There had been little improvement, however, in Dan’s popularity on the home front. Communication with Jackie had been nonexistent, even though Josh had found a place next to a lone, windswept silver birch a hundred yards straight up the hill from the back of the cottage where three blips of reception could be achieved on a mobile phone. Every night, Dan would walk the dogs up to the tree and call the house in Clapham. Sometimes he spoke to Battersea Gran, with whom he had long and informative conversations; sometimes it was Millie or Nina, both of whom displayed little interest at hearing their father’s voice at the other end of the line. But he never got to speak to Jackie. He had tried to call her at work, but she was never there, the first week being out at business meetings and the second week in Paris. He left voicemail messages on her mobile that she never answered, although she did eventually reply to a text. It read only Taking Josh with you was a clever move.

The message upset him greatly. He hadn’t realized until then that there was this measure of vindictiveness about their relationship. Okay, they had had their disagreements and arguments, but that kind of statement was more in tune with a couple getting a divorce and wrangling over the custody of their children. He sent her another text saying that it had been Josh’s decision to come with him, that Josh was now working in a good job and making good money, and that she would be extremely proud of him, because he certainly was. Dan decided to leave it at that, hoping that she would now be satisfied that there had been no scheming rationale behind the move to take Josh.

Thereafter, he did continue to call her every second night, but it was always Battersea Gran, Millie, or Nina who answered the telephone. Then, one evening, as he picked his way down the hill in the dark, following the winding sheep track through the heather, it dawned on him that, in all their years of marriage, he had never gone so long without speaking to his wife.

18

Dan had no idea that the Seascape refrigerated van was parked at the back of the Trenchards’ house. He had become used to measuring his steps in the darkness of the early morning—up the road, into the courtyard, and across to the back door—but on this occasion, it was only a sixth sense that stopped him from slamming his face into the rear door of the vehicle. He skirted around it and entered the house. Katie was standing by the Rayburn, her mouth stretched open in a long, shuddering yawn.

“Everything all right?” Dan asked, sensing that there was something amiss.