The Missing Marriage

He looked around to check the trees and see whether they had leaves or not, but there were no trees on any of the horizons. There was no colour in the gardens opposite either – the only thing that stuck out was the yellow door in the bungalow where the woman’s face was staring at him still.

Then it started to rain.

He pulled his collar up and carried on sitting there, unsure what else to do or where to go until a woman came walking through the rain. She was wearing a long waterproof coat, and a headscarf – and she had a blue carrier bag in her hand.

It took him a while to realise that she was walking towards him; walking fast, her shoes slipping on the wet grass.

‘Bobby!’ she gasped. ‘What in God’s name are you doing?’ She turned round on the spot, taking in the flats and the back of the shops and the bungalows as he’d done earlier, only she was more stunned. ‘How long have you been out here for? Where are your shoes? You’ve got a cut on your head – there’s blood.’

She was on the verge of tears as she pulled him to his feet and led him towards the bungalow with its front door open still.

‘I don’t want to go in there,’ he said, pulling his arms away from her.

‘Get inside out of this rain, Bobby.’ She pushed him forcibly indoors and he stood in the hallway listening to the sounds of water running, and soon there was steam coming out of the room at the end of the hallway.

Chapter 6

The sky was clearing by the time Anna turned back down Quay Road towards the Quayside, and the sun now making its way through the disappearing clouds, was harsh. She was driving straight into it and so didn’t see Martha Deane sitting on the bench opposite the Ridley Arms until she pulled up right beside her.

Martha had her bike with her.

Laviolette had been right – here was Martha paying her a visit and sooner even than he’d probably anticipated.

‘How long have you been here for?’ Anna asked as she got out of the car, squinting because of the light coming off the water.

‘I don’t know,’ Martha mumbled, unsure of her tone. ‘I can’t stand it at home any longer, and . . . you don’t mind?’

Anna sat down on the bench beside her, sighing and tilting her face instinctively towards the April sun.

‘I don’t believe her,’ Martha said suddenly.

‘Don’t believe who?’

‘Mum. I don’t believe her about anything. Do you?’

Ignoring this, Anna said, ‘How did you know where to find me?’

‘I heard dad and Nan talking yesterday morning. Dad said you should have phoned him about a short term let – that he’d have done you a deal.’ She paused. ‘Nan said she told you to phone him.’

‘She probably did. I don’t know – I’ve had so much on my mind.’

This was a lie. She had phoned Tyneside Properties before coming north and asked to speak to Bryan, but found herself unable to – so hung up.

‘Nan says your granddad’s dying.’

‘He is.’

‘That’s sad.’ Martha threw something into the sea. ‘I wanted to go out with them this morning on the search – one of the boats, helicopters, anything . . . I just want to be out there doing something. It doesn’t feel like anybody’s doing anything.’ Her voice was loud – tearful – and the next minute she had her head on Anna’s shoulder and her arms round her neck, pulling herself to her.

Anna put her hand stiffly on Martha’s hair, and tried not to tense up. She could feel Martha’s tears running over her collarbone and beneath her running vest.

When Martha stopped crying, she let her arms drop but kept her head resting on Anna’s shoulder, staring out to sea, and after a while said, ‘I came home late once from a hockey match, and dad’s car was parked on the drive. It wasn’t until I triggered the security light that I saw he was in the car still, just sitting in the car on the drive, in the dark.’ She paused, thinking about whether she wanted to say what she was going to say next. ‘He waved at me and acted like he’d just got home, but I knew he’d been there a long time.’ She twisted her head on Anna’s shoulder, looking up at her. ‘He just looked so unhappy, and you know what I keep thinking? I keep thinking – what if he just couldn’t cope any more with all the rows they’ve been having?’

Anna kept looking at the sea, aware that Martha was watching her. ‘Everybody rows.’

‘There’s not a night in the past year when I haven’t had to go to sleep with my headphones on to try and cut out the sound of them going on and on at each other about money – always money. That’s what everything comes down to.’

Anna had a clear picture of Martha curled up in bed with her headphones on, and it was one of a deep loneliness she recognised from her own childhood; a loneliness she had carried into adulthood with her, as an inability to seek comfort – especially physical comfort.

Martha was picking at a frayed seam in her jeans. ‘Did something happen between dad and you, like – a long time ago?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You knew – about his appendicitis – and he was so pleased to see you yesterday.’

‘We barely spoke.’

‘He doesn’t get pleased about much these days, but he was pleased about seeing you.’

Anna paused. ‘We grew up together and haven’t seen each other in a while – that’s all.’

‘You, mum and dad used to all live next door to each other. I know from Nan how close you and mum used to be – like sisters, she said, right?’

Anna nodded.

‘So how come mum and dad never – and I mean never – talk about you?’

‘I can’t answer that.’

‘Well, that’s how I know something happened.’

Martha carried on watching her without comment then suddenly said, ‘I brought something for you.’ She searched in her pockets for a while then handed Anna a photograph – of Bryan Deane sitting alone at a table in a restaurant overlooking a blue, white-capped sea. Despite the view, he was staring down at the check tablecloth. He wasn’t smiling; he wasn’t even looking at the camera, and she could barely make out his face.

‘That’s Greece last year,’ Martha was saying. ‘I took it. I’ve got a copy on my windowsill and I know it’ll make me feel better – more hopeful – knowing you’ve got a picture of him as well. We can keep a vigil – I’ve got a candle in front of mine; a scented one – cinnamon and vanilla.’

Anna stood up.

‘Wait – where are you going? We don’t have to talk about this any more.’

‘It’s fine. I just need to eat, that’s all.’

‘Can I come with you?’

Anna hesitated, unsure whether she wanted Martha in her apartment. ‘Does your mum know where you are?’

‘I told her I was going to my friend, Ellie’s.’

‘For how long?’