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The Missing Husband
Amanda Brooke
Is not knowing worse than knowing the truth? The next stunning novel from Richard and Judy pick, Amanda BrookeHe has a secret…Jo is five months pregnant with the baby she always wanted, and on the surface she has the perfect marriage to David, the love of her life. The only thing marring her happiness is the secret she’s hiding from her husband.She told a lie…Then David disappears and there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. Did the secrets inside his marriage chase him away? Or something much worse?Would you rather know the whole truth or nothing at all?







Copyright (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright © Amanda Valentine
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover photograph © Susanne Kronholm/Etsa/Plainpicture
Amanda Valentine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007511365
Ebook Edition © July 2015 ISBN: 9780007511372
Version: 2015-04-17

Dedication (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
To my mum, Mary Hayes
‘Gone – flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun from the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart’
—Alfred Tennyson
Contents
Cover (#u5fc06766-01b6-5ee2-809e-f1e96d20a0a1)
Title Page (#ucd0b2773-869f-537e-b4ab-cde41b9893c4)
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph (#u504cbde2-c650-5786-bbd3-cc7bc00fbf8b)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgments
An interview with Amanda Brooke
Reading Group Questions
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Amanda Brooke
About the Publisher

1 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
It wasn’t the bright flash of light or the soft hum of the extractor fan that raised Jo Taylor from her slumber but the darkness that returned to the bedroom after David slipped into the en suite and closed the door behind him. Keeping her eyes firmly closed, Jo listened to the shower lurch into life. The gentle drizzle of water was replaced a moment later by a thunderous downpour as her husband stepped beneath it. He began to hum softly but then stopped himself, continuing the rest of his ablutions in silence.
Jo wriggled her fingers and toes but resisted the urge to stretch her stiffened limbs. She didn’t want to alter her position and let David know she was awake. Carefully, she lifted her head an inch off the pillow and checked the alarm clock. It wasn’t yet five. Through the gloom she could see light and steam leaching out from beneath the bathroom door. A shadow flickered as the shower switched off, making her start, and she dropped her head back down. As she listened to him brushing his teeth, she snuck her hand up to her face and raked her fingers through her fringe until it fell perfectly straight across her brow. If she was going to pretend to be asleep, she wanted to look good, angelic even. She settled back into her pose and didn’t move again.
She could still hear water falling, but this time it was the sound of rain ricocheting off the window in a vicious spray of bullets. Jo squeezed her eyes shut and savoured the warm hug of her duvet. Unlike David, she wasn’t prepared to go out into gale force winds at such an ungodly hour – but he already knew that.
Yes, she felt guilty, of course she did. David’s fifteen-minute walk to catch a train at West Allerton station on this cold and miserable October morning wasn’t going to be a pleasant one, especially when it was only the first leg of a long and tedious journey from Liverpool to Leeds for an equally long and tedious day’s training, after which he would face the same epic journey home again. She had made the trip herself and didn’t envy him. But when he had asked her for a lift to the city centre so he could catch the Leeds train direct from Lime Street Station she had refused. She wasn’t going to change her mind and she didn’t really need to feign sleep; it was just easier that way.
Remnants of their argument trickled into her thoughts and she tensed her statue-still body. It hadn’t been a blazing row but rather a slow burning battle of wills. That was how their marriage worked, and for the most part, it worked well. They both had strong opinions and Jo didn’t like backing down or admitting it when she did, but David was exactly the same. It was a game they usually enjoyed, but not this time. This was one that had been rumbling on since Jo’s thirtieth birthday over eighteen months ago, although the latest argument had begun only the night before when she and David had arrived home. He had pulled into the drive and switched off the engine before leaning in to nuzzle her neck. Remembering the warm touch of his lips, Jo’s skin tingled now as it had then.
‘What are you after?’ she had asked.
David cupped her face in his hand and guided her lips towards his. He kissed her before replying. ‘Who said I was after anything? I was simply overpowered by a desire to kiss my wife.’
He let his thumb trail across her mouth. She bit it. ‘No, David. What are you after?’
The beginnings of a smile made David’s face twitch. He wasn’t expecting her to resist when he asked for a lift to the station, or as he put it, ‘one tiny favour’.
Before answering, Jo took his hand from her face, kissed his palm and then pushed it away. She was trying not to let her disappointment sour the mood. The way she was feeling lately, she had wanted him to look after her, not work her. ‘There’s nothing to stop you taking a taxi,’ she said, her clenched jaw pinching her words.
‘But you could drive to Lime Street and back in thirty minutes,’ he had said, trying to coax her. ‘You wouldn’t even have to get dressed.’
‘Or I could stay in bed and get some much needed beauty sleep.’
‘You couldn’t get any more beautiful.’
Jo refused the bait. ‘If it’s the cost you’re worried about then I’ll pay for the taxi myself.’
‘It’s not the cost. I just thought it would be nice to snatch a few extra minutes with my beautiful wife rather than some grizzly old taxi driver.’
‘I can assure you I would be just as grizzly at five o’clock in the morning.’ Jo shifted in her seat and tried to pull her coat around her but it didn’t quite reach across her expanding girth. She was trying to make a point but it was far too subtle and completely lost on her husband.
‘You mean even more grizzly than you are at five o’clock at night?’ he asked looking at his watch to make the point.
‘It’s six o’clock, David and the answer is still no.’
The little spat could have ended there and would have if David hadn’t made the mistake of stepping on to dangerous territory. ‘It’s not like I’m off for a weekend with the boys,’ he said. ‘I’m going on this training course so I can provide a secure future for my family. I thought that was what you wanted, Jo.’
She narrowed her eyes as she analysed each and every word. ‘Ah, yes, of course; this is all about what I want.’
‘You, me, us – it’s the same thing, isn’t it?’ he demanded, his words choking the breath out of him.
‘Is it?’ she asked, wanting his reassurance, but her plea sounded more like a challenge and that was exactly how David reacted to it.
‘You tell me, Jo. Isn’t that how you justified it to yourself when you took all those life-changing decisions on our behalf?’
The question had hung in the air and the argument had stalled, leaving an uneasy silence between them that had stretched towards the dawn of the new day.
Beyond her closed lids light flooded the room, followed quickly by a cloud of warm, soap-scented steam. The light dimmed as David closed the door, leaving just enough illumination to pick out a shirt and suit from the wardrobe. Jo listened to him dressing but it was only when he slid his tie beneath the collar of his shirt that she felt his eyes on her. She hadn’t moved and had kept her breathing slow and steady, unlike the stampede of emotions rushing through her mind. Guilt was edging to the front.
Jo didn’t want to let the argument drag on. She wanted David’s arms around her so she could feel loved and protected, now more than ever. He was the love of her life and even though she sometimes wondered why on earth he put up with her, she knew he loved her too.
They had met ten years ago when Jo had been taken on as a graduate at Nelson’s Engineering, a large-scale construction company where David was working as a trainee project manager. Jo outwardly cringed whenever he told people how Nelson’s had cemented their relationship, but the pun was delivered with a twinkle in his eye and, as always, she could forgive him anything. And she was the first to admit that Nelson’s had given them a good foundation for their life together. They both had flourishing careers in the company, Jo in human resources, David in project management and they had progressed up the career ladder in perfect symmetry, one spurring on the other to face the next challenge. At thirty-one Jo was now a HR Manager and David a Project Team Leader. The seminar he was attending in Leeds was part of the next goal he had set himself with Jo’s encouragement: he was training to be the trainer.
But in the last couple of years their seemingly perfectly parallel lives had started to diverge. Jo had an absolute conviction that they still wanted the same things; it was just the timing that had gone awry. Aware that petulant silences would do nothing to help them get back on track, Jo’s pulse quickened and her muscles tightened as she willed herself to move – but she was too stubborn to give in.
Jo kept her eyes closed as the weak gloom from the en suite was snuffed out with the flick of a switch. She heard David’s socked footfalls reach the bedroom door. He was leaving and she was consumed by an irrational sense of panic: she didn’t want him to go.
David paused at the door as if he had heard the silent plea that had sliced through the shadows deepening between them. He crept towards the bed and, without saying a word, leant over and kissed the top of her head, his fingers gently sweeping across her fringe.
‘Bye, Jo,’ he whispered and then, before straightening up, he placed a hand on the duvet over the unseen swell of her stomach and the baby she was carrying. ‘Goodbye, little FB.’
She willed herself to peel back her eyelids and look at the man who was her soul mate, the man she loved with all her heart and for a fraction of a second she thought she might. But she kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady and when at last she allowed herself to speak, David was long gone.
‘I love you,’ she whispered, the words falling into the empty room.

2 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
By the time Jo was ready to leave for work, the sun had begun its sluggish ascent and grey light bled through the stained glass panels of the front door leaving multicoloured trails across the timbered floor. The only item of furniture in the hallway was a shabby chic dresser and Jo checked her reflection in its large oval mirror. She pulled her ponytail tight at the base of her skull and smoothed the poker-straight fringe that cut a sharp line just above her eyebrows. Her glossy auburn hair shone despite the dim light which was making the rest of her features look distinctly ghoulish and she had to resist the urge to switch the hallway light back on to chase away the shadows.
Adjusting an aquamarine silk scarf around her neck, Jo tried to reassure herself that she looked perfectly presentable. The grey cashmere coat had already seen her through a couple of winters but it was as immaculate as ever and would have seen her through this one – if it still fitted. But at five and a half months pregnant it was now snug around her chest and gaped open at her midriff.
She had once imagined that she would be wearing maternity wear within moments of that sacred blue line appearing on the pregnancy test, but then she had also thought that when she did take the test, David would be looking over her shoulder with eager anticipation. As things turned out, he hadn’t even been there. Jo had taken her time revealing her pregnancy – and when she had told her husband, he had been stunned and angry. She had reluctantly accepted that it would take time for him to come around to the idea, so hadn’t rushed out to buy maternity clothes to flaunt her delicate condition. But every time she thought he had taken a step forward he somehow managed to take two steps back. She placed a hand protectively over her stomach.
‘How are you doing down there, FB?’ she asked softly, using the nickname David had come up with for her bump only recently. It had been a tantalising glimmer of hope that he was ready to accept that they were going to be parents – one that he had snuffed out again last night. ‘I bet you’re glad you didn’t have to go out into the storm this morning, aren’t you?’ she went on. ‘I can’t believe your dad even thought to ask.’
Jo suspected that David still preferred living in denial. That was why it was taking him forever to get around to clearing the second bedroom in preparation for a nursery and why he expected his pregnant wife to get up in the middle of the night to drive him to the station. It was ironic, really, because it had been David who had first devised their family plan.
‘How many children do you want?’ he had asked her.
Jo was lying on a sun lounger at the time, listening to the waves crashing on to the shore of a tiny Grecian island as David rubbed suntan lotion over her body in slow sweeping caresses. ‘Where did that come from?’ she had asked with a laugh that made her perfectly flat stomach wobble beneath his wandering hand.
‘After two years, it’s a bit late for a honeymoon baby but still … that biological clock of yours is ticking away. I can hear it.’
‘That’s probably just my arthritic knees clicking now I’ve reached the advanced age of twenty-six.’
David had continued to rub the lotion into her skin, his fingers moving in sensuous arcs. ‘This has nothing to do with getting old and everything to do with the way you go all gooey-eyed when you see a baby.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Oh, you go gooey-eyed over me too.’ He had waited for the smile on Jo’s face to broaden then said, ‘We were watching you at breakfast. You couldn’t take your eyes off that little boy sitting with his mum at the next table.’
‘We?’
‘There was a little old dear sitting behind us. She collared me later and patted my hand. “Give that woman her babies,” she said.’
Jo had giggled. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t the one who wanted your babies?’ She had paused then as she met his eyes. He was serious. ‘Two. I want two babies, David. A mini me and a mini you, but only when the time’s right.’
David had leaned back and nodded slowly, his fingers hooked under his chin and his thumb resting on the prominent groove in the middle of it while he remained deep in thought. He had then proceeded to explain the plan he was hatching in a way that only a project manager could, with timelines and milestones and of course, deliverables. He had started off by listing all the other goals they had set themselves. There were qualifications to excel at and promotions to secure for both of them. ‘I’d say we’ll be ready in four years’ time,’ he had concluded.
‘Ah, when I reach the big three-oh.’
‘Which still gives us plenty of time to practise.’
David had resumed massaging her sun-kissed skin, and Jo had to put her hand over his before his roaming fingers breached public decency laws. ‘Let’s go back to our room,’ she had said with a contented smile, no doubt in her mind that the future laid out before them had been set in stone.
That long-forgotten smile made a brief appearance as Jo picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder, but the pull of material across her chest was tight enough to constrict her breathing and she sighed in frustration as she was reminded how easily David had discarded their plans. She had been the one to pick up the pieces and glue back together the life they had planned, the one she was convinced would make them happy – if only David could remember it was something he had wanted too.
The rain was torrential as she drove the twenty miles to a building site north of Southport for her first meeting of the day. The foul weather had snarled up the traffic and as soon as she realized she was going to be late, Jo telephoned Kelly. She didn’t want her over-eager assistant starting the meeting without her. Kelly was in her early twenties and had worked as Jo’s assistant for three years but while she had acquired an unrivalled knowledge of policy and procedures, she still had a lot to learn.
‘What have I missed?’ Jo panted as she shook the worst of the rain from her umbrella before leaving it propped up next to the Portakabin door. She had to strain her ears to hear Kelly’s reply above the cacophony created by the rain hammering against the metal roof and a radio blasting out from the room next door.
‘Only the offer of a cuppa.’
Kelly was sitting at a table with her notepad at the ready. Even from this distance, Jo knew that the neat script on the open page was a list of the key points for the meeting. The air of professionalism Kelly was trying to project was lost slightly by the mounds of coffee-stained paperwork scattered across the table in front of her, which from recollection had a Formica top.
To say Jo liked order and cleanliness was an understatement and she tried not to notice the mess as she slipped off her coat and pulled self-consciously at her navy blue Jasper Conran dress. It had a bias cut that was meant to be forgiving but not enough to cope with her ever-growing bump.
‘I think I’ve doubled in size overnight,’ she said.
‘That dress must be two sizes too small now,’ Kelly said helpfully as she absentmindedly ran a finger down the row of buttons on her cream satin blouse, which fitted her trim figure perfectly.
‘Thanks, Kelly, you certainly know how to make a girl feel better.’
‘You’re pregnant, for goodness’ sake; you’re allowed to be fat.’
Fortunately, Jo knew Kelly well enough to know that her bluntness wasn’t ill-intended but the comment still stung. ‘Like I said, you know how to make a girl feel better.’
Kelly mumbled an apology and a frown creased her brow as she returned her attention to her notepad while Jo pulled her ponytail tight and tried to flatten her damp fringe, which had surrendered sleekness to frizz thanks to the atrocious weather, unlike Kelly’s short-cropped hair, which had been gelled to within an inch of its life.
