‘Hey! How’s it going?’
In need of a fresh start, she’s packing up her flat. She moves next week – to Bristol.
‘Since you ask, horrible. I’ve had to throw so much out, but at least it’s a distraction. To be honest, I’m trying not to think about it.’
‘This move is what you need,’ I tell her. ‘A change of scene, your new job … Who knows what might happen – in time.’
‘As long as it doesn’t involve men,’ she says shortly. ‘Honestly, I’m relishing being single again.’
I’m silent for a moment. Cath’s suffered.
‘How are you?’ Her voice rallies. ‘I keep meaning to call round.’
‘So come tomorrow. We’ll have lunch. I need to tell you about something weird that happened today – when I was in Brighton.’
‘I’m intrigued.’ She sounds curious. ‘Can’t you tell me now?’
Hearing a car outside, I’m guessing it’s Matt. ‘I think Matt’s just come back. It’ll wait.’
‘OK.’ Cath hesitates. ‘How is Matt?’
‘He’s good. We’re just putting the final touches together for the big day. You wouldn’t believe how long everything takes.’
‘I’m happy never to find out.’ Cath’s voice is cynical, then she sounds apologetic. ‘Look, I didn’t mean that. I’m sure it will be a great day.’
After her abusive ex-boyfriend, Oliver, reduced her emotionally to the shadow of the woman I know so well, she’s tryingto rebuild her life – alone. If I hadn’t seen it happen, I wouldn’t have believed it possible, because I’ve always thought of her as strong, but Oliver’s manipulation was masterful.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I tell her. ‘I’m just glad you’ve got away from Oliver. I know it’s hard right now, but it will get easier.’
‘I hope so.’ She’s quiet for a moment. ‘But you’re happy? You and Matt?’
There’s no hesitation as I answer. ‘Blissfully.’
*
But the car I hear isn’t Matt’s. By eleven, when he still isn’t home, I’m only mildly surprised, but it’s happened before, a business dinner morphing into a late session in a bar. I frown, wondering what it is he wanted to talk to me about, but it will have to wait. With an early start ahead of me, I text him briefly as I go to bed. When he doesn’t reply, I imagine him deep in conversation over yet another scotch. I’ve no reason to worry. Not yet.
When I stir in the night and realise the bed is empty beside me, it vaguely registers as odd. Thinking of our wedding, imagining us side by side as we become husband and wife, I drift back to sleep. But it isn’t until I awake the next morning, and find he still hasn’t come home that alarm bells start to ring. Nor has he replied to any of my texts, and when I call him, like last night, it goes to voicemail.
*
An air of unreality hangs over me as I shower and dress, stopping now and then to try him again. When my phone eventually buzzes with a text, my heart leaps, but instead of Matt, it’s a client wanting to check on a delivery. The order is prepared, but I’m worried about Matt and it’s slipped my mind that I’d promised it for this morning.
Pulling on a jacket and boots, I hurry outside. The grass is crisp with last night’s frost, glistening where the sun reaches it, my hands pink with cold as I open my workshop. Inside, the temperature is higher but only marginally, as after picking up the order, I take it out to my car.
Normally I love early mornings, the way the low light casts shadows, how the world is slowly stirring into life. But today, as I drive, I don’t see any of it. Instead, uncertainty fills the air as I call Matt, leaving him another message. My mind in a whirl. Five minutes later, I try again. Then, because she’s been keeping in touch with both of us about the wedding, I pull over at the side of the road and call Lara.
By the time I remember how early it still is, she’s already answered. ‘Hi, Amy.’ Her voice is sleepy, as though I’ve just woken her. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’m sorry to call like this.’ I feel a rush of guilt for disturbing her. ‘Have you by any chance heard from Matt?’
‘No. Should I have?’ She pauses. ‘Is something wrong?’ Her voice is suddenly wide awake.
I hesitate. ‘He didn’t come home last night. I’m really worried about him. I’ve called him several times, but it goes to voicemail. I just wondered when you last spoke to him.’
There’s a brief hesitation before she speaks. ‘A couple of days ago. Sunday – it was to do with the orders of service.’ She’s quiet for a moment. ‘I’m sure he’s fine, Amy. He probably had too much to drink and crashed out somewhere.’
‘You’re probably right.’ I’m nodding as I speak, but he would have been in touch. And in all the time I’ve known him, Matt’s always made it home after a night out.
