'No word from Stephen yet?' Lindsay asked, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and noting the cold dampness of her skin.
Alice shook her head, then looked at Aston. 'Have you seen him?' Again that eagerness, that nervous pleading in her voice.
Aston said gently: 'No, but don't worry too much, there could be a hundred explanations of why he hasn't been in touch with you.'
Alice went back into the house and Lindsay and Aston followed her into the sitting-room. It was very untidy; toys were scattered on the floor, children's books open on the couch, a large red setter dog padded to meet them, his tongue lolling out, and barked in token threat before allowing Aston to rub his head behind those long, silky ears.
Alice watched him, her expression uncertain. She did not know Aston very well and was always very quiet in the company of someone unfamiliar to her. Shy and wary, she was more or less the same age as Lindsay but gave the impression of being much younger, perhaps because she had married Stephen only a year after leaving school and had seen very little of the world outside her home. Her first baby, Matthew, had been born only eighteen months after she and Stephen got married, and little Vicky had followed her brother just a year later. Alice hated leaving her children in the care of babysitters, even Lindsay was barely acceptable to her as a mother-substitute, it was on very rare occasions that Alice allowed Lindsay to take over from her. Most nights, Alice and Stephen stayed at home together, listening to music, watching TV or reading. Alice was very far from being an outgoing girl, and Lindsay could see that Aston's arrival had disconcerted her.
'Why don't we make some coffee?' Lindsay suggested, and her sister-in-law looked at her gratefully. 'Like some, Aston?' Lindsay asked, and Aston looked round, smiling, still playing with the dog.
'I'd love a cup of coffee.'
'We won't be a minute, clear a space on the couch and sit down.'
Alice looked embarrassed. 'I'm afraid the place is very untidy, I haven't had time to . . .'
'Doesn't matter, it looks cosy and lived-in,' said Aston, giving her a comforting smile. As Alice hurried out of the room, Lindsay gave him a wry grimace.
'I'm not famous for my tact, I should have realised she'd be touchy about the way the room looks, but with small kids around nobody can keep a house tidy for long.'
'Go and talk to her,' Aston skid. 'She looks as though she's in the middle of a bad trauma.'
'Yes,' Lindsay agreed, sighing. 'I wonder what on earth has been happening?'
'Marriage,' said Aston drily, and she made another face.
'Oh, yes—why do we do it?'
She found Alice in the kitchen laying out cups with a dull expression, her movements slow. Lindsay watched her with compassion and uneasiness. What had gone wrong between her and Stephen?
'What was he like yesterday morning?' she asked, and Alice jumped, looking over her shoulder with open distress.
'What? Oh, Stephen, you mean?'
'Who else? Weren't you thinking about him?'
'I was wishing I knew what to do—I feel so helpless, not knowing where he is or what's happening to him. How can he do this to me?' The cry broke out of her suddenly, her voice rising, and her body trembled, she caught hold of the back of a chair and leaned on it, her head hanging down.
Lindsay put an arm round her and felt the tremor running through her. 'Now, calm down and try to think. Have you two quarrelled? Come on, Alice, you can tell me, these things do happen in the best marriages, you know. Was there a row?'.
'No,' Alice said vehemently, lifting her head so that Lindsay could see her face. 'What would we quarrel about? We never quarrel, Stephen isn't the quarrelsome sort, neither am I.'
That was true enough, Lindsay thought, watching her. She never remembered hearing the two of them come anywhere near having a row.
'Is Stephen worried about the firm?'
Alice hesitated, biting her lip, 'I don't know, he never talks about work, he never has…'
Lindsay caught the faint hint of something unspoken in her voice and frowned. 'But?' she pressed.
'But what?' Alice broke away from her and went over to make the coffee as the kettle boiled. Her hands were shaking, the spoon rattled against the sides of the cups as she spooned instant coffee. Lindsay looked at the ruffled red-brown hair, the curls tangled and lifeless as they clustered on Alice's thin nape, and she felt an impatient sympathy for her sister-in-law. Alice was waiting for someone else to tell her what to do, as Stephen had always told her what to do until now. Any self-confidence Alice had ever felt had apparently atrophied during her marriage— what you never use you may well lose entirely. Lindsay understood how Alice felt, she might well have gone the same way if she hadn't divorced Daniel Randall, she thought. Daniel had wanted to rule her life the way Stephen had always run Alice's life for her, but Stephen's motives had been generous and tender. Lindsay wouldn't say the same for Daniel.
