Chapter Two

Part One

Chapter Two

Having fallen back to sleep Judi-with-an-I had finally roused again.  Half-opening her eyes she glanced across the bed, he wasn’t there.   She rolled herself over and looked at the her bedside table.

Not even a cold cup of coffee waiting for her.

She held her breath for a moment and listened.  Silence.

Dear God, not again!

She clambered out of bed, and with heavier, some might say angrier, steps than earlier she made her way to the kitchen.  The coffee smeared window awaited her, as did the smashed cup in the sink.  She peered through the window and completely expecting to see those peachy buttocks again, she aimed her gaze to the top of the steps.   Not a cheek in sight. 

She stepped back and felt something soft underfoot.  The throw.  He must be in the house then if that’s here, she thought.  Mind you, it didn’t stop him last time.   Then a worse thought came to mind.  She flushed red with sheer panic.

For the second time that morning she moved faster than she had her entire adult life and bolted down the hallway and out of the front door and into the driveway.  There she stood, in her pyjamas, her hair tangled with the sleeping mask frantically looking for any sign of her husband.  

Maybe this was a dream.  A crazy dream.  It must be.  Phillip was always there for her in the morning.  He knew what she needed.  The gentle wake up, the coffee, the kiss.

She slapped herself hard across the face.  The pain shot through her and she screamed. 

Where was he?  She headed back to the house.  He couldn’t be far.

Two minutes later all of her neighbours phones pinged with a new WhatsApp message from Louise.  

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One hundred miles away their blue car (almost) silently pulled up to the front of a charity shop.  Phillip had managed to find one on a little side road and was able to park right outside.  The entrance to the shop was less than a metre away.

There were three black bags piled up right next to the door.  A bit further along another had been dumped under the shop window.  No more than four step away from where he sat.

He looked up at the shop.  The lights were on and he could see movement at the back of the store.  He glanced at the clock on the dash, 8.55am.  They’d probably be opening shortly.  He had one chance. 

He checked his mirrors for any signs of life on the street and, deciding it was clear, threw open the door and made a dash for the rogue bin bag.