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The Missing Husband

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Год написания книги
2019
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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.’
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