As Jo approached the table, Kelly crossed and uncrossed her legs. The hem on one of her trouser legs was unravelling and her colleague’s imperfections should have made Jo feel a little less shambolic, but the mud-spattered flap of material only served to irritate her. Hesitating before she took a seat, Jo glanced towards the door that led to the kitchen. ‘I could do with a coffee right now to warm me up.’
Her words were drowned out by a loud burst of music and laughter as the internal door opened. Jim’s arrival was accompanied by the smell of bacon and toast.
‘I’m already one step ahead,’ he said, holding up three mugs that slopped about as he moved. ‘Coffee, milk, no sugar.’
Jo was only drinking decaf these days but didn’t want to appear rude. Besides, she could do with just a little caffeine to liven her up so she took the proffered cup and wrapped her hands eagerly around it. She tried not to notice the brown staining on the inside of the cup above (and undoubtedly below) the steaming liquid. ‘You’re a mind reader,’ she said.
‘I caught a glimpse of someone running across the yard under a frilly umbrella and guessed it wasn’t one of my lot.’
‘There are women working here too,’ Kelly reminded him evenly.
‘None that need umbrellas on a building site,’ he said, matching her tone. ‘And if you and Jo fancied getting your hands dirty and wanted to go beyond this cosy little office, you’d be kitted out with hard hats and hi-viz jackets too.’
Jo met the foreman’s gaze and gave him a silent apology. Jim was in his late fifties and had worked all over the world for construction companies, big and small. But where Jo recognized his wealth of experience, her assistant was more preoccupied by his occasional lapses in political correctness. Kelly’s years of study had given her strong principles as well as making her something of a bureaucrat. She looked on managers like Jim as dinosaurs and it was a view that Jim wasn’t afraid to reinforce, if only to wind her up.
‘Shall we get started?’ Jo asked.
Kelly’s response was to look at her watch and then over to the internal door where the sounds of muffled music and laughter could still be heard. She opened her mouth to say something but Jim beat her to it.
‘Some of us were here at half six,’ he said. ‘Some of us need a bit of drying off and a hearty breakfast before resuming our labours.’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything.’
‘Then I apologize.’
Jim sat down next to Jo. Rather than find a clear space he balanced his mug on a relatively level pile of paper.
‘Simon Harrison,’ Jo began, as if the uncomfortable exchange hadn’t happened, ‘has been on sick leave since 24 June. He’s been declared fit to return to work next week so we need to decide what adjustments if any can be made.’ She then went on to discuss possible options, and while Kelly chipped in with the occasional suggestions and cited precedents, Jim was more than happy to make it as easy as possible for one of his most experienced bricklayers to resume his duties.
‘We’ve six brickies on site so it shouldn’t be a problem offering him a phased return; the lads have been sharing the load for the last four months anyway, so a few more weeks won’t make that much difference.’
‘But what about Simon’s duties?’ Jo added. ‘Mental health issues don’t disappear overnight and even if it isn’t the same site where the accident happened, it’s still going to be tough for him.’
The accident in question had occurred the year before and for one of Simon’s workmates it had been a fatal one. A cable snapped, equipment dropped on to scaffolding and a man had fallen to his death. The subsequent investigation had found no evidence of negligence or human error, which had made it all the more difficult for Simon to accept. Freak accidents couldn’t be predicted or avoided and thereafter he had seen danger around every corner.
‘I was thinking about that,’ Jim said. ‘We’re at a pretty high level in the construction right now but I could start off a ground-level job ahead of schedule.’
‘That’s bound to make things easier for him,’ Jo agreed with a satisfied smile. In her experience, meetings like this didn’t usually go so well. Too many of the managers she dealt with would prefer to ignore the problem or, worse still, look for a quick fix. They expected their staff to get on with the job or leave; it was as simple as that. Jo’s role was to find a way forward, one that satisfied the company’s needs as well as the employee’s and Simon Harrison was a competent and experienced worker so it made good business sense to retain those skills. These were all the arguments that, for once, she didn’t have to use and she was glad for it. Her mind wasn’t as focused on the job in hand as it should be.
‘Will Mr Harrison’s colleagues be supportive?’ Kelly asked. ‘Mental health still carries a stigma.’
‘My team are like family, they take care of each other and they’ll look out for Simon.’ There was the merest hint of a smile when he said, ‘I can’t promise there won’t be some mickey-taking, though.’ As if on cue, there was one final burst of laughter as Jim’s ‘family’ left to start work again. A distant door slammed and the only sound to be heard now was the incessant drum of rain on the Portakabin roof.
‘We have procedures to deal with that kind of thing,’ Kelly said.
‘I know, but Simon wouldn’t expect or want to be treated differently and if anyone does overstep the mark then I’ll be the first to let them know. And if by some miracle that doesn’t work then you have my permission to use your “procedures”.’
Jim and Kelly locked eyes and Jo was about to intervene when her phone began to ring. She scrambled around in her bag as she apologized for the interruption. It was David.
She had told him she had a site meeting that morning; it was, after all, the reason she had needed the car. She wondered if he had forgotten or, more likely, he hadn’t been listening at all. Trying not to let her annoyance get to her, she took some satisfaction in knowing that at least he had made the first move to break the stalemate. She wasn’t sure if she would have answered the call even if she had been on her own, but she wasn’t so she didn’t hesitate in diverting the call to voicemail. She would talk to him later after he had stewed in his own juices a little longer.
When Jo looked up from her phone, Jim winked at her; Kelly had her head down and was skimming through her notepad. The confrontation had unsettled her assistant far more than the veteran. But despite her frustrations with Kelly’s attitude at times, Jo was responsible for her and felt obliged to come to her rescue.
‘Sorry, where were we? Look, Jim, we appreciate that you’re more than capable of handling discipline informally but as you well know, even the informal stages are in our procedures.’
‘Of course,’ he said then waited for Kelly to raise her head. ‘Procedures are there to protect managers – isn’t that what you lot keep telling us?’
There were tentative smiles and the remainder of the meeting continued to a swift conclusion. Jo didn’t even have time to drain her coffee for which she was grateful. She hadn’t been looking forward to uncovering the murky stains lurking at the very bottom of her mug.
The sound of rain hitting the roof had stopped but if Jo imagined she could dispense with her umbrella then she was sorely disappointed. The drizzle fell in rolling waves that were as wet as the ocean.
‘You need a new coat,’ Kelly said as they stood beside their cars, which were parked next to each other on the mud patch that served as a car park. She was staring at the gaping hole through which Jo’s stomach protruded.
‘I know, I’ll get round to it.’
‘There are a couple of spare waterproof jackets in the office if you don’t mind the Nelson’s logo. I’m sure one’s a large size. It’ll do for now if you want.’
‘Maybe,’ Jo said with a note of irritation that had nothing to do with Kelly reminding her again that she was as big as a house. ‘Or maybe David will finally notice and take me on a shopping spree.’ Her umbrella was doing little to protect her from the vaporous drizzle that defied gravity and swirled around her. As she dipped her head against the worst of it she caught sight of Kelly’s trailing hem, which was now caught in a stiletto heel.
‘Shall I see you back at the office then?’ Kelly asked.
‘I was going to suggest we have lunch on the way back but then I wasn’t expecting the meeting to end so quickly or be so easy. I should have known Jim wouldn’t need convincing.’
‘I hope it’s all worth it in the end. I still think there’s a chance this Mr Harrison is only setting us up for a claim somewhere down the line. It’s too easy these days to convince your GP that you’re having a breakdown so you can get signed off work and then wait for a big payoff when your employer loses patience.’
Jo winced and she wasn’t sure if it was the sight of Kelly’s hem being buried in the mud or her assistant’s cynicism. ‘I don’t think Simon has anything else in mind except putting the past behind him and getting back to a normal life as soon as he can,’ she said, thinking back to the handful of welfare visits she had made. She knew Simon quite well but had barely recognized him. He was haunted by memories of the accident and his misery had been excruciating to watch. ‘If it turns out he isn’t genuine then I think it would pretty much destroy my faith in humanity.’
Kelly shifted from one foot to the other, digging her heels deeper into the mire. ‘It’s not like you to be so defeatist. Are you all right?’ she asked.
Jo put a hand against her back as she stretched her spine and pushed her bump out even further. ‘Oh, just tired I suppose. David was up at five this morning and I didn’t get back to sleep. And for the record, I’m not being defeatist because I know Simon Harrison will not let me down,’ she said purposefully. ‘Now, let’s get out of this rain and back to the office. We can always do lunch later.’
Kelly was the first to leave the car park and although Jo started up the engine, she didn’t drive off straight away. She placed her mobile into its hands-free cradle and dialled into her voicemail. As she waited for David’s message to kick in, she flipped open the mirror on her sun visor and concentrated on flattening her fringe, which was all frizz and damp curls. She stopped what she was doing when she heard the tone of David’s voice: it was as foul as the weather.
‘So you’re still not speaking to me then?’ he asked before releasing a long sigh of surrender. ‘You’re so damn stubborn.’ There was another pause as he considered what to say next. ‘You want things your way and you want them now. Well, you may not believe me but I have been thinking about the future. In fact, I haven’t been able to think about anything else, and you’re in for one hell of a shock Jo, because I’ve been making plans.’
Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, really?’ she answered as if he was sitting next to her.
‘And before you say it: yes, really,’ David added. There was another pause and another sigh. ‘I’d better go into the seminar now but I’ll see you later. Assuming you want me to come home, that is.’
Jo’s response was as petulant as her husband’s. She stuck her tongue out at the phone, which had fallen silent. It didn’t make her feel any better and she frowned at her reflection in the mirror, not liking what she saw. David had accused her of being stubborn and in fairness she could offer no defence because it was her obstinacy that prevented her from phoning him straight back. She was always too quick to put up defences and impossibly slow to pull them down again, a replica of her mother, some said. In contrast, her dad was warm and compromising, traits that he had passed on to her sister. Not that Steph considered herself lucky; she complained that she had also inherited his sluggish metabolism.
Jo snapped shut the mirror and returned the sun visor to the upright position then tried to find a comfortable position behind the steering wheel which was getting perilously close to her expanding girth. She found the lever on the stem and adjusted the wheel a fraction to give her baby more room.
‘There you go, FB. Is that better?’
There was a strong flutter that could have been either a kick or a punch and she rubbed her stomach contentedly as she wondered what David had meant about making plans. His comment was meant to keep her guessing – he was intent on playing with her as much as she was playing with him – and it was working. Had he been working up ideas for decorating the nursery? Did he have a long list of baby names? Or maybe he was thinking further ahead, about what school their child would go to or how long they should wait before baby number two? Basically, she thought wryly, any acknowledgement at all that they were having a baby would be a good start. David’s stubborn refusal to discuss any of these things so far had gone way beyond playing mind games.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said to her baby as if he or she were wondering the same things too. ‘We’ll get through this. We just have to hold our nerve and get your dad so riled up that he’ll be desperate to do anything not just for me but for you too. So he’s making plans, is he? Well, I’ve heard that before and I’m not taking the bait. It’s time he stopped planning and started doing.’ That was, after all, what Jo had done by getting pregnant in the first place.
When she looked up, the windscreen had completely misted over and she found herself settling her vision on a spot just beyond the grey shroud, casting her mind towards the future. A shudder ran down her spine when she couldn’t quite place David there but the premonition was countered by another baby kick and she pushed the unwelcome thought to the back of her mind.
Switching the fan heater on to full blast, Jo waited for the grey veil to lift. She wished her obstinacy could be vanquished as easily but she had spent months being understanding and patient. David needed to know that the time had come for him to step up to the mark, so she refused to phone him back and instead drove off, secure in the knowledge that they had all the time in the world to make amends.
Back at her desk, time slowed down to a snail’s pace, and each laborious tap of the keyboard echoed off the walls of Jo’s office. Unsettled by the sound, she stopped what she was doing and tried to collect her thoughts. She turned her back on the glass partition that separated her from the main office to gaze out of the eighth floor window with its panoramic view of the Liverpool waterfront, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the one on the outside looking in.
In reality there was only one person she felt disconnected from and she checked her phone again. It was one o’clock. David’s seminar would have broken up for lunch by this time and she willed him to phone. She was ready to speak to him now but she needed him to want it more. She reasoned that he was best placed to know when he had a free moment, so although her finger stroked the soft, supple buttons of her mobile, she refused to dial his number. Was he doing the same?
‘Here,’ Kelly said as she marched into the office giving Jo a start. ‘If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, then …’ She dropped a packet of sandwiches and a carton of orange juice on to Jo’s desk. When she saw the way Jo grimaced, she added. ‘You need to eat something. You have to look after yourself, not to mention whoever’s in there.’
Jo put her phone face down on the desk before idly rubbing the rounded stomach which Kelly had just pointed at. ‘Sorry about letting you down for lunch.’
‘That’s all right; I’m trying to drop a dress size by Christmas anyway.’ Kelly put her hand on her hip and tried to pinch at the excess fat she imagined had wrapped itself around her body while she wasn’t looking.
‘You don’t need to lose weight,’ Jo protested.
‘Neither do you,’ Kelly answered. It was her turn to grimace. ‘You do know I didn’t mean to suggest you were fat before, don’t you?’
Smiling, Jo said, ‘Yes.’
‘So eat.’
‘I will,’ she said while playing with the corner of the plastic container without actually picking up the sandwich.
Kelly wasn’t convinced. ‘It’s still not too late to go out for lunch if you fancy a breath of fresh air.’
Jo glanced out the window and dared Kelly to follow her gaze. From this vantage point, they could see the riverfront where angry waves were being smashed against the promenade by gale force winds. ‘Not that much fresh air.’
‘Or maybe go somewhere for a break and a chat?’ The question was tentative. Even though Jo had taken her under her wing, she wouldn’t describe Kelly as a close friend. When they did talk, it was usually Jo offering advice or guidance and on the rare occasions when she had a problem to talk through, she would be the one to initiate the discussion just as she would be the one to figure out the way forward. Kelly’s inquiry was at best a prompt to see if Jo needed a sounding board. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right, Jo?’
‘Probably,’ she said. ‘I’m in a weird mood, that’s all.’
‘It’ll be your hormones. When my sister was pregnant she blamed everything on them.’
‘So what was my excuse before I got pregnant?’ Jo asked but didn’t dare wait for an answer. ‘Now, have you drafted the Simon Harrison letter yet?’
‘Sorry, I’ve been digging out personnel files for Gary’s meeting this afternoon.’
It was Jo’s turn to follow Kelly’s gaze towards the open plan office where Gary was peering over his PA’s shoulder as she typed away furiously. He looked up and caught them watching him. When Jo scowled he lifted up his hands by way of an apology. As Head of HR, Gary was her immediate boss but he wasn’t beyond reproach for commandeering her assistant’s valuable time.
‘He’s known about that meeting for three weeks and he still leaves everything until the last minute,’ Jo said, still glaring at him. He winked; she smiled. All was forgiven. Gary might be disorganized but he was good at his job and with twenty years’ experience on her, he was a great mentor who would be the first to admit he could learn a thing or two from her organisational skills.