'Come on, I picked up something from you just now—do you suspect that Stephen's worried about the firm?'
'I'm not sure.' Alice put the cups on to a formica tray. 'I don't know, he didn't talk about it, but there was something wrong with him lately. He was always sitting about staring into space, always in a daydream—he had something on his mind, but he wouldn't talk about it.' A little flush had crept up into her face, it burned along her high cheekbones. Lindsay stared at her, frowning.
'Didn't you have any idea what was wrong?' Alice's voice was harsh when she spoke. 'I thought there might be someone else.' Lindsay's eyes opened wide. 'Another woman?' Alice turned on her suddenly, speaking quickly and angrily. 'Well, it happens, doesn't it? And look at me.' She flicked a dismissive hand down herself, her mouth bitter. 'I'm always a mess, I haven't got much energy; Matt and Vicky beat me into the ground most days, by the time Stephen gets home I'm worn out, I hardly have enough life to do more than say hello and put his dinner in front of him. I flop out on the couch all evening and crawl upstairs to bed like a zombie. I can tell you, there isn't much fire in what goes on in our bed these days. If Stephen has fallen for someone else I wouldn't be amazed.' She stopped talking and bit her lower lip to steady it, then said: 'But he might have rung me before going off with her.'
'Who…' Lindsay began, and got a brief look. Alice's eyes were far too bright, there were unshed tears behind them.
'No idea. His secretary is a married woman of fifty with a daughter older than me—it certainly isn't her. I talked to her several times today, and she's as worried as I am, she wanted to ring the police this morning.'
'I think she's right,' Lindsay said. 'That's what we ought to do.'
'Stephen would never forgive me if…' 'Stephen isn't here to forgive you or otherwise, and we're wasting time. The sooner we tell the police the better, they can check up and find out if anyone of his description has been involved in an accident. Stephen could be lying in some hospital ward, unconscious—anything could have happened to him. He could have been mugged and all his belongings stolen, or .. .'
'Don't!' Alice protested shrilly.
Lindsay sighed. 'It's the only sensible thing to do, Alice. You must see that.'
After a long silence, Alice nodded slowly.
'Would you like me to ring the police?' Lindsay asked, and Alice nodded again. 'Right, then you take Aston his coffee while I get on the phone, and don't look so worried, it may turn out to be…' She stopped speaking as Alice walked out, carrying the tray, the cups clattering together.
The police were polite but made no pretence of being seriously concerned. 'We'll check the hospitals, miss,' the duty sergeant at the local station said. 'But unless he's been involved in an accident there isn't much we can do. He could be anywhere. It happens all the time, you know, men walk out on their families without saying a word and just disappear into thin air. But we'll do our best. Give me a few details about him. How tall is he?'
'Five foot nine or ten, I think.'
'Colour of hair?'
'Dark red.'
'That'
s unusual, might be a help,' the sergeant said. 'Long or short, is it?'
'Short, Stephen keeps it very neat and well-trimmed.'
'Colour of eyes?'
'Hazel—more green than brown.'
'And distinctive marks? Moles? Birthmarks?'
'He has a mole on his neck just under his ear.' Lindsay felt sick suddenly, she had a feeling she was describing a man she would never see again. Until that moment she hadn't been taking Stephen's disappearance seriously, but now her stomach plunged with anxiety.
'What was he wearing?' the sergeant asked.
'I don't know, I'll have to ask his wife.' Lindsay put down the phone and went into the sitting-room. Alice was sitting on the edge of a chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Aston was trying to make conversation, but Lindsay got the feeling it was uphill work.
Alice had to think for a minute before she could answer. 'His dark grey suit, a blue-striped shirt and a blue tie,' she said, and Lindsay went back to repeat that to the policeman.
