Chapter Five - Echoes of Absence

Posted on: 17/07/2024

Victoria wakes to the sound of a creaking floorboard outside of the guest room. She blinks her eyes open and glances at the bedside clock, which reads 8 o'clock. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she stretches slightly, realising that she hasn't slept this well in weeks. A feeling of warmth and safety envelopes her, a stark contrast to the turmoil she has been enduring over the last four weeks.
She takes a moment to orient herself, the cozy guest room offering a comforting sense of normality that has been absent for too long. The soft light filtering through the curtains, casts gentle shadows on the walls, adding to the serene atmosphere.
Slowly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands up, feeling more rested than she has in what feels like an eternity.
Heading to the en-suite bathroom, she freshens up quickly, the warmth of the water invigorating her senses. She then dresses in the clothes she'd worn yesterday, relishing the ordinary act of getting dressed without the weight of expectations pressing down on her shoulders over what to wear and when.
Stepping out of the guest room, Victoria follows the soft, lingering aroma of coffee that drifts from downstairs. She finds me in the kitchen, pouring myself a second cup of the day. I look up and smile warmly at her.
"Good morning.” My voice is filled with genuine warmth at seeing her here, with me. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I have in weeks," Victoria admits, returning my smile. "Thank you John, for everything."
"I'm just glad you're here," I reply, then ask, “Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee please.”
"How do you take it?"
"Just black, thank you," she says.
Accepting the cup gratefully, she takes a sip and lets the warmth of the coffee seep through her, further enhancing her sense of comfort and calm.
They move to the small breakfast nook, where I have already set out some pastries and fruit.
Victoria’s eyes well up with gratitude. “You’re very kind, John. I love your simple, thoughtful gestures. You make me feel very special.” She leans over and places a soft kiss on my cheek, then tucks in hungrily to the food on her plate.
"I was thinking we could take a walk by the sea later," I suggest, breaking the comfortable silence. "Brighton has some beautiful spots, and the fresh air might do us both some good."
"I'd love that," Victoria replies, feeling a surge of optimism. "It sounds perfect."
...

Victoria and I step out onto the steps and embark on our leisurely walk towards the sea, the crisp morning air invigorating our senses. The quiet streets of Brighton are just beginning to come to life, with the gentle hustle and bustle of locals starting their day.

The man who has been watching the couple from the car, now following them, on foot, at a safe distance, steals a quick glance at the movement of the net curtains in number 44’s bay window, then carries on without looking back, his eyes focused, locking on to his target.

As we approach Marine Parade, the sound of the seagulls’ calls fill the air.
Looking out towards the horizon, Victoria feels a newfound sense of clarity and purpose beginning to take root within her. The path ahead may still be uncertain, but in this moment, she knows that she is no longer alone in her journey towards rebuilding her life.
Reaching the i360, Victoria and I sit on the pebbled beach. Victoria gazes upon the remnants of the West Pier, a bittersweet reminder of a bygone era. The old Victorian cast iron columns stand as silent sentinels, telling tales of grandeur and nostalgia. The sight of the flock of seagulls swirling around the skeletal structure of the pier adds a touch of melancholy to the scene, a poignant contrast to the beauty of the sea surrounding it.

The man lingers in the shadows of the doughnut structure at the base of the i360, his gaze is fixed upon the couple in front of him on the beach.
Despite the man’s watchful eye and the palpable sense of unease that surround him, Victoria and John remain unaware of his presence, their focus consumed by their shared connection and the beauty of the sea around them. Little do they know that a shadow looms over their moment of respite, threatening to disrupt the fragile peace they have found in each other’s company.

Victoria’s phone vibrates and she reads to herself the text on the screen, then she turns to me, her words carrying a mixture of gratitude and determination, her expression reflecting a sense of resolve. “John, I can’t thank you enough for today,” she begins, her voice tinged with sincerity. “This is where I want to be – with you, but unusually, I have received a text from my mother to meet her at home. I must go back to the estate – you can understand that, can’t you?”
My eyes hold a mixture of understanding and concern as I listen to her words. I nod in return.
“Do you want me to come with you, Victoria?” I ask, my offer is laced with an expectant tone. “I can drive you there.”
Victoria pauses, a flicker of gratitude crosses her features at my offer of companionship. She shakes her head gently. “It’s best if I go alone,” she explains, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of apprehension. “My mother, brother, and Giles – all of them need to hear of my intentions. It’s a conversation that I must have myself. She gently squeezes my hand. “I've checked the train times, and there's one in an hour. You can walk me to the station, though. I'd like that."
“I’d like that too,” I reply, my voice gentle but supportive. “Take all the time you need, Victoria. I’ll be here when you return.”

