Plan B (18 page)

By six o’clock I realised I was not going back to sleep, so I opened all the shutters and watched the sun rise over the front garden. The sky was dotted with little wisps of pink cloud. The air was still and crisp. This was the best time of day, and I rarely saw it. I filled the coffee machine with water, spooned ground coffee into the filter, right up to the brim, and listened as it began to splutter and drip. I stood in the French windows that led from the kitchen into the front yard, and waited for Matt. From time to time, I heard a motor approaching, but it was never him. Each time I knew, almost immediately, that it was not Matt’s car, because of the sound of the engine, or because the driver was not slowing down, but still, each time I hoped. I gave half-hearted waves to neighbouring farmers on their way to the fields in their tractors. I told myself that he would come back. He had to be all right. If he wasn’t, he would have found a way to let me know.

Our relationship had never been tested. It had been balanced and good humoured. It was impossible for me to tell what other people’s relationships were like, but I thought we were exceptionally lucky with our equilibrium. That suited me; but it meant that I had no experience of dealing with an upset like this. Matt had come home later than planned many times in the years that I had known him, but each time he had called to let me know. I was on unfamiliar territory, and I didn’t know what to do. I tried not to panic. I knew I would hear from him.

I stood outside, looking over the gate, and cradled my coffee in my hands. The morning was filled with the noises of the countryside. I focused on the sounds. A cock crowed up the road. A cow lowed, surprisingly loudly, on the hillside. Tractors were rumbling in the distance. The birds were twittering everywhere. When we moved here I thought that living in the country was going to be deathly dull. It had been, at first. I had only stuck it out because of Alice. I used to lie in bed at night thinking of home and family, and wake up in the morning still thinking of them. I had missed Matt for every second that he was away, even though I had always known that I shared him with his job.

In fact, this life was anything but dull. Country life, it seemed to me, could be more interesting and fulfilling than city life. In Brighton, I used to put Alice to bed, make myself some dinner, and switch the television on. It would stay on all evening, as a matter of course. I would do the ironing in front of it, flick through the paper with half an eye on
EastEnders
, and drink my nightly cup of mint tea while watching a documentary about people moving to France. Now, I tucked Alice up at half past eight and went straight outdoors. I tended my garden with the baby monitor within earshot. I had learned how to prune, how to look after roses, when to pick the cherries. I looked after the house, even though half of it was an abandoned building site. I still missed Matt when he was gone. Our life here was not properly established yet. When Matt managed to work from home, we would be able to settle down properly.

A car came round the corner. I held my breath and waited. It slowed down. I exhaled.

Matt’s car was black but this was red. It was Patrick’s car. He stopped and waved. ‘
Ça va?
’ he asked, curious.

I tilted my head. ‘
J’attend mon mari
,’ I told him. I realised instantly how bad this sounded. A woman standing at her front gate at half past six in the morning, waiting for a wayward husband who had been out all night. ‘He missed his flight from London yesterday evening,’ I improvised, praying that this was true.

‘When he gets back, you give him a good kick,’ Patrick suggested, and drove on, his hand waving back at me through the open window. I smiled. Of course Matt would arrive. But, equally, he was not going to turn up now. The first flight was not until a quarter to nine. He could not land in Bordeaux before eleven fifteen. I was going to have to wait.

I tried his mobile again. It was still turned off.

‘How long?’ Bella demanded.

‘Two days,’ I admitted. I twiddled my hair. Matt was not back. The heat was unforgiving, and I was possessed. Alice was whingeing for a biscuit and a DVD, and I was ignoring her. I had been ignoring her for two days.

‘And what have you been doing? Standing at your gate, looking hopefully at every car that’s come past?’

‘No. Well, yes, a bit. But I’ve called all the hospitals in London and Bordeaux, called the airline to see if he was on the flight, which he wasn’t. So I know he never left London. I rang Scotland Yard. I tried to get hold of a neighbour at his flat to get them to go and ring the doorbell but I couldn’t find anybody because I don’t seem to have the address. I know I did have it but it’s gone.’

‘He’s not answering the phone there?’

‘The flat hasn’t got a landline. He just uses his mobile.’

‘And you’ve left messages on it.’

‘A million.’

‘Work?’

‘I’ve only got his direct line there. It goes straight to voicemail. I’ve been ringing and ringing just to hear his voice. He says, ‘Smith here.’ He’s always said that. It’s always made me laugh. Obviously I’ve left hundreds of messages.’

