The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  ‘How did it go, then?’ Tiff asked brightly, clearly keen to move the conversation on.

  ‘I had some time for a bath, then—’

  ‘No, no. I mean how did IT go? The appeal with Oliver.’

  ‘Oh, um … difficult to say. I guess it went as expected.’ Louisa shrugged.

  ‘I hope something comes from it.’

  ‘Me too. I want this to be over.’ Louisa, her flare of anger passing for now, got up from the floor and plonked herself down in the feeding chair. It seemed so selfish of her to say that, and of course she wanted Melissa to be found safe and well, but she also wanted it over so that she could get Oliver back out of her life again.

  ‘I’m sure Oliver wants that too. Poor bloke. You know, I’d only been back from walking around the Common with Noah for five minutes when the police came to my house.’ Tiff raised her eyebrows, pausing for effect. ‘I gave them “The List”.’

  Louisa’s blood chilled. ‘Oh, God. Do you think it’ll be helpful?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’ Tiff shook her head, her sleek hair swinging from side to side. ‘I deleted all the messages after I sent them, so I went back through your Facebook assuming it would be easy to see who I’d invited, but I couldn’t even be sure if I’d invited all the people who were on it. I should’ve done it as an event in hindsight; that would have made things so much simpler now, but at the time it felt too risky. There was a possibility that you might have logged onto Facebook and seen it, ruining the surprise.’

  ‘I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about,’ Louisa said, putting her fingers to her temples.

  Tiff gave an exasperated huff, then waved her hand to acknowledge she was aware she was talking double Dutch as far as Louisa was concerned. ‘My point is, there were only about a dozen of the people I’d listed that I could say with some certainty actually turned up. I duplicated the list for you,’ Tiff said as she reached into her bag, then leant forward to hand a piece of paper to Louisa. ‘You check it, see if you can remember any different ones to me. We need to give as full a picture as we can, try and help Oliver out. Find his wife. The longer this goes on, the more tragic the outcome’s likely to be.’

  Louisa almost laughed at Tiff’s concern as she stared at the folded paper. Of course this kind of drama was right up her street, and having a part to play, however small, was going to give her a buzz. But her sympathy for Oliver bothered Louisa a bit. She’d only met the man once and she was acting like she knew him. After a long, hard day, which had been topped off with her best friend going behind her back with Brian, again, and now being presented with The List – Louisa just wanted Tiff gone.

  As if Noah heard her silent wish, he gave a high-pitched squeal and began thrashing his legs.

  ‘I’d best feed him.’ She moved to pick him up, but opened the lounge door first. Tiff got the message and after trying to give a brief explanation of what the police had said as she was being steered out the door, left. For a few minutes after she’d gone, Louisa stood motionless in the hallway, her brain grappling to make sense of the last hour. She’d warm a bottle for Noah, then look at the list after she’d fed him.

  According to Tiff, she’d written down everyone she could think of – everyone from Louisa’s Facebook friends list she could remember. She said she hadn’t done the ‘invite all’ option because she didn’t want one hundred people turning up at the relatively small pub. But she had over-invited to take into account those who wouldn’t bother responding, those who were too far away, those who said no and those who were bound to be ‘last-minute failure-to-turn-ups’. Tiff had said that the police were going to go through it one by one. That much was obvious to Louisa. What wasn’t so obvious was whether Melissa had even been at her party.

  It was just before 6 p.m. when Noah finished his bottle and Louisa changed his nappy; the local news was just beginning on ITV. Emily hadn’t come home, probably avoiding Louisa again by staying at her friend’s until she absolutely had to come back. Even when she did return home, she’d no doubt disappear into her room without so much as a hint of conversation. Louisa needed to spend some time alone with her – like it used to be, before Noah. Show her that things weren’t that different.

  But they were. Everything was very different.

