‘What’s wrong?’ Cameron asked, standing himself.

‘No one’s answering.’

‘Did you try the house phone?’

‘Of course.’

‘What about Oliver’s mobile?’

‘That too – no answer.’

Cameron started patting his pockets, wondering which one he had put his car keys in. ‘Shall we call the neighbours?’

Eleanor spoke with a forced calmness. ‘No, let’s just go. I’m sure everything is fine.’

The wait to pay was excruciating and Cameron could barely tolerate the silence during the car journey home. Each red traffic light and delay to give way at a roundabout seemed to occur in slow motion. He cursed any driver in front of him who was not going at least 10 m.p.h. over the speed limit. He could sense Eleanor in the passenger seat holding her breath as she tried to call the house. Each time, he could hear the phone ringing without being answered until his wife would hang up before trying again.

Neither of them spoke.

When they first moved in, Cameron had spent months struggling to reverse his car onto their driveway each time he arrived home. The thick brick pillars on either side seemed to have been placed deliberately to make life difficult and Eleanor would make jokes about his parking ability. Without even thinking, he drove in front first and switched off the engine, opening the door in one fluid movement. Eleanor was out of the car before it had stopped, heels clip-clopping across the tarmac as Cameron watched her climb the steps two at a time to their front door. He reached the bottom as she got to the top, a small cry escaping her lips.

‘What?’ Cameron asked, louder than he intended.

Eleanor was standing still as he joined her on the top step. She didn’t have to say anything because he could see it himself – the front door was unlocked and open. Cameron looked at the fear in his wife’s eyes. He was too scared to speak, in case saying it out loud would make it more real.

Gently, he eased the front door open, not knowing what he would see on the other side. Cameron realised he had been holding his breath and exhaled loudly as he stared into the hallway to see everything exactly as it should be. Eleanor’s bright pink coat, which he so hated, was still hanging from the row of hooks on the right-hand wall. Lara’s wellington boots and trainers were neatly placed on the floor underneath.

Cameron felt Eleanor pushing past him, heading for the stairs. Lara’s bedroom was the natural place to visit first but, for some reason, he felt drawn to the living room. As he heard his wife’s shoes ascending the wooden steps, Cameron slowly opened the front-room door, peering around it.

The room was bathed in a bluish haze with the glow from the television creeping into the darkened corners. Cameron stood for a few moments, staring at the screen, before remembering where he was. He blinked rapidly, glancing around the empty room which was, apart from the absence of Oliver, exactly as he had left it. Cameron noticed the house phone undisturbed on the side table, before he picked up the remote control and switched the set off, allowing darkness to engulf him.

He turned to walk back into the hallway but his foot brushed across the top of something hard. He bent down and picked up a mobile phone, examined it and put it in his pocket, stepping into the hallway. Cameron felt his stomach gurgling uncomfortably as he rested one hand on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. His house had a different aura about it in a way that was difficult to describe. He remembered when the new-born Lara was first brought home, and Eleanor spent the best part of two days sleeping. Owning a property wasn’t about the bricks and tiles, it was about those memories, and now they suddenly seemed tarnished.

Cameron held on to the banister, eyes tightly closed as he slowly started climbing the stairs. He winced at every creak, listening out for the scream of anguish he knew would soon be coming from above.

As he neared the top, Cameron opened his eyes one at a time. He fully expected to see his daughter’s bedroom door flung open with a pile of clothes or toys on the floor. Instead, Eleanor was standing in the doorframe staring inwards, illuminated by the night light in an almost identical fashion to a few hours previously.

‘Ellie?’ he said softly.

His words echoed around the hallway, unanswered. Cameron stepped closer to his wife until he was standing directly behind her. He peered over her shoulder until he could see the room clearly. He blinked rapidly, wanting his eyes to confirm it was true.

Even from the doorway, he could see Lara’s chest rising and falling as she slept soundlessly.

‘She’s okay,’ Eleanor said gently as Cameron pressed into her back. He felt his wife push into him before relaxing her muscles so he was supporting her weight. ‘I thought . . .’

‘I know.’

They stood in silence watching their daughter breathe. Cameron would have been happy standing there for the rest of the night but his wife turned and nestled her head into his shoulder. ‘Where’s Oliver?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. He’s not downstairs.’

‘He wouldn’t have just gone home . . . would he?’

Cameron rubbed the bottom of the woman’s back soothingly. ‘His mobile phone was on the floor.’

Eleanor pulled away and met her husband’s eyes for the first time since they had left the restaurant. She asked the question they were both thinking. ‘So where is he?’

2

Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel finished chewing the chip she was eating and scowled at her friend across the canteen table in disapproval.

‘I’m not rising to it,’ she said.

Detective Constable Isobel Diamond laughed. ‘You always rise to it. There’s no way you’re going to let it go.’

Jessica picked up another chip and put it in her mouth, shaking her head. ‘I’m a changed woman.’

Izzy laughed again. ‘Not that changed if you’re still talking with your mouth full.’

Jessica swallowed. ‘That was just a treat for you. Anyway, I’m not rising to it.’

‘I’m just asking if you’re ever going to take Adam’s last name.’

‘Yes but you’re not really asking, are you? You’re stirring.’

Izzy giggled further. ‘I am a bit, yeah.’

Jessica looked across the canteen table at Detective Constable David Rowlands. ‘What’s up with you anyway? Nothing funny to say?’

The constable had been swishing his cup of tea with a teaspoon absent-mindedly for around five minutes. ‘Jessica Compton would make you sound like a farmer’s daughter,’ he concluded, not looking up from his mug.

Jessica raised her eyebrows and met Izzy’s surprised stare. ‘That’s a bit rude,’ Izzy replied.

Dave shrugged, picking up his tea and downing what was left. He offered a half-smirk as he raised his gaze to their eyes. ‘It does sound a bit farmy though, doesn’t it? It’s like you should be working somewhere in Alabama throwing hay bales around.’

‘Have you ever been to Alabama?’ Jessica asked.

‘No, you?’

‘Surprisingly no, but I doubt they throw hay bales around.’

‘Anyway,’ Izzy said. ‘Are you changing your name or not?’

Instead of replying, Jessica picked up another chip and chewed it deliberately slowly. ‘It’s your first day back, Iz,’ she eventually said. ‘You’ve returned earlier than anyone expected. Haven’t you got more important things to be getting on with?’

‘Not really, no. Everyone’s being particularly nice and offering to carry stuff or take work off my hands. I might have a few more children if this is what everyone’s reaction is like.’

She raised her eyebrows in a silent suggestion.

‘Don’t even say it,’ Jessica replied. ‘You either,’ she added, turning to Rowlands.