‘You know me. Good old reliable Joe.’

‘Seriously, you look exhausted. I’m worried about you.’

‘I’ll sleep a lot better when Ben resurfaces and I can get my life back.’

‘But that could be weeks, months, who knows how long?’ Mel said. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t rely on that.’

‘Is there anything you can remember about him that will help me to find out where he is? Anything he said when you were . . . together?’

‘He might go back to Sunderland, to his mum.’

‘Do you know whereabouts she lives in Sunderland?’

She took a sip of her G & T, shaking her head.

‘No idea, never been there.’ She put her hand on my arm. ‘Come on, let’s sit down for a bit. You look dead on your feet.’

I followed her into the lounge and she flicked the TV on as the ten o’clock news started. As we sat side by side on the sofa I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge her body language. She was in her usual spot in her usual position, collapsed back into the cushions with one foot tucked under her, glass in hand. But there was a stiffness in her shoulders, like she was wound too tight.

Both our glasses were empty by the time the national weather came on at 10.25 p.m.

‘I’m going up.’ Mel said. ‘You coming, love?’

‘In a bit.’

‘Don’t be too long.’

I muted the TV and sipped my wine, listening to the creak of the stairs as she went up, the click of a light switch, the toilet flushing, a tap running, the buzz of an electric toothbrush, soft steps across the landing. A few more minutes and she would be settled in bed. Good.

I stood quietly, unmuted the TV and went out into the hallway.

Chapter 49

49

There were three mobile numbers among the eight I had copied from Mel’s phone to mine. That seemed to make sense: Beth had told me that Ben had three mobile phones. An iPhone for work, another for personal use and his third phone – the one she had brandished in the pub, full of naked pictures of Mel. All of the landlines were central London numbers, but only one looked familiar. Ringing them would have to wait until tomorrow when Mel had gone to work.

Instead I topped up my glass and opened the picture message from Mel’s secret mobile. She was holding the phone out with her right hand, left arm cupped under her breasts, hair falling forward around her smiling face. She looked so happy, so smiley, so good. She’d always looked good, clothes on or off. The first time I’d seen her naked it had taken my breath away. Now, more than a decade later, the effect was the same – but this time it was like a punch under the heart, knocking the wind out of me.