The Missing Husband (6 page)

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

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.