Lily sits on her bed, the bed she shares with her husband. A husband who is not here. A husband who is not in fact a husband. A husband who is a cardboard cut-out of a husband. Like one of those life-size film-star figures they have in cinemas to give the impression that you are in the presence of celebrity. The bed still smells of him, it smells of them, of the sheen of their bodies when they are together, the heat of them and the joy of them. It has been three days now since she felt him. Three nights since their bodies tangled together under these sheets. The smell will fade soon. And then the sheets will become stale and she will need to wash them. And after the smell goes, everything that remains will be false, including this flat that was designed to look expensive with its fake wooden floors, its flimsy walls and cheap flat-pack furniture, its door handles and plug sockets that are coming loose and chrome taps that are already losing their bright shine.
She looks down into her hands at the objects she found in the locked drawer after the WPC and the computer forensics boy left. Two golden rings, one set with a large diamond. A key fob with three door keys on it. A thick wodge of banknotes: £890. So now she has money. But no answers.
The rings are very small. Maybe they belonged to his mother? The key fob is a brass sphere, heavy and satisfying in the palm of her hand. The notes are comprised of twenty- and fifty-pound notes, used, but neatly stacked as though from a bank. So. This is what he was hiding from her. Not so much. Nothing that any other man wouldn’t keep locked in a drawer, for safekeeping.
The phone rings and she jumps. It will be the WPC, calling with more news to rock her world. To tell her, maybe, that her husband was once a woman. That his name is really Carla. Ha. She smiles grimly to herself and picks up the bedside phone.
‘Is that Lily?’ asks a man with a gentle, almost effeminate voice.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, hi, Lily. We haven’t spoken before. My name’s Russ. I’m a friend of your husband’s? Of Carl’s?’
Lily sits up straight and grips the phone harder. ‘Yes?’
‘Listen, I’ve been trying to call him the past couple of days. His phone seems to be dead. Called him at work earlier and they told me he hasn’t been in since Tuesday. I hate to bother you at home, but I wondered if maybe I could have a word with him.’ He stops and she hears him licking his lips. ‘If he’s there?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘He’s not here.’
‘Ah, OK. When are you expecting him home?’
‘I don’t know. He is missing.’
She hears him pause between breaths.
‘He has not come home since Tuesday night. I have not seen him since Tuesday morning. The police are aware.’
He breathes sharply. ‘Wow,’ he says, ‘missing. That’s . . . I don’t know what to say. I mean . . . Do you mean you literally haven’t seen him?’
‘Yes. He left on Tuesday morning. He texted me on Tuesday evening when he left work. He never came home. And now it is Friday night. So. Yes. I am being literal.’
‘Bloody hell. Christ. That doesn’t sound like him. I mean, I know I haven’t seen him for a while but from what little I gleaned he was completely potty about you. Deliriously happy. You know.’
‘He was the happiest man in the world.’ She pauses and looks down at the wedding rings and the keys on the mattress by her side. ‘Russ, how long have you known Carl?’
‘Gosh, I don’t know. A few years, I guess. I used to work with him at Blommers. We both joined around the same time: 2010? I think?’
‘And where had he been working before that?’
‘Well, I’m not sure exactly. Another financial services company I suppose. He probably told me but I don’t remember.’
‘Do you know his family?’
‘No. God, no. I’ve never met anyone he knows. We always just used to meet up for a pint or two, you know, just the two of us, whenever I found myself in town. And I’d been trying to get the pair of you over for dinner. So hard to get out and about with a baby, you know. But I got the impression he didn’t really fancy a night with a screaming baby.’ He laughed nervously. ‘Kept finding excuses. So, what with one thing and another, I haven’t seen him for at least a year.’
‘Where do you live, Russ?’
‘Putney.’
‘Where is Putney?’
‘It’s south London. On the river.’
‘I want to come and see you. I want to ask you some questions. Please.’
‘Oh. Of course. Yes. I mean, we’re busy tomorrow, seeing Jo’s parents for lunch.’
‘I can come early. I don’t sleep, so I can come any time.’
‘I suppose. I mean, mornings are quite hectic here what with the baby and everything.’
‘Half an hour. I just need half an hour.’
‘OK. I’ll talk to Jo. Hold on . . .’ The sound muffles as he cups his hand over the phone and she hears him call out. She hears ‘Carl’s wife . . . missing . . . early . . . half an hour.’ Then a cross woman’s voice saying, ‘Not here though. Go to Antonio’s.’
He comes back on the line. ‘OK, that’ll be fine. There’s a coffee shop, a deli kind of thing, just round the corner. Antonio’s. I can meet you there at nine. Give me your phone number and I’ll text you the postcode.’
She reads it out to him and says, ‘So. What do you look like?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ he says apologetically. ‘Normal height. Normal build. Brown hair. Glasses. What do you look like?’
‘I look like Keira Knightley,’ she says. ‘Except not so thin.’
‘Ah,’ says Russ. ‘Good. That helps. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ says Lily. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’