Eddie phones me during the week and at the sound of his voice, my heart leaps. Despite the torture I’ve put myself through, I still crave him more than anything. After a few minutes, I say tentatively, “Um, you left your watch behind, did you notice?”
He groans. “So that’s where I left it. Thanks, darling, I’ll pick it up on Friday night.”
“So, will you be staying for the whole weekend this time?”
There’s a short pause, and he says, “I’m sorry, I can only manage a few hours this week. I’ll make it up to you when this project’s over, I promise.”
Squeezing my eyes tightly shut to stop the tears from falling, I say in exasperation, “It’s just not fair, can’t you even stay the night?”
He says wearily, “Look, I know it’s not the best, but I can’t help it. You will just have to be more understanding, Isabel. In fact, I shouldn’t really see you on Friday evening but I want to see you so badly I’m risking it.”
“Risking what?”
“Upsetting my boss. He wants me to meet him on Friday to go through a few things but I said I had a prior engagement. I’m sorry but you’re a much more attractive proposition than he is so there was no comparison.”
I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood and just say shortly, “Ok, Friday evening then.”
He whispers, “I will make it up to you, I promise.”
As he cuts the call, I throw my phone angrily onto the bed. I’ve had enough. I’m going to confront him on Friday night and find out just what’s going on. I won’t be made to look like a fool and be used if that’s what he’s doing. I have too much self-respect for that and come this Friday, Eddie Butler won’t know what’s hit him.
I’m not sure how I get through the next week. Eddie calls a few more times, and I try to keep things normal. I’m not sure if he picks up on the edge in my voice, or that I don’t appear as loving as always, but I hope not. I want him to come on Friday and explain everything, and I can’t risk him cancelling.
Friday comes at last and as I wait, I feel nervous and apprehensive. My heart thumps along with every minute on the clock as I wait for his taxi to pull up outside. But it never does. When it comes to 8 pm, I try calling, but the phone just rings. There’s no voicemail clicking in, just the endless ringing of a phone that’s never answered.
I contemplate getting the train back to Surbiton when he doesn’t call the next day. I feel so angry that he’s just cast me aside because I’m not stupid. There’s been no contact, nothing. It’s too much of a coincidence, surely.
Then the worry takes over as by Sunday I’ve imagined all sorts. The only place I know he has a connection to is that house in Surbiton. It’s agonising waiting for the phone to ring, and any movement outside has me racing to the window to see if it’s him.
Then I do get a call, but it’s not Eddie.
I see an unfamiliar number calling me and answer it quickly, “Isabel Rawlins.”
“Good evening, Miss Rawlins. I’m sorry to trouble you. My name is Detective Inspector Matthews. I’m calling on behalf of an Eddie Butler.”
My heart starts thumping and I say shakily, “Yes?”
“Can you confirm that you know an Eddie Butler?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“May I ask what relation you are to him?”
I say shakily. “I’m his fiancée.”
There’s a brief pause and then his tone changes and he says kindly, “I’m sorry to ask, but when was the last time you saw him?”
I don’t falter. “Last Friday.”
Again, there’s a brief pause, and he says softly. “Please accept my apologies for this but may I ask, when was the last time you had contact with him?”
I say breathlessly, “Wednesday, around 5 pm. I’m sorry officer but why are you asking me all these questions, has something happened?”
There’s another brief pause and then he says, “I’m sorry to do this over the phone but we have reason to believe that Eddie Butler has gone missing, presumed drowned.”
I sit back in shock, the phone pressed to my ear, as the officer says, “Please can you tell me your address and I’ll be right over. Maybe you can help us get to the bottom of this.”
As I tell him what he needs to know, I feel my heart breaking inside. Presumed drowned. He can’t be. There must be an explanation for this.
As I wait for the police officer to pay me a visit, I reign in my grief. Eddie isn’t dead. I feel it in my heart. What the hell is going on?