The Missing Marriage. Sarah May
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Chambers nodded heavily and looked at her.
They were all looking at her.
‘But you didn’t have anything to say – as such?’
‘I’d already seen him – and Martha,’ Anna said, turning to the Deanes’ daughter, ‘this morning over on the Hartford Estate.’ DS Chambers didn’t comment on this. ‘When I saw him on the beach we chatted about the weather conditions, which were good – until the fret came in.’
‘He didn’t say where he was going when you met him on the beach?’
‘He didn’t – no.’
‘And the next time you saw him – in the water – you didn’t speak?’
‘No.’
Anna had called out to him when she saw him in the water – in his kayak – trying to steer a course through the surfers. In the water she’d felt much lighter and more confident than she had earlier that morning, on land.
He’d looked confused for a moment then smiled quickly, paddling out to her until his kayak was in line with her board and they were both rising and falling in the waves.
His eyes had touched her briefly as she sat with her legs straddling the board then she’d laughed suddenly and given a wet wave before moving forcibly away from him; lying down on the board and paddling hard out to sea towards the cargo ship filling up so much of the distant horizon it seemed stationary.
She took in two more waves and it was while she was paddling back out after this that the sea fret came in.
Looking around instinctively for Bryan, she’d seen him heading in a direct line north away from her towards Cullercoats and St Mary’s Island – against the tide.
Then he disappeared into the fret – and some of Europe’s busiest shipping lanes.
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Like I said, just as the fret was coming in – around five. He must have been about thirty metres out from shore – heading north up the coast.’
One minute the sea had been full of mostly men and some women poised in their wetsuits, looking out to sea – the next it was as though the sun had become suddenly thicker. She had felt inconsolably alone, hesitant and watchful, unable to make out any other black-suited figures in the water.
Glancing back to shore, the line of people at the edge of the beach and the dogs in the water were visible for a few seconds more then they too vanished – along with the beach, the cliffs behind, the building housing the Toy Museum and Balti Experience, and the spire of St George’s Church. She’d tried to keep the board as still in the water as she could – if the nose swung round she knew she’d lose all sense of direction. The beach sounded further away than she knew it was – the waves slapping dully against the shore and voices carrying high one moment only to be suddenly cut off the next. The tide was still coming in, she told herself, aware that the temperature was falling and that she was uncomfortably cold – all she needed to do was take any wave that came and let it carry her in.
Other surfers had the same idea and they came at each other suddenly, figures in black manoeuvring their boards through the water, slightly irate now. Nobody wanted to come off; nobody wanted to be left in the water.
When she finally got back to shore, she stood shivering on the beach, holding the board against her. The headland shielding Cullercoats Bay to the north was lost. She waited a while – for the red and black kayak to come nosing through the fret – but it never did.
‘I didn’t see him again,’ Anna said, ‘but by then I could barely see the end of my own board.’
The Inspector was standing in the doorway to the sitting room, watching her with a blank face, the skin pockmarked across the lower cheeks as though someone had repeatedly attempted to puncture him there.
‘Sir, this is Anna Faust – a friend of the family,’ DS Chambers said, starting to cough again. ‘I think we’ve got a last sighting.’
The Inspector nodded at her – Anna wondered how long he had been standing there – introducing himself in a rapid mumble as, ‘Detective Inspector Laviolette.’
His re-appearance had created a sense of expectancy, and focus.
His coat and hair were soaked with rain and Laura Deane’s eyes automatically followed the drops as they ran off his coat and onto the solid oak floor. Her eyes unconsciously checked the hallway behind him as well – for footprints – because this wasn’t a house that encouraged people to leave a trace.
‘It’s raining outside,’ he said to her. Then, suddenly, ‘D’you mind if we go over a few more things, Mrs Deane – in light of this new statement?’
He shuffled forward awkwardly, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the polished wood floor.
After a second’s hesitation and a brief smile he sat down on the same sofa as Martha, who automatically pushed herself further back into the corner.
‘Haven’t we been over everything?’
Ignoring this, Laviolette said, ‘When did Bryan say he’d be home by?’
Anna had the impression that he was doing this for her benefit – that he wanted to question Laura in front of her.
Laura took a while to answer, looking momentarily distracted – as if she had far more important things to attend to than her husband’s disappearance.
‘Around seven,’ she said, pronouncing the words as carefully as she had when she spoke to Anna before. ‘We had lunch in Tynemouth then I went into Newcastle and he took the kayak out.’
‘And you haven’t been in contact at all since lunch?’
Laura was thinking. ‘He called me – around three thirty – but that’s it.’
‘What time did you get back from Newcastle?’
Laura shrugged. ‘I can’t remember – it must have been before eight because Strictly Come Dancing’s on at eight, and we watched that.’
Turning to Martha, Laviolette said pleasantly, ‘You like Strictly Come Dancing?’
‘I think it’s shit.’
‘Martha!’ Laura interceded sharply, losing her composure for the first time.
‘When she says “we”,’ Martha explained, ‘she’s talking about the dog – Roxy. They watch it together.’
They all turned to stare at Roxy who, becoming conscious of the sudden attention, raised her head from Laura’s ankles and panted expectantly.
‘Did you check the garage when you got home – to see if his kayak or his wetsuit were there?’
‘Not until later, no.’
‘And his car wasn’t on the drive?’
‘No.’
‘When did you first try ringing Mr Deane?’ the Inspector asked after a while
‘As soon I came in and realised he wasn’t here.’
‘And he didn’t pick up?’
‘I left a message. Then I rang two of his friends – ones he sometimes meets at the pub – in case he’d gone there – and they hadn’t seen him.’
‘You’ve got their names and details?’
This was directed at DS Chambers, who’d been looking at Laura.
‘And the pub he sometimes goes to?’
‘The Shipwrights Arms,’ DS Chambers said. ‘We’ve already been there – nothing.’
‘You’ve got all this,’ Laura said, openly hostile now.
‘Sir,