Chapter 1.2

The narrow road out to the lighthouse was as deserted as the landscape that marooned it, with only Bill’s once white van breaking the monotony of the grey tarmac.

Scanning the horizon for Sandra’s dark blue Ka, Ronny wondered yet again what had been so important that she should have missed their date, without even letting him know that she wouldn’t be meeting him as arranged.

As they pulled into the car park for the lighthouse even old Bill was looking puzzled when he realised that her Ka was not there. ‘It looks like the Visitor’s Centre is open’ said Bill peering through the rain soaked windscreen ‘Do you want to pop in and see if your missus is inside? Go on mate, I’ll wait here and look after Buster’

Thanking Bill, Ronny pulled the hood up on his jacket and ran towards the open door.

‘Hi Ron’ called the harassed looking middle-aged woman from behind the reception desk.

‘I thought you didn’t work on a Tuesday Mo?’

‘Don’t usually, but when Sally phoned in sick this morning I offered to cover her shift. Is everything OK love, how’s Sandra?’ asked the woman finally looking up from the paper work she had been busy filing away.

Ronny tried to explain his unexpected appearance at the Lighthouse to his wife’s friend as best he could, without sounding a complete fool, but even to his own ears, it sounded ridiculous.  Sandra had left for work this morning, she’d eaten her breakfast, picked up her bag and coat, kissed him on the cheek, reminded him about their lunch date and had driven off in the direction of the Lighthouse.  Never once had she complained about feeling ill and she certainly hadn’t phoned anyone.

‘What time did she ring you Mo?’ asked Ronny

‘Not sure, probably about ten to nine. Yeah, that’s about right, it couldn’t have been before that because I remember saying to my Clive that I would have to get a shake on if I wanted to be in work by half past nine. You don’t think that anything has happened to her do you?’  

‘No, I’m sure she’s fine’ reassuring her when he felt the beginnings of a fear that he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge. ‘Maybe she’s gone to our daughter-in-law, probably didn’t want to worry me if she wasn’t feeling too good.’

‘Yeah, that’ll be it.’ Said Mo looking over Ronny’s shoulder seeing a coach party of schoolchildren racing across the rain soaked car park. ‘Sorry Ron but I’ll have to keep me eyes on this lot, the last school party we had in robbed us of all our novelty pencils while my back was turned, little buggers.’ She muttered in that way, that only middle aged woman who has brought up two perfect children can.

Leaving Mo to keep guard over thirty potential kleptomaniacs, Ron ran back to the waiting van.

As they drove back alone the coast road to Littlestone, Ron tried yet again to phone his wife only to be greeted by the same voicemail service as before.  Resisting the urge to shout down the phone demanding an explanation, Ron meekly asked that Sandra should phone him back as soon as she picked up this message. Keep calm, he kept reminding himself, there must be an explanation.  Maybe she left he phone at home, it wouldn’t be the first time, or maybe she had forgotten to charge it up and it was sitting, blank faced, in the bottom of her handbag.  Yes, he thought, that must be it. She must have used it to phone work this morning, there were precious few phone boxes around these days for her to have used one of them.

‘It doesn’t look like your missus is here either.’ Said Bill, pulling-up outside the house on Marine Drive that had been in Ron’s family for two generations.

‘Thanks for the lift Bill, I owe you’ said Ronny pulling a sleepy Buster out of his warm hiding place.

‘No problem mate, you can buy me a pint next time you’re in The Pilot.’

Walking around to the back of the house, leading the still damp dog into the conservatory, Ronny cautiously let himself into the house.

Methodically checking all the rooms downstairs, Ronny could see that everything was as he had left it earlier that morning.  The washed dishes were still on the draining board waiting to be put away, the cushions on the sofa were still plumped up from his early morning housework routine, and Sandra’s heavy coat was still hanging in the cloakroom next to the empty peg where she had taken her raincoat from before leaving for work.  This is madness thought Ronny as he climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms, there must be a rational explanation.  She might just have gone through to see their grandchildren but why didn’t she tell him that what she was planning to do, why had she told him that she was going to work.  This didn’t make sense, after all wives don’t just disappear, other men’s wives’ maybe, but not his Sandra.

Forcing himself to check her wardrobe, afraid that all he might find would be a row of empty coat hangers, Ronny didn’t know whether he was relieved or more anxious to discover that her clothes were still there as usual, nothing was out of place, nothing seemed missing.

Many years ago, as a lowly DC, Ronny had been involved with a number of ‘mispers’ Missing Person cases.  They had for the most part been just like this, no reason why the wife, or husband, shouldn’t be exactly where they always where, no reason anyone could think of for them to go missing. There hadn’t been a row, they didn’t seem unhappy, just one day, out of the blue, they had gone.  Sometimes, for the lucky ones, there was a rational explanation, a missed phone call or a confused message but, sometimes, it was the worst thing that anyone could imagine, the stuff of nightmares.  

No matter how long Ronny sat there on the end of the double bed staring at the phone in his hand, he dreaded making the first call.  He didn’t want to know that his situation was the one that was the unimaginable.  Is this what everybody feels like, he wondered, is this why so many people delay reporting a misper for hours, even days. Were they hoping against hope that their case will be one of the lucky ones’? He new that any minute, Sandra could walk through the door with her hands full of orange Sainsbury’s carrier bags, moaning about how she couldn’t be bothered going to work this morning and how she had spent the morning having coffee with her girlfriends and shopping. So why hadn’t she?  Why was he sitting there alone, hoping for the best but secretly fearing the worst.