He wasn’t doing the right things. He needed to make a list.
He pulled the car out, waiting for Jemma’s mum to answer the phone.
‘Helen, it’s Rob, I need you to get around to the house.’
‘Rob slow down. Has she turned up?’
Rob turned the corner at the bottom of the road with one hand on the wheel. ‘No. I’m going to look for her.’
‘I don’t understand, Rob. Maybe we should talk.’
‘We’ll talk later. Just please go to the house just in case. I can’t sit there any more.’
‘Fine. I’ll call in half an hour. But ring me if you hear anything.’
He threw the phone in the passenger seat, driving towards the town centre. Someone needed to be at the house. He shouldn’t leave it empty.
Ten minutes later he drove past Matthew Street, parked the car on double yellow lines, and got out. He walked down North John Street, the top of Liverpool One shopping centre behind, past various takeaways and newsagents. He slowed as he passed the Hard Day’s Night hotel, the Beatles-themed place which was always busy. Up towards Castle Street and back down again. People milled around, sometimes sidestepping him as he walked slowly, purposefully.
He had to be noticed. The place would be crawling with cameras. If he was seen here, it’d seem like he’d gone looking for her at least.
That’s what he was doing.
He walked down Matthew Street, the various bars on either side of the walkway already filling up. A few tourists milling around outside the Cavern Club, getting their pictures taken with the John Lennon statue. For a Saturday evening it was still pretty quiet. The grey paved street not filled with wandering drunks just yet.
He walked further down, towards the club Carla had told him they’d ended the night in. Grim, faceless. Just a garish neon sign outside. The club wasn’t open, so he rapped on the door.
Rob rocked on his heels as he waited. A minute or so went by and he was about to knock again, when the door opened.
‘Yeah?’
A thick-necked, shaven-headed beast of a man stood in the open doorway. Rob took a step back. ‘Hi, were you working here last night?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘My girlfriend has gone missing, I was just wondering if you’d seen anything.’
The bouncer looked around. ‘Yeah, I was here last night. But a lot of people come in and out of here, I probably won’t be able to help you. You should ring the police or something.’
Rob took out his wallet, removing the small picture he had of Jemma inside. ‘Do you remember her?’
The bouncer looked at the photo, his brow furrowed. ‘I think I do as it happens. She left on her own, about two. She was on her phone. She walked off towards the top.’ He gestured towards the top of Matthew Street.
‘Did you hear her talking at all, where she might have been going?’
He shook his head in reply. ‘Sorry I can’t be any more help. I hope you find her.’
Rob thanked him and wandered back to his car. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. He needed that list. He started driving towards home. He called Helen at the house, glad to find she’d gone there as he’d asked. He turned on the radio, looking for some music to try and clear his mind of the images which threatened to enter. He found the local radio station, but it played that shite dance music and Rob quickly scanned past it. He settled on easy listening.
Focus. That’s what he needed to do. Decide on a plan of action and start doing something.
He started at the beginning. Jemma had been out with her friend Carla. So start there. He turned right instead of left on the road out of the town centre, and drove towards her house.
Carla had married Andy the previous year, in what Rob had described as a fuck of an expensive party, much to Jemma’s distaste. She’d loved the whole spectacle of it.
Should have noticed that. All her friends were married. She always seemed happy, but why hadn’t he wanted to make things more permanent?
He pulled up outside Carla’s house around ten minutes later. He checked the dashboard clock, almost eight in the evening. A quick pang of hunger hit him as he got out the car. He hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day, when he’d made a sandwich and taken two bites of it before throwing it out. Too nervous. The thought of eating anything at that moment was enough to start his stomach churning again. Rob tried to shake the feeling off as he approached the door of the terraced house on the quiet street. They’d moved there recently. New baby, new house. Always the way.
As he reached for the doorbell, he stopped and knocked softly, mindful of their newborn. Thirty seconds later and he knocked again, a little louder. Andy opened the door, a tea towel over his shoulder, his hands still wet.
‘Rob. Come on in, mate. I was just washing some dishes.’ Rob wiped his feet on the doormat and closed the door after himself. He followed Andy into the living room, where Carla was sitting with her feet underneath her on a leather sofa, watching some reality show on TV. She wasn’t stunning, but Carla was nice looking in an understated way. Smaller than Jemma, brunette instead of blonde. Small in stature, but big on confidence. Sometimes that can go a long way. Sometimes, only on the odd occasion he needed something a bit different to fantasise about, Rob had pictured her face in the dark as he and Jemma made love. He looked away from her as the thought entered his head.
Their newborn daughter was in a small Moses basket next to her. Sleeping. From what Jemma had said, that was a rare occurrence.
‘Hi, Rob,’ Carla said. ‘Any news?’
‘Nothing,’ Rob replied. ‘You don’t seem too worried.’
Carla leaned over to check on the baby. ‘I am, of course. But I’m sure she’ll come home when she’s ready.’
Andy shifted beside Rob. ‘You want a drink or something?’ he said.
‘No thanks,’ Rob replied, shaking his head. He sat down on the sofa opposite Carla. Andy looked over at her, and she nodded slightly. ‘I’ll get back to doing the dishes then.’ As he left the room, Carla leaned back, her hands coming to a rest across her stomach. Rolled her eyes at the door.
‘What’s going on?’
She shifted her feet and stretched out her legs in front of her. ‘Look, Rob … she told me what was going on between you. Are you that surprised that she’s gone away for a bit?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Rob said.
‘You know … you and Jemma haven’t been getting on lately. She was talking about leaving.’
How to react. Surprise? Acceptance? Fear? The first one. ‘This is news to me. When did she say this?’
‘Last night. She said she was fed up with the arguments and wanted to go away for a bit. This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this, just disappeared for a few days or longer when she wants to clear her head. So no. No, I’m not worried.’
‘Are you serious?’ Rob said, unable to keep his voice from rising slightly.
‘Shh, you’ll wake Leah. Look, I know it’s a shock, but you must have known she wasn’t happy. You did know, didn’t you?’
Rob sat back on the sofa, ran his hands through his hair and down onto his face. He wanted to say something then. Confess it was his fault. And it wasn’t the first time. Instead, he kept going. ‘No. I had no idea. She always seemed so happy. We never argued over anything big, just stupid stuff really. Whose turn it was to wash up, why couldn’t I pick my socks up. You know,