‘The switchboard? Colleagues? That bloke Peter works in his building, doesn’t he?’

‘Near it. But it’s the weekend and I haven’t got his home number. In fact I have no numbers for anyone who knows Matt because he keeps them all on his mobile. The switchboard aren’t interested. She just told me to try him on Monday.’ I tried to quell my panic, again. I knew that Matt was dead, and I was trying to keep myself afloat.

‘That’s tomorrow,’ said Bella. ‘Well, if he goes to work tomorrow, we’ll catch him.’

‘What?’ I was surprised. ‘Of course he won’t go to work tomorrow. That’s the whole point, Bella. Something dreadful has happened.’

‘You think he’s died?’

I took a couple of half hysterical, gasping breaths. ‘Yes!’ I said. ‘I know he’s dead. He’s lying in his flat all alone and
I don’t know what I’m going to do
.’

There was a short pause.

‘Not necessarily,’ said Bella. ‘I have to admit that it’s a possibility, and all you’ve got to do is to find the address and we’ll get the police to go round and break in. But he hasn’t been in an accident because I know you’ll have done a thorough job of calling the hospitals and the police. So we can rule that out. I have to say, I think he’s probably fine. He might be having a crisis. It happens all the time.’

I frowned at the phone. ‘Don’t be stupid. Matt’s not like that. He’s a family man. He wouldn’t have a crisis.’

I wanted this subject firmly closed, because I had run through the other possibilities and I didn’t like them. He could have been kidnapped, though by whom and for what reason I could not imagine. He could have walked away from an accident with a head injury and amnesia. Or he could, as Bella said, have had a crisis.

He could have jumped off one of the London bridges, or under a train. There were endless possibilities.

He could not. Matt could not have done that.

‘You’re probably right,’ Bella said quickly. ‘Look, I’ve got no idea, have I, and speculating isn’t going to get us very far. I’m coming out. I’ll get a flight today and a taxi from the airport.’

‘It’ll be far too expensive,’ I objected.

‘It’ll be fine. You stay there and keep it together till I arrive. Why did you wait two days to tell me? I’ll get Charlotte to go to Matt’s office tomorrow and see if they’ve seen him.’

‘If you can tear her away from her West End debut.’

‘Mmm. She’s very much “resting” at the moment. What about his family? Could you contact them?’

‘Matt hasn’t got any family,’ I reminded her. ‘He’s estranged from his parents and he’s an only child. Alice and I are Matt’s family. You know that.’

‘I do, I do. There must be a number for his folks somewhere, though. There are degrees of estrangement. He’s still got their address. He must have. See if you can dig it out and call them. I’m sure they’d like to know they’ve got a granddaughter. And I bet they know it already. I bet he sends them Christmas cards on the sly.’

I realised that I knew next to nobody in Matt’s life. I wondered whether he had had some sort of breakdown. I wondered whether I had failed him.

I grew fed up with pacing around the house pretending that everything was about to be fine. As soon I knew that Bella was coming out, I scooped Alice up and drove to Aurillon, preparing to confide in Andy and Fiona. I dreaded this. I felt as if I was going to see them to announce Matt’s death. I had spent two days hesitating to inflict this on anyone.

It was a sweltering day with barely a breeze to relieve the heat. I switched the car’s air conditioning on at full blast. My hands shook as I placed my phone on the dashboard. As I drove, as slowly and carefully as I could, I glanced at it every few seconds, checking for reception. As soon as ‘SFR’ flashed up on the screen, I pulled over and stared at the handset, willing the message icon to appear. When I looked out of the window, I noticed that the maize, now over six feet tall, was beginning to go brown. I wondered briefly why they didn’t harvest it when it was green.

I would have embraced a brief text message if it had said that Matt was all right. I did not care where he was or what he had been doing, as long as he was safe. I could no longer imagine any feasible possibilities. ‘Abducted by aliens. On Venus. Back tomorrow. Love you.’

There was a voice message, but it was from Fiona. I listened, distracted, as she asked me to back her up. ‘I’ve told Andy we’re shopping this afternoon. Is that all right, Emma? Sorry to involve you. If we run into you, all you have to do is agree with whatever I say. Thanks, love. I know I can count on you.’

I noted the view from their courtyard. It was breathtaking. For a moment I scanned the roads around to see if I could spot Matt’s car. Both Andy’s and Fiona’s cars were there. The front door was slightly open. Alice and I stepped out of the intense dry heat and into the cool of the house.

