The Disappearance. Annabel Kantaria

road.

      ‘What? What’s happened? Is she okay?’

      ‘She’s had a car accident.’

      ‘Oh my God! Is she all right?’

      ‘I’ve just spent half the night and most of this morning at the hospital. But she’s all right. Ish.’

      ‘What do you mean “ish”? She’s either okay or she’s not okay!’ My voice rose.

      ‘She’s fine. No broken bones. It happened late last night. I tried to call you but your phone was off. What were you thinking letting her drive back from Truro so late? You should have asked her to stay – or at least dropped her off yourself!’

      Mum and I had gone to an exhibition of old photos of India the night before. I hadn’t seen the attraction myself, but Mum had lived there for a bit when she was younger and still got a bit misty-eyed about it. She’d asked me to go with her, given it was within walking distance of my house. John had refused point-blank to drive her up from St Ives; I’d half-heartedly offered to come down and pick her up but she’d insisted on driving herself and, distracted by the thought I might finally be pregnant, I’d given in – way too easily, I realised now.

      ‘I did ask her to stay! When I realised how late it was, I asked her to stay! She refused. You know what she’s like.’

      John tutted. ‘At the very least, you could have kept your phone on.’

      I started to argue then remembered that the battery had gone flat and I’d fallen into bed exhausted when I’d got back, forgetting to put it on to charge. Mark and I didn’t have a landline.

      ‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘Flat battery.’

      ‘Well, that’s very convenient,’ said John. ‘So it was me they called in the middle of the night. They took her to hospital. Kept her in overnight.’

      ‘You said she was okay! Why did she have to stay in?’

      ‘She hit her head; strained her neck; got a few bruises. They just wanted to observe her.’

      ‘Did you stay with her?’

      ‘No. She didn’t want me to. Anyway, they discharged her this morning on condition that someone stays with her tonight. She’s been in shock and may have whiplash. They don’t want her to be alone.’

      ‘Okay.’ I waited for John to tell me he was going to stay with Mum. It made sense given how much closer he lived.

      ‘So, that’s why I’m ringing,’ he said. ‘Can you come?’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Yes, you, Lexi. I can’t stay with her any more. I’ve done my bit. The twins are at a swimming gala this afternoon and Anastasia will kill me if I’m not there.’ John pronounced his wife’s name with a long ‘a’ and a soft ‘s’, emphasis on the middle syllable: Anna-star-seeya. Never ‘Anna-stay-zia’. It still blew my mind that my rather unemotional and unspontaneous brother had come back from a holiday to Estonia not just with a beautiful wife and two ready-made children, but with his new mother-in-law, too.

      ‘But …’ I thought about the call I was waiting for from the doctor. I had a mountain of marking to do and all I really wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and nurture the life I was convinced was growing inside me, not drive down to St Ives in the pouring rain and play nursemaid to Mum.

      ‘Please can you do it, John?’ A sob caught in my throat. ‘Please?’

      John sighed. ‘I’m asking you nicely, Lexi. But it really is your turn.’ There was a silence. ‘Look. Isn’t this why you moved to Cornwall? So you could help out a bit, too?’ The implication was there: until Mark and I had moved to Truro six months ago, John had borne the brunt of looking after Mum while I ‘ignored my responsibilities’ – John’s words – up in London.

      Knowing he had the moral high ground, John continued almost seamlessly. ‘How quickly can you be there? I dropped her off just now, so the sooner, the better, really.’

      ‘You left her alone? Fantastic.’ I slammed the brakes on as a car pulled out in front of me.

      ‘I had to go, Lexi,’ John said, his voice slow and deliberate. ‘I have a family, remember? I’ve already spent half the night with her at the hospital. And then I scrapped our plans for the morning. I sorted out the insurance. I organised her car to be picked up, I took her home from the hospital and now I’ve made her comfortable. She’s not very chatty – she’s on the sofa, looking a bit dazed. I left her with a crossword. She’ll be fine until you get there.’

      Silence hung heavy on the line. A silence in which I realised that I had no choice. I indicated and turned into my road, the car’s tyres swishing through puddles.

      ‘Are you driving?’ John asked.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Oh. You can call me back when you get in, if you want.’

      ‘No it’s okay. Hands-free.’ I paused. ‘Okay, I’ll come down.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      I pulled into a rare parking space right outside my house, sending a silent thank you to the gods as I did so.

      ‘By the way,’ said John. ‘While you’re there, can you observe her a bit? I mean, more than usual? I thought she was acting a bit odd, like she wasn’t all there. She was just sitting there this morning, staring into the distance. It’s like she’s in a different world. I’m worried the hospital might have missed something. You know – with the bang on the head.’

      ‘Sure. But I can’t go for an hour or two. I need to speak to Mark and he’s not due back for a bit.’

      ‘Okay,’ said John. ‘Thanks, Lexi. Bye.’ The line disconnected and my phone buzzed at once: a missed call from the doctor’s number, followed by the beep of a text message asking me to call. I dialled in.

      ‘Mrs Scrivener,’ the doctor said when my call was put through. I heard papers rustling; imagined her looking for my test results. ‘How are you feeling?’

      ‘Fine, thank you,’ I said. ‘A bit tired.’

      ‘Okay. Well, the results of your blood test are back.’ She paused.

      ‘And?’ I said.

      ‘Your hCG level is very low.’

      ‘What does that mean? Am I pregnant?’

      The doctor sighed. ‘Well. It’s really too low for a healthy pregnancy.’

      ‘What do you mean? I might not be? The test I did at home was positive. I did two really sensitive tests! Both were positive!’

      The doctor’s blood test was supposed to be a rubber-stamp of news I already knew. How could it not be certain when the over-the-counter test had been?

      The doctor sighed. ‘It’s possible that something started and is now failing. A lot of pregnancies fail very early on, before many women even suspect they might have been pregnant. Sometimes, testing very early can backfire …’ Her voice was gentle. She paused and I didn’t say anything.

      I’d been so certain. I’d even felt faintly sick this morning. I thought about the tiny babygros I’d just been stroking in the supermarket just now; the white Moses basket I’d picked out online. White because, although I hoped for a girl, I didn’t want to know the sex.

      ‘I’m very sorry,’ said the doctor.

      ‘I … just … I wasn’t expecting this.’

      ‘I know. It’s very common, though. More common than you’d think.’

      ‘Is there anything I can do? To increase my chances next month?’

      ‘Just be kind to yourself. Eat well, exercise. Get enough