when she arrived in the kitchen.
Jo halted the mop mid-stroke. She tried to let out a sigh of relief but it felt empty. She was completely drained and couldn’t muster the spark of hope she had hoped the news would bring.
When it was clear that Jo wasn’t going to move or respond, Steph continued, ‘And I hate to say it but you might not find out anything else tonight. Maybe we should get you to bed.’
‘I couldn’t …’ began Jo but she didn’t resist when Steph pulled the mop from her grasp and guided her up the stairs. The tiredness that had blighted her pregnancy was a blessing in disguise and for once she didn’t fight her exhaustion but let it swallow her up whole.
If there was a moment when Jo woke up and thought it was David lying next to her in bed then she must have missed it. Her sister hadn’t left her side all night and the reward for her efforts was an elbow in the ribs as Jo scrambled around to find her mobile, which had slipped from her grasp while she slept.
Her eyes were still bleary but she could see enough to know there were no missed calls or messages. The slithering fear that had begun to wrap itself around her the night before tightened its grip around her chest, but it was the violent lurch of her stomach that sent Jo flying out of bed and into the bathroom where she dry retched into the toilet bowl. She kept one hand over her abdomen in a vain attempt to settle the baby who objected to being jostled about, its kicks making her stomach flip all the more.
Her body shook violently and she swallowed back the bitter taste of bile before turning to her sister who had followed her into the en suite. ‘What time is it?’
Steph held out a glass of water. ‘Almost seven.’
A second later, the radio in the bedroom burst into life. Jo often woke up just before the alarm and despite the traumas of the night before her body clock was ticking along as if nothing had happened. She clung on to this fragment of normality as she stood up and took a sip of water.
‘I’d better get ready for work.’
‘You are not going in, Jo.’
Jo chose to interpret the command as a question. ‘Of course I’m going in. What use am I waiting around here?’
‘But …’
‘David is due in work too. I’d rather be there in the same building waiting for him to arrive than phoning his office every two minutes and annoying everyone.’ Jo sensed another ‘but’ coming and quickly added, ‘And you have to go to work too. I’ll be fine, Steph. I have to be.’
‘And what if David doesn’t turn up?’
‘Then I’ll phone his mum to see if he’s there. And if he isn’t,’ she continued, predicting Steph’s next question, ‘then I promise I’ll phone the police.’
‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that.’
Jo bit down hard and let the pain in her lower lip focus her mind on something other than the possibility that she might have to face another night like the last one. ‘It won’t,’ she said. ‘Now, can I have some privacy? I need to get ready.’
It was only when Jo had closed the door that she dared to look in the bathroom mirror. She recalled her haunted reflection the morning before when she had stood in the hallway draped in shadows. The shadows were there again but this time no amount of downlighting could dispel them. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She prayed David would turn up at work and put her out of her misery but more than anything, she hoped and prayed that he wasn’t lying in a ditch waiting for her to come to his rescue …
‘You look absolutely awful,’ Kelly said.
At times like this, when Kelly failed to apply any kind of internal filter before speaking, Jo would often suggest a more diplomatic turn of phrase or, if she was in a less forgiving mood, provide a sharp retort. But today Kelly’s remark barely raised a ripple in Jo’s consciousness. ‘Can you cancel all of today’s appointments for me? I’m going to spend the day in the office catching up on paperwork.’
‘OK,’ Kelly said but didn’t move. She was waiting for further explanation.
‘My first meeting was for nine so you’ll need to get a move on,’ Jo persisted. She was holding Kelly’s gaze but she sensed her assistant was concentrating more on her bloodshot eyes than the warning glare she was giving her. ‘Kelly?’
Finally on her own again, Jo turned her attention to her computer screen and the time-management system that was busily registering the arrival of staff in Nelson’s Liverpool office as they swiped in. David Taylor’s time log showed that he had left work on Tuesday night at 17.38 but she already knew this because she had left with him. She closed her eyes as she recalled David next to her in the car as they pulled up outside the house. She could feel his breath on her neck as he leaned in to nuzzle her. She could recall the sensation of his lips brushing against her neck then gently pinching soft skin between his teeth.
‘What are you after?’ she whispered as if he was right there next to her.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she willed the tears not to fall again. If only she could go back in time she would agree to give him a lift; in fact, she would say yes to anything David wanted if only he was there next to her. But when she opened her eyes and checked the information on the screen, her husband remained frustratingly out of reach. Tuesday evening was the last recorded event. Wednesday was blank because he had gone straight to Leeds and then there was Thursday. So far it too was blank. Jo refreshed the screen, hoping that a series of digits would magically appear. The screen didn’t even flicker.
To compound her misery, Jo forced herself to open up her calendar. She stared at an entry at the beginning of that week. It marked the start of what was meant to be an amazing two-week adventure across America. David had sent the invitation months earlier and had even attached an itinerary: if things had turned out differently, they would be in San Francisco now. She hadn’t accepted the invitation but neither had she declined it. She hadn’t wanted to crush one of David’s dreams, not when her own had just been conceived, so the appointment was left pending.
Closing the calendar, Jo checked the time log again, her hope rising only to drop to earth again with a thump. The log hadn’t changed. Unable to concentrate on anything else she stood up and gazed out of the window. The previous day’s storm had returned with a vengeance and battle-grey clouds thick with rain smeared the horizon. Completely immobilized, Jo lost all sense of time and drifted back to her last evening with David, desperate to recall every detail. She tried to remember the very last thing she had said to him.
After the initial war of words in the car she had said less and less, each syllable too much of an effort. After months of being patient and understanding, she had had enough and it was time for David to accept once and for all that they were having a baby. He had been excited about the idea of fatherhood once and she had caught glimpses of that excitement in recent weeks, but the irrational fears that had made him want to postpone their original plans were still there and she was at a loss as to how to break through them.
She could see herself standing in the living room. ‘I’m tired so I’m going to bed. That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.’
By all appearances, her husband was engrossed in a TV programme and didn’t respond.
‘You can’t make me feel guilty for ever, David,’ she said as her parting shot.
Her remark hit its target and he turned to face her. ‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Then what do you want?’
The pained look on his face softened and there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. ‘You’ll see.’
His smile had done nothing to improve Jo’s mood and she had stomped upstairs to bed without a second glance, unwilling to engage