As we make our way from the seafront towards the train station, the morning sun casting a warm glow around us, Victoria feels a sense of calm and clarity settling over her. Our conversation is light and easy, for Victoria, a welcome distraction from the weight of her impending task at the estate.
As we approach the station, the familiar hustle and bustle of commuters fills the air, a reminder of the outside world awaiting her return. Victoria turns and says with a smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for everything," her words filled with sincerity.

I watch Victoria purchase her return ticket from the automatic machine, and a wave of relief and happiness washes over me. The simple act of securing her ticket back fills my heart with elation, a tangible sign that she has chosen to come back, promising her presence once more in my life.
We reach the entry barrier to the platform. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, the warmth of our connection palpable in the moment. In a soft whisper that carries a promise, she says, "See you in a couple of days, and I will call you when I get home."
I return her embrace, holding her close for a moment that feels both fleeting and infinite. I feel the weight of her words and the depth of her feelings in that tender gesture, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has grown between us.
As we part, a sense of longing lingers in the air, mingling with the promise of our reunion, very soon.
I watch Victoria blend into the bustling crowd on the platform, a sense of bittersweet warmth envelopes me. With one final wave of farewell, I turn to leave the station, my immediate thoughts fill with memories of our short time together and the anticipation of our reunion in the days to come.

The man who had been silently watching the the couple from the shadows at the seafront had followed her through the barriers onto the platform. His presence remains unnoticed amidst the throng of commuters, the unseen figure of the man edging closer to where Victoria stands.
…

Three hours had passed, and Miriam, having spent much of her day fidgeting anxiously by the window, finally spots the PCSO sauntering down the road. Peeking from behind the safety of her net curtain, her heart skips a beat as she watches the officer’s leisurely approach. The PCSO's uniform, a symbol of reassurance amidst her growing unease, contrasts sharply with the mundane suburban scenery.
She sees the officer stop at the car parked just outside her property, giving it a brief, assessing look. Miriam feels a cold knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach as she follows the PCSO’s movements.
Finally, with deliberate steps, the officer climbs the front steps to Miriam’s door. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, and quickly moves to open the door before the officer can knock.
“Hello, Officer,” Miriam greets the officer, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and concern. “Thank you for coming. Please, come in.”
The PCSO gives her a polite nod and steps inside, taking in the surroundings with a practiced eye. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I understand you have a concern you wish to discuss?”
Miriam leads the officer into the living room, her hands twisting nervously. “Yes, I’ve noticed some... unusual activity recently. I can't shake the feeling that someone has been watching the house. I saw a man standing across the street, then shortly afterwards I noticed him glancing towards my windows as he walked past towards the seafront.”
The PCSO listens attentively, jotting down notes. “Can you describe the man, ma’am? Any details you remember could be helpful.”
Miriam nods, her mind flashing back to the unsettling sight. “He was tall, wearing a dark jacket and a cap. He seemed out of place, like he was trying to blend in but didn't quite manage. I didn’t get a good look at his face, though.”
The officer considers her words, a thoughtful expression on his face. “We'll look into it, ma’am. In the meantime, stay vigilant and keep an eye out for anything else unusual.”
He turns to leave, however the PCSO pauses at the front door, when Miriam's words make him turn back, a look of renewed concern on his face. "The car you have just inspected arrived here last night," she explains, her voice trembling slightly. "I saw a man camped in it this morning. Then he got out and stood on the pavement."
The officer's brows furrow, and he pulls out his notepad again. "Can you describe the man any further?"
Miriam nods, trying to recall the details more clearly. "He looked quite unkempt, as if he hadn’t slept well. He was wearing a dark jacket and a cap, like I mentioned earlier."
The PCSO writes down her observations, glancing up at her with a steady gaze. "Thank you for letting us know, ma'am. It's important that we have all the details. We'll check into the car and its registration, see if anything comes up."
Feeling a bit more reassured now that she has shared all she knew, Miriam nods. "I appreciate that. It's just... unsettling, knowing that someone might be watching the house."
"Understandable," the officer replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "We'll do everything we can to ensure your safety and find out what's going on. In the meantime, continue to be cautious. If you see the man again, or the car remains parked for an unusual amount of time, please contact us immediately."
Miriam managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Officer. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if anything else happens."
As the PCSO finally leaves, Miriam watches him go, feeling a little less alone in her worries. She knows that the sight of the car and the mysterious man are still haunting her thoughts, but having taken steps to report it give her a sense of action and control. Closing the door, she resolves to stay vigilant and remain cautious, trusting that the authorities are now aware and watching over her neighbourhood.
…

