Page 4 of The Sex War

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.

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