Page 69 of The World Outside My Window

She’s decided to try and leave the house on her own again today. Debbie is working and Ben no doubt is too. Besides, she doesn’t feel she can keep asking him for help given that she hardly knows him, even though she’s fairly certain he would have agreed. Jim’s words from more than a year ago keep repeating themselves in her mind –running away from your problems isn’t the solution– and she knows that, even though he appears not to have taken his own advice, he is probably right. She needs to face this head-on if she’s going to get anywhere.

Besides, she desperately needs food – and vodka – so she has no choice but to face the world and try to make it to the corner shop.

She can do this.

She pulls on her coat and boots and grabs her bag. List in pocket, she takes a deep breath and prepares to leave the safety of, not only her home, but her street for the first time in more than eight months.

The wind is blowing wildly outside and, as it’s a week day, there is nobody about. She glances around the cul-de-sac at the houses that are no longer such a mystery to her and feels an unexpected rush of warmth. The occupants are a real mish-mash of characters but they’ve all been so kind and welcoming in the last couple of weeks. And although she hasn’t yet got any closer to finding Jim, she has discovered some things about her husband that she hadn’t previously known. Even more importantly, she truly believes these people could become her friends, and friends are something she definitely needs right now.

Maybe this really could be a new beginning, whether Jim comes back or not.

She shuts the front door firmly behind her and steps into the garden with a renewed sense of resolve. For the first time in a long time the world doesn’t seem to tip as she looks up at the sky. There’s no sense of impending doom, no panic attack, no feeling that she’s about to black out. Her hands still shake with nerves and it’s taking all her strength to put one foot in front of the other, but she’s doing it, and she’s doing it alone.

This is progress.

At the gate she turns right and inches slowly along the path, trailing her fingertips along her garden wall. She doesn’t look back or up, but keeps her eyes trained on the ground, the flip-flip-flip of her shoes mesmerising, keeping her grounded. The wall underneath her hand changes and she realises she’s reached the end of her own garden and is now walking past Carol and Arthur’s house, her hand resting lightly on their neat wooden fence. She wonders whether anyone is watching her and if they are what they’re thinking, but she doesn’t dare look up in case she loses her nerve. So she continues, slowly, slowly, until the fence runs out and she realises with a jolt that she’s at the end of the street. She’s made it!

Directly ahead of her is Hawthorn Road, and to her right Evergreen Close spirals off. This is the one she needs to take. She isn’t entirely sure how far along the road the shop is, but she’s got this far, she can make it now.

She turns right and, with nothing else to hold onto, she clutches her bags tightly in front of her. The wind whips hair around her face and she wishes she’d brought a hat, but she ploughs on, pushing strands from her face as she watches her feet, one, two, one, two, one, two.

She passes nobody and when, finally, she looks up she’s amazed to see the shop in front of her. It’s only small, and banners along the front window advertise the fact they sell the local newspaper, ice creams and lots of different types of beer and wine. There’s a small ads display selling sofas, motorbikes and guitar lessons, and a stack of newspapers, half covered with a sheet of plastic that flaps about in the wind. She stands outside for a moment and imagines walking inside, making small talk with the woman behind the counter, then leaving and walking home with her goodies in a carrier bag. It’s so ordinary and yet she hasn’t done something like it for so long it feels like an impossible hurdle.

She steps forward and pushes the door open and a bell above her head tinkles, announcing her arrival. A woman has her back to her and is chatting with another woman behind the counter – probably Tracy, she realises – but they don’t turn round, and just carry on as though she isn’t there. Relieved, she makes her way along the left aisle, picking up a loaf of bread, some beans, a packet of pasta, a small cake, some eggs and tomato sauce. She marvels at how it feels so alien, yet so familiar at the same time.

She grabs a few more things and then hovers for a while in the spirit aisle. She really wants to buy several bottles to last her. But she also doesn’t want anyone to know she has a problem. Because, well, she doesn’t, does she? She just needs this, for now, to get through a tricky time. It’s like medicine.

As a compromise she picks up three one-litre bottles of vodka and puts them in her basket, which is now overflowing and heavy. The women are still chatting but their voices are low and she can’t make out what they’re saying.

Painting a smile on her face, she walks up to the counter and heaves her basket on it.

‘Oh, hello, Laura!’ Laura looks up to see Jane smiling at her warmly.

‘Oh, hi,’ she says, returning the smile. To her surprise she finds she really is pleased to see her. ‘Not at work today?’

Jane reaches out and squeezes the top of Laura’s arm. ‘I’m on my way. It’ssogood to see you out and about,’ she says. She turns to the woman behind the counter. ‘Tracy, this is Laura. Jim’s wife.’

Tracy’s eyebrows lift from her forehead and her wrinkled face almost folds in on itself as she smiles. ‘Oh, hello, Laura, I’ve heard lots about you. It’s wonderful to meet you at last.’ Her face crumples. ‘Oh, but Jane’s just been telling me about Jim. I thought it was strange that I hadn’t seen him in a while. I’m so sorry. Is there any news?’

Laura shakes her head. ‘Not yet. The police haven’t been in touch for a while.’

‘It’s such a shame, it really is. I do hope he comes back soon.’

‘Actually, you might be able to help, mightn’t she, Laura?’ Jane says, turning back to Tracy.

‘Oh, really, how?’ Tracy leans her elbows on the counter and rests her chin in her hands. Jane nods at Laura to take over.

‘Oh, right, yes,’ she says. ‘We – I, I mean…’ She stops, her words getting tangled round each other. Seeing her distress, Jane takes over.

‘Laura is trying to find out whether any of us know anything about Jim’s disappearance,’ she says.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you know, whether we saw Jim behaving any differently before he went missing, or whether he ever said anything that, looking back, might seem odd.’ She looks at Laura. ‘I told Laura he’d been helping me with me divorce papers, and there had been a few other things, so she’s trying to piece together what might have happened. That’s right, isn’t it?’

Laura nods. ‘Yes, in a nutshell.’

Tracy nods slowly. ‘I see. And how are you getting on?’

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