out of my house, needed to be alone, needed to sleep, needed to think. I forced myself to look back up at him.
‘I saw some friends this morning, and they can be here in minutes if I need them. And my friend Eva’s coming to stay. She’s coming down from London for a few days. She should be here in an hour or so.’
He nodded his approval.
‘Good. It’ll help, having some moral support. And we’ll probably have to think about telling your husband’s family soon too, OK, if he doesn’t turn up? And maybe you should think about telling yours as well. But we’ll leave that for now. Look, we’ll get out of your way. Thank you for being so cooperative. As I said, we’re going to go and take a look at your old apartment, tomorrow I hope. We’ll keep you posted, OK?’
‘Thank you. Thanks so much.’
When they were gone, I moved slowly from room to room, smoothing the Indian cotton bedding – they’d even checked under the mattress, it seemed – straightening cushions, checking that the contents of wardrobes and drawers hadn’t been too badly messed up. Somehow the act of methodically restoring order to my home calmed me, my racing heartbeat slowing, my mind clearing a little. OK, so the facts around Danny’s disappearance were getting weirder by the hour, but for some reason I still didn’t think he was dead, murdered like the two other men. I’d know, deep down, if he was, I was sure of it, and therefore there had to be a logical explanation for what had happened, what was still happening. And Eva was coming. The thought buoyed me and, finally satisfied that the police search had done no lasting damage, I headed for the kitchen to check the contents of the freezer. I hadn’t been shopping in days and we were all but out of fresh food, but there were a couple of pizzas and wine in the wine rack. We’d manage, for tonight. And Eva … surely Eva would help me work it out?
We’d been friends for years, since early in my newspaper reporter days, and even when I’d quit hard news, we’d remained close. Eva was still in the job, now a crime reporter for The Independent, and she’d covered some hugely complex stories in her time. She’d think of something, wouldn’t she? Because there was clearly something, some huge something, that I was missing. Something I hadn’t thought of yet, something that would explain why Danny had lied to me about his new job, explain why he’d gone away. Explain all of it.
I picked up my phone, checking once again for a text or email from Danny – nothing, of course – then looked at the time. Nearly five. Eva’s train was due in at Temple Meads station at seven, and she’d told me she could probably stay until Thursday or Friday, having just finished a major story and being due a few days off. Two hours – what was I going to do for two hours? Go to bed, try to catch up on some sleep? But I was feeling more awake suddenly, more alert. I put the phone down on the kitchen table and wandered restlessly into the hall, then stopped, horrified, as I caught a glimpse of myself in the big wall mirror. When had I last actually looked at myself properly? My hair, normally falling to my shoulders in soft, natural waves, looked greasy, flat; my skin, free of any make-up, looked deathly pale, except for dark circles like angry purple bruises under my eyes. I looked dreadful and, suddenly knowing exactly how to fill the time until Eva arrived, I headed for the bathroom.
I stood under the blissfully hot water for a long time, letting it massage my painfully tense shoulders, my eyes closed, mind wandering. For some reason, the trip Danny and I had made to Ireland to visit his parents a couple of weeks after we’d got engaged drifted into my thoughts, and for a moment I was back there, in the old farmhouse in Sligo, overlooking the shores of Lough Gill. Always a W. B. Yeats fan, I’d been thrilled to discover that not just the lake, but its tiny island of Innisfree, little more than a rocky outcrop, were visible from our cramped little room under the eaves, Danny’s childhood bedroom.
‘“I will arise and go now, go to Innisfree”,’ I’d chanted, as Danny, unpacking his suitcase, frowned, bemused.