‘Hello, sorry to bother you but what time did the London flight leave this morning?’

The girl in the navy jacket and red cravat looked up from her crossword and removed her glasses. ‘Left on time, eight twenty.’

‘Can you tell me please if a Peter Gibson boarded this morning?’

The check-in girl shook her head. ‘Sorry, I can’t give out that kind of information.’

‘But he’s my partner, er, husband,’ said Fiona, deciding that embellishing her status might help.

‘Sorry, not allowed.’ She put on her glasses again and returned to her crossword.

Fiona opened her mouth to ask another question but realised there was no point. She trudged back out of the terminal and headed towards her car. Once again she tapped out his number on her mobile phone and listened. ‘Hi, Pete here. Leave a message and I’ll get right back.’

She stood by her car and shouted at the phone. ‘Pete, where the hell are you? Ring me!’

Between two terminal buildings and over the river she could see Fife bathed in the morning sunshine. This was the sort of day she loved Dundee, with its vista over the water to the low rolling hills on the other side. But there was no time to linger; she needed to get back to Jamie.

Fiona was about to get into her car when she noticed two policemen standing by a red vehicle at the other end of the car park. One was peering inside as the other circled the car, taking down details.

God, she thought, that’s Pete’s car. He must have been on the flight after all. She looked at her watch. If she alerted the policemen to where she thought he was going, could they stop him? Stop him boarding the next Melbourne flight? But why would they do that? Apart from abandoning his car, he had done nothing criminal.

She climbed into the driver’s seat and sat back, mulling over whether to talk to the policemen. She would look pretty foolish if there were some plausible explanation for his disappearance. After all, he loved her, didn’t he? And she loved him; he had made her life worth living again since Iain’s death.

Fiona started the engine and drove slowly towards the policemen, winding down her window as she approached. She smiled and attempted a casual tone. ‘Has someone forgotten they’re in the short term car park?’

‘No, that’d be for the wardens, not the police,’ said the older man, bending down at the back of the car and scribbling in his notepad. The younger man sidled over and winked. ‘Stolen. Been found at last.’ Then he coughed and turned away as the older man stood up.