  Noah’s breathing became regular, little sighs of air escaping his puckered mouth. Louisa’s insides fluttered. The deep ache in her stomach made it feel like something was in it, swelling, filling the cavity – as Noah had only three months prior. Even though she’d struggled so far with a new baby, the feeling of love was unmistakable. She smiled. She might have suffered sleep deprivation, mood swings, lapses in memory – but gazing at her beautiful boy now, she knew she’d get through okay. They’d get through.

  Gently repositioning Noah to her right side, Louisa unfolded the paper and perused the list of names, looking at each one, trying to put a face to them. There were more names than she’d assumed would be on it. Thank God all of these people hadn’t turned up. She’d have been horrified seeing all those faces. What had Tiff and Brian been thinking?

  The best way would be to redo the list her way – putting them into categories: college friends, school-gate mums, mutual friends of hers and Tiff’s, Brian’s colleagues, their wives, Louisa’s colleagues from the accountancy firm.

  But none of them will be able to help find Melissa.

  The thought came to her in an instant. She shook her head. She felt that something in an untapped part of her brain knew something, but the rest of it was fighting against her remembering. But then, Louisa wasn’t the only one finding it difficult placing Melissa at her party. No one, as far as she knew, could remember seeing Oliver’s wife. Apart from maybe her. But that was a big maybe. It was entirely possible Louisa had merely assumed it was his wife standing beside him at the top of the stairs. Oliver hadn’t actually introduced her. All she could recall was him saying he’d only been married for a short time – but had he specifically referred to that woman as his wife? She really couldn’t remember.

  But if Oliver had said she was there – then surely, she must’ve been.

  Why would he lie?

  22

  THE DREAM

  Friday a.m. – Day 7 post-party

  ‘Louisa! Louisa!’ Her name being shouted. Her body being rocked.

  ‘Can’t you hear him?’ Brian’s voice loud in her ear. ‘Haven’t you fed him?’

  Louisa’s bleary eyes took a moment to focus; her mind took even longer. Where was she? Why was Brian shouting at her?

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Lou.’ Her body jiggled again, this time, more violently. She was in bed. Brian was making a meal of getting out of it – the mattress bouncing with each exaggerated movement.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice thick with sleep.

  She wasn’t sure what she was meant to be sorry for.

  ‘When did he last have a bottle?’ Brian’s silhouette could just be made out as he sat on the edge of the bed, hastily pulling on what she presumed were his jogging bottoms.

  ‘Erm …’ She rubbed her fingertips against her temples, willing herself to remember. ‘It feels like I’ve slept so solidly. What time is it?’

  ‘Four. So, did you feed him at midnight?’ His patience, what little he seemed to have for her lately, was wearing thinner with each passing second.

  ‘I – I think, it was … no.’ Louisa sat up, her disorientation beginning to pass. ‘Ten. It was not long after Emily finally got home.’

  ‘I’ll heat up a bottle then, I guess.’

  Louisa didn’t have the energy to argue. Brian would need to be up for work in two hours; it wasn’t fair to let him feed Noah. She collapsed back, her head hitting the pillow. She pulled the duvet up to her neck, turned to face the window and closed her eyes.

  Screaming.

  Blood.

  A heap of clothes? Or a motionless body.

  Silence.

  Her heartbeat crashing against her ribcage;
legs wobbly.

  Cool grass, tickling her feet.

  I don’t care what you did.

  The music loud in her ears.

  As long as you still love me.

  ‘Louisa. Lou. You’re dreaming, sweetheart.’

  Louisa came to with a start. Her head was groggy, as though she’d taken her tablets before bed, but she’d thrown them all in the bin days ago, so she had no idea why she felt so out of it.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It’s becoming a regular thing for you lately.’

  ‘Did you feed Noah and come back to bed? What time is it now?’

  ‘I didn’t feed Noah,’ Brian said, his eyes squinting at Louisa.

  ‘But you were shouting at me because he was crying … then you got up, said you’d give him a bottle.’

  Louisa watched as a flicker of concern passed across his face.

  ‘You must’ve dreamt it. Does that mean Noah hasn’t been fed overnight?’

  ‘It was too real to be a dream, Brian. Are you messing with me?’ An overwhelming wave of anxiety hit her, making her breath catch.

