He was well aware she had more income from a portfolio of rental properties she’d built up before they’d met, from savvy investments she’d made from her savings. But they’d always agreed she shouldn’t dig into them, and he had no involvement in how she ran that part of her finances, or any of their finances in truth. He told her he wanted their basic food and limited treats – including booze – to come from whatever pittance he got from journeyman cabbing. It was another serious bone of contention, with Eden telling him that his idea of the man being the family breadwinner was just ridiculously old-fashioned – and insulting.

Ever since his printing business had gone under, earlier this year, he’d been driving his mate Mark Tuckwell’s Skoda taxi on a casual basis, in the hours Mark didn’t want to work. Which was mostly nights through into early morning. Picking up drunks, with the ever-present risk of them projectile vomiting and costing him a £350 clean-up. As well as the occasional fare doing a runner.

He made his way over towards the huge M&S store, but even from a hundred yards away he could see it was closed. No sign of Eden anywhere. He phoned her again. Unavailable. He texted her and WhatsApped her, with the same message. She had said there was some charge on her phone. She must have switched it on by now if she was OK?

Eden, this is not funny, where the hell are you? I’m worried.

He returned to the BMW and waited. Another ten minutes. Fifteen. The car park was emptying. Shit, it was now 4.25 p.m.

He sat in the car and tried to think through the possibilities of where she could be.

Kidnapped on her way to the store, or in the store?

Ridiculous.

Came out of the store lugging a heavy sack of cat litter and couldn’t find him?

She’d have called or texted him, surely?

Suddenly taken ill?

Passed out somewhere?

They’d searched the store.

Babes, come on, where are you?

He stopped to think. Eden, with her Irish ancestry, had a fiery temper. There had been a few times in the past when they’d had full-blown rows over seemingly nothing, driving somewhere, when she’d told him to stop, got out of the car and taken a taxi home.

He paused for a moment. But they hadn’t rowed today, not really, surely? For God’s sake, cat litter? But he knew she was independent and spontaneous. Could she have bumped into a friend in the store and asked for a lift home?

She’d done that, also, once before after they’d had an argument. But today it hadn’t been like that.

Maybe if he drove home, he’d find her there, and she’d have a perfectly rational explanation – one he’d overlooked? Although, right now, he couldn’t think what.

He started the engine and drove an entire circuit of the car park, including checking the service areas behind the stores.