‘At least it’s Jeanette’s turn to be harassed now, so I can get on with the letter. I’ll have it finished by the time you’ve finished your lunch.’ Kelly raised an eyebrow, daring Jo to recognize the veiled threat.
‘Thanks, Kelly.’
Left to her own devices, Jo made a start on her sandwich but the bread lodged in her dry throat. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Someone had to be the bigger person; David had tried to make the first move so why couldn’t she?
‘You are such a child, Joanne Taylor,’ she told herself. ‘Stop sulking.’
She picked up her phone and dialled but the call was immediately put through to voicemail. Jo hung up, not sure what she should say. She couldn’t stop thinking about her husband’s mysterious plans and was desperate to know what they were. Her obstinacy was showing again but this time it was working in David’s favour – she wasn’t going to give up that easily. She had started to compose a text message when her mobile burst into life.
‘David?’
‘No, it’s Lauren,’ came a cheerful, almost lyrical voice.
Lauren was Jo’s favourite and only niece and, at fifteen years old, it was unlikely to be a social call. ‘What are you after?’ Jo demanded.
‘Who says I’m after anything?’
‘What are you after, Lauren?’
Lauren sighed heavily and Jo imagined her raising her eyes to the heavens. ‘I’ve been picked for the Christmas pantomime.’
‘And?’
‘I need to design and make my own costume.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Jo said dismissively.
‘Jo …’
‘What?’ Jo asked, tapping her keyboard loudly to let Lauren know she was busy and in no mood for playing games.
‘I was hoping my most favourite, most talented aunt in all the world would help me. Mum’s hopeless at that sort of thing,’ whined Lauren as the child within let herself be known. ‘Please, Jojo.’
‘I presume by help you mean that I do everything and you take the credit?’
‘Thank yoooooo!’ Lauren squealed.
Jo was laughing too much to point out she hadn’t agreed to help yet but they both knew she would. Lauren was right: Steph would be hopeless.
With the arrangements made and the call ended, Jo sat staring at her mobile. There was another matter that took precedence over any school production. She was going to take her time composing a text message to David and she was going to make every word count.
The message had been exceptionally long in its early drafts but by the time Jo was ready to press send, it was direct and to the point.
Sorry, hope you didn’t get too wet.
Will pick you up from Lime St if you want.
What plans?!!?
J x
Her finger hovered over the send button as she recalled lying in bed that morning listening to him leave. They were at loggerheads with each other but Jo had never lost sight of the one thing that still held true. She inserted a new line.
I do love you.
Rather than wait for an immediate response, which was unlikely given that David would be engrossed in his seminar again, Jo slipped her phone out of sight in her handbag. Even without knowing his reaction, the act of sending the text message alone gave Jo a sense of release and the impetus to focus fully on her work for the first time that day.
‘Ready to sign these?’ Kelly asked. She slipped into the office while Jo was poring over the draft minutes of a meeting she had attended the week before, and when Jo looked up, she was surprised to discover the office awash in artificial lighting. Outside, sullen clouds had drawn a steel grey curtain across the sky, bringing a premature end to the day.
‘What time is it?’
Handing over a folder, Kelly said, ‘It’s gone five. I was planning on leaving soon if that’s OK?’
‘Yes, of course. I should be going too,’ Jo said, opening the folder and skimming through the letter Kelly had prepared for Simon Harrison. She had already seen the draft and made a few corrections and the version in front of her was almost perfect except that there was a comma where there should have been a full stop. She glared at the offending punctuation mark and willed herself to let it go. She needed to leave soon so she would have time to call in at the supermarket on her way home to pick up ingredients for the special supper she was planning for David.
‘What have I missed?’ Kelly asked, picking up on Jo’s inner turmoil.
‘Full stop,’ Jo said regretfully, pointing out the error.
‘I’ll be two minutes.’
Jo pulled the folder out of Kelly’s reach. ‘Oh, no, I’m the one being picky. I’ll pull the file up and amend it myself. You go.’
Kelly feigned an objection but didn’t put up much of a fight. She had her coat on and was waving goodbye by the time Jo had sent the amended letter to the printer. It was a two-minute job and in no time at all Jo was pulling on her own coat. Only when all her work had been dispensed with for the day did she allow herself to check her phone. Her heart fluttered a little when she saw the message alert.
No need for a lift. Will make my own way.
Phone about to die so switching off.
D x
It was impossible to gauge from his pithy reply if his refusal to accept a lift was due to his own stubbornness – he could be guilty of that too – or because he was trying to make amends. She would also have felt better if he had said he loved her too but all of that didn’t matter: they were reaching a turning point; she could feel it.

3 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
The normally harsh street lighting along Beaumont Avenue had been muted by an undulating mist that was hopefully the last damp remnant of the day’s storm. The headlights of Jo’s car picked up a golden river of sodden autumn leaves that flowed along the tree-lined avenue, leaving no distinction between grass verge and pavement as she pulled into the drive.
Their house was a traditional 1930s semi with an imposing black-and-white facade and it had been a little worn at the edges when they had first moved in five years earlier. Cutting off the engine, Jo did her best to ignore the shadows that obscured its newly restored splendour and concentrated instead on the warmth borrowed from the subdued streetlamps and the turning leaves.
The autumnal hues had given a false sense of security and the biting wind took her breath away as Jo scurried from the car to the front door. The stained glass window had given up its rainbow colours for the softer reflections of orange and gold but Jo was more intent on getting inside the house than marvelling at the beauty of its external features.
The central heating was already on but it wasn’t until Jo had switched on every light on her way through to the kitchen that she felt at home. It drove David mad when she left so many lights blazing, especially when the fuel bills came in, but while Jo accepted they could perhaps be more efficient, it was a luxury she was willing to pay for. A house full of light and warmth felt like a welcoming embrace and she had absolutely no doubt David would be glad of it tonight.
The kitchen had once been long and narrow but they had knocked it through to the adjoining reception room to create a space that felt open and modern. The grey and turquoise colour scheme in the newly installed kitchen had been extended into the dining area where Jo dropped her handbag before setting about unpacking her shopping. She had almost two hours to prepare dinner and get ready. Plenty of time, she told herself. And then the phone rang.
‘Hi,’ Steph chirped. ‘Are you busy?’
Jo scanned the counter where she had just lined up all the ingredients for a steak and ale pie. ‘Sort of. I’m in the middle of cooking supper,’ she said, hoping her sister would take the hint.
‘Oh, well I won’t keep you then.’
Jo couldn’t ignore the disappointment in her sister’s voice so she propped the phone under her chin and set about preparing the meal. ‘It’s all right; I can multitask. What’s up?’
‘Nothing, I was only phoning for a chat. How are you feeling? Still tired?’
Jo had been surprised how exhausting being pregnant could be. She had presumed she would only start to feel tired once her bump had grown to mammoth proportions but she had felt completely drained even before she knew she was pregnant and she had been struggling to recover her energy levels ever since.
‘I thought I was getting over that particular hurdle but today has knocked the stuffing out of me. It didn’t help that David was up at five. If I’d known I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again then I could have avoided the argument and given him a lift.’
‘Have you two been winding each other up again?’ Steph asked. ‘There are better ways of adding spark to a relationship than arguing, you know.’
‘This was more of a quiet rumble actually.’
‘So you gave him the silent treatment,’ Steph surmised. She was three years older than Jo and had a lifetime of experience of her sister’s surliness. ‘You’re not a moody teenager any more, Jo. You’ve got some growing up to do before you’re ready to be a parent.’
‘I know,’ Jo said impatiently. She had said the same thing often enough to David.
‘I can’t believe you can troubleshoot for a living and yet be completely incapable of applying those same skills to your marriage.’
‘I know,’ Jo said again. Tears threatened, although they had more to do with the onion she was peeling than anything else. Jo was used to Steph pushing an issue to its limits; it was an annoying habit akin to picking at a scab that should be left to heal – although once in a while it proved good medicine, cathartic even. But today it felt more like picking a scab. The healing process had barely started. She tried to regain control of the conversation. ‘David’s on his way home from Leeds and I’m cooking him his favourite meal. I think we’re ready to sit down and start planning properly for the baby.’
‘At last! So you’re finally working together. Maybe you are both learning,’ Steph told her in a tone that ought to be reserved for the primary school children she taught but Jo couldn’t blame her sister for taking the moral high ground. She had been happily married for fifteen years to her first love and whilst she and Gerry had their disagreements, she never let the sun go down on an argument, unlike her sister. Jo had often said the key to Steph’s successful marriage was her ability to wear anyone into submission but in truth, she was as considerate as she was persistent.
‘So is it only my welfare you were concerned about or is there something else I can help you with?’ Jo said, eager to draw the conversation to a close. She could see her reflection in the glossy kitchen unit and her hair was sticking up at all angles. There was still so much to do.
‘No, nothing.’
‘Fair enough. You can rest assured that I’m fine and dandy. Now, could you please leave me in peace so I can get on with my cooking,’ Jo said, then casually added, ‘I expect you’ve got a lot to do too. Wicked Stepmother costumes don’t make themselves, you know.’
There was stony silence at the other end of the phone and then, ‘Bloody teenagers. So I suppose you already know what my next question will be.’
Jo tried not to let her smile reveal itself in her voice. ‘Not really. I can’t imagine what you would be asking of your little sister who’s been complaining of exhaustion.’
‘But you’ve just said you were fine and dandy!’
Jo yawned.
‘Don’t do that, you’ll get me started,’ Steph said immediately stifling a yawn. ‘You will help, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘But only if it’s not too much for you and of course I’ll do what I can to help.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Not that I can do much – you’re the creative one – but I can sew on buttons, cut things out, that kind of thing. And I’ll do all the running around …’
‘Stephany,’ Jo interjected, ‘I said I’ll do it.’
‘Thanks, Jo. And in return I’ll give David a ring to tell him he had better start fussing over his wife and the future mother of his children or he’ll have me to answer to.’
‘Erm, I don’t think so. I can manage my own affairs, thank you very much! I’ll come over at the weekend and we can start planning the costume but for now, will you please let me go?’
With the call ended, Jo tried to concentrate on the pie she was making, but a frown furrowed her brow as the conversation with her sister played over in her mind. Jo was the first to volunteer her services for most things, to the point that it was almost expected of her, and she genuinely didn’t mind. She rarely felt put upon so her refusal to drive David to the station had come as a surprise to both of them. But it wasn’t the lift that had got to her; it was the principle. Steph was right, all Jo really wanted was for David to fuss over her. Of course she couldn’t tell him that because she had been the one who had elected to become pregnant, not him, but that didn’t stop her wanting to be cosseted like any other pregnant wife.
Jo looked at the neat piles of perfectly cubed vegetables she was still in the process of preparing and then at the illuminated clock on the microwave. She worked out that if she left now there was just enough time to collect him from Lime Street Station, but before she could give into the impulse, she visualised David walking into the house where the welcoming aromas of crisp, golden pie crust would give him his first embrace, quickly followed by another from his adoring wife. The hug would be all the more appreciated after a long walk on a cold, dark and miserable night. Her mind was settled.

4 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
Jo swirled the contents of her glass and watched it bubble and fizz. Not for the first time, she wished it were wine rather than the sparkling water that was meant to settle her stomach, which was also fizzing and bubbling. She glanced up at the clock above the fireplace. There were no numerals on the timepiece, just a collection of silvery shards arranged in a starburst effect, the longest and sharpest marking the quarter hours. After years of practice Jo could tell the time to the exact minute and it was now showing ten minutes past nine.
She had already gone through a mental calculation of what time she had expected David to return home. He had texted to say his train was due into Lime Street at ten past seven and she knew it would have taken less than an hour to complete the rest of the journey home. She had already checked online and there was no reported travel disruption – and even if he had missed the connection to West Allerton, he would have taken the bus or even jumped in a taxi. She couldn’t think of a single scenario where he wouldn’t have made it home by now.
She had lost count of how many times she had tried to phone him but that didn’t stop her picking up her phone and trying again. She pressed redial and, as expected, David’s mobile went straight through to voicemail. He had said his phone was almost out of charge and that he would be switching it off to conserve the last dregs of power, but while that might explain why he wasn’t answering, it didn’t explain why he wasn’t home.
‘Hi, just wondering where you are,’ she said having decided to leave a message this time. She kept her tone light but didn’t doubt that David would recognize the strain in her voice. ‘Can you give me a call and let me know what’s happening? That offer still stands if you want me to pick you up.’ She paused, unsure how to end the call. ‘I love you,’ she whispered even though her traitor fingers had cut off the call the moment she recalled his earlier omission of any such sentiment in his text.
‘Oh, FB, when will we ever grow up?’ She gave her bump a gentle rub that gave her, rather than the baby, some much-needed comfort. ‘We’re like big kids. I can’t say I love you because it’s your turn to say it next,’ she added in a childish voice. ‘But he already knows I love him, just like I know he loves me.’
She was getting tired of the games they played. What used to be playful battles over who could remember the details of their first meeting or their first date; who could find the best surprise gift; or who could prove they loved the other more; had taken on a more serious tone of late. She wished this silly spat over a stupid lift to the station had never been started and she was annoyed with herself as much as she was with him.
Jo returned her gaze to her drink while her ears strained for the sound of approaching footsteps or the jangle of keys in the lock. All she could hear was the background music that she had already turned down until the three tenors had been reduced to the faintest warble.
Draining her glass, Jo stood up and switched off the music before heading back into the kitchen. She couldn’t drink any more sparkling water, so she washed and dried her glass then returned it to the dining table where she had laid two place settings. The crystal candelabra had sparkled an hour ago but the candles had burned themselves out and the romantic ambience she had been trying to create had lost its appeal, as had the pie, which was slowly drying in the oven. She wasn’t sure she could face food now; her stomach was knotted up with nerves. Or was it anger? She wasn’t sure how to feel and wouldn’t know until David arrived home safely and explained why he couldn’t have warned her he was running late.
During her absence from the living room, the minute hand of the clock had sneaked past the hour but there was nothing Jo could do except resume her vigil. Each time she blinked, she could see the ghostly impression of the starburst burnt on to the back of her eyelids.
For the next hour and a half Jo remained in the living room. If this was David’s idea of punishing her he couldn’t have planned it better. Jo hid her insecurities well but they were there and they tormented her now. Only a single lamp glowed in her self-imposed prison, its light too weak to reach the shadows into which she had crawled and was determined to remain until her husband appeared. Other than the torturously slow progress of the hands around the clock, the only other movement in the room came from the rhythmic strum of Jo’s fingers on the armchair. Occasionally the glare of headlights swept across the window blinds, causing the strumming to halt and Jo’s heartbeat to quicken. But without fail the car would continue on its journey, taking with it the hope that a taxi was about to pull up outside and put her out of her misery.
When her gaze could be drawn away from the clock, Jo stared at the two phones she had placed in her lap: one her mobile, the other the house phone. She was using her mobile to dial David’s number at regular intervals, listening only long enough for the automated announcement to kick in advising her to leave a message. She didn’t. She hung up each and every time before waiting precisely ten minutes until she allowed herself to repeat the process.