'What sort of car was he driving?' she was asked. 'Could I have the number?'
Lindsay could answer that without checking with Alice, Stephen had often driven her home to her flat after visiting them. Her voice wasn't quite steady as she answered and the policeman said soothingly: 'Now, don't worry too much, miss, it's a hundred to one he's perfectly safe somewhere. Sometimes a man feels he has to get away to think things out.' He paused. 'Is there anyone at the factory we could contact? Anyone in his confidence who might have an idea Why he's gone?'
'His secretary? I could ask my sister-in-law for her name and address.'
'Would you do that, miss? It would help.'
'Hang on,' said Lindsay, and went back to Alice, who frowned in a distracted way.
'I've spoken to her, I told you, she doesn't have any more idea than I do…'
'It won't hurt for the police to talk to her,' Lindsay said. 'What's her name?'
Alice shrugged wearily. 'Mrs Temple, she lives in the new close behind the factory—I don't know the number of the house, I remember her telling me how pleased she was when she moved in because the house was so compact. I thought she was crazy, it was a rabbit hutch.'
'Watford Close, miss? Right, we'll see if we can talk to Mrs Temple tonight. Will someone be with Mrs Grainger? We might call round to have a chat, it depends if I can spare a man. We're light-handed tonight.'
'I'll be here,' said Lindsay, and rang off a moment later, her spirits very low. Talking to the policeman had made Stephen's disappearance real. Where could he be and why had he gone?
She went slowly back to join Alice and Aston, who looked round at her in question. 'No news?' Aston asked. Alice said nothing, but her eyes were like holes poked in a white sheet, her lips were colourless and trembled. Lindsay sank down onto her knees beside her sister-in-law's chair and held her shaking hands tightly.
'It's going to be okay, don't look like that.'
'What will I do if he never comes back?'
'Of course he'll come back, you mustn't think like that!'
From upstairs came a thump and a wail. Alice jumped to her feet. 'Matt's fallen out of bed again.' She was out of the room and running up the stairs a second later. Lindsay heard her voice in the small bedroom which the children shared; soothing, calming, in a murmur. Getting up, Lindsay joined Aston on the couch, her hands linked behind her head and her body relaxing with a sigh.
'I could kill Stephen! If he was worried, couldn't he have talked to us about it? Did he have to clear off like this? He must know what it's doing to Alice.' She turned her head and Aston touched her cheek with one hand gently.
'Don't get so upset, it's early days yet, he could walk in through the front door any minute.'
Tears welled up in Lindsay's eyes, she buried her face against Aston's shoulder. 'I'm scared,' she whispered. 'It isn't like him. Stephen's always been so strong. What if… if something has happened to him?' She couldn't bear to put her fears into words, but she was afraid that Stephen might not ever come back. She might have brushed aside Alice's worry, but secretly she was beginning to feel the same—how could you help being afraid when you didn't know what had happened? The fear of the unknown prompted all sorts of dark ideas, suspicions, dreads.
'Ssh… Alice is coming,' Aston murmured. 'Don't let her see you like this, you've got to put a brave face on it for her sate, Lindsay.'
Sitting up, Lindsay brushed a rough hand across her wet eyes and Aston slid his arm round her, squeezed her comfortingly. They heard Alice coming slowly down the stairs, then another sound caught their attention, a car engine which shut off as they sat up. Lindsay stiffened and began to get up.
'Stephen!'
'It could be the police,' warned Aston.
They heard Alice running. Lindsay went to the door just in time to hear Alice fumbling with the lock on the front door, then it was open and a cold wind blew into the little hallway. Lindsay stared in rigid disappointment at the stranger facing Alice, whose thin shoulders had slumped as she realised it was not her husband.
'Mrs Grainger? Has Mr Grainger come back yet?'
'No,' Alice said in a husky voice.
'How long has he been missing, Mrs Grainger? Can I come in and talk to you?' The man was young, thin and sallow-skinned, wearing an old sheepskin coat. He smiled at Alice and flicked a quick look at Lindsay over her shoulder as he began to insert himself into the house, talking fast. 'Have you any idea why he's disappeared? Is there any trouble at his factory or…'
'Who are you?' Lindsay cut across his sentence. 'Are you from the police?'
