‘It’s serious, Toby,’ I tell him. ‘Her handbag was stolen, and her phone and her wallet. I really think something’s happened to her.’
A sigh from Toby. ‘She’s probably just gone to a spa for the weekend, or out on a bender, or maybe she’s fucking some poor bloke who has no idea what hell he’s in for later. But maybe, if I’m lucky, she can marry him and take him to the cleaners instead of me.’
‘No,’ I say, confused. ‘She isn’t at a spa. We’re in Lisbon together. We’re on a weekend away.’ How does he not remember this? He spoke to her on the phone on Friday night. He was mad about the charges on his credit card. ‘She’s gone missing,’ I tell him, saying it loud and clear in case he hasn’t understood it.
‘Have you been to the police?’ he asks and I notice a slight hesitation in his voice. He’s starting to wonder if maybe I’m not acting hysterical and that this might be serious.
‘Yes,’ I tell him. ‘I was calling to get her mum’s number. I think someone needs to call her and let her know.’
‘Right,’ Toby says. ‘I can text you it.’ Clearly he is dumping that responsibility on me.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Where did you last see her?’ Toby asks.
I run a hand through my hair. ‘We went out to a bar, after we had dinner—’
‘What night was this? Last night?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Friday night. After you spoke to her—’
‘What?’ Toby interrupts. ‘I didn’t speak to her.’
‘Yes, you did,’ I argue. ‘I was there. You rang her about the credit card.’
There’s a pause on the end of the line then Toby speaks, his tone icy. ‘Orla, I don’t know what game Kate’s playing but I don’t have time for this …’
‘What game? This isn’t a game,’ I say, stammering. ‘I’m serious …’
‘I haven’t spoken to Kate in over a week,’ Toby snaps. ‘My solicitor told me not to have any contact with her.’
‘But what about the credit card? She told me you had cut it off.’
‘What credit card?’
I rub the deepening crease between my eyes, trying to understand what this all means. I remember Kate distinctly telling me that it was Toby on the phone – that he was angry about the spending and had cut off the card. It’s one of the few non-patchy memories I have of the evening. She was busy texting in the cab before and I watched her outside the window of the restaurant pacing up and down, waving her arms about. When she came back to the table it looked like she’d been crying and she told me it was Toby. So, if she wasn’t talking to him, who was she talking to?
‘So, you didn’t cancel the card on Friday?’ I repeat.
‘No! I didn’t even know she was still on my cards? Damn it to hell, she’s probably fucking spent enough to buy a small island.’
‘And you didn’t speak to her on Friday night, either?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he exclaims impatiently. ‘Look, are you sure this isn’t some fucking drama-seeking, attention-grabbing plot that she’s come up with? It seems like a typical bloody Kate thing to do. Trying to get me to notice, I’m guessing. Probably going for the sympathy vote so I’ll take her back.’
I open my mouth to argue with him. As if she’d do all this just to get back at Toby or to muster sympathy. And what does he mean, take her back? She dumped him for being unfaithful. She couldn’t have cared less about the break-up. At the same time though, Toby isn’t wrong about Kate being an attention seeker.
But no! I shake my head. She wouldn’t go this far. ‘Of course it’s not an attention-grabbing plot!’ I protest. ‘That’s ridiculous! She wouldn’t do this.’
I hear Toby laugh under his breath – it comes out as more of a snort really.
‘What?’ I snap back, infuriated at his attitude.
‘You don’t know her at all, do you?’ he sneers.
‘Of course, I do,’ I exclaim. How dare he? I know her a lot better than he does. They got married after a three-month affair and have only been together a few years. I’ve known her almost twenty.
‘I bet she told you all about it, didn’t she?’ he continues on. ‘Everything I did to her, the shit I put her through, how terribly I treated her. I can just imagine the stories she told you.’
I don’t say anything. I can’t lie – she did tell me