‘Hello?’ I shouted. My voice sounded too loud. The house was dark, and silent.

‘Auntie Fifi?’ yelled Alice. ‘Are here!’ She rushed into the hall, and then into every room on the ground floor. I thought she was desperate to be with someone who wasn’t me.

‘Come back, Alice,’ I instructed her nervously. I did not want her poking about in a house where an infidelity might be in progress. ‘We’ll have a look in the garden.’

We tiptoed to the back door, and pushed it open. The garden was long and manicured. Even though it had not rained for nearly two months, the grass was green and lush. The flower beds were perfectly neat and tidy and the few trees were pruned and tamed. Andy and Fiona were both leaning back on wooden sun loungers in the full glare of the sun. A bottle of sunscreen lay on its side between them, its contents seeping into the grass. Andy wore a pair of long shorts, and Fiona was trim in a leopard-print bikini. They were both sipping from champagne glasses. Their hair stuck to their foreheads in the heat.

‘My two favourite girls!’ Andy bellowed. He held up his drink. ‘Come and join us. We’re on the bubbly.’

‘What’s the celebration?’ I asked, trying to pull myself out of my own misery. I was scared, anticipating sharing my secret. My heart began thumping and my hands clenched into fists of their own accord.

Fiona shrugged. ‘Does there have to be one?’

‘The occasion,’ Andy announced, ‘is a property deal. You see, they say the UK housing market’s levelled off. Interest rates going up, bubble about to burst, blah blah blah. So it seemed like the right time to offload a couple of my little gems. Item one: an entire house in a recently gentrified part of west London. Purchased six years ago for one hundred and ninety-five thousand pounds, if you can imagine it. Back then, it was in the middle of ganglands, drug deals going off everywhere, shootings, you name it. Nowadays, the trustafarians of Notting Hill are falling over each other to move in there. A lick of paint, sanded floorboards, magnolia walls, and bob’s your uncle. Exchanged on it today – total profit, after expenses, an impressive seven hundred and thirty-five grand, give or take.’

Fiona looked at me and yawned ostentatiously. Andy pointed a thumb at her. ‘The cheek of the woman! Happy enough to go out spending the proceeds, aren’t you, my angel? Emma, I absolutely insist that you join us. I’ll fetch you a glass. Then I’ll tell you about item two, touch wood. It’s not signed and sealed as yet. Where’s your old man? Alice, angel, some lemonade? Choccy biccy?’

Alice widened her eyes. I rarely allowed her lemonade, and chocolate biscuits were restricted to the car on the way home from school, because she was always exhausted. She had not had a chocolate biscuit for nearly five weeks. I nodded. ‘Go on then,’ I told her, and she trotted happily after Andy, back into the house. I sat on Andy’s sun lounger. As soon as they were indoors, Fiona leaned forward.

‘Got my message?’ she asked, in a low voice.

‘Yes,’ I told her blankly. ‘Shopping this afternoon. That’s fine.’

She looked at me. ‘Ems, what’s wrong?’ I sighed, and shook my head. I couldn’t bear to tell her. ‘What is it? Something’s up, I can see it in your face. Tell me.’

‘Oh, Fi,’ I said, quietly. ‘I’m sorry to do this to you. It’s Matt. He’s gone missing.’

I was about to explain when Andy came back. He handed me my drink and stood back. When I looked at his face, I saw that his mood had changed. His face was tight and suspicious.

‘Ladies?’ he said, in a small voice. ‘Ladies, could I put a question to you both?’ We stared at him. I nodded. ‘Why,’ he continued, ‘in the kitchen, why did young Alice just ask me the following question? To quote her verbatim: “Uncle Andy, why Auntie Fifi needs dirty weekend with gardener?”’ He looked hard at Fiona. ‘Would somebody care to enlighten me?’

I jumped into action before she could say anything. ‘Oh, Andy,’ I said, with a little laugh. ‘Did she say that? It was a game we were playing when Fi was over last week. We were talking about the trip to Paris she’s planning with the girls. Fi said from the way you’d reacted anyone would think she was off on a dirty weekend with the gardener. And Alice was playing with her Buzz Lightyear, and she picked up on the phrase. That’s what small children do.’ I started giggling. I had always prided myself on not getting involved in silly lies. But now Matt was missing and I didn’t care what I said. I supposed I was half hysterical. ‘She got a laugh when she repeated it, so now she says it to anyone who’ll listen.’