The Missing Husband. Amanda Brooke

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СКАЧАТЬ Outside, sullen clouds had drawn a steel grey curtain across the sky, bringing a premature end to the day.

      ‘What time is it?’

      Handing over a folder, Kelly said, ‘It’s gone five. I was planning on leaving soon if that’s OK?’

      ‘Yes, of course. I should be going too,’ Jo said, opening the folder and skimming through the letter Kelly had prepared for Simon Harrison. She had already seen the draft and made a few corrections and the version in front of her was almost perfect except that there was a comma where there should have been a full stop. She glared at the offending punctuation mark and willed herself to let it go. She needed to leave soon so she would have time to call in at the supermarket on her way home to pick up ingredients for the special supper she was planning for David.

      ‘What have I missed?’ Kelly asked, picking up on Jo’s inner turmoil.

      ‘Full stop,’ Jo said regretfully, pointing out the error.

      ‘I’ll be two minutes.’

      Jo pulled the folder out of Kelly’s reach. ‘Oh, no, I’m the one being picky. I’ll pull the file up and amend it myself. You go.’

      Kelly feigned an objection but didn’t put up much of a fight. She had her coat on and was waving goodbye by the time Jo had sent the amended letter to the printer. It was a two-minute job and in no time at all Jo was pulling on her own coat. Only when all her work had been dispensed with for the day did she allow herself to check her phone. Her heart fluttered a little when she saw the message alert.

       No need for a lift. Will make my own way.

       Phone about to die so switching off.

       D x

      It was impossible to gauge from his pithy reply if his refusal to accept a lift was due to his own stubbornness – he could be guilty of that too – or because he was trying to make amends. She would also have felt better if he had said he loved her too but all of that didn’t matter: they were reaching a turning point; she could feel it.

       3

      The normally harsh street lighting along Beaumont Avenue had been muted by an undulating mist that was hopefully the last damp remnant of the day’s storm. The headlights of Jo’s car picked up a golden river of sodden autumn leaves that flowed along the tree-lined avenue, leaving no distinction between grass verge and pavement as she pulled into the drive.

      Their house was a traditional 1930s semi with an imposing black-and-white facade and it had been a little worn at the edges when they had first moved in five years earlier. Cutting off the engine, Jo did her best to ignore the shadows that obscured its newly restored splendour and concentrated instead on the warmth borrowed from the subdued streetlamps and the turning leaves.

      The autumnal hues had given a false sense of security and the biting wind took her breath away as Jo scurried from the car to the front door. The stained glass window had given up its rainbow colours for the softer reflections of orange and gold but Jo was more intent on getting inside the house than marvelling at the beauty of its external features.

      The central heating was already on but it wasn’t until Jo had switched on every light on her way through to the kitchen that she felt at home. It drove David mad when she left so many lights blazing, especially when the fuel bills came in, but while Jo accepted they could perhaps be more efficient, it was a luxury she was willing to pay for. A house full of light and warmth felt like a welcoming embrace and she had absolutely no doubt David would be glad of it tonight.

      The kitchen had once been long and narrow but they had knocked it through to the adjoining reception room to create a space that felt open and modern. The grey and turquoise colour scheme in the newly installed kitchen had been extended into the dining area where Jo dropped her handbag before setting about unpacking her shopping. She had almost two hours to prepare dinner and get ready. Plenty of time, she told herself. And then the phone rang.

      ‘Hi,’ Steph chirped. ‘Are you busy?’

      Jo scanned the counter where she had just lined up all the ingredients for a steak and ale pie. ‘Sort of. I’m in the middle of cooking supper,’ she said, hoping her sister would take the hint.

      ‘Oh, well I won’t keep you then.’

      Jo couldn’t ignore the disappointment in her sister’s voice so she propped the phone under her chin and set about preparing the meal. ‘It’s all right; I can multitask. What’s up?’

      ‘Nothing, I was only phoning for a chat. How are you feeling? Still tired?’

      Jo had been surprised how exhausting being pregnant could be. She had presumed she would only start to feel tired once her bump had grown to mammoth proportions but she had felt completely drained even before she knew she was pregnant and she had been struggling to recover her energy levels ever since.

      ‘I thought I was getting over that particular hurdle but today has knocked the stuffing out of me. It didn’t help that David was up at five. If I’d known I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again then I could have avoided the argument and given him a lift.’

      ‘Have you two been winding each other up again?’ Steph asked. ‘There are better ways of adding spark to a relationship than arguing, you know.’

      ‘This was more of a quiet rumble actually.’

      ‘So you gave him the silent treatment,’ Steph surmised. She was three years older than Jo and had a lifetime of experience of her sister’s surliness. ‘You’re not a moody teenager any more, Jo. You’ve got some growing up to do before you’re ready to be a parent.’

      ‘I know,’ Jo said impatiently. She had said the same thing often enough to David.

      ‘I can’t believe you can troubleshoot for a living and yet be completely incapable of applying those same skills to your marriage.’

      ‘I know,’ Jo said again. Tears threatened, although they had more to do with the onion she was peeling than anything else. Jo was used to Steph pushing an issue to its limits; it was an annoying habit akin to picking at a scab that should be left to heal – although once in a while it proved good medicine, cathartic even. But today it felt more like picking a scab. The healing process had barely started. She tried to regain control of the conversation. ‘David’s on his way home from Leeds and I’m cooking him his favourite meal. I think we’re ready to sit down and start planning properly for the baby.’

      ‘At last! So you’re finally working together. Maybe you are both learning,’ Steph told her in a tone that ought to be reserved for the primary school children she taught but Jo couldn’t blame her sister for taking the moral high ground. She had been happily married for fifteen years to her first love and whilst she and Gerry had their disagreements, she never let the sun go down on an argument, unlike her sister. Jo had often said the key to Steph’s successful marriage was her ability to wear anyone into submission but in truth, she was as considerate as she was persistent.

      ‘So is it only my welfare you were concerned about or is there something else I can help you with?’ Jo said, eager to draw the conversation to a close. She could see her reflection in the glossy kitchen unit and her hair was sticking up at all angles. There was СКАЧАТЬ