Meanwhile, the hustle and bustle of Brighton Station fills the air with station announcements and the sounds of train movements in and out of the station. A faint jingle pierces through the din. The ringtone is just audible above the commotion, drawing the attention of a cleaner who has just finished working on the down line train from London.
Intrigued, the cleaner's gaze is drawn to the glow of a mobile screen lighting up under the advertising board on platform 7. The unexpected sight of a mobile phone raises a sense of curiosity and caution in the cleaner's mind.
Approaching the spot where the mobile lay, its screen flickering in the dim light, the cleaner picks it up in her sterile gloved hand. The phone's screen displays a series of missed calls and notifications, the most recent one received an hour ago.
With a sense of urgency, the cleaner hurries to inform the station platform manager about the discovery, aware of the potential implications and the need to act swiftly.
Amidst the clamour and movement of the station, the cleaner's steps quicken towards the platform manager’s office, the weight of responsibility resting heavy on their shoulders; the weight lifting when she hears the words, “Thank you Rachel. I shall deal with it from here.”
Once the cleaner has left the office, the manager places the phone in a Jiffy bag, just as the battery dies. He scrawls the words, ‘LOST PROPERTY’, then tosses the bag into his out tray on his desk, then continues to read the latest headline news from the local paper.
...

Glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece in the lounge, the hands seem to move more sluggishly than usual. It’s now been over five hours, and still, my phone remains stubbornly silent. The worry gnaws at me, growing sharper with each passing minute.
I try calling Victoria. The phone rings once… twice… a third time… and then it goes to voicemail. I leave her a message, trying to keep my voice steady and light. “Hi, Victoria. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely. Give me a call when you can. Take care.”
I send her a quick text as well, “Just checking in – hope all is well. Let me know when you get this.”
Sitting down, I try to distract myself with a book, but the words blur on the page as my mind keeps drifting back to Victoria. I remember her standing on Platform 7, at Brighton Station, waving goodbye.
Suddenly, my phone rings. The caller ID shows ‘Unknown Call’, and my heart skips a beat. I quickly answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Mr Harrison? John Harrison?”
“Yes.”
“Hello, it’s Lady Margaret,” Victoria’s mother says, her voice tinged with worry. “Is Victoria still with you?”
“No, she’s not. I haven’t seen her since she left on the train to return home.” I reply, the sense of foreboding growing stronger.
Margaret’s silence is palpable before she finally speaks again, “We haven’t heard from her, and it’s not like her to be out of touch.”
Margaret's words hang heavily in the air, amplifying the worry that's been eating away at me. "I thought she was heading home right after leaving me," I say, my mind racing through the possibilities.
"I thought so too," Margaret replies, her voice trembling slightly. "But something doesn’t feel right. Perhaps you could help me find her?"
"Absolutely," I say, my resolve hardening. "I'll start by retracing her steps. She got on the train at Brighton Station. I'll head there first."
"Thank you so much, John. Please, keep me updated," Margaret pleads.
"I will, I promise."
I quickly grab my jacket and keys, leaving my quiet home behind. The drive to Brighton Station is tense, my eyes darting to every detail outside the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Victoria. The streetlights blur past as my anxiety peaks, imagining all sorts of troubling scenarios.
Arriving at the station, I park hastily in the drop off area and hurry inside. The concourse and platforms are nearly deserted at this hour, adding to the eerie feeling that something is amiss. I head directly to Platform 7, where a tired-looking attendant meets my gaze.
"Excuse me," I say, my voice urgent. "Did you happen to notice a young woman earlier today? About my height, light-brown hair, wearing a blue jacket, a blue and white check midi dress, and white trainers? She would have boarded a train from this platform."
The attendant shakes her head slowly. "Sorry, I see a lot of faces every day. You might want to check with the platform manager."
Thanking her, I make my way to the manager’s office.
The manager on duty listens sympathetically as I explain the situation. “I’ve tried calling her a number of times, but she hasn’t picked up, or returned my calls.”
I can sense that the manager remembers something, so prompting him, I ask, "Is there anything, CCTV?"
"There was a mobile phone found on Platform 7, which was handed in today."


Next Chapter to be published 21/07/2024 - Set the date.