Page 83 of Just for the Season

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I’m sitting with Simon in his flat later, sipping the glass of red that he’s just poured me and telling him about how today was with Ruby, when my phone buzzes with a call. I ignore it. It buzzes again. I ignore it. It buzzes again. I suddenly worry that something’s happened to Gran and pick it up.

It’s actually Marcus calling. I stare at the phone for a couple of moments and then, of course I do, I swipe and say, ‘Hi, Marcus.’

‘Hi. Could I ask what time Ruby left the café?’

I go cold.

‘Five thirty.’ I check the time on my phone. It’s eight. ‘Has she not come home?’

‘She told me she was going to Libby’s for the evening but she isn’t there. She hasn’t been there at all.’

‘Oh, Marcus. Have you spoken to any of her other friends?’

‘Calling them all now. Did she seem as normal today?’

‘Yep. I think so.’ I need to get off the phone so he can try other people. ‘I’ll message you if I think of anything.’

I end the call and look at Simon. ‘Ruby said she was going to Libby’s after work and didn’t go.’

‘Fuck.’

There’s something niggling at me.

‘I’ve just remembered that Ruby was being odd in the kitchen earlier,’ I suddenly say. ‘Can we go downstairs and just check something?’

We run and get to the kitchen very quickly.

‘Ruby was in the corner over there hunched over something,’ I say. ‘She looked really odd when I came into the room briefly.’

‘Could she…’ Simon goes over to the corner. ‘The cash box. Would she know that I only empty it every two or three weeks?’ He opens it. ‘Oh my God. Empty. With a note with Simon on it.’ He unfolds the piece of paper and scans it. ‘It says “Sorry. I’ll pay you back. I needed to borrow it.” Fuck me.’

I shiver. ‘How much was in there?’

‘I don’t know. Several hundred pounds I’d say. Loads of people pay in cash for the potluck suppers, don’t they. Plus all the elderly people who don’t like to use their cards. There’s usually about five hundred quid whenever I clear it out.’

‘Her phone was open on Skyscanner,’ I say. ‘She was looking at flights to Munich.’

‘What, do you think she was looking at flights for herself, for now?’

‘Maybe. I need to call Marcus.’ I take the stairs back up to Simon’s flat two at a time to reach my phone, with Simon close on my heels.

Marcus is on another call and doesn’t accept mine. I keep calling and he keeps not accepting.

‘God,’ I say. Okay. I send him a message telling him about the money and Skyscanner, and then I look at Simon. ‘We have to do something if she is flying to Germany. I just can’t remember what outward airport she’d put.’

‘Heathrow probably. That’s the airport people from here use most. And she’d go there by train or coach.’

‘We’ve got to do something,’ I say. ‘Let’s go round to Marcus’s and speak to him in person if he’s there. And in the meantime keep calling him.’

Simon nods.

We’re just outside the café when Marcus finally picks up and I tell him about the money and the flight.

‘Fuck,’ he says. ‘Theft. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay that back later. And thank you for the information. It makes sense. She switched her phone locations off but forgot about the AirTags we put in her and Sam’s bags. There’s a time lag but I can see her on the motorway. She’s on a coach, I think, and it seems very likely that she’s heading to Heathrow. I’m going to take a punt and head straight for the airport on a shorter route.’

I google quickly. ‘Most Heathrow flights to Munich go from Terminals 2 and 5. Simon and I can come too so that we can cover both.’