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*
‘Oh, Dad,’ I said, reaching for a fistful of tissues from the box on the table. ‘Why did you never tell me? I had no idea Finn had done that.’
Dad rubbed a hand roughly over his cheek. ‘Finn asked me not to. I think he just wanted to keep it a private thing between him, me and your mum.’
I nodded, too choked to say anything right then.
‘It takes a lot to surprise me, Gemma, but your Finn managed to do it that morning. He’d got up early, put on a smart outfit – not because he was off somewhere fancy afterwards, but because it was an important occasion and he wanted to do it right. He was respectful, kind and thoughtful, and obviously crazily in love with you.
‘A man like that – a man who does something like that – isn’t the kind to walk out on you on your wedding day. I’m sorry, sweetheart, that it took me so long to realise you’ve been right all this time. But I believe you now, I really do.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ I said sorrowfully, ‘if you’d told me that just a few hours ago I’d probably be dancing around the kitchen right now.’
Dad sat up straighter in his seat. ‘Has something happened today?’
I nodded and between gulps, hiccupping sobs and a great many tissues, I told him about the missing money.
Dad’s jaw tightened, and by the time I finished talking he looked like a man carved out of granite.
‘I don’t know what to say, Gemma, I really don’t. I thought what I came here to tell you today would make everything better, but instead I’m afraid it’s just made it worse.’
I reached for his hand again, missing on my first swipe, for my eyes were blinded by tears. ‘Every day there’s another revelation that I can’t explain away: missing belongings, mystery women and empty bank accounts. If I was hearing this story about anyone else, I’d tell them to wake up and face the facts. But this is Finn we’re talking about here, Dad.Finn.’
He nodded.
‘And then you go and tell me about how he was at the cemetery, and I can see him doing thatsoclearly, it’s like I’d been there with you. My head is telling me to give up, but my heart just won’t listen.’
‘Because you love him,’ Dad said simply.
‘I do,’ I said, my heart contracting at the irony of using the words I never got to say at the altar. ‘But that doesn’t mean Finn didn’t change his mind about wanting to be with me. Am I being the world’s biggest idiot here? How long do I keep trying to find a man who doesn’t want to be found?’
‘Only you know when it’s time to give up, sweetheart. That’s a decision only you can make.’
*
I made it at 2 a.m. to the accompaniment of the chimes of a nearby church. I would stop. Finn had disappeared from my life once before, it had hurt like hell, but I’d gotten through it. And now I had to face the fact that he’d done it again.
But by four o’clock I’d changed my mind again. I had eighteen months of evidence of how much Finn loved me, against just five days’ worth that he didn’t. It didn’t add up.
But I couldn’t do this to myself for ever. It would destroy me. At some point – some point soon – I was going to have to stop looking for him.A week, Inspector Graham had said at our first meeting.If someone chooses to disappear, and they haven’t been found in seven days, then they probably don’t want to be found.
Abandoning all hope of sleep, I padded through my silent flat towards the kitchen, but my need for answers was stronger than that for tea. My feet took me on their own detour, leading me into the lounge and to my desk. Almost of their own volition my hands began rummaging through my files of electricity bills and council tax statements until they found what they’d been looking for. The grey folder was tucked into the back of the drawer. I’d long since deleted the emails from my inbox, but I’d not been able to bring myself to throw out the property details and the initial paper chain of correspondence concerning Mushroom Cottage.
I pulled the sheaf of papers from the folder, pausing for a moment to look at the photograph of the chocolate-box cottage with an ‘Under Offer’ sign hammered into its lawn. Walter’s daughter had insisted he place the sale of the property in the hands of an estate agent, but in the end it had been an unnecessary expense. Because the purchase of Mushroom Cottage hadn’t ‘fallen through’ last year, the way I’d told everyone. The owner hadn’t simply changed his mind at the last minute and decided to stay. Walter had been perfectly happy to sell his beloved home to us.
Wewere the ones who’d pulled out of the sale.
Or more accurately,Iwas.
I’d been slow to realise there was a problem. Slow to recognise that the dark circles that had appeared beneath Finn’s eyes weren’t due to a tricky plot issue in his latest book.
We’d decided not to sell my flat, but to rent it out instead, so there was nothing slowing down the purchase: no chain of buyers above or below us to jeopardise the sale. ‘It should all go through really quickly,’ the estate agent had advised us. Surveys and paperwork were almost complete, and Istillhadn’t realised the look in Finn’s eyes had become that of an animal caught in a trap.
One evening, shortly before we were due to exchange, I’d been messaging Hannah on WhatsApp while Finn finished the chapter he was working on. With a tired sigh, he saved his work and turned towards me. It was only as he moved away from his desk that I noticed how drawn and weary he looked. Was there more worrying him than just his book, I suddenly wondered?
‘Sorry I’ve been so preoccupied lately,’ he said, stretching as he got up from his chair. He came to sit beside me, lifting an arm for me to snuggle against him. I happily obliged.
‘Why don’t we try to get away somewhere this weekend,’ he suggested.
