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Chapters (62)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. Contents
  4. About the Author
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Your Worst Nightmare
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. The Answer to All Your Prayers
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. Somebody Else’s Child
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. Sunlight on Water
  60. July
  61. September
  62. Acknowledgements

Has she had one glass or two? Did she open the bottle this evening as she was making Evan’s tea or was it already open in the fridge? She takes a sip. The wine is unpleasant – sour and warmed to room temperature. Maybe a couple of ice cubes will make it more drinkable.

She wanders to the kitchen. Behind her, the distinctive music over the final credits begins, so it must be 8.30 p.m. Can that be right? So why is Matt not home? The kitchen clock confirms the time, and Claire is suddenly worried. The memory of the night that Evan went missing comes back to her: the slow sinking in of the undeniable truth, the hopeless wait for the ending of anxiety, the dark cloud of despair as reality was faced. Maybe Matt’s been in an accident. Should she be ringing hospitals? She takes ice cubes from the freezer and drops them in her drink. Of course he’s fine. There’ll have been some hold-up on the roads. If he’s passing Sainsbury’s, he could pick up a bottle of wine. And a ready meal from their chiller cabinets, or he could bring a takeaway. They haven’t had Chinese in ages. He could call in there.

But what if . . .? Does history repeat itself? Does lightning strike twice? Of course it does, every day. She dials his number, but his phone is busy, and though he’s got call waiting, he doesn’t take her call. In the next ten minutes, she tries twice more. Matt’s number is still engaged.

Twenty minutes later he walks in the door, and it’s as if he’s read her mind. He’s carrying a bottle of white wine, and a carrier bag from the Golden Wok.

Now he’s safely home, she doesn’t care enough about his lateness to nag, but what else is there to say?

‘You’re late.’

He puts his lips on her cheek, but holds his body away from her, seeming reluctant to be touched.

‘Traffic,’ he says. ‘Nightmare.’ He holds up the bag of takeaway. The smell is savoury, garlicky and good, and her stomach rumbles. ‘I thought you wouldn’t have eaten.’ He puts the bottle in her hand, and she feels a flash of anger, that he thinks she can be appeased with such a humble prize. But he’s right, she can be, and she is. ‘Singapore noodles, king prawns with ginger and spring onions and veggie spring rolls. You go and sit. I’ll bring it through.’

They eat in silence, letting Channel 4 do the talking, one of those social issues documentaries that Matt enjoys. Claire doesn’t give a damn what’s on; the food’s tasty, and when she’s finished her wine, another bottle’s waiting. She may not drink more anyway. Half the comfort lies in knowing that if she wanted to, she could.