Page 23 of Forever is Now

But it was never that simple.

That, and there were sightings of him.

Adelaide James: Ah, the famous sightings.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: There were quite a lot, weren’t there? There were always going to be, with this being a high-profile disappearance. But it wasn’tjustsightings of him. Men came forward. They said theywereRuari. It was cruel, you know. Because I’d always really hope. I’d really believe that my Ruari was about to come home. That we’d be reunited.

And I believed it every day. The disappointment, with each one, just got worse.

Adelaide James: Of course it did.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: It really did.

Adelaide James: You knew all along what was going on. You used the world as your page, and you tried to sculp a narrative that we’d all believe. These potential sightings were all part of your plan. You can’t lie anymore, Ms. Taylor-Braddon.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: I’m not lying.

Adelaide James: You’re a manipulative bitch.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: [She takes a deep breath] The police had to get involved in the end, given how many people were pretending to be him, like this. They issued warnings, said there’d be strict penalties. It didn’t really deter people. Because those first couple of years, there were thousands of people coming forward, saying they were him.

And I wanted to ignore each new one, but still a part of me hoped.

Adelaide James: Poor little Ms. Taylor-Braddon. This just sounds like torture.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: Itwas. I even phoned the Samaritans once. I didn’t tell them who I was and I couldn’t really give details of what was going on—that would’ve made me recognizable instantly—but I just told them that I felt like I was being played with. Told them how scared I was.

It was good to talk to them, even if I couldn’t go into details. It made me feel heard.

After about six months, I saw a new therapist. She suggested I try writing more therapy writings, to directly deal with my feelings over Ruari’s death—that’s what everyone called it. His death. Even though there was still no body.

I don’t really remember what else she said beyond that.

Except that I should write about my grief. I don’t know if she suggested that I write about Ruari—if maybe she meant to write our memories, or if it was what I did—writing a future for us. But I started writing. A story that began with us newly married, on our honeymoon. The bad thing still happened, but not to us—because we left Indonesia the day before it happened, in this version.

Adelaide James: So, as if you hadn’t already made enough money on your books from Ruari’s disappearance, you then wrote another! This time, about it! It really beggars belief.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: It was therapeutic, writing it. Us on the plane back, getting to our house. A new house that we’d just bought.

I changed our names of course, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was writing about us. And I penned this whole love story. The love story that I’d wanted. The love story that I’d thought we’d have.

Adelaide James: Whatever. Let’s have a break. I need a stronger drink if I’ve got to listen to much more of this.

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Summer Taylor-Braddon: I saw Ruari, once you know. When he was missing.

Adelaide James: Of course you did. [She laughs] You just can’t remember all the lies you’ve spun, can you? Pretending he’s missing, that you don’t know a thing about where he is, and then you go and admit this.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: Yeah. I saw him. From my bedroom window. Just the once. It was dark, evening. The street lights were on but they were those weird bulbs. Like, yellow. Everything looked a dark yellow. Eerie. And I saw him.

He was standing directly below my window, looking up at me.

He smiled and he mouthed the words ‘it’ll be okay’.

And then he was gone.

Adelaide James: Okay.

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