The First Mistake - Sandie Jones Page 0,47

Instead, I batted away the tears that threatened to fall every time my dad was mentioned and closed my eyes as Thomas kissed my neck. The fifteen minutes we’d then spent having sex instead of getting ready meant that I’d been in a mad panic to get out of the door to catch our train. Perhaps I’d not had time to check that the back door hadn’t been left ajar. I could blame Thomas, but what was the point? It was a distraction that I had readily encouraged.

‘Thanks,’ I said, kissing him at the park gate, his lips cold.

‘I’ll call you with any news,’ he said. ‘If I find him, is there a cafe or something around here that I can wait in until you come back?’

Was there? I’d lived in the area for five years, but suddenly I couldn’t even recall the shop where I usually got a coffee on the way to work.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, sensing my difficulty. ‘I’ll find somewhere.’

‘No, no . . . of course, sorry, I’m not thinking straight. Here, take my key.’ I struggled to get my house key off the ring that carried a worn photo of me and Dad. I was prepared to give Thomas the key to everything I held dear, but not that.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Is there an alarm or anything I need to worry about?’

‘No,’ I said quietly, paranoid that anyone might overhear how lax my security arrangements were.

‘Keep me posted, won’t you?’ I said as I reluctantly left him.

All morning my mind alternated between Tyson and a man I was fast falling for, and when I’d heard nothing by lunchtime, I could feel myself welling up.

‘I can cover for you if you want to go home,’ said Maria as she rubbed my back.

I shook my head. ‘I’m better off here. There’s nothing I can do at home, apart from wait.’

‘Honestly, I can do your classes this afternoon; you’re no use to the children when you’re like this.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, go on, go,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell the head.’

As I walked from the station to my flat, my mood was lifted a little at the sight of ‘LOST’ posters on every other lamp post along the route. Anyone with information was being urged to call an unfamiliar phone number.

‘Do I assume I have you to thank for the posters?’ I asked Thomas when I got home. I didn’t dare call the number on my phone as I risked ‘Hot Guy’, the childish pseudonym I’d saved him under, appearing. I made a mental note to change it, even though it was still accurate.

‘Yes,’ he said sheepishly. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not,’ I exclaimed. ‘That’s really sweet of you.’

‘No one’s called yet, but I’m hopeful. I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, kissing him.

‘Are you okay if I go to this meeting? I was able to put it off for a few hours, but I could really do with getting it done today, if you don’t mind.’

I was astonished he even felt the need to ask. ‘Of course, you should go.’

‘But I’ll be back tonight, if that’s all right, and I’ll leave you my phone, just in case anyone calls about Tyson.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Take your phone with you.’

‘No,’ he said adamantly. ‘I won’t be able to answer the call if it comes in. We can’t take the risk of missing it.’

‘But—’

‘Take it,’ he said as he put his jacket on and handed me the phone. ‘I’ll be a couple of hours. Feel free to answer any call that comes in.’

It felt very odd to have someone else’s phone in my possession, especially one that belonged to a man I was seeing so casually, yet knew so intimately.

I held the phone in front of me as I walked around the park, calling for Tyson, and showing anybody I encountered a photo of him. I could almost feel my eyeballs burning the screen every time I looked at it, willing it to light up. When it did, just as I reached the gate, where another poster had been attached, I couldn’t answer it quickly enough.

‘Hello,’ I said gingerly.

‘Oh, hi,’ said a male voice. ‘I’m calling about the dog.’

My heart soared, making me feel as if it might lift me off the ground. Yet the very real possibility of being told that something had happened to him quickly followed. ‘Yes?’ I said, urging the man on, my chest a mangle

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