Thirty years ago Laura could still see her mothers eyesfilled with desperation and something else. Margaret never once scolded Laura, yet Laura felt that day the woman she loved slipped away. She sensed her mothers silent hatred.
***
Laura slammed the suitcase shut, cramming the last hastily folded sweater inside. The zipper stuck, refusing to close.
What are you going to do about it? she muttered, leaning all her weight on the bag.
A sudden knock made her flinch.
Ben there he goes again with his goodbye speeches, Laura thought, irritated.
Sure enough, Ben stood there, a bouquet of wilted roses in his hands.
Back to Brighton again? Ben asked, unable to hide his true feelings.
Again, Ben, Laura replied, softening her tone.
She knew how hard it was for him. And it was hard for her too Mickey.
Laura, how long can you keep this up? Youre living in a nightmare that will swallow you whole, Ben said, searching for words that wouldnt wound. Youre stuck in a past thats killing you.
What am I supposed to do? Laura snapped, the words spilling out. Forget? Pretend it doesnt matter that my brother vanished thirty years ago? Is that what you want?
Bens eyes were steady. I just want you to be happy, Laura. To live in the now. To allow yourself maybe even get married.
Laura lowered her gaze. She loved Ben in her own wayreliable, caring, patient. But Mickey was her endless ache.
I cant, Ben. I cant. Until I find Mickey, I cant move on.
Youll never find him! Ben exploded. Thirty years have passed. Even if hes alive, he wont recognize you. He could be in a childrens home, or have lost his memory. Hes probably been adopted, grown up in another family, become a different person!
Ben dared not speak of alternate possibilities where Mickey might still be alivethey were too terrible to imagine.
No! Laura shook her head. Hes Mickey. Ill find him. I feel it.
Ben handed her the roses.
Then goodbye, Laura. This is never going to be real.
She took the wilted bouquet, feeling something inside crack. Once more her feelings shattered. She knew she was losing Ben, but she could do nothing.
Goodbye, Ben, she whispered, closing the door.
Laura perched on the suitcase she had dragged across the country, still fighting the stubborn zipper, and didnt notice the tears streaming down her face.
Why, Mickey? Why did it have to end like this? she asked the brother she was beginning to forget. Sometimes she caught herself forgetting the shape of his face, the tone of his voice, the colour of his eyes
At seven, Laura could no longer stand Mickey, who stole her freedom and attention. Summer in the village was a child’s paradiseriver, woods, friends, latenight games. But Laura had Mickey: forever whimpering, forever clinging.
Laura, go play with your brother, her mother Margaret would say. It isnt hard.
Hard? Very hard! Laura wanted to run with Danny, Pete and Sophie to the river, build forts in the woods, simply be a child. Instead she was forced to push a pram with Mickey through dusty lanes, listening to his endless aww. It was exhausting.
One day Danny suggested they cross to the other side of the river, where an abandoned mill was said to be haunted. No one believed in ghosts, but the idea of exploring the unknown thrilled them.
Laura, come with us! Danny begged. Just you, no Mickey.
Laura looked hopeful at her mother.
No, Laura, Margaret snapped. Either stay with your brother or stay at home.
Laura clenched her teeth. Everything irritated her. It wasnt lifeit was a cage.
She took Dannys hand anyway
That day on the far bank was pure chaosshouts, laughter, a game of tag in the crumbling mill. Laura barely participated; Mickey was always there, even when he tried to dash away like a sevenyearold through the ruins.
Then she let go of his hand for a breath, just long enough to retrieve a yellowed, cracked ball wedged under a concrete slabperhaps left by children long gone. Laura slipped into the corner, grabbed the ball, brushed herself off and when she turned, Mickey was gone.
She shouted his name until her throat hoarse. The other kids searched, but Mickey had vanished.
The police, parents, neighbours scoured the river, the woods, every house. They questioned anyone who might have seen something. Still, there was no trace.
Laura remembered her mothers eyesfull of despair. Margaret never scolded her, yet Laura felt that day her mother disappeared. Her mother hated her. She was silent, and she hated.
A year later Margaret could no longer bear it.
Father George tried to stay upbeat, working hard and cheerfully encouraging Laura, yet he was broken too. Laura watched him age day by day, heard the clink of empty bottles in his room. He didnt drink in front of her; he waited until she fell asleep, then uncorked a fresh one. Laura never slept.
And then she grew up. Lauras sole purpose became finding Mickey. It was her duty, her redemption, her chance to bring back what? Him or herself?
***
The plane touched down in Bournemouth. Laura stepped out of the terminal, a tremor running through her. Bournemouth was a pretty seaside town, but she had no time for its charms. She had come for Mickey.
She was convinced he was here.
She didnt understand how she arrived in every town with such certaintyevery single one.
The message shed received mentioned a man working at the local harbour who resembled a grainy photograph of Mickey taken decades ago, and a sketch of what he might look like as an adult. The picture was blurry, but something in it snagged Lauras gutperhaps it was him.
