TARA TRIED JOSH’S MOBILE AGAIN. STILL NO ANSWER. She’d spoken to him yesterday afternoon when he’d arrived in Adelaide but hadn’t been able to catch him today. Bloody talkfests. Why did they start them with a Saturday conference dinner and opening discussions on a Sunday? Josh should get paid more for that. She’d remind him to ask about flexi-time.

Alone in the house with the children fast asleep, Tara checked and rechecked the locks. Tara hadn’t wanted him to go away at all. A car revved out on the dark street and she jumped. On her mobile, she googled the website for the hotel in Adelaide and rang the front desk.

‘Can you please put me through to one of your guests, Josh Murphy?’

‘Please wait while I check.’ Tara could hear the clicking of keys on a keyboard then: ‘I’m sorry, we have no guest registered under that name.’

‘Um, maybe it’s in a group booking. It’s the trade policy group from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in Canberra.’

Fuck, hotel receptions were so incompetent these days. Now that everyone had mobile phones, people didn’t ring the switchboard anymore and the staff could barely use the telephone system. She’d cross this hotel chain off her list when booking events next year.

‘Right, yes, I can see the group booking. I’m sorry, there’s still no-one by that name.’

‘Really? Josh Murphy?’

‘I’m sorry. Can I put you through to someone else, madam?’

‘No, thanks.’

Tara hung up and frowned at the hotel picture on her screen. Where the fuck was Josh? He’d definitely said he was staying at this hotel. Scrolling through her emails, she found the e-ticket. A return flight to Adelaide. He’d forwarded it to her so she and the girls could pick him up from the airport on Thursday. But no email about the hotel reservation.

That sick feeling from Bella’s disappearance had combined with the sick feeling from the interview and she’d been shitting diarrhoea all day. And now this. Why would he stay somewhere separate to the rest of the delegation? Josh didn’t know anyone in Adelaide. Was he having an affair?

Maybe peppermint tea would settle her stomach. Tara switched on the kettle, fumbled with the teabags and sent them scattering across the floor. Shame she was still breastfeeding; she could do with a large slug of Baileys to settle her nerves. Perhaps she could have a small one. Tara reached up to the cupboard above the fridge, quickly uncapped the lid and took a swig directly from the bottle.