The air is clammy, claustrophobic, my vision restricted to a few feet in front of me. There are orders I need to begin prepping, work that each day I’m getting more behind with, but I can’t face it. Nor do I want to talk to anyone, replying to Jess’s WhatsApp with the briefest of messages, letting even Cath’s calls go to voicemail. In the end, I give up, making my way back to the house through the same fog that doesn’t seem to have lifted even slightly.
I haven’t been inside long when there’s a knock on the front door. When I open it, PC Page is there. ‘May I come in?’
Nervous all of a sudden, I nod. Coming in, she closes the door behind her. ‘What is it?’ I ask, staring at her.
She stands there. ‘Could we sit down for a minute?’
‘Of course.’ My face flaming hot, I lead her through to the kitchen, clearing part of the kitchen table as I gesture to her to sit down.
‘I won’t keep you long. I just have one or two questions.’ She hesitates. ‘The night Matt disappeared, where were you?’
‘Here.’ I frown. ‘Why?’
‘We have a witness who recalls seeing you in Brighton. Not far from where this woman Matt was seeing lives. Near Brunswick Square.’
With everything that’s happened, I’ve forgotten. ‘Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I was there. I had an order from a desperate mother – her child had skin problems. I went to deliver it, then came straight home.’ Frowning, I shake my head. I never did get to the bottom of the wrong address.
‘I see.’ PC Page writes it down. ‘Do you have details of the order?’
‘Yes, of course.’ But as she speaks, I feel myself frown. It’s almost as though she doesn’t believe me. ‘There was an email.’ I pick up my phone. Scrolling through my inbox, I show it to her.
*
After she leaves, I slump on the sofa. For a couple of hours I don’t move. Going over what the police have told me, then PC Page’s questions, the level of Matt’s deception has devastated me. Staring blankly ahead at the large clock on the kitchen wall, with each slow tick of the second hand I think about cancelling the wedding. The dress I’ll never wear, the bouquet I’ll never make. The vows that will remain unspoken. The guests I’ll have to tell, wondering if any of them have an inkling of what Matt’s capable of.
Lower than I’ve ever felt, it would be so easy, right now, to just give up. There are sleeping pills, upstairs, in the bathroom. It would be the end of all my problems, to drift quietly away and never wake up. But as I contemplate it, my eyes lock onto the photo of Jess and me together, taking in her long hair, the laughter in her eyes, and in that moment, I know I couldn’t do this to her.
Shaken by how close I’ve come, suddenly I’m desperate to talk to Sonia, my therapist. Picking up my phone, I find her number. But as I start to call her, I hesitate. Facing up to how I’m feeling will take a strength that right now, I don’t have. But I can’t go on like this. Thinking of Jess again, I make the call.
Sonia sounds slightly surprised as she answers straight away. ‘Amy, how are you?’
My hands are clammy as I grip my phone. I’d assumed she’d be seeing a client. That I’d be leaving a voicemail – but instead, I have to explain. ‘Not good.’ Hesitant, I break off. ‘Something’s happened. I’m not coping.’ My voice is shaky.
‘Let me get my diary.’ But the familiar sound of her voice isn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped it would be. After making an appointment to see her tomorrow, I lie back on my sofa, darkness settling over me, my consciousness starting to drift. Unaware of time passing, I’ve no idea how long I’ve been there, only that the kitchen is dark when I register a knock on the front door, before a voice calls out.
‘Amy? Are you in there?’
Confused, I get up. There’s no mistaking Sonia’s voice. When I thought I was seeing her tomorrow, why is she here? Getting up, I go to open the door. In a green velvet coat, her fair hair is tucked into the upturned collar, her eyes concerned as she looks at me. ‘I hope this isn’t a bad time? After your call, I was worried about you. Then one of my clients cancelled, so I thought I’d call you, but you didn’t pick up. Can I come in?’
I hadn’t heard my phone ring. Standing back, I let her in, watching as she closes the door, taking in the knitted dress under her coat, mushroom-coloured boots; the sheen of moisture on her skin left by the fog.
Her face is still anxious as she follows me through to the kitchen, where I go to put the kettle on, aware of Sonia watching me. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have called me without good reason.’ She pauses. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down? Then you can tell me what’s been going on.’
Pulling out a chair, then sitting heavily at the table, I stare at my hands, trying to stop them shaking, working out where to start. ‘I was supposed to be getting married.’ My voice is flat. ‘But two days ago, he disappeared. I found out last night from the police that he’s been seeing another woman. She told the police he was going to leave me for her.’ As my voice breaks, I’m aware of tears pouring down my face.
‘You had no idea?’ She sounds shocked. ‘Are the police sure about this other woman?’
‘That’s the thing.’ As I look at
