8.55 a.m.

The house phone rang. Hardly anyone rang that these days. He dived over to the dresser, where it sat, and snatched the receiver off the cradle. Eden?

It was her mother, wondering if she had turned up.

‘No, Margaret,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’

‘Will you tell me when she does? I’m really worried about her.’

‘Of course I will, Mags,’ he assured her in his warmest, most wonderful and caring son-in-law voice. ‘You’ll be the first.’

‘Have you called the police?’

‘No, but I’m thinking about it if she doesn’t turn up soon, as I just told you.’

Ending the call, promising again to let her know the moment he heard anything, he stared at the address book. There was no one else he could think of. He’d exhausted all the possibilities. Hadn’t he?

Who hadn’t he thought of? What hadn’t he thought of?

Through the window on to their small rear garden, he could see a bird drinking from the ornamental birdbath that Eden topped up with water every day. Then Reggie began whinging. ‘Way past breakfast time, eh?’ Niall said. Reluctantly slipping off his stool, he walked over to the cupboard where Eden kept the pouches of cat food, took one out and opened it. Reggie leaped onto the draining board and carried on whining and trying to eat while he emptied the contents into the red bowl.

He put the bowl on the floor, went back to his bar stool and sipped his coffee. Then he noticed that the finger he’d cut last night was bleeding again – he must have done it opening the cat food. Sucking it, he decided maybe it was time to call the police. On the other hand, perhaps he should give her a little longer. See if she turned up to work today, first?

He decided to get some exercise, go for a bike ride down to the seafront, and give her time to make contact. If not, when he came back he’d call her work number. If she hadn’t gone into work – she’d told him she had a really busy day with a new computer system being installed – then he would really start to worry.

10

Monday 2 September

An hour later, shortly after 10.15 a.m., with still no sign of Eden, he ate a few mouthfuls of cereal, called her mobile once more – no dice – and then her direct work line. It went to voicemail. Next, he called the main switchboard of the Mutual Occidental Insurance Company and, when it was answered, asked if the operator could locate his wife, telling her he’d already tried her direct line.

After putting him on hold while she tried several different departments where Eden might be, the woman told him that no one had seen her yet, although, she added helpfully, she had been expected in for an 8.30 a.m. meeting.

Niall thanked her and ended the call. Shit. He tried to think back clearly to yesterday afternoon. But his mind was in turmoil. Cat litter. Was he going crazy? They’d been squabbling in the car, hadn’t they, just petty stuff? He’d dropped her off at Tesco to buy cat litter. Hadn’t he?