‘This is Konstandin,’ I say to Rob, feeling heat rush to my face. ‘He’s been helping me. He’s … an Uber driver,’ I blurt. Oh, this is awkward.
Konstandin holds out his hand to Rob. ‘Konstandin,’ he says, introducing himself.
‘Rob. Orla’s husband,’ Rob counters, rather coldly. I wince. Oh dear, he’s not happy.
‘I figured that,’ Konstandin replies with something of a smirk.
Rob shakes his hand and I notice both men’s knuckles turn white and they look like they’re trying to out-grip each other. ‘Konstandin has been the most useful person,’ I explain hurriedly to Rob, wondering why I sound so guilty. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s been translating and … things.’ I peter off, knowing that by rambling on I sound guilty of something, even though I’ve not done anything wrong.
‘I see,’ says Rob, gesturing towards Konstandin’s car. ‘And you were just going somewhere?’
I nod. ‘Yes.’ Shit, should I admit we were going to get dinner together? It seems like something Rob could very easily read into, but I blurt it out anyway like an idiot. ‘We were going to get some food actually.’
Rob frowns. ‘You couldn’t order takeaway?’
I open my mouth to say something but Konstandin gets in first. ‘Perhaps I’ll go.’
‘Mmm,’ Rob murmurs.
Konstandin turns to me. ‘Let me know if you hear any news.’
I nod, giving him an apologetic look. I grit my teeth as he gets in his car, my face flushing furiously with anger and embarrassment. Once he drives off I turn to Rob and rush into his arms before he can say anything or grill me further.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I say, burrowing into his familiar chest. He hugs me back, dropping a kiss on top of my head. I close my eyes, squeezing them shut. ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’
‘I was racing to the airport and I tried you but you didn’t pick up.’ He pulls back. ‘Good job I did show up though. Were you really going to go to dinner with him?’
My face flames. ‘It’s not like that.’
He frowns. ‘How is it then? It’s a little bit weird to go out to dinner with an Uber driver, don’t you think? And he looks a bit dodgy if you ask me.’
‘He’s not dodgy,’ I protest, weakly.
‘Is he the guy you told me about? The one who drove you and Kate to the bar?’
I nod. Rob pulls back to stare at me, giving me a look like I’m crazy. ‘So how do you know he’s not involved in her disappearance? For God’s sake, Orla!’
I’m shocked by his tone and glance around. The shopkeeper over the road is staring at us and a couple walking past glance back over their shoulders.
‘Look,’ I say in a quiet voice. ‘I need to tell you something.’
Rob’s face darkens and I wonder what he thinks I’m about to say. Judging from his expression he’s anticipating an admission of cheating or even murder. I purse my lips, annoyed that he’s leaping to conclusions. ‘Let’s find somewhere to go and talk.’
*
We end up at a restaurant a little way down the street, a cave-like place serving bar food and cheap wine in rattan-covered carafes. It doesn’t look particularly nice but it will do. Rob orders a beer and I order a glass of wine, needing something to soothe my nerves and my anxiety. I wait for it to arrive and drink several gulps before setting the glass down.
‘So are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ Rob asks. He’s been quiet since we got here and he seems anxious, judging from the way his foot is tapping beneath the table. Rob’s a patient guy. It takes a lot to stir him up, but when the fuse is lit he can lose his temper. It’s a rare occurrence and usually only involves him yelling, though once, in our twenties, he did punch a wall and break a bone in his hand after we got in a stupid fight. I, on the other hand, am much more volatile. I have huge swings, can go from laughter to tears in the space of five minutes, and lose my temper quite easily, something that’s only got worse since I had Marlow. I’m so tired all the time that my patience wears thin.
‘I didn’t tell you the whole story before,’ I begin. ‘It was complicated and I didn’t want to explain over the phone.’