His Other Life. Beth Thomas

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      Or is Leon lying?

      ‘Hello?’ the voice comes again. ‘Are you still there?’

      ‘Um, yes, sorry, I’m here.’ I run my hand through my hair a few times as I think. What should I do, what should I do? Then something occurs to me. ‘How did you get this number, Leon?’

      There’s a deep, throaty chortle. ‘Sarah, you’re starting to sound a bit suspicious of me suddenly. What do you take me for, some kind of criminal? Your husband gave it to me, of course.’

      ‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Now I’m thoroughly panicked. If Adam did give this person my mobile number, surely he would have said my name was Grace? He knows my real name of course, but only because I told him. He has never known me as Sarah, or called me that. It would be unnatural for him to tell someone his wife was called Sarah. That would just be weird, and of course nothing Adam did was ever weird. Ha ha.

      But now there’s a tremor starting somewhere in my belly and I’m not sure if it’s anger, fear, desperation or hunger.

      ‘I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment,’ I say, if only to end the awkward silence that’s growing larger by the second. Leon must be thinking something’s up by now. If he wasn’t already. Which he obviously was. ‘Can I give him a message?’ God alone knows why I’m saying this. I can’t give Adam a message any more than I can give him a punch in the kidneys.

      There’s a long pause from the other end, accompanied by some deep, slow breathing. ‘I don’t think so,’ Leon rasps eventually. ‘I really need to see him myself. When is he going to be in?’

      I can feel my eyes widening and my breathing starting to quicken as fear-fuelled adrenalin floods my system. ‘Um, I’m not sure …’ I know I’m in fight or flight mode. Even though the perceived threat is on the other end of the phone, in an unknown location, the fear I’m experiencing is no less real just because Leon isn’t in the room with me. Everything about this call feels like a threat, and I start to glance around me, planning my escape. Or looking for a defensive weapon. My eyes land on the knife block and just as my hand is closing round the large bread knife, there’s a robust knock on the front door. I practically scream out loud where I am, right there by the toaster, and the knife block falls over with a clatter. I spin in place, heart thudding, to face the door. Through the opaque glass panels in the door I can see a dark, formless shape, indistinguishable as either man or woman, hunched and heavy. The top part of the shape swivels slightly as I watch, turning to look around it, observing its surroundings. Yet again it feels like the undead Adam, returning to me grey and cold and dripping with lake water.

      ‘I’ll get him to call you,’ I manage to croak. I need to be free of this call so I can focus on my fear of the front door. One frightening thing at a time is all I can handle. If that, actually. ‘What’s your number?’ I’m staring at the door as I advance slowly towards it.

      ‘No, don’t do that,’ the gravelly voice says. ‘I’ll call again. Soon.’ And finally, thankfully, the phone clicks off. I put it quickly down on the kitchen counter like a ticking bomb, then turn to face my next fear. I want to take the bread knife, but it could be awkward to answer the door holding it if it’s the postman, so I leave it there. As I walk down the hallway, my gaze is fixed on the lumpy shape behind the glass, and when I reach for the door catch, the image of a bloated, sallow-skinned Adam comes back into my head, and my hand hesitates in mid-air. I close my eyes. It won’t be him at all, in any condition, I tell myself, least of all a walking corpse. I’m just being ridiculous. My hand trembles a little as I’m opening the door, so I grab my arm with my other hand.

      As soon as the door opens fully, I see it’s the female police liaison officer that was here before, Linda. She smiles at me, then frowns as apparently I go a bit pale.

      ‘You all right, Grace?’ she says, stepping nearer. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale. Are you poorly?’

      ‘No, no, I’m fine. I just thought, when you knocked …’

      She smacks her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I’m so insensitive. I’m really sorry. Missing husband, unexpected visits from the police, of course you thought the worst.’

      She has no idea.

      ‘I really am very sorry.’ She puts her hand out and gently squeezes my arm. ‘I did try to call your mobile from the car, but couldn’t get through. Not that that’s any excuse. I promise next time I will wait outside in the car until I’ve spoken to you on the phone. That way, you’ll always know I’m coming, and then if anyone ever turns up unannounced, you’ll know it’s because …’ She trails off and looks away. ‘Ahem. Anyway, you’ll know when I’m coming. OK?’

      I nod wordlessly.

      ‘Can I come in then?’

      As we walk along the hallway, Linda starts to go into the living room because that’s where we went last time she was here.

      ‘No!’ I almost shout, and block her path.

      She looks at me sidelong. ‘Something wrong?’

      ‘No, nothing, just my friend, passed out drunk in there.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yeah. She hit it a bit hard last night.’

      ‘Any reason for that?’

      Bloody hell, you can really tell she’s a copper. I just manage to stop myself in time from saying that we had the news about Adam’s car last night. Matt told me off the record yesterday, from what he’d overheard in the stationery cupboard or something, so I can’t let on he’s said anything because it will probably get him into trouble. ‘Don’t think so. Quite standard for her. Plus, you know, this whole situation …’

      ‘Having a tough time, is she?’

      I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Would she be happier if it was me sweating red wine on the sofa in there? I decide not to answer and just shrug as we go into the kitchen.

      ‘OK, well. I’ve got some news for you,’ she says, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘Come and sit down, Grace.’

      My heart starts thudding in a dart of panic, but then I realise that she’s probably about to tell me officially about Adam’s car. I arrange my features into what I hope says, ‘Oh Christ what is this news you’ve come to tell me is it good or bad I don’t think I can take any more,’ and sit down in the chair next to Linda. ‘What is it? Have they found him?’

      She narrows her eyes at me then, as if she’s found what I’ve asked a bit odd. Or is struggling to understand it. ‘Nooo,’ she says slowly. ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my husband has vanished into the night and I was kind of hoping involving the police might lead to him being found.’ I widen my eyes. ‘Was I wrong?’

      She takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. ‘No, Grace, you weren’t wrong, we’re obviously doing what we can to find him. It looks like it’s going to take a bit longer than we thought, though.’

      ‘Why? What’s changed?’

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