THE AFTERNOON IS WARM AND SUNNY, THE MAGNOLIA at the end of the road heavy with pale-cream and pink flowers, some petals already strewn on the pavement. Anna and I walk to the parade and she steers me into the cafe, buys us both a coffee and carries them to a table. I peel off my jacket and hang it over the back of the chair. It feels unnatural, as though the scene has been theatrically staged. Anna pulls her hair behind her shoulders, then rests her elbows on the table and weaves her fingers together.
I study her in a way I haven’t before, as though she’s a potential rival. That she is attractive is beyond argument, but hers is not an easy face to look at; she’s challenging, too sexy, maybe; I don’t know. She has long black glossy hair, smoky eyes and full lips. Her cheekbones are pronounced, her jawline elegant. I find her both alluring and off-putting. I think most men would just find her alluring. Or scary. There is something sensual about her, and I suppose that’s what makes me uneasy. She uses her hair as a flirtation tool, flicking it back with her hand or a toss of her head, leaning forward so that it drapes over her face, winding a lock of it around her finger.
‘Do you think he’s left you?’ she asks, looking at me oddly. She’s probably wondering why I’m confiding in her and not in Cassie.
‘I don’t know. He went out on Saturday evening and he hasn’t come back. He’s not answering his phone.’
‘Have you checked the hospitals?’
‘Yes, and I’ve reported it to the police, but they think he’ll be back. According to their checklist, he’s just left. Look, I wouldn’t ask you this—’
I stop dead. I should have thought this through. If I tell her, then she’s going to take herself off the app. I want to keep her there, trapped on my screen, where I can keep an eye on her.
‘You wouldn’t ask me what?’
I’m thinking on my feet, but luckily that is one of my skills. ‘When he came back from his trip to the shops on Thursday evening he said he’d met a mum from the school and that they’d had a conversation. From the way he described her, it sounded like you. It’s a long shot, but he was a little taciturn afterwards, and I thought it might have had something to do with what’s happened now.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘And what did he talk to this mystery woman about?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t get that far.’ I rub my eyes and yawn. ‘I was distracted.’
‘Well, I haven’t got a clue. I’m not even sure I’d recognize your husband. You haven’t introduced us.’
‘We’re not married. You must have met him.’
‘Nope.’ Her smile is quick to arrive and quicker to depart; a sharp tightening of the muscles at the corners. ‘It’s tough being an attractive single mother. Other women feel threatened.’
‘I’m not … I don’t …’
‘Oh, I’m not accusing you in particular. It’s just a general thing, a feeling I get when I walk into a room. If I’m invited to a party I have to be careful not to let myself be monopolized by any of the husbands. I can feel their wives twitching, you know, and I can tell when they’re about to wander over, slide their arm through his, kiss his cheek, and draw him away.’ She puts on a mimsy voice. ‘“Oh darling, you must meet so-and-so.” It’s a whole production.’
It’s so believable. How would I feel if Nick spent too long talking to Anna? Not great, frankly. I might find the way she plays with her hair irritating, but I don’t think Nick would. One hundred per cent I would go up and put my arm round him.
‘I don’t want their bloody husbands anyway. God. I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘What happened to Kai’s dad, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Prostate cancer,’ she says. ‘Three months from diagnosis to death. I barely had a chance to get used to the idea before he was gone. I was widowed at twenty-eight.’
She says it so bluntly that I’m thrown for a second, but then I realize it’s a defence mechanism.
‘I’m sorry. How old was Kai?’
‘Five. Old enough for him to have memories.’
The door to the cafe opens and Cassie comes in. She holds it open while Kit, another of our friends, man-oeuvres her baby’s bulky pram inside. They spot us and wave. I reach for my jacket.
‘I’m going to go,’ I say to Anna as they inspect the array of cakes, flapjacks and brownies. ‘I need to phone Nick’s parents. I should have done it yesterday, but I thought he’d walk through the door. I can’t believe he hasn’t. Thanks for listening, and sorry I had to ask you that. I know it’s ridiculous.’
‘You can talk to me any time. Will you text me if he comes back? I’ll be worrying.’
I hook my bag over my shoulder. ‘Please don’t tell anyone about this.’
‘Of course I won’t.’
‘Right. Well, thanks.’ I feel as bewildered as I did when I stood on her doorstep an hour ago.
‘Hey, don’t leave,’ Cassie says, turning to me as she pays the cashier for a pot of tea and a flapjack.
‘Sorry, I need to get back to work.’
She gives me an odd look, glancing past me to where Anna appears to be texting frantically. ‘Evan’s been trying to get hold of Nick about a Chelsea match.’
‘He’s not well.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry about that. What’s up?’
‘Food poisoning, he thinks. Sorry, I have to dash. I’ll tell Nick about Evan.’
Nick has been gone for thirty-six hours. I call the police but the officer I spoke to on Sunday is in a meeting and no one else can update me on progress. She calls me back fifteen minutes later and I tell her about the minimart CCTV. She says they’ll look at it, if necessary.
‘Can I suggest you use social media? Get the word out. It can produce results. People will be interested in a successful City man going missing. Maybe speak to the Metro or the Evening Standard?’
I freeze. ‘No,’ I say too sharply. ‘Please don’t involve the press. He wouldn’t want a fuss made.’
‘But Ms Trelawney, we have limited resources. If you put out a plea to Nick to contact you, or someone else if he doesn’t want to do that, just to reassure us all that he’s alive and well, it can’t do any harm.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ I hope she can’t hear the note of panic in my voice. ‘And you won’t talk to them before I do, will you?’
She hesitates. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’
I release my breath as I disconnect the call. An image flashes into my mind, unwelcome and quickly thrust away. A knife. Blood. A gasp of pain and surprise. The last thing I need is the press digging into my past.