At the airport, she was met by Andrew, the source of the tip.
Thank you for coming, Laura said, shaking his hand. Im grateful.
I hope Im not wasting your time, Andrew replied. Ill take you to him. Hes refused to talk to me, but maybe seeing you will change his mind. They say family can feel each others presence.
They drove in silence. Laura stared out at the unfamiliar countryside.
Finally they arrived at the harbour parking lot. Andrew stopped the car. We have to walk now, he said.
There he is, he pointed at a man fiddling under the bonnet of an old Ford.
Lauras breath caught. He looked like Mickeysame light hair, same blue eyes, and something else indescribable that made her freeze.
Mickey? she whispered.
The man startled, straightened up, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. Laura realised instantlyit wasnt him. Not him. She didnt want to admit it.
Do I know you? he asked, glancing at Andrew. Andrew, whats this about?
Lauras tears fell.
Mickey, its me, Laurayour sister, she blurted, though she knew she had no right to call him brother.
Sister? I have no sister. Andrew, what kind of joke is this? I told you I have no relatives.
There is one! Laura lunged, grabbing his arms. Mickey, you dont remember? We played by the river. You were two and a half, I was seven. You dont remember?
He stepped back.
Sorry, I dont understand. If this is a prank, it isnt funny. My name is Ian. I grew up in a childrens home. I havent seen my family since I was four. I know I have no sister.
You look just like Mickey! Laura shouted. Same eyes, same hair!
Maybe. There are plenty of lookalikes, Ian shrugged. Ive seen many people think theyre the one. Im not your brother. Youre mistaken.
Laura wanted to believe him, but the pain of another false hope cut deep. She had been so close, and it slipped away again. She tried to hug him, to tell him everything would be okay now that shed found him after all those years, but his stare was bewildered, even wary. People seemed to be turning away from her.
I I can run a test, Laura muttered. Just to be sure.
Fine, Ian said. But I doubt it will change anything. My mother was an alcoholic. After I was taken, my aunt had three more kids who were also taken. I never met them, but I heard stories. Im sure Im not your brother.
Please. It wont take long.
The results came back days laternegative. Ian was not Lauras brother.
Laura returned to her flat, closing the door behind her. She sat by the window, watching the grey drizzle, the hope that had flared in Bournemouth now reduced to ash. She wondered if she should have listened to Ben.
Ben never returned. He had probably found a woman who lived in the present, someone who could give him a real future. Laura didnt blame him. She could only live in the past, forever trapped in the day her brother vanished.
She opened her laptop again, scrolling through missingperson notices, orphanage registers, anyone searching for lost relatives. She knew she would never stop looking for Mickey. It was her curse, and she would carry it until the end of her days.
Six months later.
Laura visited two more towns, all close by, spoke to dozens more people. Nothing.
Then a call.
Ian from Bournemouth rang. Not from Bournemouth, but from his new job in Sheffield. Curiosity pulled Laura to answer.
He sat across from her now, recounting his story.
My job fell apart after a scandal; everyone argued, some were fired, I left. A friend from the same childrens home called, offered me a position here. I thought of you, Laura I liked you from the moment I saw you. I have nothing left to lose.
Liked me? Lauras cheeks flushed.
When was the last time shed sat in a quiet café, talking hearttoheart with anyone but about Mickey? Not in a hurried canteen, not in a foreign citys diner, just a moment of normalcy.
Exactly. I thought Id ask Andrew for your number and call you when I move. I moved and called.
His bluntness was oddly endearing.
Im not opposed. Id stay longer, but I have suitcases to pack. My flight is at dawn.
Where to this time?
Up to the Pennines.
The lead was thin, but Laura would go. She no longer believed in miracles. It had become a frantic race, and if she stopped, her own thoughts would drive her mad.
Youre just covering up guilt, Ian said suddenly, eyes earnest.
Perhaps, Laura admitted. I was responsible for him. I should have brought him home. For thirty years Ive only tried to bring him back. But
Her voice faltered.
We barely know each other, I cant give you advice about your life. Let me tell you mine. I remember the first four years of my childhood better than most people remember. I recall the absolute feeling of uselessness. When they took me to the home, I didnt cry. By the time I left, I wanted to see my parents, fix the broken thing that haunted me. I found them, and they didnt even care. I let it go. That chapter closed. I started a new one. I move easily, I fit in, I adapt. I dont run; I keep moving forward. Youve been running your whole conscious life.
Laura stayed silent.
Our situations are different. You have a defined answer; I have uncertainty. Sorry, I have to go.
Laura was about to leave, but a stubborn part of herno longer out of duty, but out of desiremade her stay.
Im not against a date, she said. Tomorrow.
What about your hunt?
The man who looks like Mickey isnt him. I know that. Im tired of this chase. Youre right about something. So Ill have a date.
Ill be pleased, Ian replied, a smile breaking through the tension.