Jo hadn’t yet decided what she would use the landline for. She wanted to phone someone but didn’t know whom. She had gone through her address book on her mobile but dismissed every one. Right now there was only one person’s voice she wanted to hear and no one else would do, not family or friends and, God forbid, not the emergency services. If there was the possibility that something awful had happened to David then, she reasoned, it wasn’t yet real and it wouldn’t be real until she told someone. She and David lived an unremarkable life; nothing bad had ever happened to them and as long as she didn’t let her imagination run wild, it wasn’t happening now. Telling someone would be like taking a pin and bursting the protective bubble she was desperately constructing around herself.
And then the phone rang.
Her mobile shone through the darkness and the warm rush coursing through her body took Jo’s breath away. She squeezed her eyes shut but it was too late. She had seen the caller ID and the spark of excitement was cruelly extinguished.
Jo’s tone was flat as she answered the late night call from one of her oldest friends. ‘Hi, Heather.’
‘Sorry, I’ve only just seen your missed call and thought it must be important for you to call so late. What’s up?’
‘What missed call?’ she asked but was already working it out for herself. ‘Oh, sorry, I must have pressed a button by mistake when I was going through my address book.’ Jo’s mouth was dry as she spoke, a stark contrast to the tears stinging her eyes.
‘I didn’t wake you up, did I?’
‘No, I’m waiting up for David.’
‘Out on the town, is he?’
‘He’s been in Leeds all day,’ Jo replied, leaving a pause to summon up the courage to say more but Heather was already talking.
‘I’ve just got back from London. I was only away one night but Max acted like I’d been gone a month,’ Heather said of her six-year-old son. ‘He’s been clinging on to me for the last couple of hours so this is the first chance I’ve had for some peace and quiet. I’m sure Oliver’s been winding him up just to put pressure on me to travel less. It wouldn’t cross his mind that my earnings from these sales trips mean I don’t have to squeeze him for every penny he’s got.’
As Heather launched into complaints about her ex-husband, Jo’s eyes returned to the clock. The longest hand was creeping towards ten past eleven – the next ten-minute marker for phoning David. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, interrupting Heather mid-flow.
‘Is everything all right?’
There was a pause. In the fifteen years they had known each other, she and Heather had taken it in turns to be the shoulder to cry on. It was only in the last year, while Heather was going through a bitter divorce, that Jo had found it impossible to confide in her friend. She hadn’t been able to share her worries about the direction of her own marriage because in comparison, her troubles had been trivial. They didn’t seem trivial any more. ‘I don’t know where he is, Heather.’
‘David?’
Jo told her what time David was supposed to have arrived home and left her friend to draw her own conclusions.
‘He’s probably met up with Steve and gone for a drink,’ Heather said. ‘I know what you’re like, Jo. Stop thinking the worst!’
Jo shook her head. If David had gone out with his brother he would have called her from Steve’s phone. Heather wasn’t the only one who knew how much of a worrier she was. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but can I go now? He might be trying to phone as we speak.’
Heather wasn’t fooled by Jo’s quick acceptance but she didn’t think for a minute that her friend’s concerns were warranted. Jo, on the other hand, wouldn’t rest until she heard David’s voice and she cut off the call to Heather before she had even finished saying goodbye. She made the call to David with only seconds to spare.
The automated voice grated on her nerves and Jo cut that call short too. Leaning forward in her chair, she closed her eyes and put her hands over her face. Her bump was substantial enough to make her attempt to curl into a ball uncomfortable. She wished she could hold her baby. She wished she could fast forward four months to the moment David could share in the miracle growing inside her, to a time when they could heal the rift between them, but for now her arms were empty and the only thing she could feel was the pressure on her bladder. She hadn’t dared go to the toilet in case David turned up because she wanted to be there when he came through the door as she knew he would; he had to. Heather’s theory about his whereabouts wasn’t the only one Jo had explored. There were a myriad other explanations which could have delayed him, the majority of which involved nothing more than mild inconvenience and Jo had practised her response to each of them.
He could have lost his wallet and might have decided to walk the eight miles home from the city centre. That would take a good few hours, in which case he should be walking up to the door right about now …
The travel information might be wrong. The train could have broken down or been delayed by a fallen tree, in which case he would be arriving home right about now …
He could have met an old friend and gone for a quick drink, in which case he would be arriving home … right about now …
Or he could have had enough of his interfering wife who thought she knew best. He could have tired of all those idiosyncrasies he had said he found sweet, such as her obsession for neatness – in which he case he would be coming home … right … about … never.
She shook her head. Kelly was right, her hormones were playing up and she was definitely overreacting.
But why hadn’t he phoned to say he was delayed? Even if his mobile wasn’t working, he could use a pay phone or work his charm on someone to borrow theirs. And if he didn’t have cash he could reverse the charges.
To break the monotony of going around in circles, Jo replayed David’s voicemail message from earlier that day and listened to every nuance in his voice, analysing everything he said and didn’t say. When that didn’t settle her mind, she looked at the last text message he had sent. It was even shorter than the one replying to Jo’s earlier message.
On train home.
Arrive Lime Street 7:10 p.m.
D x
He was rushing with his texts because his battery was low and his battery was low because it hadn’t been charged the night before. But if Jo hadn’t been sulking like a child, she would have made sure that it had a full battery. David relied on his wife’s obsession for detail to ensure that both of them were ready for anything.
But as time ticked by and it became less likely that David had been held up for some simple reason, Jo was anything but ready. As long as something too awful to contemplate hadn’t happened, and she prayed it hadn’t, then there was only one other explanation left.
David had chosen not to come home.
And if Jo was being perfectly honest, that was the real reason she hadn’t been prepared to pick up the landline and phone for help.
At eleven thirty, Jo’s urgent need to relieve herself forced her into action. She went upstairs to the bathroom as fast as she could and only just made it. The near miss made her angry with herself. She had become paralyzed by a fear of the unknown, compounded by the theories her mind was conjuring to fill the torturous gap in her knowledge. David was only a few hours late and there would be a rational explanation. She simply didn’t know what that was yet.
Rather than return downstairs to be held captive by the ticking of the clock, Jo slipped into the spare room they had made into a study. She sat at the desk, switched on the laptop and began browsing not only the rail network sites she had checked before, but local traffic and news reports that might mention disruptions or serious incidents. The search was fruitless, but enough of a distraction to have eased her anxiety a little. The reprieve, however, was short-lived and her stomach lurched the moment she walked back into the living room. Both hands of the clock were pointing north.
Jo paced the floor as she tried again to reach her husband. The automated voice had the same effect as someone scraping their fingernails down a blackboard and made her shudder. There was nothing else for it; she needed to hear a human voice.
She picked up the landline and dialled, only to be greeted by another automated voice not too dissimilar from the one that had been taunting her all night. A scream began to build at the back of her throat, tearing at her vocal chords as she listened to the answering machine message. She came close to releasing it when the message cut off.
‘Hello?’ asked a groggy but blessedly familiar voice.
‘I’m sorry, did I wake you?’ Jo whispered.
‘What’s wrong?’ Steph asked, ignoring the question and reacting instead to the unmistakeable catch of emotion in her sister’s voice.
‘I don’t know.’ The words had started off so strong but then quivered over trembling lips. ‘I don’t know where David is.’
‘What?’
‘He was supposed to be home at eight.’
There was a groan as Steph rolled out of bed. ‘What time is it now?’
‘Quarter past twelve.’
‘And he hasn’t been in touch to say—’
‘Nothing. I’ve been phoning him constantly but it’s going through to his voicemail.’
‘Oh.’
Jo bit her lip. It wasn’t the response she wanted to hear. She could already imagine the scenarios being played out in Steph’s mind; they had played out in her own on a continuous loop all evening. ‘I’m scared, Steph,’ she managed to say in a broken whisper. Her hand flew to her mouth but it was too late, the first sob had escaped. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she stared at the living room clock, its lethal shards blunted but not obscured.
‘There’ll be a reason.’
‘I know, I just wish I knew what it was and I hate to say it but right now I don’t even care how bad it is. I need to know.’
There was the sound of soft footfalls, the creak of floorboards and the occasional click of a light switch as Steph made her way downstairs. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘Will it?’ Jo asked, preparing to grasp even the most tenuous thread of hope.
‘Have you thought about phoning the police … or the hospitals?’
Steph’s words were soft and gentle but they stabbed fear into Jo’s heart. ‘No, I don’t want to look like a complete idiot when David turns up alive and well.’
The pause that followed was excruciating. ‘Steph?’
‘Could your argument last night have been more serious than you thought? Have you checked his things?’ she said. ‘Is anything missing?’
It took a fraction of a second for Jo to catch up with Steph’s train of thought. She laughed nervously. ‘I think I would have noticed if he’d packed a suitcase before he left this morning,’ she said, immediately dismissing the theory, not because she didn’t think it possible but because it was perhaps the most plausible – and that terrified her. She glanced towards the stairs, measuring the need to check his closet against her fear of what she might find. She tried to corral her thoughts. ‘Do you think I should phone the police?’
‘Maybe. Do you want me to come round?’
‘No, Steph, it’s late and blowing a gale again outside. Besides, you’ve got work in the morning.’
‘It’s not as if I’ll be able to get back to sleep now.’
‘But you have Lauren to look after,’ Jo protested, even while hoping deep down that Steph might overrule her.
‘That’s what husbands are for.’
Steph didn’t need to be in the same room to know that Jo had flinched at the remark.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll laugh about this tomorrow. Now please, go back to bed. Keep your phone under your pillow if you have to and I’ll call you as soon as he turns up. And he will,’ she added as if the words alone would make her husband materialize.
‘I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when he does,’ Steph offered with forced cheeriness.
Left to her own devices, Jo stared at the armchair she had been glued to for most of the evening. She couldn’t sit and stare at the clock any more but needed to keep herself occupied. Unable to resist the urge a moment longer, she rushed back upstairs to satisfy herself that David’s clothes were still in the wardrobe. They were, but the sight of his things only made her long for him more. Desperate for any kind of reassurance, Jo slipped back into the study to check one more thing. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for, the theory she had hoped to dismiss took on a life of its own.
Jo went through every drawer and file, not only in the study but in every other possible hiding place. Her search for the missing article was methodical and she left the paperwork in a tidier state than she had found it, but by the time she reached the kitchen there was nowhere else to look. Refusing to think about what that might mean Jo began clearing away the uneaten dinner.
She carefully wrapped the dried-out steak and ale pie in foil before gathering up the hardened bread rolls and throwing them in the bin along with the side salad that had been left to wilt on the dining table. The plates were returned to the cupboard and the cutlery back to the kitchen drawer, which Jo couldn’t bring herself to close again. Forks lay across knives and a couple of teaspoons were peeking out beneath half a dozen soup spoons. The disorder in the drawer set her already frazzled nerves into a fresh jangle, but at least this was something she could fix. As Jo removed every item from the drawer, an image of David standing behind her, came unbidden. He rested his head on her shoulder, the warmth of his sigh caressing her neck. His breath smelled of coffee and dark chocolate from the cake she had made him for his birthday.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Tidying up your mess.’
She was grouping the stainless steel soldiers into regiments, laying them in tight formation. Knife-edges facing left, fork tines pointing upwards and spoons – well, they simply spooned.
‘There was nothing wrong with it.’
‘I need to tidy it,’ she persisted. She could feel the anxiety constricting her chest although it had been there long before she had opened the drawer. It had been building ever since she had missed her last period and she was now about to miss the next, but she wasn’t ready to tell David yet. It was still early days and anything could happen, or at least that was the excuse she was using to put off making her announcement.
‘And what exactly do you think would happen if, God forbid, you threw the cutlery into the draw and left things where they fell?’ he asked.
Jo’s eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to apply David’s logic. Perfectly ordered cutlery wasn’t going to have even the slightest effect on his reaction when he found out what she had done. ‘Nothing,’ she offered.
David kissed her neck, unaware of her deceit and simply enjoying the sport of challenging his wife’s compulsions, which had been increasing of late. ‘Make a mess. I dare you.’
She leaned back against the man she knew so well and felt their bodies meld into one. He was going to love the idea of becoming a dad once he had got over the shock, she was sure of it. Putting aside her troubles for another day at least, she let a soft laugh tickle her throat as she picked up a single fork and turned it on its side.
‘Nah, not good enough.’ David leaned over and when the thunderous clank of metal subsided, the drawer was in more of a mess than ever.
‘I’m going to make you pay for that,’ Jo warned but David was already wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away.
The sound of their laughter faded and Jo’s eyes began to sting as she stared unblinking at the cutlery drawer where the tight formations had been reformed. ‘What was the worst that could happen?’ she asked herself, but without David holding her, she shrank in terror from the answer.
Quickly closing the drawer, Jo pulled up her sleeves and set to work scouring the grey granite surface of the kitchen counter until it sparkled. Next she mopped the floor, not limiting herself to the porcelain tiles in the kitchen but moving on to the timbered floor in the dining room, even moving cupboards to reach hidden nooks and crannies. And she didn’t stop there. She swept the mop in wide, purposeful strokes out into the hallway and then continued through to the living room.
The smell of industrial strength bleach had completely obliterated the more homely smells of cooking. It had started to burn the back of Jo’s nostrils but she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. She returned the mop to the store cupboard under the stairs and picked up a duster and a can of polish. In no time at all, the black marble fire surround in the living room was so shiny it reflected an image of the clock she was refusing to look at. She was in the process of polishing the coffee table when there was a knock at the door.
Not daring to consider who might be calling at half past one in the morning, Jo’s heart thudded against her chest as she rushed out of the living room. The hallway lights reflected brightly against the glass panes in the front door but she could still make out a vague silhouette. Unconsciously, Jo checked for the outline of a helmet or the reflection of a hi-viz jacket. Relieved that it wasn’t a policeman calling, she flung open the door expecting to see David standing there, looking sheepish and apologetic. The realization that it wasn’t David hit her with the full force of a body blow. Her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor.
‘I can’t bear this any more, Steph. Why is he doing this to me?’ she sobbed.
The tears that came wracked her entire body; Jo had never known pain like it in her life. She had thought she had experienced heartache and grief before but everything else paled into insignificance. The loss of grandparents, the demise of a beloved pet or the kind of teenage angst she thought she would never survive couldn’t compare. Even the sudden death of David’s dad after a massive stroke two years ago hadn’t felt like this. But why was she even thinking of it as grief? What was she grieving for?
When Jo felt able to lift her head and face the world again, she was hunched up in the armchair in the living room, still clutching the yellow duster she had been holding when she answered the door. It was sopping wet with tears and there was the taste of beeswax in her mouth. Steph was perched next to her, rubbing her back. Jo sniffed and tried to give a watery smile, taking in Steph’s anxious face.
‘Sorry about that.’
Steph smiled back and, as she did, the tears in her eyes reflected Jo’s own. ‘It is allowed, Jo. It might not be like you, but normal people do this all the time.’
