Chapter 23 : A Vacation Is Announced - June

June: 19 Months, 597 Days Since Jenny's Disappearance

I'm sitting here waiting for a phone call. I'm still not sure if I've done the right thing but maybe it really is time to move on. It's an irony that Jenny's mother and father have brought matters to a head, but that's how it is. A few weeks ago, I took a call from Inga Palmer. She said that she and Andrew were going to their summer house, south of Stockholm and would I like to go? I was in two minds. Jenny's parents have been enormously supportive but going on holiday with them, going somewhere I had been with Jenny, somewhere that Jenny had known as a child, somewhere haunted with memories of Jenny; was that really such a good idea?

Then Inga said, "and why don't you bring a friend Zhoe? Anybody at all. Andrew and I would not mind." (Even though she has lived in England for almost thirty years, she still can't quite manage all the sounds of English. I have always been 'Zhoesef, ' not 'Jozeph')

I realised just how tough and brave the Palmers were being. Brave and typically generous. They were telling me that I had to move on, that they had to move on; to leave Jenny as she had left us, on a November afternoon in London: it will soon be two years ago. They were telling me that they understood that I would form new relationships; that they would open their hearts to whoever I chose.

I expect they need me to be part of the process. To show I am moving on so that in some way they could justify to themselves that they should move on, too.

Confronted with their kindness, how could I turn them down? I agreed and said yes, I might bring a friend. Now I knew exactly who I wanted to take. I wanted to take Gwenda.

It's her call I'm waiting for. The vacation is next week. I called her. She wasn't there; anticlimax! I left a message; asked her to call me.

My mobile rings, it's her number.

"Gwenda?"

"Joseph! How's things?"

Her voice, as ever, is deep, soft, warm, and has laughter in it.

"Well fine. I'm glad I reached you," I can almost see her putting her head on one side and pursing her lips in the way that she does when she's confronted with a problem. I can sense her thinking, 'get to the point'.

"Sorry I wasn't there earlier, I was... , well there's always stuff going on. I've been up to my ears in it."

"Well, maybe you need a break. How would you like a few days in Stockholm?"

"Stockholm? That's seriously smart. Why Stockholm?"

"Jenny's parents have a summer house there and they have invited me..."

"Oh..."

" ... in particular me and a friend."

"Ah, that's better. Joseph, that's very brave of them."

"Yes, isn't it?"

Gwenda pauses. "Joseph I should love to! When were you going?"

"Well, I've booked a couple of weeks annual leave and I happen to know you did too, so I thought we could..."

"Next week?"

Yes: next week."

"Oh, Joseph! I am so sorry!" Her disappointment sounds genuine. This isn't a casual brush off but why would it be? After all, we have some shared history now, Gwenda and me. "I'm going over to a wedding in Tobago. Relatives. I really can't duck it. I've got to be there. You could always come with me?"

"I would absolutely love to go to a wedding in Tobago with you, Gwenda but I have said 'yes' to Inga and Andrew. In the circumstances I think I should..."

"Yes, of course you should. You definitely should but ... well I am coming back, you know?"

"I should hope so!"

"So when we are both back, you know I will have had enough rice and peas and you'll have had enough of tall blonde girls." ... She pauses and gives Joe a broad smile... "So, you can take me to the best restaurant you can get a table at and I'll give you ... a roll in the hay with something not so blonde!"

Gwenda laughs at her own joke. I laugh too but inside I'm not laughing; my heart is beating faster and I seem to be salivating. So, definitely not a brush off, then. And definitely something to look forward to when I get back!

SWEET DREAMS

It's the night before I'm due to leave for Stockholm. I'm staying in a hotel in London to save time in the morning, before I meet Andrew and Inga. The room's hot; it took me ages to get to sleep.

I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming but that doesn't make it any less real. I'm holding two lengths of rope, one red and one white. My eyes follow the red rope to where it is entwined, shibari style around a girl's bald head. She turns to face me and smiles in spite of the rope that frames her head and gags her. It's Jenny. Naked and wrapped in the red rope she looks calm and peaceful; standing, accepting her restraint.

I look at my other hand: its holding the white rope. My eyes follow that. It is tied in much the same way around a dark skinned girl. Gwenda. The white rope shows sharply against her dark breasts, pressing in against them; and against her waist and belly where it loops tightly about her. It's odd, I think to myself. Why would she let herself be tied like this? And why I am I standing here holding the rope?

I turn, as if to ask Jenny, but as my eyes follow the rope I see only its loose end trailing on the floor. She isn't there.

I wake, knowing that it's time to leave.

Then, as I leave the hotel, my mobile bleeps telling me I've got a text. It's from Gwenda. "J," it says, "Can join U after all. Chris P wants to meet me in Sweden to look at the Sysav[1] project in Malmo. How about that dinner/roll in the hay?"

I don't think twice. "Great," I text back. "Let me know your flights. I'll book a table and make sure I get my fill of blonde girls in plenty of time." I press send. It's a curious feeling.

POSTSCRIPT : STRIFE IN THE GROVES OF ACADEME : JUNE

20 Months, 600 Days Since Jenny's Disappearance

Cathy Corbin is sitting at her desk, setting out her teaching schedule for the coming months. This is a job she shares with the other lecturers in the department but since Jenny McEwan disappeared, there is one less member of staff to share the burden. Giving the lectures which Jenny used to give is uncomfortable for Cathy: she and Jenny were close and when Cathy has to step into Jenny's shoes, she feels a real sense of anxiety over what might have become of her friend. That is exactly how she feels now, when the telephone on her desk rings.

"Cathy? It's Angela. Have you got a few minutes to spare? Can you come and see me please?"

"Yes, of course, Prof, ... er ... half an hour?"

"Well, I'd like it to be now if you can."

Cathy bites her lip. The interruption isn't welcome but there isn't much else she can do. "Sure, I'll be right with you."

Professor Dawney. Cathy is very glad she does not have to work closely with her. Cathy works in a separate research group and this is the sort of incident which makes her very glad she does. Cathy finds Professor Dawney and her prima donna ways a significant irritation. Unfortunately, for this academic year, Angela has the role of organising the undergraduate teaching and so Cathy finds herself in Angela's orbit.