The Missing Husband. Amanda Brooke
why couldn’t she?
‘You are such a child, Joanne Taylor,’ she told herself. ‘Stop sulking.’
She picked up her phone and dialled but the call was immediately put through to voicemail. Jo hung up, not sure what she should say. She couldn’t stop thinking about her husband’s mysterious plans and was desperate to know what they were. Her obstinacy was showing again but this time it was working in David’s favour – she wasn’t going to give up that easily. She had started to compose a text message when her mobile burst into life.
‘David?’
‘No, it’s Lauren,’ came a cheerful, almost lyrical voice.
Lauren was Jo’s favourite and only niece and, at fifteen years old, it was unlikely to be a social call. ‘What are you after?’ Jo demanded.
‘Who says I’m after anything?’
‘What are you after, Lauren?’
Lauren sighed heavily and Jo imagined her raising her eyes to the heavens. ‘I’ve been picked for the Christmas pantomime.’
‘And?’
‘I need to design and make my own costume.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Jo said dismissively.
‘Jo …’
‘What?’ Jo asked, tapping her keyboard loudly to let Lauren know she was busy and in no mood for playing games.
‘I was hoping my most favourite, most talented aunt in all the world would help me. Mum’s hopeless at that sort of thing,’ whined Lauren as the child within let herself be known. ‘Please, Jojo.’
‘I presume by help you mean that I do everything and you take the credit?’
‘Thank yoooooo!’ Lauren squealed.
Jo was laughing too much to point out she hadn’t agreed to help yet but they both knew she would. Lauren was right: Steph would be hopeless.
With the arrangements made and the call ended, Jo sat staring at her mobile. There was another matter that took precedence over any school production. She was going to take her time composing a text message to David and she was going to make every word count.
The message had been exceptionally long in its early drafts but by the time Jo was ready to press send, it was direct and to the point.
Sorry, hope you didn’t get too wet.
Will pick you up from Lime St if you want.
What plans?!!?
J x
Her finger hovered over the send button as she recalled lying in bed that morning listening to him leave. They were at loggerheads with each other but Jo had never lost sight of the one thing that still held true. She inserted a new line.
I do love you.
Rather than wait for an immediate response, which was unlikely given that David would be engrossed in his seminar again, Jo slipped her phone out of sight in her handbag. Even without knowing his reaction, the act of sending the text message alone gave Jo a sense of release and the impetus to focus fully on her work for the first time that day.
‘Ready to sign these?’ Kelly asked. She slipped into the office while Jo was poring over the draft minutes of a meeting she had attended the week before, and when Jo looked up, she was surprised to discover the office awash in artificial lighting. Outside, sullen clouds had drawn a steel grey curtain across the sky, bringing a premature end to the day.
‘What time is it?’
Handing over a folder, Kelly said, ‘It’s gone five. I was planning on leaving soon if that’s OK?’
‘Yes, of course. I should be going too,’ Jo said, opening the folder and skimming through the letter Kelly had prepared for Simon Harrison. She had already seen the draft and made a few corrections and the version in front of her was almost perfect except that there was a comma where there should have been a full stop. She glared at the offending punctuation mark and willed herself to let it go. She needed to leave soon so she would have time to call in at the supermarket on her way home to pick up ingredients for the special supper she was planning for David.
‘What have I missed?’ Kelly asked, picking up on Jo’s inner turmoil.
‘Full stop,’ Jo said regretfully, pointing out the error.
‘I’ll be two minutes.’
Jo pulled the folder out of Kelly’s reach. ‘Oh, no, I’m the one being picky. I’ll pull the file up and amend it myself. You go.’
Kelly feigned an objection but didn’t put up much of a fight. She had her coat on and was waving goodbye by the time Jo had sent the amended letter to the printer. It was a two-minute job and in no time at all Jo was pulling on her own coat. Only when all her work had been dispensed with for the day did she allow herself to check her phone. Her heart fluttered a little when she saw the message alert.
No need for a lift. Will make my own way.
Phone about to die so switching off.
D x
It was impossible to gauge from his pithy reply if his refusal to accept a lift was due to his own stubbornness – he could be guilty of that too – or because he was trying to make amends. She would also have felt better if he had said he loved her too but all of that didn’t matter: they were reaching a turning point; she could feel it.
The normally harsh street lighting along Beaumont Avenue had been muted by an undulating mist that was hopefully the last damp remnant of the day’s storm. The headlights of Jo’s car picked up a golden river of sodden autumn leaves that flowed along the tree-lined avenue, leaving no distinction between grass verge and pavement as she pulled into the drive.
Their house was a traditional 1930s semi with an imposing black-and-white facade and it had been a little worn at the edges when they had first moved in five years earlier. Cutting off the engine, Jo did her best to ignore the shadows that obscured its newly restored splendour and concentrated instead on the warmth borrowed from the subdued streetlamps and the turning leaves.
The autumnal hues had given a false sense of security and the biting wind took her breath away as Jo scurried from the car to the front door. The stained glass window had given up its rainbow colours for the softer reflections of orange and gold but Jo was more intent on getting inside the house than marvelling at the beauty of its external features.
The central heating was already on but it wasn’t until Jo had switched on every light on her way through to the kitchen that she felt at home. It drove David mad when she left so many lights blazing, especially when the fuel bills came in, but while Jo accepted they could perhaps be more efficient, it was a luxury she was willing to pay for. A house full of light and warmth felt like a welcoming embrace and she had absolutely no doubt David would be glad of it tonight.
The kitchen had once been long and narrow but they had knocked it through to the adjoining reception room to create a space that felt open and modern. The grey and turquoise colour scheme in the newly installed kitchen had been extended into the dining area where Jo dropped her handbag before setting about unpacking her shopping. She had almost two hours to prepare dinner and get ready. Plenty of time, she told herself. And then the phone rang.
‘Hi,’ Steph chirped. ‘Are you busy?’
Jo scanned the counter where she had just lined up all the ingredients for a steak and ale pie. ‘Sort of. I’m in the middle of cooking supper,’ she said, hoping her sister would take the hint.
‘Oh, well I won’t keep you then.’