She saw his hesitation, then he smiled charmingly at her. 'I won't take up much of your time,' he began, and Lindsay interrupted again.
'Are you a reporter?' ,
'Oh!' Alice gasped, falling back from him.
'Isn't Mr Grainger related to Daniel Randall?' the young man asked, ignoring Lindsay's question and keeping his eyes on Alice, obviously deciding she was the softest target.
'Out!' snapped Lindsay, advancing on him and pushing him back through the front door. 'Go on, get out, we have nothing to say to you.' Mention of Daniel was a red rag to a bull, she was flushed and very angry.
'All I want to do is help you find your husband,' the reporter protested.
Lindsay shut the front door in his face. Turning to look quickly at her sister-in-law, she found Aston in the hall, watching her with a wry smile.
'You're a tough little lady, aren't you?' he mocked. 'I thought for a minute you were going to hit him.'
'So did I,' Lindsay muttered through her teeth. 'What a nerve, trying to talk his way in here!'
'You haven't got red hair for nothing, I suppose,' Aston commented.
Lindsay put her arm round Alice. 'Come and sit down. Have you eaten tonight? Are you hungry?'
'No,' Alice whispered. 'How did that man know Stephen was missing? Who could have told him?'
'He probably picked it up at the police station, reporters always have a contact in the police,' Aston said. 'And I'm hungry, Lindsay.' He gave her a plaintive little smile and she laughed.
'Okay, you talk to Alice, I'll get us a meal.'
'I'm not hungry,' said Alice.
'Nobody's going to force you to eat if you don't want to,' Lindsay said, giving Aston a secret look. He steered Alice back into the sitting-room and Lindsay went into the kitchen to see what she could find.
She was no more hungry than Alice was, but she felt it would do them all good to have something to occupy their minds while they waited for news. No doubt Alice hadn't touched food all day, she looked hollow. While Lindsay scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes, made toast and more coffee, she was trying to think of some place Stephen might head for if he was in trouble. As small children they had always had holidays in Cornwall, might he go there? She mentally made a list of their relatives, but their family had never been very close and Stephen had often told her how much he resented the total indifference of their aunt in Yorkshire, their uncle in
Scotland, when their parents died. Nobody had come to help Stephen then, they had appeared at the funeral, drunk some sherry and made soothing noises then departed without making any offer to help. Stephen would be very unlikely to look for help from any of them now.
She carried a loaded tray into the sitting-room and practically force-fed Alice, who was still reluctant to eat but managed to get down some of the scrambled egg and a half slice of toast. While Aston and Lindsay drank the last of the coffee, Alice wandered over to the window and stood, the curtain drawn back, her nose pressed against the glass like a hopeful child, waiting.
Lindsay collected together the plates and cups. Aston took the tray from her and carried it out into the kitchen. 'Are you staying here tonight?' he asked, and she nodded.
'Of course. You'd better go now, Aston. I'm very grateful for your help, you've been very kind.'
'Sure you wouldn't like me to stay tonight?'
'We'll be okay. I'll to get her to go to bed soon, she looks worn out. I've got some sleeping pills in my handbag, I'll give her one of those.'
'Do you need to take sleeping pills?' Aston asked, frowning and eyeing her in surprise.
'Not often, but I had insomnia after my marriage broke up and now and then it comes back.' She flushed as she met his eyes. All that was behind her now, she preferred not to remember the anguish Daniel had put her through, the black nights when she lay awake and ached for him, the long-delayed dawns which brought no hope of any end to her pain. When you are trapped in bitter, hopeless feeling you always think there can be no escape from it, but Lindsay had freed herself at last. She had begun to sleep regularly, without dreaming of Daniel; she had woken up without that dead sense of depression.
Aston's face gave no hint of his reaction, he merely nodded. 'I see.' He looked at his watch. 'I'd better be on my way, then. If you need me, give me a ring, don't hesitate to ask. You know I'll do anything I can.'
The Sex War Page 2