Jo prided herself in being the staunch one; hard as nails Steph might say and often did. But it didn’t mean she didn’t care or feel things just as deeply as anyone else. And what she needed to feel right now was her baby move. She placed a hand on her stomach, worried that her histrionics might have harmed him or her.
Steph noticed her concern. ‘Is everything all right?’
Jo’s hand paused as she felt a soft but unmistakeable kick. ‘Yes, we’re fine.’
Not giving her sister time to enjoy even a moment’s relief, Steph asked, ‘Did you phone the police?’
‘No,’ Jo said quickly as she rubbed her eyes, which were dry and flaky. Her tears had stopped flowing long before she had finished crying. She stared hard at Steph as she built up the courage to speak again. ‘His passport’s missing.’
Steph’s laugh was more a result of shock than amusement. ‘You think he’s gone on the run and left the country?’
‘We would have been on holiday in America now if … If I hadn’t been pregnant.’
‘That’s still a pretty big conclusion to jump to. He’s only been missing a few hours, Jo. Maybe he’s gone to his mum’s or maybe he’s with Steve?’
If it turned out that David had left her then Jo didn’t think for a minute that he would turn up on his brother’s doorstep. Steve’s six-year marriage to Sally was hanging by a thread and if anyone were about to leave their wife then Jo would have laid bets on it being Steve. No, Jo thought, if David had gone anywhere, it would be to his mum. But if she phoned Irene and David wasn’t there then she would be drawing her mother-in-law into the mix and Jo wasn’t ready for that yet. Irene had once been a formidable matriarch but the death of her husband had affected her deeply and Jo dreaded to think how she would handle this latest development. Steph was right; it had only been a few hours. ‘I’ll speak to them tomorrow if I need to.’
‘So phone the police then.’
Jo shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ She had to swallow hard before she could get the next words out. ‘But could you check the hospitals for me?’ she asked.
Unable to listen as Steph made the call, Jo escaped to the kitchen. If David hadn’t willingly left her, if he had become embroiled in some major incident, then it would have to be something serious enough to prevent him from phoning her during the six hours that had elapsed since her marriage and her life had been suspended. If he hadn’t physically been able to get a message to her, then surely by now someone would have been able to identify him and … Jo’s brain disengaged as the images she had unwittingly created in her mind became too much to bear. She began mopping the floor for the second time that evening.
‘No news,’ Steph said without ceremony when she arrived in the kitchen.
Jo halted the mop mid-stroke. She tried to let out a sigh of relief but it felt empty. She was completely drained and couldn’t muster the spark of hope she had hoped the news would bring.
When it was clear that Jo wasn’t going to move or respond, Steph continued, ‘And I hate to say it but you might not find out anything else tonight. Maybe we should get you to bed.’
‘I couldn’t …’ began Jo but she didn’t resist when Steph pulled the mop from her grasp and guided her up the stairs. The tiredness that had blighted her pregnancy was a blessing in disguise and for once she didn’t fight her exhaustion but let it swallow her up whole.

5 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
If there was a moment when Jo woke up and thought it was David lying next to her in bed then she must have missed it. Her sister hadn’t left her side all night and the reward for her efforts was an elbow in the ribs as Jo scrambled around to find her mobile, which had slipped from her grasp while she slept.
Her eyes were still bleary but she could see enough to know there were no missed calls or messages. The slithering fear that had begun to wrap itself around her the night before tightened its grip around her chest, but it was the violent lurch of her stomach that sent Jo flying out of bed and into the bathroom where she dry retched into the toilet bowl. She kept one hand over her abdomen in a vain attempt to settle the baby who objected to being jostled about, its kicks making her stomach flip all the more.
Her body shook violently and she swallowed back the bitter taste of bile before turning to her sister who had followed her into the en suite. ‘What time is it?’
Steph held out a glass of water. ‘Almost seven.’
A second later, the radio in the bedroom burst into life. Jo often woke up just before the alarm and despite the traumas of the night before her body clock was ticking along as if nothing had happened. She clung on to this fragment of normality as she stood up and took a sip of water.
‘I’d better get ready for work.’
‘You are not going in, Jo.’
Jo chose to interpret the command as a question. ‘Of course I’m going in. What use am I waiting around here?’
‘But …’
‘David is due in work too. I’d rather be there in the same building waiting for him to arrive than phoning his office every two minutes and annoying everyone.’ Jo sensed another ‘but’ coming and quickly added, ‘And you have to go to work too. I’ll be fine, Steph. I have to be.’
‘And what if David doesn’t turn up?’
‘Then I’ll phone his mum to see if he’s there. And if he isn’t,’ she continued, predicting Steph’s next question, ‘then I promise I’ll phone the police.’
‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that.’
Jo bit down hard and let the pain in her lower lip focus her mind on something other than the possibility that she might have to face another night like the last one. ‘It won’t,’ she said. ‘Now, can I have some privacy? I need to get ready.’
It was only when Jo had closed the door that she dared to look in the bathroom mirror. She recalled her haunted reflection the morning before when she had stood in the hallway draped in shadows. The shadows were there again but this time no amount of downlighting could dispel them. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She prayed David would turn up at work and put her out of her misery but more than anything, she hoped and prayed that he wasn’t lying in a ditch waiting for her to come to his rescue …
‘You look absolutely awful,’ Kelly said.
At times like this, when Kelly failed to apply any kind of internal filter before speaking, Jo would often suggest a more diplomatic turn of phrase or, if she was in a less forgiving mood, provide a sharp retort. But today Kelly’s remark barely raised a ripple in Jo’s consciousness. ‘Can you cancel all of today’s appointments for me? I’m going to spend the day in the office catching up on paperwork.’
‘OK,’ Kelly said but didn’t move. She was waiting for further explanation.
‘My first meeting was for nine so you’ll need to get a move on,’ Jo persisted. She was holding Kelly’s gaze but she sensed her assistant was concentrating more on her bloodshot eyes than the warning glare she was giving her. ‘Kelly?’
Finally on her own again, Jo turned her attention to her computer screen and the time-management system that was busily registering the arrival of staff in Nelson’s Liverpool office as they swiped in. David Taylor’s time log showed that he had left work on Tuesday night at 17.38 but she already knew this because she had left with him. She closed her eyes as she recalled David next to her in the car as they pulled up outside the house. She could feel his breath on her neck as he leaned in to nuzzle her. She could recall the sensation of his lips brushing against her neck then gently pinching soft skin between his teeth.
‘What are you after?’ she whispered as if he was right there next to her.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she willed the tears not to fall again. If only she could go back in time she would agree to give him a lift; in fact, she would say yes to anything David wanted if only he was there next to her. But when she opened her eyes and checked the information on the screen, her husband remained frustratingly out of reach. Tuesday evening was the last recorded event. Wednesday was blank because he had gone straight to Leeds and then there was Thursday. So far it too was blank. Jo refreshed the screen, hoping that a series of digits would magically appear. The screen didn’t even flicker.
To compound her misery, Jo forced herself to open up her calendar. She stared at an entry at the beginning of that week. It marked the start of what was meant to be an amazing two-week adventure across America. David had sent the invitation months earlier and had even attached an itinerary: if things had turned out differently, they would be in San Francisco now. She hadn’t accepted the invitation but neither had she declined it. She hadn’t wanted to crush one of David’s dreams, not when her own had just been conceived, so the appointment was left pending.
Closing the calendar, Jo checked the time log again, her hope rising only to drop to earth again with a thump. The log hadn’t changed. Unable to concentrate on anything else she stood up and gazed out of the window. The previous day’s storm had returned with a vengeance and battle-grey clouds thick with rain smeared the horizon. Completely immobilized, Jo lost all sense of time and drifted back to her last evening with David, desperate to recall every detail. She tried to remember the very last thing she had said to him.
After the initial war of words in the car she had said less and less, each syllable too much of an effort. After months of being patient and understanding, she had had enough and it was time for David to accept once and for all that they were having a baby. He had been excited about the idea of fatherhood once and she had caught glimpses of that excitement in recent weeks, but the irrational fears that had made him want to postpone their original plans were still there and she was at a loss as to how to break through them.
She could see herself standing in the living room. ‘I’m tired so I’m going to bed. That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.’
By all appearances, her husband was engrossed in a TV programme and didn’t respond.
‘You can’t make me feel guilty for ever, David,’ she said as her parting shot.
Her remark hit its target and he turned to face her. ‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Then what do you want?’
The pained look on his face softened and there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. ‘You’ll see.’
His smile had done nothing to improve Jo’s mood and she had stomped upstairs to bed without a second glance, unwilling to engage in a game of cat and mouse. But that was exactly what it felt like now and David’s last words cut into her heart like jagged claws.
You’ll see.
What did that mean? Was he trying to prove something and if so, why be so cruel?
When the phone rang, jolting her back to the present, the rush of adrenalin made Jo’s heart thump painfully against her chest.
‘Hello?’ Her voice shook and by the way the phone rattled against her wedding ring, so did her hand.
‘Hi Jo, it’s Jason.’
‘Hi,’ she replied, already trying to think of an answer before David’s colleague had even asked the question.
‘Erm, David was meant to be in a meeting that started ten minutes ago and we were wondering where he is.’
‘Me too.’
There was a pause: Jason was clearly thrown by the remark but then said, ‘Jo, is everything OK?’
She took a deep breath that was meant to compose her but her words still trembled. ‘I don’t know where he is, Jason. He didn’t come home last night from Leeds. Well, he didn’t come home to me. You wouldn’t know … Is there anything he said …?’
Jason and David had worked in the same office for several years and spent most of their working lives together, so if David had been planning something, he might have confided in his colleague.
‘Jesus, Jo, I’m sorry but no, I never saw this coming. You think he’s left you?’
So far the only person Jo had told was her sister, but if David had left then she would have to face that particular shame at some point. Not just yet though, and not with someone she barely knew. ‘I don’t know. What other explanation is there?’
Before Jason had a chance to come up with his own theories, Jo quickly continued, ‘Look, Jason, I don’t know what’s happened yet, but it looks like he’s not coming into work either. I’ll put in a request for emergency leave on his behalf and hope that he gets in touch soon. In the meantime, if you hear anything – the minute you hear anything – promise me you’ll let me know.’
‘Of course, Jo. Of course I will.’
Unwittingly, Jason had forced Jo to accept that David wasn’t going to show up any time soon, and the sense of despair was crushing – but a sudden spark of anger kept Jo’s mind focused enough to write the email to cover her errant husband’s absence. If David was doing this deliberately, then he was going to feel her wrath. As soon as she pressed send, Jo picked up the phone again. She had no idea what she was going to say beyond the opening line.
‘Hi, Irene. It’s Jo.’
Her mother-in-law wasn’t used to receiving calls from her daughter-in-law without good reason, especially not at ten o’clock in the morning on a weekday, so she was immediately on the alert. ‘Hi, Jo. Is everything all right?’ she asked.
Irene was in her late fifties and had devoted much of her life to being a wife and mother. The sense of purpose that came with the role had diminished once her boys had left home and then disappeared completely when her husband had died. Her grief had eased over the last two years but it was the change in circumstance that continued to affect her deeply. She was searching for a new role in her family’s life but had lost confidence and needed constant reassurance from her sons, which frustrated Jo because she knew her mother-in-law was far more capable than she gave herself credit for.
When Jo didn’t answer her quickly enough, Irene added, ‘Is the baby OK?’
‘Fine,’ Jo said, momentarily taken aback. She had become attuned to her baby’s movements and normally kept track of them throughout the day but since leaving the house the only time she had thought about little FB had been to consider the role it played in her husband’s disappearance. These were not pleasant thoughts. ‘I was looking for David.’
Irene took a moment to respond as if she didn’t quite understand the question. ‘But why would he be here?’
Jo was finding it hard to breathe. The last shred of hope had been viciously snuffed out by Irene’s gentle words. She gulped for air. ‘He didn’t come home last night. I don’t know where he is.’
‘Have you phoned the police?’ Irene’s soft voice had developed a distinct wobble.
‘No,’ Jo said as if she was pleading with Irene not to open a door that would allow a pack of wolves to rush in and tear her life apart.
‘Are you at home? I’ll come over.’
‘No, I’m at work.’
Irene spluttered her reply as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was hearing. ‘He could be lying in a ditch somewhere and you’ve gone to work?’
Jo put a hand over her face, rubbing her forehead then massaging her temples as she tried to push that particular scenario from her thoughts. It was an impossible task. ‘I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I was hoping that, wherever he’d stayed last night, he would turn up here today.’
‘Oh my God, I feel sick. He wouldn’t disappear without telling you, without telling me. What’s happened to him, Jo? Where’s my son?’
Jo pursed her lips as she considered telling Irene about the missing passport but Irene would snatch at the ray of hope in a way that Jo couldn’t; he wasn’t abandoning his mother, only his wife. Before she could say anything, Irene made the decision Jo had been putting off. ‘The police have to be told. I’ll do it.’
‘No, I will,’ Jo said quickly. She had already looked up the number for the local police station and knew it by heart now. Her fingers played with the buttons on the telephone base as she imagined making the call that terrified her most.
Glancing up, Jo caught Kelly watching her from the open-plan office. She had twisted her seat around so that she could keep Jo in her sights. They made eye contact and Kelly quickly looked away. A second later, Gary appeared in front of her office and was reaching for the door handle.
‘I’ll do it from home, Irene.’
‘When, Jo? You can’t leave it until tonight.’
‘No, I’ll go home now,’ she said as Gary stepped through the door.
He waited for Jo to finish her call and then said, ‘What’s going on Jo? I’ve had a call asking me what to do about a certain member of staff going AWOL.’
For a moment, Jo didn’t know what to say, then blurted out, ‘David didn’t come home last night.’ She paused, and looked searchingly at his face, as though her mentor and friend could provide answers, but he looked dumbstruck. ‘Is it all right if I go home?’
Gary’s eyes narrowed as he considered his reply. She knew how his mind worked. He wouldn’t be wondering whether or not to agree to her request but deciding whether to say yes and take a step back until Jo was ready to talk, or probe a little further. ‘Take the rest of the week off if needs be,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll work with Kelly to reorganize your diary but phone me if you need anything or if you think you’ll need more time off next week.’
‘Thanks, Gary,’ Jo said, trying not think of the possible reasons why she would need more leave the following week.
She held her composure, but only until Gary had left the office. She started swallowing back air in desperate gulps as she scrambled for her mobile and dialled. Tears stung her eyes as she waited impatiently for the recorded voice to stop prattling on so she could leave a message. ‘I don’t know where you are but you’re scaring me, David,’ she said. Her fingers dug into the hard, uncompromising plastic of the phone that refused to let her make contact with her husband. She released a sob of frustration. ‘I love you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything and I’ll do whatever it takes to put things right.’ She looked down at her bump. ‘Anything. Just come home. Oh God, please come home, David. I love you so much and this is killing me!’
She hung up and held her breath, refusing to let the tears fall, but when she tried to stand, she was hit by a wave of dizziness that turned her legs to jelly and then they buckled. Collapsing back on to her chair, Jo bent over and tried to put her head between her legs or as near as her pregnancy would allow. She thought she heard the door opening again but the sound was all but drowned out by the whooshing of the rising blood pressure inside her head. After a few minutes she sat up to find Kelly standing there.
