He rested his portfolio against the wall, his chances of a job at the cutting-edge firm of architects blown by his early departure. The only sound was the shifting of gears as his taxi drove off and the thrum of the lawn mower next door.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs and called again. “Liv.” A pause. “Hello? Anyone home?” But the house had the feel of emptied pockets about it.

The edge of worry that had haunted his journey home—on the Tube, the broken-down c2c train that had sat on the track for what felt like hours and the car ride from the station—tipped into a creeping kind of panic.

Where is Olivia?

He popped his head around the study door and saw her handbag hanging on the chair. She had not mentioned what she was doing today. He searched his memory, sifting out clues. Last night, she’d said something about a briefing from a client, but he’d tuned out after that.

Her mobile phone was still off. After Aster’s frantic call, he’d tried his wife every ten minutes, with no success. But the car was in the drive so she couldn’t have gone far.

For the first time, he appreciated the enormity of moving to a place without friends or family. He’d had no one he could ask to check on the children.

Aster was old enough to look after Evan, but the incident with the grill had made him doubt the wisdom of leaving them alone. He wasn’t convinced his daughter could be trusted.

Back in Cheshire, a few weeks before they had moved, he and Liv had spent the evening at a gallery opening. Aster was supposed to be babysitting. Instead she had met friends at a roller-skating rink and left her sleeping brother on his own. Her irresponsible behavior had been discovered only because he and Liv had argued and come home early.

And his daughter had a teenager’s flair for exaggeration. He’d fully expected to find his wife at home, full of apologies. But there was no sign of her. Fear stroked its fingers across his neck.

Evan burst in, face pink, hair damp. He was wearing his goalie gloves. “Hi, Dad. I was in the garden. Heard you shouting. I’m hungry. Where’s Mum?”

“I don’t know, son.” Garrick glanced at his watch. “Where’s Aster?”

Evan flushed. “I don’t know.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “Has she gone out, too?”

Evan scratched his head. “I’m hungry, Dad. Can I have something to eat?”

“For Christ’s sake, I can’t believe she left you by yourself again.” He sounded angrier than he meant to and knew he was projecting it onto the wrong target. He forced himself to calm down and assess the facts.