The Art of Forgetting Read Online Free Page A

seem even more unreal. I’d like to say that I sat down and took the decision advisedly, considering all the issues, but actually I pushed it all to one side as if it hadn’t happened at all. When I finally spoke I explained that I didn’t see Linda much nowadays and that we didn’t travel together. No, we hadn’t fallen out – we had never been friends, not real friends – and now I was so familiar with the journey we had just drifted apart, especially after I started to go out with Andy.
    I’m pretty sure they were disappointed when they heard this, especially Mum. I think she had this vision of taking me down to the police station where I would provide a critical piece of information leading to Linda’s safe return. I don’t know how she could have thought this. Wouldn’t I have missed her if we had still been close? But maybe the thought was too compelling to allow reason to interfere. Some thoughts are like that. Anyway, I got a bit of a grilling – surely you must remember when you last saw her – but that bit was true. I really couldn’t remember, and if I was feeling guilty it either didn’t show or guilt is easily mistaken for shock. I didn’t eat any breakfast, but went back up to my room with a wan smile in response to their sympathetic looks.
    I shut the door behind me and sat on the bed. What had I done? I had said nothing about the man, but he could turn out to be the cause of her disappearance. Linda may have been continuing her campaign against him all this time – hence the new clothes – and he may have decided to silence her. I couldn’t keep this to myself. But then I thought of my parents sitting downstairs, of their faces as I told them what we had done, and I couldn’t do it. They idolised me, especially my dad; they would never think the same of me if I told them. And what about Wendy? How would she live it down at school? Your sister’s a blackmailer!
    There was another reason too. It was quite possible that Linda would turn up in a day or so – she was a bit wild, after all. She could be having a great time with some boy, then she would come back and find out that I had spilled the beans and we would both be in trouble – big trouble in her case, if she had carried it on. And the man’s wife would find out and have to bring up the child on her own and the child would be teased at school … No, I wouldn’t say anything yet. I would wait and see what happened.
    If only I’d had a little longer, maybe I would have changed my mind and told them. However, it seemed my mother’s desire to help, to be involved, was too strong to resist and she had already told a number of people about my friendship with Linda. This led to my name being added to a list and it was only the next day when the police arrived to interview me. Actually, it was just one policeman, not a whole lot older than me, and my parents were there in the lounge with me as he wrote it all down in his notebook. How Linda and I had seen a lot of each other a few months ago, had travelled to work together, been out socially a couple of times. How we had gone our own ways recently – no, we hadn’t argued, we were still on good terms. I had a boyfriend now and we didn’t always get the same train these days.
    He was very interested in our last meeting, but although I had genuinely tried, I still couldn’t pin it down to a particular day. It was certainly well before the last day her mother saw her, which was Wednesday, as she left to go to work. Yes, she had seemed fine; perfectly normal. Nothing different in her manner. No, she hadn’t said anything about going away – hadn’t said anything much at all. I told him everything I knew with the one major exception. My only lie was one of omission, but I felt sick afterwards and had to get out of the house, dragging the poor old dog down to the park and willing things to be different. If I could only stay out for an hour, the news would be waiting when I returned.