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Chapter Eighty-Two
It’s Saturday and a bright spring day; It’s the kind of day when I should be watching the leaves unfurl from the trees, see the green shoots of early daffodils poking through the soil, see the first flush of colour coming back to the land after the long months of winter. Instead, I just think that it’s the ideal type of day for looking for Dominic. Mike and I have searched day in, day out, in rain, hail and sleet for weeks. Even though we’re both working again, we still go out together in the evenings and scour the streets.
A day like this is a bonus. I’m all wrapped up and ready and waiting for my neighbour, peeping anxiously out of the front window of the cottage until I see him. I’ve now lost count of how many times we have toured the roads laid out on our map during the painful period that Dominic has been missing – ten, fifteen, twenty? And we’ll still keep doing it until he turns up.
When I finally spy my neighbour, I’ve got the door open before he knocks.
‘Ready,’ I say, snatching up my gloves.
Mike steps into the living room and he takes my gloves from my hands.
‘This is it,’ he says sadly. ‘We can’t keep searching for him, Janie. It’s been well over a month now.’
I don’t need reminding how long it’s been, I think. ‘We can’t give up now,’ I protest.
‘We’ve found nothing,’ Mikes continues. ‘Not even a tiny clue. If Dominic’s going to come home, then maybe he needs to do it in his own time.’
Tears fill my eyes. ‘I’m worried for him.’
Mike takes me into his arms. ‘I know.’ He pats my back like you would an upset child. ‘I know, but this isn’t doing you any good, Janie. Look at you. All these hours and hours of searching have really taken it out of you. You need to look after yourself . . .’
Or you’re going to have some kind of breakdown, is what remains unsaid.
The reality of the situation hits me like a low punch to the stomach. We’ve failed to locate even a trace of Dominic, despite our best efforts. And I have to accept that, as time passes, he might be going further and further out of our reach. All hope ebbs out of me and I sob in Mike’s arms. I let the tears flow for the man who has so suddenly departed from my life. It’s as if Dominic has died and the grief consumes me.
‘What if he just doesn’t want me any more?’ I cry. ‘What if he’s never going to come back? What if it’s like everyone said?’
‘Ssh, ssh,’ he soothes. ‘You know that’s not true, Janie.’ Mike strokes my hair as he reassures me. ‘But I don’t know what else to do. We’ve searched high and low and it’s been utterly futile. Enough is enough.’
Deep inside, I’m partly relieved that Mike has taken control, taken the decision out of my hands and I’m partly distraught that we are just going to stop looking, leave Dominic out there all by himself.
Eventually, when the tears are drying up, I have a moment of clarity and I admit, ‘You’re right. I haven’t the strength to do this.’ It’s like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack and I feel as if I’ve exhausted all my emotional resources. For the last few weeks, I’ve been tired beyond belief. Kelly has temporarily booted me out of the salon for my own good, and for the good of her customers’ hair. Now my best friend, who has so far done everything in his power to help me, is telling me that I need to stop. Perhaps I should heed his advice.
‘Why don’t we work in the gardens together today?’ Mike suggests. ‘They’re both looking a bit ragged.’
I must look dubious as my neighbour insists, ‘It would be very therapeutic. A change is as good as a rest, they say.’
Reluctantly, I nod. I feel as weak as a kitten, probably due to the lack of food and sleep. I know that I can’t keep putting Mike through this every day and yet I also know that I don’t have the wherewithal to continue alone. Mike has been so good, so tireless in his support, but I can see that even he has reached his limit. He makes me a cup of tea and I sit at the table and cry some more. Then he sits with me, quietly, until both the tea and the tears have gone.
His hand covers mine. ‘OK?’
‘Yes.’ I muster a ghost of a smile and wonder if I’ll ever feel truly happy again. Dominic is out there somewhere. All this thinking makes my head hurt and I can see that Mike might well be right. Some fresh air and exercise would do me no harm at all. ‘Let’s give that garden what for,’ I say decisively.
I pull on my boots and we head outside. So instead of clocking up futile miles together searching for my lost love, we’re working in my garden this morning and are planning to do the same in Mike’s this afternoon, if the weather holds.