‘I’m here to make sure you go home. Gary’s orders,’ she said.
‘I’m going,’ Jo agreed and was thankful that her training was finally paying off. Kelly didn’t ask any more questions.

6 (#u8eb7d500-1860-53ed-9e77-063a6ba9f7cf)
There was no warm glow to greet Jo this time when she turned into Beaumont Avenue. The incessant rain had beaten the golden carpet of autumn leaves into a sodden brown mulch, but on a positive note, the bad weather had forced Jo to concentrate on the road, giving her brain a temporary reprieve from thoughts which would otherwise paralyze her with fear. But she couldn’t escape them for ever and as she pulled into the drive she knew she was about to face her fears head on. A familiar car was parked outside the house and through its steamed up windows she had spotted Irene and David’s brother Steve.
‘Any news?’ Irene asked, already at the side of the car as Jo opened the door.
Jo shook her head. ‘Let’s get in out of the rain.’
The house felt empty and abandoned despite the stampede of footsteps and flutter of coats that dripped puddles on the hallway floor. It was almost eleven but the daylight refused to step over the doorway and lights were flicked on as they trudged into the kitchen where Jo switched on the heating and then the kettle.
So far no one had broken the silence. Her in-laws had only just entered this nightmare but already had that same haunted expression Jo had seen reflected in her bathroom mirror. She wondered if they too had convinced themselves that their worst fears wouldn’t be realized unless they were spoken aloud.
‘Coffee OK for everyone?’ Jo asked. ‘I’m afraid it’s only decaf.’
Two heads nodded. Steve had taken a seat at the dining table but Irene stayed close. While Jo absorbed herself in lining up three mugs in a perfectly straight line, each one equidistant and with handles pointing to the right, Irene found the teabags.
‘So it’s tea then?’ Jo asked.
‘Hot, sweet, tea. That’s what’s needed,’ Irene said.
Jo considered reminding Irene that she had stopped drinking caffeine while she was pregnant and that included tea but it didn’t seem so important any more and the two women continued the seemingly complicated task of making the drinks without another word.
When Jo passed a mug to Steve she couldn’t look at him. He was younger than David by a couple of years but he had the same bright blue eyes. His deep brown hair was cropped in a similar style too, long enough to run your fingers through but only just. David’s features were perhaps a little rounder and the dimple on his chin more pronounced. Of the two, Steve was arguably the more attractive but where Steve was the charmer, David was the joker who could raise a smile in the darkest of hours and right now that was what they were all missing.
‘So when exactly did you see him last, Jo?’ Steve asked, as the silence became too much to bear.
Guilt leaked warmth across Jo’s cheeks as her mind replayed the moment David had leaned over to kiss her goodbye while his stubborn wife feigned sleep. ‘He left for Leeds early yesterday for a training course. He texted to say he was on the train home and it was due in at Lime Street around seven. The battery on his phone was running out so we didn’t talk and – and I didn’t hear from him after that. He was going to get another train to West Allerton but I’ve no idea if he did … I don’t know where he went … I don’t know where he is.’
‘I haven’t seen Dave since the weekend but he seemed OK to me. I’ve checked with all our mates and no one else has seen him either,’ Steve said, answering the question that Jo hadn’t asked. ‘And I’ve tried phoning him, but no luck.’
‘Something’s happened to him,’ Irene said in a tone that wouldn’t be denied. ‘I know you’re scared but I can’t believe you didn’t phone the police last night. They should already be looking for him. You need to phone them, Jo. Now!’
Jo’s body was so tense that she was barely able to nod, but when she saw Irene reaching for the phone, she quickly said, ‘I’ll phone from the living room.’ She didn’t want anyone listening in when she confessed to the police that she had misplaced her husband, but as she slipped out of the room Irene was right behind her.
Jo stared down at the phone standing to attention in its cradle while her hands wrapped tightly around her mug of tea which she was loath to put down.
It was Irene who eventually picked up the phone, but even she seemed frightened to hold it and quickly offered it to Jo. ‘Do you know the number for the local station or should we just dial 999?’
‘I’ve got the number.’
Jo pressed each memorized digit slowly and deliberately. It was delaying the inevitable, but unlike the fruitless calls to David, this call was answered almost immediately.
To her surprise, Jo’s concerns weren’t instantly dismissed although she did have to explain her situation three times before she was put through to a Detective Sergeant Baxter who made a formal record of her call. She spent much of the call reassuring the police officer that her husband was bound to turn up eventually. In fact if Irene hadn’t been standing next to her, leaning in so close that Jo had to fight the urge to push her away, she might have asked him to close the enquiry there and then. DS Baxter agreed that in all probability David would return of his own accord, but in the meantime he took down all the relevant details.
As well as the basic information about David and his last known movements, DS Baxter asked Jo some necessary but intrusive questions about the state of her husband’s mind, their marriage and any particular stress points in their lives. Her answers weren’t as open as they could have been, not with Irene listening to every tremulous word that reverberated in Jo’s mind like a nail being driven into a coffin. The best she could hope for was that the casket contained her marriage and not her husband.
‘He’s taken his passport?’ Irene asked when Jo replaced the receiver.
Jo nodded.
The sigh of relief was accompanied by a ‘Thank God,’ but when she saw the look of dismay on Jo’s face, Irene added, ‘Sorry, I just mean it’s a possible explanation. However irresponsible and – I can’t believe I’m saying this of David – however heartless it would be of him, it’s better than considering what else could have happened. But I can tell you this much, Jo, he’ll be getting a piece of my mind when he does come home.’ Irene sighed and shook her head. ‘But right now I’d—’
‘Forgive him anything?’ Jo offered in complete agreement.
‘Are they sending someone round?’
‘Yes, later on this evening, assuming we still haven’t heard anything, and I’ve got a number to ring if David does show up.’
‘Right,’ Irene said, nodding her head, letting the news sink in.
Jo had been dreading the call, afraid that the police would simply dismiss her concerns but terrified that they would convince her that something bad had happened. What DS Baxter had actually told her was that they would be taking David’s disappearance seriously, but to hold out hope that the call had been unnecessary. She should have felt relieved but instead she felt a crushing sense of anti-climax. What was she meant to do now? David was still missing, now it was simply official. She couldn’t move forwards and she couldn’t travel back in time; she was caught in limbo.
Irene took Jo by the arm and led her back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us another cuppa,’ she said.
Jo didn’t argue when Irene yanked a half-full mug of tea from her grasp – her mother-in-law clearly needed to keep busy, and if making a fresh brew that no one wanted was Irene’s way of coping then so be it. They would all have to find their own ways of coping over the next hours, days or, God forbid, longer.
Turning her attention to another of Irene’s errant sons, Jo asked, ‘Where’s Steve?’
‘I heard him go upstairs; he probably nipped to the loo.’
When Jo stepped into the hallway, she stopped to listen. There were no signs of life and judging from the grey light glancing off the walls on the landing the bathroom door was ajar. There was only a slight hesitation before she began to climb the stairs. She might have to accept that very soon every inch of her life would be scrutinized but this was still her house and no one, especially Steve, had the right to poke his nose in her life.
Jo didn’t trust her brother-in-law at the best of times. Steve had relied on his charm a little too much to get him through life. The twinkle in his eye which said ‘I know you want me,’ had fooled some women but not Jo. She preferred the brother with the mischievous smile and eyes that simply said, ‘want me.’ And she had wanted him. She still did.
However, despite their differences, the two brothers were as thick as thieves, as David had proved some five and a half months ago. A picture formed in her mind of David in the living room. April sunshine streamed through the window, warming his face and softening the frown furrowing his brow.
‘I can’t believe you’ve just done that,’ she had stammered, looking from her husband’s face to the phone still in his hand.
He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘What did you expect me to say?’
‘I don’t know, David. Perhaps tell Sally the truth?’
‘He’s my brother, Jo.’
‘And I suppose Sally is only his wife,’ Jo concluded.
‘She phoned on the pretext of offering me and Steve a lift on Saturday but you know as well as I do that she was only checking up on him. And I didn’t lie; I will be with Steve and I’m happy to be the designated driver.’
‘But unless I’m very much mistaken, you’ve been designated to drive to the races, not the golf course,’ Jo said as she continued to glare. ‘Why the lie?’
‘You know what Sally’s like. She’s counting the pennies and wouldn’t approve of him throwing money away on the horses.’
‘Counting the pennies so she’s not left destitute when Steve leaves her high and dry,’ Jo countered. She watched David draw a breath and knew what he was going to say so added, ‘And yes, he would do that. You know it’s only a matter of time before their marriage disintegrates and you’re not helping.’
‘He’s my brother, Jo,’ David said again.
‘And you’d cover his back no matter what.’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Including lying to his wife?’
‘Well, yes, if I was forced to.’
‘And would he do the same for you?’
‘Yes!’ David said with a passion that vanished once he saw Jo’s eyes widen. ‘I mean, no! There’s nothing I’d ever do that would ever, ever require Steve to lie for me. Not ever, Jo.’
He was half-laughing while Jo remained grim-faced. She had cornered him on purpose so she could enjoy watching him squirm, but her thoughts had been drawn to her own deceit. She was feeling distinctly uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t exactly lied to David. She had told him she was getting impatient to start a family and he knew her well enough to know that she would take matters into her own hands. If he asked, of course she would tell him she had come off the pill. If he asked …
‘You are the most important person in my life, Jo,’ David continued. ‘More important than any other living being, including myself.’
Jo caught the twinkle in his eye that dared her to want him. Resuming their game, she glowered back.
Unabashed, David turned his attention to the mantelpiece, his eye drawn to the long silver tray holding three church candles of varying heights. He reached over and nudged the tray off-centre then looked back for Jo’s response. He was going for her Achilles heel.
Jo’s eyes narrowed as her discomfort returned, only this time it was caused by three blocks of wax that were out of alignment.
He pushed the tray an inch further and her patience along with it.
‘Stop it,’ she warned, but a smile was now pulling at the corners of her mouth.
‘Come here and say that.’
The memory was strong enough to bring another smile to Jo’s lips as she reached the top of the stairs. They had enjoyed making up after the fight and if Jo wasn’t very much mistaken, it had been the night she had conceived. David’s art of seduction may not have been textbook, but it had worked. Refocusing on the present, her smile faltered and when her stomach lurched she did her best to ignore her baby’s kick. She had been the first to breach the trust in their relationship, so wouldn’t David be justified in breaking it completely? Would there be any making up this time or had he had enough? Was he using his unconventional powers of seduction on someone else at that very moment? Unwilling to contemplate the answer, Jo concentrated her mind on the brother she could hear scuttling around in the study.
‘What the hell?’ she began, leaving it to Steve to finish that particular statement. He had heard the door opening and was jumping back from the desk even as she entered the room.
‘That was quick! Did you phone the police? Any news?’
‘Not really, they’re sending someone round later,’ Jo replied but wouldn’t be distracted. ‘So?’
‘I thought there might be something here, some clue to suggest he’s gone away of his own accord. Have you checked the wardrobes? Is anything missing?’
‘You mean you haven’t gone through my knickers drawer yet?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow. The comment broke the tension and she relaxed a little. ‘I’ve done this already, Steve, and no, nothing is missing.’ She held back from telling him about the passport because the last thing she needed was someone else rejoicing at the possibility that David had deserted her. She still couldn’t believe it of him, not really, and yet she wouldn’t consider anything else. Her eyes darted to the world map that was David’s pride and joy as if it could provide the answers. It covered almost one entire wall and was peppered with a dozen green pins marking all the places they had been and a scattering of red ones to pinpoint destinations that David still planned to visit. The pin piercing the ‘San’ in San Francisco burned red, searing Jo’s conscience.
‘I’ve gone through every drawer, every file, even the ones on his computer but there’s nothing.’
Steve shook his head. ‘There must be something.’
‘I know everything there is to know about David.’ The statement was meant to give her courage but instead it knocked Jo off kilter. They lived and worked together but there was a healthy degree of separation too. Right now it felt like a chasm. ‘Or at least I thought I did.’
Steve came forward and without invitation wrapped his arms around her. She wanted to push him away, still annoyed that he had invaded her privacy but her need to feel a pair of arms around her was too strong. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was David holding her but as she inhaled, the tenuous connection was severed by the pungent smell of another man’s aftershave. Repulsed, she pulled away.
‘We’ll find him,’ Steve promised. ‘Let’s go downstairs, shall we, before Mum thinks we’ve gone missing too?’
‘I’d prefer it if you asked before rooting through my things next time,’ Jo said acidly in case he was under the impression he was forgiven.
‘Sorry, I was just so desperate to find an answer. I can’t sit back and do nothing.’ They were heading downstairs now and as they reached the bottom, Steve stopped her in her tracks. ‘Why didn’t you phone the police straight away, Jo?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I mean, if it was me, the first thing I would have thought was, and I hate to say it, that something bad had happened. You were expecting him home and he didn’t make it. What did you think had happened if you didn’t think it was something bad?’
Jo looked at Steve as she considered her answer. His face was the picture of innocence but she didn’t doubt he had his own suspicions. ‘We had an argument on Tuesday night.’
‘About?’
‘Something and nothing. I wouldn’t give him a lift to the station, that’s all,’ she said although she was beginning to believe that less and less.
‘Something and nothing,’ Steve repeated as if he was getting a feel for the words.
She had no idea how much David had told Steve about the surprise pregnancy and the friction it had caused in their marriage but she knew from experience that they would protect each other to the hilt. ‘Unless you know otherwise, Steve. If you have even an inkling of why he would do this deliberately then please, please tell me,’ she begged but Steve was already shaking his head. He reached over to give her arm a reassuring squeeze.
‘I’m sorry, I’m as much in the dark as you are, but I will say this: I don’t believe for a minute that Dave would ever leave you, certainly not like this and that’s a hard thing for me to say because right now I’d rather believe that he had. It has to be better than considering other possibilities. No offence meant.’
Jo cleared her throat and gave him a weak smile. ‘None taken.’ The deep breath she took tasted of buttery pastry. ‘What in God’s name is your mum up to now?’
The dining table had been set and three plates of warmed up steak and ale pie awaited them along with replenished cups of tea.
‘Irene, I’m really not hungry.’
‘You need to keep your strength up, if not for you then for the baby.’
Jo wanted to say she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered except finding David but she kept her voice level and said, ‘Thank you, but what I really need is some sleep so I can gather my strength for the police interview later.’
‘But …’
It would never cross Irene’s mind that Jo wanted to be left in peace. If there was a family crisis then the Taylor family pulled the yarn of their tightly knit family tighter still. It was Steve, on his best behaviour now, who took the hint. Jo could almost forgive him his previous indiscretion as he now persuaded his mum that they could make better use of their time by conducting their own investigations. Steve wanted to walk the route that David would have taken home so they could check for any signs that he might have been there. What those signs might be Jo didn’t dare imagine but she was glad of the reprieve.