  ‘Shit, why would you even think that? I’m too tired and worried to be messing with you, Lou. Remember the awful dream you had when you thought you’d squashed Noah? That was real to you too. You’ve had another vivid dream. Or two. You must have something playing on your mind or something.’

  ‘Or something,’ Louisa muttered.

  ‘What is it? What’s getting you so worked up you’re practically hallucinating?’

  She hadn’t broached the subject of him asking Tiff to take Noah to the clinic – she’d been too tired when he got back from work and didn’t want to get into a heated discussion. She didn’t want that now either, but as she’d opened the can of worms, she decided to let them spill.

  ‘Well, let’s see, might it be Melissa went missing from my party, I’m constantly having weird dreams … or could they be visions, me forgetting to feed my own baby, or you and Tiff going behind my back because you don’t trust me … Will that list do you, Brian? Take your pick of those, but they’re just for starters really.’

  ‘Ah.’ Brian wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘What – that’s it? Ah?’

  ‘I was worried. You needed some rest, so it made sense for Tiff to take him to the clinic.’

  ‘I was made to go to the appeal with Oliver, actually. I don’t call that rest.’

  ‘But you had afterwards to chill—’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Louisa was totally awake now, adrenaline pumping around her body forcing her neurons to fire. ‘You went behind my back, Brian. That’s becoming a regular thing for you.’

  ‘You’re getting hysterical; I think it best we discuss this later. I’m going to get Noah. He will clearly need a feed. Can’t believe he isn’t screaming the house down if he hasn’t had milk all night.’

  Louisa was about to take her level of supposed hysteria up a notch to show Brian just how hysterical she could get, but his observation stopped her in her tracks. It was unbelievable that Noah wasn’t screaming the house down. No feeds overnight, no nappy changes. That wasn’t right.

  She swallowed hard, tears bubbled – she stared, wide-eyed, at Brian.

  His face mirrored hers. He was thinking the same.

  Neither of them moved for a fraction of a second, then both leapt from the bed. Brian reached Noah’s door first. Louisa hung back, her legs weak and shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘Why hasn’t he cried all night?’

  ‘Could he have had his first night sleeping right through?’ Brian said as his hand hovered above the handle. He was vocalising his hope. Their hope. Louisa watched helplessly as he leant his ear up to the door. Christ. He was afraid to go in. He was thinking the worst too, she could tell. His face was milky-white, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. Louisa wanted to scream, wanted to rush past him and get into the nursery. Lift Noah into her arms, hold him next to her, feel his warmth and his tiny puffs of breath against her cheek. She couldn’t, though. Her feet were planted, her body paralysed.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  She closed her eyes as she saw Brian pull down the handle. She heard the gentle whooshing of the door trailing along the plush nursery carpet as it opened. She held her breath, so she could hear the slightest noise coming from the room.

  Please be okay.

  Why wasn’t Brian saying anything?

  Louisa opened her eyes. Tears plummeted downwards, covering her cheeks, her chin, rolling underneath and down her neck. Sobs escaped her open mouth.

  ‘He’s not here.’

  23

  THE BABY-SITTER

  ‘Emily,’ Louisa said. Blood began to circulate to her legs again, enabling her to move. ‘Emily must have him.’ She flung Emily’s bedroom door wide open, hitting it against the chest of drawers. Her room was empty too.

  Brian was already halfway down the stairs.

  ‘She’s not here!’ His shout seemed to hit the walls and reverberate around the house.

  ‘Is the pram there?’ Louisa steadied herself as she descended the stairs.

  ‘Er … hang on. No. No, it’s not.’

  ‘Well, she’s taken him for a walk then.’ She took some deep breaths. It was fine. Nothing to worry about. Emily had obviously been woken by Noah’s cries and taken him in his pram as she knew movement often comforted him.

  ‘At six in the morning?’ Brian moved past her. ‘I’ll get dressed and go and find them,’ he said as he ran back up the stairs.

