‘Maybe he’s gone on holiday. Somewhere hot and sunny. Would you blame him? The weather’s ghastly.’

It was her next suggestion that threw me. It fed already-growing suspicions. ‘Why don’t you try his friend Oliver? I’m sure he’d know where he’s got to. They were planning a bender on Christmas Eve.’ I wasn’t sure how she knew Oliver but why didn’t I know he was meeting Mitch on Christmas Eve?

As I would have been on my way back up to Durham, it might have been an oversight. But now it felt more than a coincidence that neither Oliver nor my boyfriend had thought to tell me.

26

Rebecca

Friday evenings soon became a date in the diary with James. He would wait patiently for me in the hotel round the corner from the gallery.

I didn’t suffer from guilt. It felt good to have fun and closeness with someone while my broken heart longed to mend. At first it seemed this might be possible.

I managed to keep Oliver at arm’s length. Whenever he suggested an after-work drink, I panned him off with flippant excuses. I even glibly mentioned that mixing business with pleasure wasn’t a good idea.

Fridays became my night with the girls. That’s what I told Oliver, and James told his family that Friday was squash night; a game with the lads followed by a few beers. The subterfuge didn’t bother me as I’d only Oliver to fool and I didn’t give much thought to James’s lies. They were his stories and he’d have to find a way to deal with any repercussions.

One Saturday morning, following on from one of our evenings together, I woke up to the pounding of my heart after a terrifying nightmare. But it wasn’t my heart that had woken me; it was the door of my flat. I sat up and glanced at the clock. It was only nine and I remembered I hadn’t got to bed until after two.

‘Hold on. I’m coming.’ My hair was sticking damply to my head and my nightdress was drenched in sweat. I threw on my bathrobe before I went to open the door. The postman usually left the post downstairs. Perhaps it was a parcel. I peered through the spyhole, jolted alert by the sight of my caller.

‘Hi. Hope I didn’t wake you.’ It was Oliver, his face distorted through the glass. His mouth was wide like a guppy fish as he spoke directly to the door.

I reluctantly opened up, releasing the safety chain after I’d pulled my robe tight.

‘It’s Saturday. I was asleep.’

He followed me into the lounge. My first hope was that perhaps he’d come with some news of Mitch.