The Missing Marriage. Sarah May

was as sullen again now as she’d been standing beside Bryan yesterday morning, in her riding clothes.

      Anna was aware that she was waiting for her to say something, and at last said quietly, ‘I don’t think she’s all that keen on you coming over here.’

      ‘Fuck that. Fuck her.’

      They carried the bike awkwardly down the stairs together.

      ‘You know what I think?’ Martha said, wheeling the bike out into the rain. ‘I think she pushed him over the edge, and that’s why he’s gone.’

      ‘Gone?’

      ‘He’s gone,’ Martha said again.

      ‘Which is different to disappearing?’

      ‘Completely.’

      Anna stared out through the open front door at the Harbourmaster’s office – a nondescript brick building with woodwork painted a depressing shade of blue – thinking.

      After Martha had gone, she went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, shutting her eyes, but a few minutes later was up again, looking for the running shoes she’d kicked off earlier. Then her phone started ringing.