Jules pulled her dressing gown more tightly around her.
‘No. Why?’
‘We want a chat, darling, about some money he owes us. So, if you’d be good enough to tell us where he is…’
The larger of the two men peered over her shoulder. Jules felt her legs begin to tremble slightly.
‘You must have made a mistake and I’m definitely not your darling.’
‘No mistake,’ said the other man, stretching out an arm and placing his hand on the doorframe.
Jules lifted her chin a little.
‘He’s gone to work.’
‘Work!’ Bushy Eyebrows chuckled. ‘And what work would that be?’
She summoned up all her courage, reminded herself that she was used to dealing with difficult people. Sometimes some of the families in the maternity unit could get a bit tricky if they couldn’t visit the new baby.
‘Look, why don’t I give him a call and we can sort this out? You wait there. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’
Slowly the man retracted his hand, allowing Jules to close the door.
‘Come on, Gavin. Pick up. Please, please, pick up,’ she muttered as she sat on the bed and listened to the phone ringing out.
After a few rings it went to answerphone. Jules could have wept.
‘We’re still waiting,’ one of the men called.
She moved towards the front door but didn’t open it.
‘He’s not answering.’
There was silence apart from heavy breathing.
‘Give me your number and I’ll get him to call.’
‘No need,’ came the reply. ‘Just tell him we’ll be back.’
As Jules listened to their heavy tread getting further away, she sank to the floor, the coir from the doormat prickling her calves. She couldn’t stop shaking. It was all she could do to press redial, but it didn’t matter how many times she rang, Gavin wasn’t picking up.
No way could she sleep so she made herself a cup of sweet tea from which she took little revitalising sips as she pulled on jeans and a jumper. There was no point sitting around torturing herself with possibilities. She had to sort this out. Creeping down the stairs and out of the front door she checked up and down the road just in case her unwelcome visitors were loiteringoutside, but presumably they had moved on to their next victim. She walked the surrounding streets checking that Gavin’s BMW wasn’t parked a bit further away and he hadn’t just gone to the shops for provisions or fancied a walk in the park. Actually, that last thought was ridiculous – he really wasn’t into walking. Heading back towards home she stopped on the corner and rang for an Uber. A small tabby cat came and rubbed around her ankles as she waited, its identity disc flashing in the sunlight.
‘Where is he?’ she murmured, bending down to rub the cat’s chin. ‘I bet he’s at the house renovation. I bet he’s got his phone on silent. All of this is just a horrible mistake.’
But in the pit of her stomach something told her that there was more to it than that.
The journey to Beech House took about twenty minutes through the city centre traffic. The road was tree-lined and wide, the expensive houses set well back.
‘Posh area this,’ the driver said as he dropped her off.
‘My boyfriend is doing up a house here,’ she said, pointing down the grass-tufted driveway towards an impressive three-storey redbrick Arts and Crafts house.
‘Be nice when it’s done,’ he said. ‘You take care.’
He was looking at her keenly and she realised that her anxiety must have permeated the car.
‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’
