The Missing Husband. Amanda Brooke

eighteen months ago, although the latest argument had begun only the night before when she and David had arrived home. He had pulled into the drive and switched off the engine before leaning in to nuzzle her neck. Remembering the warm touch of his lips, Jo’s skin tingled now as it had then.

      ‘What are you after?’ she had asked.

      David cupped her face in his hand and guided her lips towards his. He kissed her before replying. ‘Who said I was after anything? I was simply overpowered by a desire to kiss my wife.’

      He let his thumb trail across her mouth. She bit it. ‘No, David. What are you after?’

      The beginnings of a smile made David’s face twitch. He wasn’t expecting her to resist when he asked for a lift to the station, or as he put it, ‘one tiny favour’.

      Before answering, Jo took his hand from her face, kissed his palm and then pushed it away. She was trying not to let her disappointment sour the mood. The way she was feeling lately, she had wanted him to look after her, not work her. ‘There’s nothing to stop you taking a taxi,’ she said, her clenched jaw pinching her words.

      ‘But you could drive to Lime Street and back in thirty minutes,’ he had said, trying to coax her. ‘You wouldn’t even have to get dressed.’

      ‘Or I could stay in bed and get some much needed beauty sleep.’

      ‘You couldn’t get any more beautiful.’

      Jo refused the bait. ‘If it’s the cost you’re worried about then I’ll pay for the taxi myself.’

      ‘It’s not the cost. I just thought it would be nice to snatch a few extra minutes with my beautiful wife rather than some grizzly old taxi driver.’

      ‘I can assure you I would be just as grizzly at five o’clock in the morning.’ Jo shifted in her seat and tried to pull her coat around her but it didn’t quite reach across her expanding girth. She was trying to make a point but it was far too subtle and completely lost on her husband.

      ‘You mean even more grizzly than you are at five o’clock at night?’ he asked looking at his watch to make the point.

      ‘It’s six o’clock, David and the answer is still no.’

      The little spat could have ended there and would have if David hadn’t made the mistake of stepping on to dangerous territory. ‘It’s not like I’m off for a weekend with the boys,’ he said. ‘I’m going on this training course so I can provide a secure future for my family. I thought that was what you wanted, Jo.’

      She narrowed her eyes as she analysed each and every word. ‘Ah, yes, of course; this is all about what I want.’

      ‘You, me, us – it’s the same thing, isn’t it?’ he demanded, his words choking the breath out of him.

      ‘Is it?’ she asked, wanting his reassurance, but her plea sounded more like a challenge and that was exactly how David reacted to it.

      ‘You tell me, Jo. Isn’t that how you justified it to yourself when you took all those life-changing decisions on our behalf?’

      The question had hung in the air and the argument had stalled, leaving an uneasy silence between them that had stretched towards the dawn of the new day.

      Beyond her closed lids light flooded the room, followed quickly by a cloud of warm, soap-scented steam. The light dimmed as David closed the door, leaving just enough illumination to pick out a shirt and suit from the wardrobe. Jo listened to him dressing but it was only when he slid his tie beneath the collar of his shirt that she felt his eyes on her. She hadn’t moved and had kept her breathing slow and steady, unlike the stampede of emotions rushing through her mind. Guilt was edging to the front.

      Jo didn’t want to let the argument drag on. She wanted David’s arms around her so she could feel loved and protected, now more than ever. He was the love of her life and even though she sometimes wondered why on earth he put up with her, she knew he loved her too.

      They had met ten years ago when Jo had been taken on as a graduate at Nelson’s Engineering, a large-scale construction company where David was working as a trainee project manager. Jo outwardly cringed whenever he told people how Nelson’s had cemented their relationship, but the pun was delivered with a twinkle in his eye and, as always, she could forgive him anything. And she was the first to admit that Nelson’s had given them a good foundation for their life together. They both had flourishing careers in the company, Jo in human resources, David in project management and they had progressed up the career ladder in perfect symmetry, one spurring on the other to face the next challenge. At thirty-one Jo was now a HR Manager and David a Project Team Leader. The seminar he was attending in Leeds was part of the next goal he had set himself with Jo’s encouragement: he was training to be the trainer.

      But in the last couple of years their seemingly perfectly parallel lives had started to diverge. Jo had an absolute conviction that they still wanted the same things; it was just the timing that had gone awry. Aware that petulant silences would do nothing to help them get back on track, Jo’s pulse quickened and her muscles tightened as she willed herself to move – but she was too stubborn to give in.

      Jo kept her eyes closed as the weak gloom from the en suite was snuffed out with the flick of a switch. She heard David’s socked footfalls reach the bedroom door. He was leaving and she was consumed by an irrational sense of panic: she didn’t want him to go.

      David paused at the door as if he had heard the silent plea that had sliced through the shadows deepening between them. He crept towards the bed and, without saying a word, leant over and kissed the top of her head, his fingers gently sweeping across her fringe.

      ‘Bye, Jo,’ he whispered and then, before straightening up, he placed a hand on the duvet over the unseen swell of her stomach and the baby she was carrying. ‘Goodbye, little FB.’

      She willed herself to peel back her eyelids and look at the man who was her soul mate, the man she loved with all her heart and for a fraction of a second she thought she might. But she kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady and when at last she allowed herself to speak, David was long gone.

      ‘I love you,’ she whispered, the words falling into the empty room.

       2

      By the time Jo was ready to leave for work, the sun had begun its sluggish ascent and grey light bled through the stained glass panels of the front door leaving multicoloured trails across the timbered floor. The only item of furniture in the hallway was a shabby chic dresser and Jo checked her reflection in its large oval mirror. She pulled her ponytail tight at the base of her skull and smoothed the poker-straight fringe that cut a sharp line just above her eyebrows. Her glossy auburn hair shone despite the dim light which was making the rest of her features look distinctly ghoulish and she had to resist the urge to switch the hallway light back on to chase away the shadows.

      Adjusting an aquamarine silk scarf around her neck, Jo tried to reassure herself that she looked perfectly presentable. The grey cashmere coat had already seen her through a couple of winters but it was as immaculate as ever and would have seen her through this one – if it still fitted. But at five and a half months pregnant it was now snug around her chest and gaped open at her midriff.

      She had once imagined that she would be wearing maternity wear within moments of that sacred blue line appearing on the pregnancy test, but then she had also thought that when she did take the test, David would be looking over her shoulder with eager anticipation. As things turned out, he hadn’t even been there. Jo had taken her time revealing her pregnancy – and when she had told her husband, he had been stunned and angry. She had reluctantly accepted that it would take time for him to come around to the idea, so hadn’t rushed out to buy maternity clothes to flaunt her delicate condition. But every time she thought he had taken a step forward he somehow managed to take two steps back. She placed a hand protectively over her stomach.

      ‘How