hate where my mind is going but I can’t stop myself. Maybe he’s in love with Ellen, has been from the very start. Was that why he used to invite her to stay at the flat during her trips to London? When I asked Ellen, at the beginning of our relationship, if there’d ever been anything between her and Harry, she’d assured me there hadn’t been. But what if there had been, on Harry’s part? He himself had said the appearance of the first Russian doll was all about timing, because I was going to marry Ellen. What if it had been him who had left it, and when neither Ellen nor I mentioned finding it, he had brought one to lunch with him so that he could pretend he’d found it standing on the wall outside the house, hoping to provoke us into admitting that we’d found one too. I remember the look on his face when Ellen had showed him she now had a full set. Had that been a look of relief, that the seed he’d wanted to sow – that Layla had returned – had already taken root? There’d been no need for him to show us the Russian doll he had in his pocket – until I told him I didn’t believe that Layla was back. I hadn’t confided in him about all the other dolls I’d found, as perhaps he was expecting me to, so he had shown me the Russian doll he’d supposedly found on the wall, hoping maybe to prompt me into telling him about the others. But I hadn’t. What about the one I found on the plate in The Jackdaw? How could he have put it there without Ruby or Ellen or me seeing him? Unless he asked someone to do it for him. Someone who worked in the pub? Ruby? Were Harry and Ruby in this together? My mind feels as if it’s spiralling out of control.

  Wanting to put an end to it, I drag myself off the doorstep. Ellen comes out of the kitchen, worry furrowing her brow.

  ‘Are you alright?’ she asks.

  ‘Fine.’ I head for the stairs. ‘I’ll be as right as rain after a shower and a sleep.’