‘OK, we’ll leave you to it, Jo,’ Irene agreed. ‘Once I’ve seen you clear your plate.’
‘Irene, really …’ Jo began but then pulled herself up short. There were tears welling in Irene’s eyes and in a matter of seconds she was a wreck. Her sobs were heart wrenching and she grabbed hold of Jo and clung to her for dear life.
‘I want my son home,’ she cried. ‘I want him home safe. I’ve lost Alan – I won’t lose David too. It isn’t going to happen. I want this to be over – now!’
Jo had comforted Irene often enough in the long painful days after her husband’s death but as she felt the trembling, limp body of the widow in her arms, she knew she didn’t have the strength to help her now. Just the sound of Irene’s sobs was sending her emotions into free fall. She was being sucked back into the dark abyss she had struggled to emerge from the night before. She simply couldn’t bear to go through that again and looked imploringly towards Steve. He pulled his mum off her.
‘We’ll leave you to get some sleep,’ he said.
Irene was still sobbing but managed to say, ‘We’ll come back later when the police are here.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, Irene,’ Jo said, looking again to Steve for support. Her in-laws would begin to dissect her marriage soon enough and if she had to reveal more to the police – if she had to reveal everything they’d been through in recent months – then she didn’t want them there. ‘Right now all they need is for me to give a statement. Steph promised to come over when she finishes work so I’ll have someone with me, but I’ll be the one doing all the talking. I think that works best, don’t you?’
‘Jo’s right, Mum. Look how upset you are now, it’s not going to be easy tonight and like Jo says, she’ll have her sister there for moral support.’
Except for the occasional hiccup, Irene had regained her composure. ‘Tell them to check the airports. If he’s taken his passport …’
Jo cast her eyes down to avoid the look Steve was giving her. She felt guilty for not telling him when, in the absence of any other evidence, he had been taking her side, but then guilt was something she was more than used to.
‘And they’ll want to speak to me too,’ Irene continued.
‘They can do that later,’ Steve said, scrutinizing Jo’s face as if that act alone could help locate his brother. ‘Let’s just take it one step at a time.’
Irene nodded. ‘And David could still walk through that door at any moment.’
And it was to the front door that they all headed, each one peering longingly through the stained glass window for a familiar silhouette. But when the door was pulled open, the step held no greater treasure than sodden autumn leaves that squelched underfoot as Irene and Steve said their goodbyes.
Jo’s blouse was still wet from Irene’s tears but her cheeks were dry as she watched them drive off. She closed the door, sealing up her home and containing the emptiness that filled every corner of the house, mirroring the growing void inside her. She returned to the kitchen where three plates remained untouched at the table, the steak and ale pie congealing and cold. Picking up a plate, Jo had to stop herself from launching it against the wall. She didn’t have the strength to face an afternoon clearing up the mess and she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave it. Instead she had to satisfy herself with hurling the uneaten dinner into the kitchen bin, the plate included and to the accompaniment of a choked scream. The second and third plate followed in quick succession, her scream louder and more satisfying each time, heightened by the sound of china shattering into smithereens. It reminded her of her life.

7 (#ulink_9d86cbfe-e92c-5447-939e-d4aa102cb4ee)
‘I have quite a list of things I’ll need from you,’ DS Baxter warned after Jo had taken him through David’s last known movements. ‘A couple of recent photos, a list of friends, family and any other useful contacts, and details of his employment, his mobile phone and his bank accounts so we can access them. I know it’s a lot but just as soon as you can manage.’
Jo reached over to a small table at the side of the sofa and picked up a wad of papers and a holiday brochure. ‘I think I have most of that here,’ she said handing over everything except the brochure, which she rested on her lap. ‘I’ve also included all the details of the course David attended in Leeds. He was the only delegate from Nelson’s but the course coordinator should be able to provide you with a full list of delegates.’
DS Baxter was occupying the armchair where Jo had kept vigil the night before and she was more than happy for someone else to take her place. The policeman was younger than she expected; his deep voice over the phone had suggested a heavy smoking and careworn detective but despite the receding hairline and deep-set laughter lines, the man in front of her looked the right side of forty still. He scratched at his five o’clock shadow and looked quietly impressed as he leafed through the collection of papers. He glanced briefly at the brochure on her lap then said, ‘Thank you, we’ll start making some preliminary enquiries and check CCTV footage at the train stations and local area.’
‘OK,’ Jo managed to say.
‘We probably won’t need to investigate too deeply. There’s usually a perfectly natural explanation for a grown man to go missing and more often than not they turn up of their own accord.’
‘I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t be taking this seriously. My sister needs answers,’ countered Steph who had so far been sitting quietly next to Jo. ‘She’s five and a half months pregnant and this kind of stress can’t be good for her.’
‘What do you mean by a natural explanation?’ Jo asked.
With Steph’s words still ringing in his ears, DS Baxter gave Jo an apologetic smile but he spoke bluntly. ‘There are people who simply choose to step out of their lives and for a variety of reasons. Even our closest family members are capable of surprising us, no matter how well we think we know them. I can assure you we will be taking this seriously and we will investigate, but I have to warn you that if all the evidence then suggests David elected to disappear, I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do.’
Jo made a point of swallowing hard as if she had a raging thirst. ‘I think I could do with that cup of coffee you offered,’ she said to Steph. ‘Are you sure you don’t want one, DS Baxter?’
The policeman sat back in the armchair. ‘Please call me Martin,’ he said, ‘and yes, I think I do. Milk, one sugar if it’s not too much trouble,’ he said, offering a smile to Steph as she stood up.
Jo watched her sister leave the room and held off speaking until she had closed the door. ‘I’ve gone through every possible reason why David didn’t come home last night and I keep asking myself the same question that I know you’re asking yourself right now. Has my husband left me?’
‘Is it possible?’
Jo played nervously with the corner of the holiday brochure. ‘I met David when I was twenty-one, a week after starting at Nelson’s,’ Jo began, choosing to concentrate on the birth of their relationship rather than what might turn out to be its death throes. She briefly closed her eyes as the memory of their first meeting came to mind. She had been a fresh-faced trainee, sitting meekly in the corner of what had been her first professional meeting. David admitted later that he hadn’t even noticed her until she interrupted him mid-sentence to announce he didn’t know what he was talking about. In truth, she hadn’t been quite so abrupt, but the story was all the better for his retelling. ‘I’m not sure if it was love at first sight but it didn’t take long for both of us to realize that we were soul mates. We married three years later and have spent the last seven years building our lives together.’ She paused as she saw the flicker of a thought cross Martin’s face. ‘What? You think this is the dreaded seven-year itch?’
‘It happens more often than you’d think,’ the policeman said and probably wasn’t aware that his thumb stroked the flesh around the third finger of his left hand where perhaps a wedding band had once been. ‘Given that he didn’t go to his family, is there anyone else he could have turned to?’
‘You mean was he having an affair?’ Jo had questioned her entire belief system in the last twenty-four hours but in this one regard she had come back with the same answer time and time again. She shook her head and said, ‘No, I won’t believe that of him, not David. And apart from the fact that I trust him implicitly, we work together. Yes, he goes out with his friends and his brother, but I really don’t see how he’d have the opportunity, not without me knowing or at least suspecting.’
‘You understand why I have to ask,’ Martin said by way of an apology.
‘Of course. You’re not asking anything I haven’t already asked myself. We were happy.’ The use of the past tense had been an unconscious slip and one that frightened Jo and made Martin raise his eyebrows so she hurried on, ‘I’ll admit it hasn’t been easy of late but I’ve never doubted my love for my husband and before now I never doubted his love for me. I questioned why he loved me often enough, but I never doubted it.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘David and I are complete opposites. He’s spontaneous, daring, a bit of a risk taker while I’m more measured, less impulsive. He adds the colour to my black-and-white world while I …’ Jo’s mind stalled as she tried to think exactly what it was that she added to David’s life. Why had he put up with her?
There was an uncomfortable pause and Jo imagined the policeman losing interest in the case by the second. She had spent the last twenty-four hours searching for answers and was slowly and painfully coming to the conclusion that David must have abandoned her, and now she was convincing Martin of the same thing.
‘You said there have been issues recently. Was there something in particular putting a strain on your marriage?’
Jo lifted the brochure up but only enough to hide the gentle mound of her stomach. ‘As my sister was keen to point out, I’m pregnant. We’d agreed to start a family when I was thirty. It was David who came up with the plan but then he is the planner – or at least that’s what’s written on his job description,’ she added bitterly. She was repeating a well-worn argument that was no stranger to those same four walls. ‘And me, being the one who follows policies and procedures to the letter, I thought once we had a plan we would stick to it. I was looking forward to being a mum. I really wanted to start a family with the man I loved.’
Her voice softened as the dream she had spent years creating came so vividly to mind. As if sensing her excitement, FB made her stomach flip; then the colour faded from her imaginary world. ‘But David changed his mind and at first I couldn’t blame him. He was affected by his dad’s death quite deeply and I didn’t push, but after a year of prevaricating, I told him that I’d had enough. I didn’t exactly tell him I was coming off the pill, but I didn’t say I wasn’t, either.’
‘So he wasn’t happy when you told him you were pregnant?’
Jo’s laugh was hollow. ‘It was more a matter of him being in shock and OK, maybe a little angry too. He didn’t agree with how I’d gone about things, but he didn’t blame me either.’
‘It sounds like you wanted different things,’ he said.
‘No, I think we wanted the same things – just at different times. He wanted to see more of the world before settling down, that’s all. If things had gone his way then we would have been in America this week.’
‘Ah …’ Martin said and took the brochure which Jo was finally ready to relinquish.
‘I’m finding it impossible to believe that he would hop on the next plane to America,’ she said, ‘but there are pages torn out, pages that David was poring over just before I dropped the bombshell. And now I can’t account for where those pages might be or, more importantly, his passport … It doesn’t look good, does it?’
‘It’s one line of enquiry,’ Martin agreed but wouldn’t commit himself further. ‘So tell me more about how things have been lately. Was he getting used to the idea of becoming a father?’
‘He was more subdued than anything. It was as if he wanted to be excited but was afraid to be,’ Jo said hesitantly. ‘But then I wasn’t much better. I felt guilty about trapping him – if you can trap someone you’re already married to.’ Her voice tightened as she finished her sentence and she looked away, out of the window, blinking back tears.
‘So you would have told him about the baby around five months ago?’
Jo’s guilt was showing on her face when she turned back to Martin with a wavering smile. ‘I took my time telling him, so it was more like three or four months ago. Still enough time to plan his escape, do you think?’
Rather than answer her, he pursed his lips then said, ‘Had anything happened more recently that might have made him want to up and leave now?’
The hairs on the back of Jo’s neck stood on end as she felt another layer of her life being stripped away. ‘David came with me for the twenty-week scan a few weeks ago and I thought we had reached a turning point. He had even come up with a name for my bump.’ She patted her stomach and didn’t give a second thought to the blush rising in her cheeks. ‘We’d started calling it FB. Don’t ask why, because I don’t think even I followed his logic.’ There was a brief pause for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and then she added, ‘But anyway, when we got there for the scan, all David wanted to know was if I would be able to travel on a long haul flight.’ There was still a note of disbelief in Jo’s voice. ‘He was still more interested in going ahead with our holiday than he was about becoming a father.’
‘You argued about it?’
‘Not as such,’ Jo said. ‘I didn’t tell him how annoyed I was although I’m sure he picked up on it. I was still trying to be patient and understanding, but the comment festered, I suppose. Then, the night before he left for Leeds, he asked me to get up at an ungodly hour to give him a lift to the station. I’d been waiting and waiting for him to accept this pregnancy and our baby, to start fussing over me, and this was the final straw. What annoyed me most of all was that he couldn’t understand why I was so upset with him for asking for the lift.’ Eyes stinging with frustrated tears, Jo put her hand to her temple as if she could ease the pain of the memory.
‘How bad would you say the argument was? In the heat of the moment insults and allegations are often the weapons of choice and the cracks in a relationship can be blown wide apart. Is there anything you might have said which could have tipped David over the edge, if he was contemplating leaving?’
Jo had a feeling that Martin was talking from experience. ‘No, nothing like that and I know it sounds like our relationship was on shaky ground, but it wasn’t, not really. He loved me. Loves me.’
Martin pretended not to notice Jo wince at her use of the past tense again. ‘Was that the last time you spoke together?’
‘Yes, although he did leave a voicemail message.’
Jo tried to keep her hand steady as she held her mobile in the palm of her hand and switched to speakerphone. The ever-present knot in her stomach tightened a little as she prepared to hear David’s voice echo off the living-room walls for the first time since their argument.
Having heard the message countless times before, Jo knew every word and every sigh by heart but it was her analysis of those sounds that constantly changed.
‘So you’re still not speaking to me then?’ he clipped. The hiss from the sigh he released sounded taut with exasperation now, rather than the resignation she had first heard. ‘You’re so damn stubborn.’ There was another pause and the sound of movement. David was running his fingers through his hair. ‘You want things your way and you want them now. Well, you may not believe me but I have been thinking about the future. In fact, I haven’t been able to think of anything else and you’re in for one hell of a shock, Jo, because I’ve been making plans.’
The tone of voice was familiar; it was the one he used to tease her. It ought to have sounded playful and full of promise, but as Jo looked towards Martin, they both heard only the threat.
‘And before you say it, yes really,’ David was saying. There was another pause. Was he waiting for his wife to read between the lines? ‘I’d better go into the seminar now but I’ll see you later. Assuming you want me to come home, that is.’
After the message ended abruptly, it was Jo who spoke first.
‘Do you still think it’s worth exploring other lines of enquiry?’ she asked weakly, unsure how she wanted Martin to answer. Did she prefer to hear confirmation from a third party that her marriage was indeed in tatters or, worse still, for him to tell her there was a real chance that David was at the bottom of a ditch or floating in the Mersey?
‘At this stage, yes.’
The policeman looked around the room then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I can’t believe how spotless your house is,’ he remarked. ‘There’s a strong smell of bleach …’
Steph re-entered the room, moving so fast that the two cups in her hand slopped over her hand, but she seemed not to notice the scalding liquid as she glared at DS Baxter. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting for one minute that my sister had anything to do with David’s disappearing act! She’s bared her soul to you, for God’s sake!’
Jo gasped as the implications of Martin’s comments hit her. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, the realization that she was one of the lines of enquiry or the unabashed look on the policeman’s face. Martin might not be the worn-out detective she had imagined but he clearly had enough years of experience to remain open-minded, if not a little cynical. What didn’t surprise her was the fact that Steph had been eavesdropping, but with her whole life about to be brought under scrutiny, her lack of privacy was something she was going to have to get used to.

8 (#ulink_ee5e09d0-ce01-5152-95f8-e0e29703464e)
The pencil moved across the page in long, sweeping curves, softly sighing as the figure began to take shape. Next came a series of scratches that brought the drawing into sharp focus and Jo refused to let anything else invade her thoughts. It was Saturday and David had been missing for three days and no one, not even the police had found any trace of him yet. It was as if he had been erased off the face of the earth and while Jo was tempted to summon him back into life with the sweep of a pencil, she was determined to remain grounded. She was forcing herself to carry on as if her life hadn’t been shattered.
