Looking Good Dead

42

Tom woke with a start, feeling muzzy and confused, with a roaring sound in his ears, unable to think for a moment where he was. Motorbikes were racing on the television screen in front of him, he realized, starting to think a bit more clearly – that was the noise.

Looking around for the remote, he saw an empty brandy glass on the carpet at his feet and then it hit him with a jolt. He’d fallen asleep. What the hell was the time?

The clock on the DVD read 4.10 a.m. That could not be right. He looked at his watch. 4.09 a.m.

A cluster of motorbikes, all close together, were howling down a straight that he recognized as part of the Silverstone racetrack. He’d been on a corporate hospitality day there a couple of years ago, and had also been to the British Grand Prix a few times. They were braking now, heeling over into Copse. Finding the remote, he switched the television off and stood up slowly, feeling stiff as hell.

Why hadn’t Kellie woken him when she came in? he wondered. Carrying his empty glass, he tottered out into the hall, his head feeling muzzy still, his whole body leaden. He set the glass down in the kitchen, then somehow found the strength to haul himself upstairs. Creeping along the landing, trying not to wake anyone – although the motorbike racing had already probably done that – he opened the door to his bedroom. Instantly something felt wrong.

The curtains were wide open, and there was sufficient grey, predawn light to see that their bed was empty.

No Kellie.

And suddenly he was wide awake.

Very occasionally in the past when one of the children had had a bad dream, she’d crawled into their bed for a few hours. Wondering if she had done that now, he checked out each of their rooms in turn. But she wasn’t there.

Then, cursing his stupidity, he ran downstairs, opened the front door and stared out at the carport. It was empty.

To be doubly sure he walked out to the pavement and looked up and down, in case for some reason she’d parked the Audi in the street and had fallen asleep inside it. But there was no sign of the car.

He looked at his watch again, trying to work out how long he had been asleep. What time had she taken the babysitter home? It had been about half past one. Two and a half hours ago. Two and a half hours to make a four-mile round trip?

An icy whorl of fear spiralled through him. Had she had an accident? Wouldn’t someone from the police have been in touch by now, if that had happened?

Was she having a long Kellie moment on her own, out in the darkness somewhere? Surely she would have known he’d be fretting?

But that was the thing, part of Kellie’s problem; she did the most irrational things sometimes without thinking of the consequences. She had never actually done anything to endanger the kids, but she often just did not think. Like the time she’d bought one of her endless ‘bargains’ on eBay, a week at a Champney’s health farm, at the same time as he was going to be away in Germany at a trade fair. She had totally forgotten to consider what would happen to the children.

There had also been a couple of occasions when she had simply disappeared, once for a whole day, another time for over twenty-four hours. He had been in despair both times, ringing around every hospital in the south of England to see if she’d been in an accident, wondering if she was having an affair. Then she had turned up, apparently unconcerned that he’d had to take the day off to look after the children, telling him that she’d suddenly just felt she needed some space.

He thought back to earlier, when she had gone into one of her silent modes in the car. Is that what she was doing now, having some space? Nice of her to tell him.

He picked up the cordless phone in the bedroom and dialled her mobile number. Seconds later he heard her demented, Crazy Frog ringtone coming from downstairs and hung up. She’d left her phone behind.

Terrific.

He sat down on the bed, thinking. God, he loved her so much, despite her quirks. They had their differences, yet in many ways they were so comfortable together. He had loved watching her at the dinner table tonight. Yes, she was out of her social league in that vipers’ nest – they both were – but she’d coped; she’d held her head up; she’d looked beautiful; she’d said nice things about him, building him and his business up to the people on either side of her.

Then he thought about the envy he’d detected in her voice tonight, in the car driving back, when he had asked her if she would like to live in a house as big as the Angelides’.

Yeah, why not, if I had all those servants. We will one day, I’m sure. I believe in you.

He hadn’t yet had the courage to break the news to her that they might soon have to sell this house and downsize. He didn’t know how to, didn’t want to see the pain it would cause. And most of all he didn’t want to seem a failure to her.

Christ, where are you, my darling?

He got up and paced around, his insides slippery with fear. It was twenty to five. He wondered whether to call Mandy Morrison’s parents to ask if Kellie had brought her home safe. But if the girl was not home by now, her parents would have been on the phone, anxious.

Still fully clothed, he lay back against the headboard, his brain buzzing, listening for a car coming up the street. Instead, all he heard were the first twitterings of birdsong. After a few minutes, despite the hour, he rang Mandy Morrison’s home number; the phone was answered by her very sleepy father, who assured him Mandy had been dropped safely home at about quarter to two.

He thanked him, then dialled Directory Enquiries and asked for the number of the Royal Sussex County Hospital. A few minutes later he was through to a tired-sounding woman at Accident and Emergency. She assured him that no one of Kellie’s name had been admitted in the past few hours.

Next he got the main number for Sussex Police, from Directory Enquiries again, and rang that. But after being transferred to Traffic, then put on hold for several minutes, he was told there had been no reported road traffic accidents involving his wife or their car.

He did not know what to do next.