The Missing Husband. Amanda Brooke
by the whooshing of the rising blood pressure inside her head. After a few minutes she sat up to find Kelly standing there.
‘I’m here to make sure you go home. Gary’s orders,’ she said.
‘I’m going,’ Jo agreed and was thankful that her training was finally paying off. Kelly didn’t ask any more questions.
There was no warm glow to greet Jo this time when she turned into Beaumont Avenue. The incessant rain had beaten the golden carpet of autumn leaves into a sodden brown mulch, but on a positive note, the bad weather had forced Jo to concentrate on the road, giving her brain a temporary reprieve from thoughts which would otherwise paralyze her with fear. But she couldn’t escape them for ever and as she pulled into the drive she knew she was about to face her fears head on. A familiar car was parked outside the house and through its steamed up windows she had spotted Irene and David’s brother Steve.
‘Any news?’ Irene asked, already at the side of the car as Jo opened the door.
Jo shook her head. ‘Let’s get in out of the rain.’
The house felt empty and abandoned despite the stampede of footsteps and flutter of coats that dripped puddles on the hallway floor. It was almost eleven but the daylight refused to step over the doorway and lights were flicked on as they trudged into the kitchen where Jo switched on the heating and then the kettle.
So far no one had broken the silence. Her in-laws had only just entered this nightmare but already had that same haunted expression Jo had seen reflected in her bathroom mirror. She wondered if they too had convinced themselves that their worst fears wouldn’t be realized unless they were spoken aloud.
‘Coffee OK for everyone?’ Jo asked. ‘I’m afraid it’s only decaf.’
Two heads nodded. Steve had taken a seat at the dining table but Irene stayed close. While Jo absorbed herself in lining up three mugs in a perfectly straight line, each one equidistant and with handles pointing to the right, Irene found the teabags.
‘So it’s tea then?’ Jo asked.
‘Hot, sweet, tea. That’s what’s needed,’ Irene said.
Jo considered reminding Irene that she had stopped drinking caffeine while she was pregnant and that included tea but it didn’t seem so important any more and the two women continued the seemingly complicated task of making the drinks without another word.
When Jo passed a mug to Steve she couldn’t look at him. He was younger than David by a couple of years but he had the same bright blue eyes. His deep brown hair was cropped in a similar style too, long enough to run your fingers through but only just. David’s features were perhaps a little rounder and the dimple on his chin more pronounced. Of the two, Steve was arguably the more attractive but where Steve was the charmer, David was the joker who could raise a smile in the darkest of hours and right now that was what they were all missing.
‘So when exactly did you see him last, Jo?’ Steve asked, as the silence became too much to bear.
Guilt leaked warmth across Jo’s cheeks as her mind replayed the moment David had leaned over to kiss her goodbye while his stubborn wife feigned sleep. ‘He left for Leeds early yesterday for a training course. He texted to say he was on the train home and it was due in at Lime Street around seven. The battery on his phone was running out so we didn’t talk and – and I didn’t hear from him after that. He was going to get another train to West Allerton but I’ve no idea if he did … I don’t know where he went … I don’t know where he is.’
‘I haven’t seen Dave since the weekend but he seemed OK to me. I’ve checked with all our mates and no one else has seen him either,’ Steve said, answering the question that Jo hadn’t asked. ‘And I’ve tried phoning him, but no luck.’
‘Something’s happened to him,’ Irene said in a tone that wouldn’t be denied. ‘I know you’re scared but I can’t believe you didn’t phone the police last night. They should already be looking for him. You need to phone them, Jo. Now!’
Jo’s body was so tense that she was barely able to nod, but when she saw Irene reaching for the phone, she quickly said, ‘I’ll phone from the living room.’ She didn’t want anyone listening in when she confessed to the police that she had misplaced her husband, but as she slipped out of the room Irene was right behind her.
Jo stared down at the phone standing to attention in its cradle while her hands wrapped tightly around her mug of tea which she was loath to put down.
It was Irene who eventually picked up the phone, but even she seemed frightened to hold it and quickly offered it to Jo. ‘Do you know the number for the local station or should we just dial 999?’
‘I’ve got the number.’
Jo pressed each memorized digit slowly and deliberately. It was delaying the inevitable, but unlike the fruitless calls to David, this call was answered almost immediately.
To her surprise, Jo’s concerns weren’t instantly dismissed although she did have to explain her situation three times before she was put through to a Detective Sergeant Baxter who made a formal record of her call. She spent much of the call reassuring the police officer that her husband was bound to turn up eventually. In fact if Irene hadn’t been standing next to her, leaning in so close that Jo had to fight the urge to push her away, she might have asked him to close the enquiry there and then. DS Baxter agreed that in all probability David would return of his own accord, but in the meantime he took down all the relevant details.
As well as the basic information about David and his last known movements, DS Baxter asked Jo some necessary but intrusive questions about the state of her husband’s mind, their marriage and any particular stress points in their lives. Her answers weren’t as open as they could have been, not with Irene listening to every tremulous word that reverberated in Jo’s mind like a nail being driven into a coffin. The best she could hope for was that the casket contained her marriage and not her husband.
‘He’s taken his passport?’ Irene asked when Jo replaced the receiver.
Jo nodded.
The sigh of relief was accompanied by a ‘Thank God,’ but when she saw the look of dismay on Jo’s face, Irene added, ‘Sorry, I just mean it’s a possible explanation. However irresponsible and – I can’t believe I’m saying this of David – however heartless it would be of him, it’s better than considering what else could have happened. But I can tell you this much, Jo, he’ll be getting a piece of my mind when he does come home.’ Irene sighed and shook her head. ‘But right now I’d—’
‘Forgive him anything?’ Jo offered in complete agreement.
‘Are they sending someone round?’
‘Yes, later on this evening, assuming we still haven’t heard anything, and I’ve got a number to ring if David does show up.’
‘Right,’ Irene said, nodding her head, letting the news sink in.
Jo had been dreading the call, afraid that the police would simply dismiss her concerns but terrified that they would convince her that something bad had happened. What DS Baxter had actually told her was that they would be taking David’s disappearance seriously, but to hold out hope that the call had been unnecessary. She should have felt relieved but instead she felt a crushing sense of anti-climax. What was she meant to do now? David was still missing, now it was simply official. She couldn’t move forwards and she couldn’t travel back in time; she was caught in limbo.
Irene took Jo by the arm and led her back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us another cuppa,’ she said.
Jo didn’t argue when Irene yanked a half-full mug of tea from her grasp – her mother-in-law clearly needed to keep busy, and if making a fresh brew that no one wanted was Irene’s way of coping then so be it. They would all have to find their own ways of