Beth calls when I’m at the end of my road. I let the call ring out, but when she rings again, I answer.
‘Are you in the car?’ she asks, her tone sharp. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Nowhere important. I’m heading out for some writing snacks.’
‘Writing snacks, really? Come on, Janine. Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to wait until the police show up to be told that you got yourself into a dodgy situation hunting for this missing woman?’
My stomach lurches. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘You’re not the only one who talks to Kamal, you know.’
‘Kamal told you what’s been going on?’ I ask, the sense of betrayal I feel cutting deep.
‘Don’t act so shocked. You’ve been all over the place recently, and this morning, the police showed up on your doorstep. Kamal’s worried. By the sound of it, rightfully so.’
‘I wish you’d all stop worrying about me,’ I grumble.
‘Well, we wish you’d stop giving us reason to worry. You should be focusing on yourself and healing after what you’ve gone through, not this.’
‘All I do is think of what I’ve gone through,’ I can’t help snapping. ‘I don’t need you all to do that for me, too, and I definitely don’t need the constant reminders of what happened.’
‘Janine—’
‘No,’ I cut in. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do, Beth, okay? For once, just leave me alone.’
I hear my sister protest, but I hang up before she can finish her sentence. Immediately, guilt engulfs me. I shouldn’t have spoken to Beth like that. I shouldn’t have hung up. I shouldn’t have done any of the things I’ve been doing recently, but here I am, still doing them.
I wish I could say why in a way that makes sense. I wish ignoring my deadline and pushing away the people whose only crime is loving me was something I could explain, but I can’t. All I can do is keep my foot on the accelerator as if the answer can be found in Saddleforth.
It should be a relief when I arrive, but if anything, it’s a marker of how far I have slipped from reality.
As soon as I step inside Café Marco, my suspicions that Alexa might have been having an affair intensify. With its traditional decorand intimate atmosphere, Café Marco strikes me as the perfect casual date spot. I can almost picture Alexa and Simon flirting over steaming cappuccinos and flaky pastries before sharing a sugary kiss.
I spot Gabby sitting by the window, beckoning me over.
‘I was worried you wouldn’t show,’ she says, inviting me to take a seat next to her.
‘Part of me wishes I hadn’t,’ I reply, removing my coat.
‘It feels real now we’re here, doesn’t it?’ Gabby says, biting her lip.
I don’t reply. Instead, I take note of my surroundings. Although it’s around lunchtime, the café is blessedly quiet. Other than an elderly couple and a group of new mums and their babies, we are alone. There’s no Simon – or Alexa – in sight.
When I’m settled, a waitress comes over with a bottle of water for the table and takes our order. After she returns with my croissant and hot chocolate, and a coffee for Gabby, all there is to do is wait.
‘I’ve brought my laptop,’ Gabby says, turning it to face me. ‘Alexa wasn’t very discreet. I’ve found Simon on her Facebook friends list.’
‘Maybe she didn’t need to be discreet. Maybe it’s not an affair.’
Gabby grunts dubiously in response. Reaching for her laptop, I flick through Simon’s ‘About Me’ section.
‘Simon Brooks, thirty-six, born in Newcastle,’ I mutter.
Flicking through the rest of Simon’s profile, I tense at every photo of him with Annalise. Family parties, gushing posts on significant dates, mini-break snapshots – they share so much of their relationship with the world it’s verging on too much. Each moment looks happy, but I know if they’re attending Families United, then beneath the surface there has been more sadness in their lives than a person should ever feel.
‘He’s very attractive,’ Gabby says. ‘It’s not hard to see why Alexa would be tempted.’
‘I guess,’ I reply, knowing all too well that the truthful answer to that is ‘I know’. My eyes linger on a photo of Simon that showcases his good looks and natural charisma, wondering if he really is the man Annalise believes him to be. I’m so engrossed in that question that I almost don’t notice him walking through the door.