Coming Home. Melanie Rose
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open and stepped inside the red and cream tapestry-hung room. It was disappointingly empty. I checked round anyway, noting that the bed looked as though it hadn’t been slept in. I pushed open a door I hadn’t noticed before, which led to an ensuite bathroom housing a free-standing tub with brass fixtures and fittings and a shower unit in the corner with the curtain pulled tightly round it.
I stood for a moment surveying the closed shower curtain with a quaking heart. What if Vincent was lying in there…? I quashed the thought before it took shape and in a decisive move stepped forward and yanked the curtain back. The shower was empty.
‘Where are you, Vincent?’ I demanded of the echoing room. Turning on my heel I was about to leave the room, when I spotted the medicine cabinet door standing slightly ajar. I peered at the shelves containing toothpaste, mouthwash, a razor, a bottle of what looked like headache pills and a can of anti-perspirant deodorant. Anxious not to be found snooping in this most private of places, I pushed the cabinet door closed and was about to leave when on impulse I crossed to the walk-in closet. For a moment I simply stared at the tapestry wall hanging, but then I flung open the concealed door to reveal the contents of the couple’s wardrobe.
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