The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (open ebook .txt) 📕

the girl he liked was Chloe? She even told me they were just good friends and I still didn’t question whether there might be someone else! Feeling foolish, I realise that I saw Libby and myself in those two and imagined – hoped – that they might have what we once had. Blindsided by my own hankering after the past, I saw something that wasn’t there and missed the cues. And now God knows who he’s meeting.

“Josh, call me immediately please,” I tell his voicemail service.

I then send him a text, repeating the same order, grab my keys and drive straight to the station. I have fifty minutes to get to him.

I’m already too late when I arrive at King’s Cross fretful and anxious, my mind playing out every nightmare scenario. I try to reassure myself that nobody gets abducted in broad daylight at King’s Cross station. But what if he’s persuaded to go somewhere else? I would have never thought Josh was that stupid. But then I never would have had him down for doing any of this. We’ve talked about internet safety at home, they’ve covered it at school. What would possess him to be so stupid?

He’s refused to answer his phone, but has at least responded to a couple of text messages, so I know that as of twenty minutes ago he was still alive, something I imagine myself telling the police in a few hours’ time. Apparently I wouldn’t have let him go to London to meet up with this person if he’d told me about it, seeing as I never give him any freedom and treat him like a child. I reply calmly, ignoring his complaints and simply telling him not to leave the station or follow this person – whoever the hell they turn out to be – anywhere secluded, highlighting cars, vans, empty train carriages and public toilets as areas of particular threat.

When he stops texting, I become so fearful that the woman sitting opposite me on the train asks if I’m okay, as my leg is jiggling up and down at a hundred miles an hour and I’m chewing my thumbnail mercilessly.

I fly off the train, running past the other passengers, swearing loudly when the gate spits my ticket back at me and refuses to let me through. After realising I’ve tried to stuff my car parking ticket in the slot, I correct the error and finally emerge on the other side, pushing my way through the crowds, searching frantically for my kid.

I turn in circles, frustrated at all the people getting in my way. I see police officers loitering and immediately assume they’re here to deal with a reported incident involving my son. I hear an announcement start up over the loudspeaker and expect them to announce a missing child. And for one bizarre moment I think I see him – the Leader – a tall, lanky man disappearing through the barriers on the other side of the concourse.

He came back, this time for my boy.

“You don’t have to worry,” I hear a voice say behind me, “she didn’t turn up anyway.”

I turn with a start to see Josh standing behind me. I want to grab him by the shoulder and yell at him, not to ever, EVER do that again! But he looks so dejected, and I’m so relieved to see him, that instead I take a shaky breath, place a hand on his shoulder and steer him back towards the platform for home.

I glance back for a moment, catching a final glimpse of the tall, lanky man. He looks nothing like the Leader. I rub my face, wondering if I’m going crazy.

I grip Josh’s shoulder. “You and I,” I say through gritted teeth, “need to have a long chat—”

“You wouldn’t have let me—”

“Do you have any way of knowing who this person really is?” I interrupt, my anger already rising.

“Yes. I know her. She wouldn’t lie—”

“Well, she clearly would, seeing as she’s not here!”

“She’ll have her reasons. And you didn’t need to rush to my rescue!” he snaps, stopping dead in his tracks. “Why do you always think something bad’s gonna happen? Why can’t you just let me have a bit of freedom? We talked about this—”

“And you didn’t even give me a chance! You just went behind my back!”

“What would you have said if I’d told you?”

“I don’t know! But it would have been nice to have the chance—”

“Oh, come off it, Dad! You’re not gonna just change—”

“You didn’t even try me!”

“Josh?”

We both stop and turn towards the owner of the soft voice, a teenage girl who’s looking nervously at my son.

“Becky?” he asks, looking stupefied.

“Yes,” she nods, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry I’m late. My phone lost signal. I was really worried I’d missed you.”

She looks down at the ground uncomfortably, holding her head at an angle just like Josh does so that her long dark hair obscures part of her face.

Josh just stares at her.

“You look just like in your pictures,” she smiles, sheepishly. “I… um… I know I don’t. Look like in my pictures, I mean. But… yeah… this is me.”

She laughs nervously and makes a vague, apologetic gesture to herself.

“So now you know why I didn’t want to video chat,” she says, as is she’s admitting a deep, dark secret, “’cause I don’t look quite like you thought. All those pictures were, like, airbrushed and stuff…”

Josh shrugs.

“You look… fine,” he says, sounding confused. “I mean, you look… nice. You look pretty much like in the photos.”

She shakes her head dismissively, but it’s clear Josh is genuinely baffled, and so am I. She probably isn’t “super pretty” as Chloe described, but she’s got pretty eyes, a nice – if slightly gawky – smile. She’s very slim, all limbs and angles, and about an inch taller than Josh.

Both of them shift awkwardly from one foot to another.

“I’m probably not as funny as I come across online,” offers Josh, trying to even the playing field. “Being