Since hearing the news on the way to work this morning, I’ve thought of nothing else. By the time I reached my office – a room I’m temporarily renting on a floor of a communications building – my head was banging again, despite the paracetamol I’d taken for the hangover. The details were sketchy at that point, but hearing the murmurings of shocked and concerned villagers and seeing the local news discussing Olivia’s last-known movements, a fresh horror swept through me like a tidal wave.
Now, Jenny’s ashen face, her features frozen in a thousand-yard stare, drives this horror up even further. It’s not just shock I see, it’s fear – her dilated pupils almost obscure her forest-green irises. My pulse smashes hard in my throat. The last time I saw her face like this was last year, when I brought her out of a trance-like state by taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. She had no recollection of what she’d been doing for the hours previous to me finding her like that. I’d been drinking that evening, and she’d got out of bed without me hearing.
I still don’t know how long she’d been gone before I awoke and found her side of the bed empty; cold. I’d had no choice. I had to go looking for her. Even now, I can still feel the sheer panic in my gut as I drove around searching the streets. Can still feel the tug of guilt when I realised where she was. The vision of her standing there, in Olivia’s garden, a rock in her hand still vivid. I shudder at the memory.
Jen sits mute in front of me, her lips twitching. The entire village, and now the whole country, are talking about Olivia’s disappearance, but I’m only interested in what she has to say.
‘They’re saying she was taken from the street.’ My eyes implore hers as I try to snap her from her thoughts.
‘Taken?’ The word is a whisper.
‘Yes. Abducted.’
‘Shit.’
I feel a twinge of irritation. Isn’t she going to utter more than single-word responses? ‘I mean, that’s really scary, isn’t it? In our little village. Who’d do something like that?’
She shakes her head, then sucks in a deep breath. ‘Right,’ she says, blinking rapidly, then straightening. ‘We can’t talk about it now. Let’s have dinner. I don’t want the kids to know there’s something wrong.’
I stare at her. Let’s have dinner? How can she be so calm after what she’s just learned? Before I have chance to ask, she gets up from the sofa and heads back into the kitchen. I stand frozen, dumbstruck. I’m not altogether sure what reaction I expected, but it’s not this. A little voice in my mind says she’s acting like this because she already knew. She’s definitely been behaving oddly and what with the muddy pyjamas, her wedding ring flung to the floor … ‘No. Don’t do that,’ I whisper, rubbing my hands roughly over my head to silence the voice. It was a coincidence she had a blackout last night, that’s all.
‘Are you dishing up, then?’ she calls from the kitchen.
‘Yep – two secs.’ I exhale forcefully, pushing my shoulders back in an attempt to compose myself, then join them at the table.
All smiles.
All forced.
Am I going to ignore the red flags that are waving madly in my mind?
I choke on a mouthful of food and feel Jen’s eyes on me as I gulp some water down. I could really do with a glass of red, but I need a clear head in case Jen has another episode tonight. I glance at her, catching her eye and we hold each other’s gaze for what feels like minutes. The unspoken accusation hovers invisibly over us. I can’t blame Jen entirely for the mistrust that’s engulfed our marriage this past year.
Not when I’m the one who caused it.