The Missing Wife. Sam Carrington

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      ‘You know I wouldn’t harm anyone. You know that, Lou-Lou, don’t you?’

      From what little he’d said about how he’d been treated in the interview room after reporting Melissa as missing, Louisa had to conclude that Oliver had been right: the suspicion he was somehow involved in her disappearance was clear. He’d told the police of their argument and once he’d mentioned that, he said the atmosphere altered.

      ‘They’re assuming they’ll find her under my floorboards,’ he said. He appeared serious. Louisa suddenly felt sorry for him.

      When they reached Louisa’s road it was five-thirty. Brian’s car wasn’t parked outside, so Louisa allowed Oliver to drop her right to the gate so that she wouldn’t have far to carry Noah’s car seat.

      ‘I hope she comes back, Oliver. She might already be at your place when you get there.’

      The humph sound he made suggested he didn’t believe that but something niggled inside Louisa. Did he know she wouldn’t, couldn’t, return?

      Oliver cupped Louisa’s chin with one hand, turning her face so she was looking directly at him. Their noses were almost touching. Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

      ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it,’ he said. His breath tickled Louisa’s skin. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about how close their faces were – how easy it would be just to kiss him.

      ‘I wasn’t saying you had,’ she said. But Oliver’s expression was one of disbelief, like somehow he’d just read her thoughts.

      ‘Really, Louisa. I’ve no idea what went on. I think it might’ve been something at the party that sparked her to disappear voluntarily. Or it wasn’t voluntary and someone else from that night is responsible.’

      Icy tendrils touched her spine.

      Not only had she not wanted, or asked for, a party full of people she barely knew – but now this party was turning out to be a nightmare, one that clearly wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Not if Oliver suspected something at her party had caused Melissa’s disappearance. Not knowing how to respond, Louisa instead told Oliver to let her know if there were any developments and, breaking the strange bond that had held her in his gaze, she turned away from him and opened the car door.

       Blood.

       Blonde hair matted with blood.

       A woman.

      Louisa gasped and sat bolt upright, pulling the duvet off Brian. Despite this, he slept on, oblivious to her rapid breathing and distress. Sweat trickled down her back. She didn’t know why she was seeing these images, but she was convinced that the woman in her dream was Melissa. In reality she’d never seen Melissa’s face, but in her dream she felt it was Melissa; knew it was her. But now, just moments later, she could no longer recollect the woman’s face. Scrunching her eyes tightly, she did manage to retrieve a vague memory, but only of the woman’s body – her below-the-knee black dress, slim, tanned calves and her feet: pretty gold-painted toenails.

      So, she did remember something about her.

       Cold grass. Tickling her feet.

       She didn’t know where her shoes were.

       She wanted a cigarette.

       A voice behind her.

      Louisa clutched her abdomen as a wave of nausea rippled through her as quickly as the memory had.

      Something bad happened on Friday night. She could feel it.

      It was a feeling she’d known before.

       15

       THE CHAT

       Tuesday – Day 4 post-party

      ‘Hey, Tiff. Are you free for a coffee this afternoon?’ Louisa fiddled with her dressing gown cord, twiddling it in one hand as she held her mobile to her ear.

      ‘Um … I’ve got a meeting at school at lunchtime, so would be towards two-ish, will that do you?’

      ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Louisa gave a dejected laugh. ‘Pop around when you finish.’

      ‘Is everything okay? You sound a bit down.’ Louisa could sense Tiff’s concerned frown.

      ‘I could do with a chat, that’s all.’

      ‘Sure thing. I’ll drop into the shop on my way, get some yummy pastries!’

      ‘You know the way to my heart, Tiff.’

      ‘Of course, darling. Right, must run. See you soon.’ And the line went dead.

      Louisa sighed. She’d felt numb ever since Oliver turned up at the house yesterday; she’d wandered around not really knowing what to do with herself. Being on her own most days, with only Noah for company, was beginning to make her stir-crazy. She should be going to every baby group running because being with other mothers and babies would make her feel as though everything she was experiencing was normal, but she couldn’t shake the awkwardness she’d felt when she’d been to Bounce and Play last time. Forty wasn’t the oldest age anyone had ever had children, but she was the oldest in that group. She was experiencing different things to most of the mums; she didn’t quite fit in, couldn’t relate to all the chat. It appeared the worst of their worries was getting their flat bellies back.

      She could really do with returning to work more quickly than planned, to get back to adult interactions again – avoid baby talk completely. She’d told the accountancy firm that she was taking a full year, but now a few months had passed she was coming to realise that was unrealistic. Yes, she wanted to give Noah the start – the attention – she’d given to Emily when she’d had her, but it was different this time.

      The boss was fine with her taking the full year. Louisa had worked there since leaving college; she was one of the longest-serving accountants at the firm. Whilst other people saw that as an achievement, Louisa knew deep down it was because she couldn’t face changing jobs, learning something new. She could carry out her role there without much thought, running on autopilot, which would suit her just fine when she went back with what Tiff lovingly called ‘baby brain’.

      Louisa checked her phone for texts, then her Facebook, just in case Oliver had messaged, updating her on Melissa’s missing status. Nothing. He’d been all for gaining her help yesterday, begging her to go with him to the police – and now he didn’t have the decency to keep her in the loop. Perhaps she should text him. The thought played on her mind for a few minutes before she gave in to it.

       Any news on Melissa?

      She’d kept it simple to ensure there could be no misinterpretation. Then she paced the lounge, waiting for her phone to ping.

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