But Toby looks uncertain, not his usual cheerful self; he glances over his shoulder. She pulls the door open wider.
“What happened to you?” she asks.
“I was gardening, and I lost a battle with a particularly ferocious rambling rose.”
He makes a face, and she giggles. That’s more like him. He’s silly. And it feels good to laugh, as if she’s expelling some of the fear and tension from her body.
“I’m worried about Mum,” she says. “I thought she would be home by now.”
“Oh,” he says. “I’m hoping to have a word with her. Everything’s gone a bit pear-shaped this weekend, to put it mildly, and I’m wondering if she can shed any light on it. I tried to phone her, but I remembered that she’s gone to that hippy place where they make you give your phone up, so I thought I’d drop by.”
He sounds awkward, as if there’s something he’s not saying,or doesn’t want Imogen to know. She can’t decide if he’s confused or distressed or neither, but he’s being a bit weird.
“She was supposed to be home at five,” she says.
“Have you heard from her?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I lost my phone. Can I borrow yours? To call her?”
“Oh, sure,” he says. “Though, like I said, I haven’t been able to get hold of her.” He hands it over. “The code is 123456.” She smiles. “I know, it’s ridiculous, but I’ll forget it otherwise,” he says.
She looks at the screen. “You’ve got loads of texts and missed calls.” She hands it back. She doesn’t say “From Ruth,” because that would embarrass them both.
He waves his hand, dismissive. “Go ahead, call your mum and if you get hold of her, I’ll have a word, too.”
She phones Edie but it goes straight to voicemail. Imogen turns away from Toby and leaves a message asking when Edie will be back and begging her to call.
He takes the phone from her and puts it back in his pocket without looking at it. There’s something wrong between him and Ruth, she thinks. It explains why he looks preoccupied and jumpy, like there’s something weighing on him.
“Mum should be on the road by now,” she says. Her worries from earlier resurge. His arrival was only a temporary respite.
“Maybe her phone ran out of charge.”
“I don’t know,” she says.
He checks his watch. Its gold face looks old-fashioned. The strap is worn brown leather. “She hates driving in the dark,” he says.
“I know. But it’s not dark yet.” This comes out as more hopeful than she feels. She has the feeling that she’s not going to be able to act normal in front of him for very much longer, that she’s going to have a meltdown and have to share everything that’s happened. But she’s afraid to. The men are all such good friends. What if Toby doesn’t believe her?
“Do you want to come and wait for her?” Imogen adds. It would make her feel safer if he was here.
They sit. Toby’s knee bounces up and down.
He looks around the room like he’s a stranger there but doesn’t seem to focus on anything. He doesn’t talk for the longest time and Imogen doesn’t know what to say. After a while, she feels like crying. He was supposed to make her feel safe and he’s not. He’s too agitated.
She wants him to talk about normal stuff, to make things feel okay. She tries to do it herself.
“How’s Alfie?” she asks. She’s babysat for Toby’s son now and then. Alfie is a really nice baby. Funny and sweet.
“He’s fine.”
“Does he still have that dimply smile?”
He looks confused.
“You know,” she says, putting a fingertip in each of her cheeks.
“Oh, right, yes he does. He absolutely does.”
