On Tuesday morning she prepared breakfast for herself, thinking that it would be unlucky to cook for him too, but hoping, praying that he would walk in. At eight she telephoned the police station. She had not eaten her breakfast. The voice at the end of the telephone was bland, but she imagined that there was satisfaction in it, imagined almost that it was gloating. She was frightened that they would never find Terry, that he had had an accident, that he would never come home, but she was more frightened about what would happen if they did find him.

She had planned to watch the film in the village hall. She had thought that Terry would enjoy it. Instead she stayed in, waiting for something to happen.

Rob Earl woke that morning with a sense of energy and decision, but lay back on the untidy bed, wishing that he still shared the room with the girlfriend who had usually been persuaded to get up first to make the tea. He missed her about the place and she had been obliging about cooking breakfast and making tea, a good-natured girl. It had been a convenient arrangement but in some respects it was perhaps just as well that she had left. She had started to resent the birdwatching and to grow tedious on the subject of other friends who were getting married and having babies. At times like this, though, he missed her.

It had been her room first, and he had not changed it when she went. The plants had died and been thrown away eventually, but the arty prints on the walls, the big bowl of dried flowers and grasses standing in the empty fireplace, even some of the books and records had belonged to her. He had imposed a smell of tobacco, but little else. She had left, quite suddenly, on a foggy autumn morning, without giving an explanation. He had thought her devoted and had been, for a while, bereft. Not only his pride had been hurt. It was not until later, when he met her again, that he had understood why she walked out in that way.

The door bell rang and he went downstairs, still dressed only in underpants, to open it. Tina stood there and walked into the shabby hall unmoved, but unamused by his lack of clothes.

“I didn’t think you’d be ready,” she said sternly. She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and tight jeans tucked into long, black leather boots. She was carrying a sleeping bag, but had no other luggage.

He had forgotten that she would be coming and that at a bird club meeting the night before he had suggested that they go together to Rushy. She had not been invited specifically to Ella’s party, but knew that Ella would ask her if she was at the film. He knew from experience that it was much easier to hitch-hike if he had a girl with him, and he needed to get to Rushy quickly.