Pulling the keys from the ignition, Thomas glanced at his watch and clicked his tongue. It was after six; Elsie would be waiting with tea. He locked the car and hurried inside.
‘My love?’ he called, discarding his satchel and loosening his tie. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, Mr Bagnoli –’
Once again, Thomas found himself in an empty kitchen. From somewhere he couldn’t see, cool evening air was pouring in and when he went searching he found the back door wide open.
‘Else?’ He poked his head outside. ‘You out here?’
In the fading light, a smudge of white marked the base of the washing line. He crossed the lawn and found two sheets still hanging on the line and one flopped half in, half out of the basket on the ground. The fabric was cold and damp to the touch. Frowning, he picked up the basket and turned back to the house, a flicker of anxiety pulsing through him.
Then he saw the lights in the windows of the house next door.
*
Last time Thomas had knocked on this door, his wife had lain bleeding on the bathroom floor. He swallowed the frightening image away, straightened up and knocked.
‘Who is it?’ a muffled voice called from inside. With a jolt he recognised it as Aida’s. Elsie told him the neighbour had left weeks ago. When did she return? Was her husband finally home from the mines?
‘It’s Thomas Mullet, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but my wife –’
‘It’s open, Thomas.’
Elsie’s voice.
Relief came over him. Pushing open the door, he found Elsie seated on the floor alongside Aida. Both women were wrapped in robes and had towels around their heads.
Thomas faltered mid-stride. ‘Uh, good evening.’
Getting to her feet, Elsie came to him and smiled. She kissed his cheek; she smelled of soap and there was the stale hint of coffee on her breath.
‘I couldn’t find you, for a while there I thought you’d been abducted,’ he said with a small laugh.
Elsie tittered – an odd, fake sound. ‘Nothing like that,’ she assured him, ‘time got away from me.’
‘Good evening, Aida. It’s lovely to see you again. Did you take a holiday . . . ?’ The question faded in his mouth for two reasons: firstly, he noticed the terrible red puffiness of Aida’s face, contrasted with the stark emptiness of where her enormous belly had once bulged, and secondly, because Elsie gave him a sharp and hard pinch on his forearm. Confused, he rubbed the skin. There would be a bruise there tomorrow. Why was his wife silencing him?
‘My love,’ Elsie said, ‘we’re having a little visit. Catching up as ladies do. Listen.’ She put an arm around his shoulders and to his dismay Thomas realised she was leading him towards the door.
‘I won’t be much longer,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for being late for tea. But there’s leftover roast beef in the fridge, if you’d like to help yourself.’
Help himself? Thomas opened his mouth to ask more, but he found himself abruptly outside. Elsie blew him a kiss, and the door clicked softly in his face.