fact someone lives in it, books and magazines on the coffee table, more art on the walls – movie posters mainly of old movies including one of The Birds and another of Vertigo.
‘You like Hitchcock?’ I ask, nodding at the posters on the wall.
‘Oh yes,’ he says, smiling. He shows me his giant flat screen on the wall of the living room and beneath it an array of DVDs, which I try to feign interest in.
‘Here,’ he says, ‘your room is this way.’ He leads me to the second bedroom – identical to the room Kate stayed in upstairs, decorated in similar white tones. It’s slightly discombobulating.
‘Thank you,’ I say, wheeling my bag to the bed. ‘Let me know how I should pay you.’
‘How long do you need to stay?’ he asks.
‘The police said I shouldn’t leave the country.’
His cocks his head. ‘What else did they say?’ he asks. ‘About your friend?’
‘Not much. They’re looking into it.’
He frowns, taking that in. ‘She hasn’t gone home without telling you?’
‘She left all her things,’ I point out. ‘And she didn’t have her handbag or passport with her when she went missing.’
‘Strange,’ he murmurs. ‘Is it the two men do you think, who came back with you?’
‘I …’ I break off, staring at him. How did he know it was two men? Did I tell him? I don’t think I did. He knew there were people besides us in the apartment on Friday night but I don’t remember telling him it was two men. Maybe I did though. Or maybe he guessed from having heard their voices. ‘The police don’t know,’ I say, not wanting to give him too much information. ‘They’re going to interview them.’
‘Are they worried something bad has happened to her?’ He seems to finally be grasping the seriousness of the situation, judging from the concern on his face, which has been all but absent until now.
My throat tightens and my heart starts to race. ‘I don’t know.’
Sebastian sees my anxiety and gives me a smile. ‘Would you like a cup of tea? You English people like your tea.’
‘I’m Irish,’ I say, automatically. I’m about to turn him down on the tea but I am so beyond tired I think I need some caffeine to perk me up. ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll have tea.’
I follow him out to the kitchen. I look around noticing the pristineness of the space. ‘What do you do?’ I ask, trying to make conversation as he boils the kettle.
‘I read textbooks.’
I’m not sure I’ve understood him correctly so I ask him to repeat it.
‘Audiobooks. I record textbooks as digital files. Physics, psychology, science, that kind of thing.’
‘Sounds like the perfect thing to put me to sleep,’ I say with a laugh, before realising how insulting that sounds. ‘I mean, I’m terrible at science. In one ear and out the other.’ I’m waffling, trying to make up for my rudeness. What’s gotten into me?
He sniffs and looks wounded. ‘It is mainly for students who have dyslexia,’ he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I work for a couple of publishers but also I have two clients who pay me to record textbooks for their children who are dyslexic.’
‘That’s … great,’ I say.
‘And I manage all my Airbnb apartments.’
‘You have more than one?’ I ask.
‘Yes, I have five – all over the city. One in Sintra.’
I nod absently. Making small talk is exhausting when your mind keeps drifting to other, more pressing concerns. ‘That’s nice.’
He makes me a cup of tea and hands it to me before picking up a cloth to wipe down the countertops. He’s a clean freak, that’s for sure.
I pull out my phone and wave it in the universal symbol of excuse me, must make a call. ‘My husband,’ I explain. ‘I should call him and tell him where I am. Don’t want him to worry.’
Sebastian nods and I take my cup of tea and head back to my room, pausing slightly in front of a door to what seems like a third bedroom. This is how the apartment differs to ours. Judging by the wall dividing the living room, the room has been custom built.
‘That’s my recording room,’ Sebastian says. He’s come up behind me on silent feet.
I notice that the door doesn’t have a handle, only a lock, and my stomach folds over on itself, anxiety buzzing through me like a swarm of wasps. I hurry to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. This door doesn’t have a lock