  Was that the time? With her dreams still clouding her mind, Louisa had assumed it was earlier. Still, six was way earlier than Emily usually got out of bed. For her to have gone out for a walk was out of character. Louisa recalled how Emily had taken it upon herself to remove Noah from his Moses basket the other day without telling her. How she’d felt as though Emily had purposely done it to frighten her.

  Brian, now fully clothed, rushed down the stairs and out of the front door, leaving Louisa standing in the hall. She should get dressed too, in case Brian couldn’t find them.

  Of course he’ll find them, she whispered to herself over and over again as she climbed the stairs to throw on some clothes.

  Ten minutes passed, and Louisa was about to walk out the front door when she saw movement outside. Three shapes approached the glass. She opened the door, her jaw gaping at what she saw.

  Emily, Brian … and Oliver. He had the pram.

  Brian raised his eyebrows at Louisa, but didn’t offer up any explanation as he walked in, followed by a sheepish-looking Emily – then Oliver, who bumped the pram up and over the threshold.

  ‘Sorry to worry you,’ Oliver said, his hand on Louisa’s shoulder. ‘I saw Emily out on her own with the pram, thought it a little disconcerting at this time in the morning—’

  ‘And why were you out at this time?’ she said, glaring at him. He looked taken aback for a moment, then a mask slipped down, over his face – his expression serious.

  ‘I haven’t been sleeping, Lou. I’ve either been out driving or walking, trying to get my head around Melissa’s disappearance. By this evening it’ll have been a week. A whole week, and nothing.’ He was doing the thing with his eyes again: head lowered, eyes upwards. Like a dog that thinks it’s done something bad and wants to make itself appear cute and lovable so that the owner forgives it. Louisa didn’t respond. She closed the front door.

  Like a bizarre gathering, the four of them, plus Noah, stood in the kitchen, each leaning against a different part of the worktop. The kettle was boiling, and four mugs were lined up ready for coffee. Louisa could never have envisaged this scene in a lifetime. Brian turned his back while he made the drinks; the clinking of the spoon against the china was the only sound. Someone had to break the spell.

  ‘How come you took Noah out, Emily?’ Louisa asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. Calm.

  ‘He was crying.’ She shrugged.

  ‘He cries every morning; you’ve never e
ven taken him from his cot before. What made you do that today?’

  ‘Thought it would give you some extra time in bed. You looked like you needed it. Dad and Tiff said—’

  ‘Emily,’ Brian cut in, his voice low; his tone a warning.

  Brian and Tiff. Again. Louisa felt as though they were making some attempt to overthrow her. That they were mounting an intervention, or mutiny. Ganging up on her. She looked to Oliver, his eyes sorrowful. Because of Melissa, or because he could feel it too?

  ‘Why are you even here, Oliver?’ she said. Her words shocked her. Again, she’d had that thought, but didn’t realise she’d voiced it.

  Oliver smiled as he took the mug of coffee from Brian, then turned to face Louisa.

  ‘Honestly?’ He lowered his gaze again. ‘I’m lost. I’m back in Devon, where everyone I once knew has long gone, apart from you. And my wife is missing.’

  Louisa didn’t say anything. It wasn’t an answer to the question – not really. It was to secure sympathy.

  ‘It must be terrible, the not knowing, and being away from your family, your support,’ Brian said. ‘If there’s anything we can do, Oliver …’

  Louisa spun her head to look at Brian, her mouth gaping.

  ‘Thank you, Brian, that’s really kind of you. I must say, it’s a relief to have you guys on my side.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Brian said.

  Louisa saw him open his mouth in preparation to speak again. She had a feeling what he was about to utter wouldn’t be good and every instinct screamed at her to say something to stop him. But she was too slow.

  ‘How about a pint later? Say around eight?’ Brian said, putting his mug down and giving Oliver a pally slap on his upper arm. There it was. Unbelievable. She wanted Oliver out of her life and her own husband was inviting him in. May as well have invited the head vampire into their home for the unwanted backlash it could have. Louisa willed Oliver to say no, but knew it was futile.