There was a moment’s silence. ‘We are aware of him. Go on.’
So Amy had been in touch. ‘I’m not sure what else I can tell you. It was obvious Matt had been restless for some time. Living a lie was getting to him. Matt isn’t a compulsive liar – he’s just not the type. I’m a lawyer. I can see the signs coming a mile off.’ It’s true. At the start, he’d been so weighed down with guilt, I thought he was going to break it off with me. ‘He was dreading having to tell Amy, but it wasn’t fair to keep leading her on. Their wedding is only a couple of weeks away. He knew he wanted to be with me. He meant every word.’ I paused, swallowing. ‘He was about to move his things into my place. Yesterday.’
‘I see.’ As she paused, I’d imagined her reconciling the Matt I was describing with Amy’s Matt. She went on. ‘Do you have a photo of him?’
‘Several. Would you like me to send them to you?’
‘We’ll come and collect them – I have a photograph I’d likeyou to identify. If you give me your address, I’ll get onto it straight away.’ After I gave her the address, PC Page hesitated. ‘There is one thing I do have to ask. If you’d guessed Ms Reid would report her fiancé missing, why did you feel the need to call us?’
‘In case she hadn’t …’ I broke off for a moment, gazing through the window at a seagull perched on a rooftop. ‘This is difficult, because I only know what Matt’s told me about her. But what I do know is he worries about her. That’s why he kept putting off telling her he was leaving her.’
Her voice was sharp. ‘What exactly was he worried about?’
I sighed. ‘He described several times how her behaviour could be erratic. She could be quite aggressive towards him. They had violent rows where she’d end up smashing things.’ I broke off, worried. What if she’d attacked him? ‘He wanted to pack his stuff and get out of the house while she wasn’t there, but the problem is she works from home. She’s always there. It’s meant he hasn’t had the chance. I just thought you should know what he said.’ I paused. ‘I’d rather Amy didn’t know about me. From everything he’s told me about her, I really don’t want her trying to find me. I have my career to think about – I’ve just started working with a new law firm. I don’t want her coming here and screwing it up.’
‘It might be helpful if the two of you were to meet at some point, but I take your point, Ms Rose. She won’t find out from us. As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re legally obliged to maintain confidentiality.’
As a lawyer, I was fully aware, I just wanted to be sure the police knew I was. ‘What happens now?’
‘We’ll continue our enquiries. In the meantime, if you think of anything else that might help, can you contact us?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused, as if there was something she wanted to ask, then thought better of it. ‘Someone will be round to see you shortly. And if we need any more information, we’ll be in touch.’
After the call ended, I scrolled through my photos until I found what I was looking for, selfies of Matt and I in the grounds of a country house hotel in the Lake District, the first weekend we spent away together, before printing them off in readiness for the police.
It had been a magical weekend, tainted only by the knowledge that he’d told Amy he was going to Dubai for work. He hated the subterfuge. It was what I hated too – living a lie.
An hour later, I get a call from one of our receptionists. ‘Fiona? There’s an Officer Walker here to see you.’
‘Can you show them in?’
Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, before it opens. The young uniformed officer looks uncertainly at me. ‘Ms Rose?’
‘Yes.’ I get up. ‘Come in. Close the door behind you, will you?’ As he does what I ask, I pick up the photos I’ve printed off. ‘I imagine you’ve come for these?’
‘Thank you ma’am.’ Hesitating, he takes a brown envelope out of his pocket, then pulls out a couple of photos. ‘Would you mind taking a look?’
Taking the photos, I quickly glance at them. ‘That’s Matt. The woman …’ I hesitate, staring at Amy’s face. ‘I’m fairly sure I saw her. The evening Matt disappeared. I was on my way home. She was walking quite near to where I live.’
Frowning, he takes out a notebook. ‘About what time would that have been?’
I shrug. ‘Somewhere between six-thirty and seven-thirty. Approximately.’
Chapter Nineteen
Another day had passed, during which I didn’t hear from Matt, while I wondered if the police had made any progress. Leaving the office behind, I walked slowly along the crowded street towards the seafront, stopping at a Costa for a herbal tea.
Taking my drink with me, I crossed the road, then took the steps down onto the beach. Finding a quiet spot on the shingle, I sat down, glad to be alone. Not minding the cold, I gazed at the calm, grey sea, feeling the tang of salt on my skin, assailed by memories. Cradling my tea in both hands, I closed my eyes, remembering another evening, less cold than this, when Matt and I had sat here for hours, long past sunset, until the sky above us glittered with stars. He’d told me how stupid he felt. How he hated letting Amy down, betraying her trust, but he couldn’t go on pretending, when it wasn’t right between them. Her obsession with her house was just the start of it. Then he’d told me how he could envisage a completely different way of life – with me.
All the time I’ve known Matt, there’s always been Amy, her presence in the background of everything. The woman he didn’tlove, but who for reasons I could never understand, he put before me. After he disappeared, I couldn’t help wondering if, stricken by guilt, he’d decided to take off and spend some time alone. Back then, before I knew more, anything, everything was possible.
I stayed on the beach until the grey sea darkened – as the swell picked up, the cold eating into me – before I got up and started to walk back towards my flat. Though I was tired, restlessness filled me. I even considered calling Amy. I’m not sure why, but on impulse, I’d copied her number from Matt’s phone. To hell with maintaining anonymity. But I knew it would have created more problems than it would have solved.
Back home, after a bowl of soup and a couple of glasses of wine, I’d been no less agitated. Switching on my laptop, I’d started going through Matt’s social media profiles, something I hadn’t done since we first met. Having studied the backgrounds of a large number of acrimonious divorce cases, I’d become adept at identifying what people tried to hide.
On Facebook, his profile photo was unchanged, the same shot of him as when we first met. Staring at it, I’d frowned, wondering if I’d missed something and all along, he really had been spinning me a line. For a moment, doubt had crept in. Two weeks before their wedding was short notice to call it off. Maybe it was me he’d been lying to? Maybe he had no intention of cancelling it.