‘How does it look so far?’ she asked with as much enthusiasm as she could summon.
‘Shouldn’t a wicked stepmother have a fancy wig or a big hat?’ asked her niece.
Jo and Lauren were sprawled out on Lauren’s bed with paper cuttings scattered around them for inspiration. Before replying, Jo settled her gaze on her niece’s flowing locks. ‘We could always get your mum to style your hair into a beehive – she’s good at that sort of thing.’
‘Do you think she would let me dye it? I was thinking maybe blonde.’
‘Who ever heard of an evil, blonde queen?’ Jo said, then picked up a cutting from a magazine and wafted it in front of Lauren. ‘Red hair is most definitely on-trend.’
‘Yeah, and there I was thinking you’d cut out pictures of models with red hair deliberately,’ Lauren said. ‘I don’t care how on-trend it is, I’m fed up being a ginger minger.’
Jo reached behind her head to grab her ponytail. It was long enough to swipe across Lauren’s face. ‘And is that what I am?’
‘You dye your hair.’
‘Only because I had the misfortune to be born with boring brown hair like your mum,’ Jo explained. Lauren’s ginger gene was rooted in her dad’s side of the family.
Lauren’s lips tightened to a thin line and she chose not to deign her aunt with a response. The fifteen-year-old liked to act as if she had a fifty-year-old head on her shoulders but that was often the point, it was only an act. Lauren’s maturity was like a new outfit she was struggling to grow into.
Jo stood her ground. ‘I’m in no mood to argue, Lauren,’ she warned. ‘We’ll add a headpiece but that’s as far as I’m willing to go.’
Rather than a counterattack, Lauren dropped her head and a flush rose in her cheeks. ‘Are you sure you’re up to making it now?’
Jo tapped a pencil against her chin as she took another look at the design she and Lauren had been working on. She had a flair for creativity that was distinctly underused in her choice of career. She might create policies and procedures, rules and regulations but even deciding which font to use in her reports was beyond her control; Nelson’s Engineering had set rules on branding. That was why she always jumped at the chance to put the creative skills she had acquired from her mum to good use whenever she could. ‘You’ve given me harder projects in the past,’ she said, deliberately misunderstanding her niece. ‘The owl and the pussycat costume was a particular challenge.’
Lauren had been seven when Jo had dressed her up as a black cat and built a cardboard boat complete with owl to hang around her middle. She had won first prize at the school fete, but the memory wasn’t enough to raise even a smile. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. Mum said we could hire something from a fancy dress shop.’
Jo failed miserably at her own attempt to smile, managing only to make her chin tremble. She swallowed hard and willed her emotions not to give her away. ‘What else do I have to do Lauren, except wait for news?’
‘You have the baby to look after.’
‘Oh, little FB doesn’t need any help from me right now.’
‘FB?’
‘It’s the name we gave my bump,’ she said, but was already regretting her slip. The family hadn’t known about the pet name, and she wanted to keep some things sacred, even from them. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’ When Lauren agreed, Jo moved on quickly. ‘The thing is, if I don’t have something to occupy myself then I’ll go crazy. You’re my therapy, Lauren,’ she told her niece with a hint of desperation. ‘So, how about deciding on the colour. The outfit that is, not your hair.’
Jo would have liked to have spent the entire day absorbed in the design of Lauren’s costume but this temporary distraction couldn’t keep her cocooned for ever. Her niece began spending more time on her phone messaging her friends than helping, and Jo found herself doodling rather than concentrating on the costume. When she realized she had filled an entire page with spirals that followed her train of thought in ever-decreasing circles, she knew it was time to go.
Her back ached almost as much as her heart when she went downstairs to find her sister.
‘I’ve made lasagne for tea,’ Steph said. ‘And there’s tiramisu for afters to keep with the Italian theme. It’s a Nigella recipe that I’ve been meaning to try for ages.’
‘Oh,’ Jo said. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see it was already gone five. She didn’t feel hungry, despite not eating properly for days. And even if she wasn’t sick with worry, she was too full of self-loathing to enjoy a meal while her husband was missing. ‘Sorry, Steph, I wasn’t planning on staying for dinner.’
Steph stopped what she was doing and released a puff of air, directing it upwards so it lifted her fringe and cooled her brow. She looked as if she had just finished an intense workout but the jog pants and trainers had never seen the inside of a gym despite her New Year’s resolution ten months ago to lose two stone. Steph put her hand on her hip, smudging chocolate custard on her T-shirt in the process. ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. You have to eat, Jo.’
Try as she might, Jo couldn’t accept Steph’s concern with the good grace it deserved. Her nerves were in tatters and it was too exhausting being polite all the time and with her sister, she knew she didn’t have to be, so she didn’t hold back. ‘For God’s sake, what is the sudden obsession with people wanting me to eat? Irene turned up yesterday with a chicken casserole as if filling the house with David’s favourite foods will make him magically reappear.’ She stopped and took a ragged breath, punctuating her next words with vicious jabs to the kitchen counter with an extended finger. ‘Well, it won’t. It won’t. I tried that on Wednesday night, remember?’ Realizing she was on the verge of losing control, Jo pursed her trembling lips.
‘I’m thinking of you, not David,’ Steph said patiently. ‘You’re the one who loves Italian. David’s more a meat and two veg kind of person, isn’t he?’ She waited for Jo to nod and then said, ‘Please stay.’
Jo shook her head. ‘I should be home in case …’ she started but couldn’t finish. Such hope was beginning to feel futile so she tried to find another justification. ‘I wouldn’t want Irene thinking I was out on the town enjoying myself.’
‘She wouldn’t think that, she knows you’re as worried about him as she is.’
‘She probably thinks it’s my fault and I wouldn’t blame her if she did.’
‘It’s not your fault, Jo.’
‘If David left me then, yes, Steph, of course it’s my fault!’
‘Not for the way he’s done it! Leaving you like this is unforgivable,’ her sister said, the last word a snarl.
‘Unless it wasn’t his choice,’ Jo said, immediately leaping to David’s defence. ‘What if he’s hurt, or been kidnapped by the Mob, or abducted by aliens … none of that makes it his fault.’ Jo pushed her fingers hard against her temples. These were the kind of thoughts that had made her head spin for days and once they started she couldn’t stop. The spirals she had been drawing in Lauren’s room danced across her vision and a wave of dizziness crashed into an equally powerful wave of nausea. She could taste the vomit burning the back of her throat and had to stop herself from gagging when she asked, ‘What if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere? What if, while everyone is cursing him for leaving me, he’s actually dead? What if he died loving me, which I know he did – or at least I thought he did? I’m not ready to start hating him, not until I’m absolutely sure I shouldn’t be grieving for him, so please don’t expect me to.’
When Steph put her hand on her shoulder, Jo shrugged her off. Any act of kindness now would tip her over the edge. ‘I don’t know what to do, Steph. I don’t know how to feel,’ she said in a hoarse whisper.
‘I wish I had the answers for you, Jo. And I wish there was more that I could do.’
Jo slowly pulled back her shoulders and looked at her sister. Both were amazed that Jo’s eyes were still dry. ‘You’re doing as much as you can, as much as anyone can,’ she said.
‘Well, I hate to add to your woes but Mum phoned while you were upstairs. She suggested coming down to keep you company.’
The colour drained from Jo’s face. She had already spoken to her mother and, with more strength than she thought she possessed, had assured her that she was coping. ‘Please say you talked her out of it.’
Steph smiled. ‘She didn’t take much convincing, actually. With Dad still away in France she would have had to close up shop and you know how she hates doing that.’
Their parents had moved to the Lake District ten years earlier. Ray was in the antiques business while Liz spent her time reclaiming and renovating the so-called junk her husband couldn’t sell. She had built up quite a reputation, but then it was a vocation that suited her frugal yet creative personality perfectly. Together, they made the perfect team and their antique-come-craft shop in Kendal had gone from strength to strength. It was also an arrangement that suited their two daughters who loved their parents dearly but preferred to keep Liz’s sometimes-overbearing nature at a distance. What Jo needed was time to work out for herself how she was supposed to feel and how she was meant to move forward before her mother waltzed on to the scene and told her what to do, which would probably involve hanging David out to dry.
‘I suppose I’d better phone when I get home,’ Jo said and made a move as if to leave.
‘You’re not going right now, are you? Gerry will be back from the shops soon; he can give you a lift.’
‘I walked here and I can walk back. I need all the fresh air I can get after being cooped up at home for days,’ Jo insisted but then followed Steph’s gaze out the kitchen window. It was already getting dark and home was a good two miles away. ‘At least it isn’t raining.’
‘If you have to go then you’re not going empty handed. I’ll put the lasagne in a container and if you can wait two minutes I’ll knock up a mini dessert too.’
‘Do I have a choice?’ Jo said raising her eyebrows but not an objection to taking home the food she had no intention of eating. Steph’s mothering was a much-needed balm and by far the better option to the smothering she would receive from her real mother.
‘No, you don’t. I know it’s hard but you have to look after yourself, Jo. Think of the baby.’
Jo’s hand was already resting on her bump. ‘I am trying.’
‘I know, and I’m going to help as much as I can. For a start, we need to do something about your coat. You’re going to freeze to death in that thing you came in.’
The showerproof jacket in question offered little protection against the elements, less so because Jo could no longer fasten the zip, so she didn’t argue when Steph said she could borrow her duffle coat which was two sizes bigger. ‘And let me know the minute you get home.’
‘I will.’
‘And make sure you keep to the main roads. Don’t go taking any short cuts in the dark.’
Jo nodded obediently, but like a naughty schoolgirl, she had her fingers crossed.
True to her word, Jo texted Steph to say she had arrived home safely, but it was the text itself that held the lie. She had made a slight detour and was standing outside West Allerton station with a good fifteen-minute walk still ahead of her. The route home was a well-known one because she and David had often caught the train here, usually when they were off out for a night on the tiles. Walking to the station was never a problem but on the way home she would complain drunkenly that they should get a taxi. Sometimes she won the argument but more often than not David used his powers of persuasion to convince her they could walk.
‘So you’re really going to wimp out on me?’ David had asked when she rested her head on his shoulder and looked up beseechingly as their train approached the station.
Jo groaned dramatically and lifted up a foot to reveal a very high and particularly beautiful strappy sandal. ‘My feet are killing me,’ she said. ‘And look, I’ve chipped a toenail already.’
‘But think of all the fun we’ll be missing. It’s a lovely summer’s evening and the stars are out. I could pick out all the constellations for you.’
‘I know you make them up, David,’ Jo said as he pulled her to her feet.
‘I think you’re scared I’ll challenge you to a race again and you’ll lose … again.’
Jo wouldn’t look at him as she waited for the train door to open. Choosing her moment carefully, she grabbed his arm to steady herself and quickly pulled off her shoes. ‘You’re on,’ she said and made a run for it through the half-open door before he knew what was happening.
The memory of David giving her a piggyback halfway home was one that would have had them in fits of laughter but Jo wasn’t even smiling now. She kept her head down as she put one perfectly booted foot in front of the other. But if David had walked along the same cracked pavement on Wednesday evening then his trail was as invisible as the man himself.
Walking downhill from the station, Jo’s steady pace belied her racing pulse. So far she had left it to others to retrace David’s steps and she hadn’t intended on making the trek herself, not today. It had only been when she had stood in front of Steph, defending her husband, that she felt compelled to follow him home, but when she reached a narrow path that led away from the main road, she came to a juddering halt and questioned her sanity.
There had been only a handful of occasions when David had been brave enough to tell Jo what to do, but he had been very firm when he had told her she must not, under any circumstances take this shortcut home in the dark when she was on her own. Not that he would heed his own warning, Jo thought as her coat snagged on the overgrown brambles that partly obstructed the entrance.
The only light to guide her came from the rear windows of houses running along one side of the path while on the other she glimpsed distant floodlights from the railway track beyond a high mesh fence and an equally impenetrable wall of tall trees. Both sources of light were too far away to offer any real illumination and, barely able to see where she was going, Jo stumbled over potholes a couple of times.
She wished she had brought a torch, but then wondered if she would have had the courage to use it. The path was less than ten feet wide in parts but much wider in others and there were plenty of places to hide her worst nightmares. Without warning, an image of David’s dead body lying in the undergrowth flashed in front of her eyes. Her heart was pounding and she felt hot and clammy in spite of the cold weather. She wanted to unbutton her coat but instead wrapped her arms around herself, drawing herself and little FB in together, against the unknowns that lurked in the dark.
Common sense told her that those particular fears were unfounded. Even though the police were still deciding whether or not it was necessary to conduct a fingertip search, DS Baxter had assured her that his officers had carried out a thorough search of the area already and had found nothing untoward. Which beggared the question, what on earth did Jo think she was trying to achieve? A little peace of mind, she hoped.
At the halfway point she came to a large clearing about forty feet wide. There were vague outlines of perhaps half a dozen boys playing football, their dark hoodies all but obscuring their features in the dim light. It was only the glow from a couple of cigarettes that gave some away.
A football shot past her and clanged noisily against the mesh fence and a moment later a boy ran over and retrieved it while the others looked on. All eyes were on her. She wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt and told herself that they were halting the game to let her pass, but fraught nerves allowed darker thoughts to seep into her consciousness. She quickened her pace only to stumble and, reaching out blindly, grabbed hold of the metal fence, making it rumble angrily. One of the boys passed a remark in a low voice, inaudible to Jo, and a couple of the others laughed.
Jo felt a sharp sting where the rusted mesh had scratched her but she was more concerned with the panic bubbling up like lava from the pit of her stomach. If David had been with her, they wouldn’t have given the boys a second glance and his absence weighed heavily on her chest. For a moment she couldn’t catch her breath and her lungs began to burn.
‘Are you all right, love?’ the boy holding the ball asked.
He was about Lauren’s age and it was entirely possible that they went to the same school. The deliberate thought was meant to calm Jo but her body had a mind of its own. ‘Yes,’ she gasped, with what little air she could squeeze from her lungs.
She managed to collect herself and, placing a protective hand over her bump, scurried past as someone accused the boy of fancying her. An argument broke out but their voices quickly receded into the distance and she focused on reaching the end of the path. With a cry, Jo burst out of the shadows on to a brightly lit road only two streets away from home. She tried to catch her breath and slow her pace but fear continued to prick the length of her spine. She had an unshakeable conviction that someone was stalking her and kept looking behind until eventually she couldn’t resist the urge to run. She must have looked a sight as she hung on to her bags and her belly for dear life but she didn’t care.
A gasp of relief burst from her lungs the moment she slammed the front door shut and pressed her back against it before sliding down on to the floor. The quick gulps of air slowly amassed enough breath to let out an anguished sob. The sob caught in her throat as the sound of the house phone ringing cut through the darkness.
‘It’s looking like he’s left you then.’

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