Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

and folds them together in front of her chest. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’

‘Water, please,’ Sasha says, and I ask for the same.

‘Still or sparkling?’ she asks, opening the fridge door.

We both opt for sparkling, and she pulls out two bottles of San Pellegrino I’ve only ever seen in restaurants. She fills two glasses with ice and lemon and brings them over to us on a mirrored tray with gold handles. ‘I won’t be long.’

We watch them finish. I’m reminded how mature Luke is for an eighteen-year-old. He’s quite a natural at this videoing business. He fixes his camera to a tripod and tells Alisha to switch position. ‘Turn slightly to face me,’ he says, with the confidence of a professional. He strides over to her and gently guides her shoulder to the right, then steps back behind the lens. ‘Now, I want you to move to the left.’ He bends to look through the viewfinder. ‘Let’s capture more of the colours in that striking canvas behind you.’ The evening sun shines on her face, accenting her high cheekbones. He walks over to the plantation shutters and adjusts the panels, then returns to fine-tune the microphone.

‘You’re quite a pro, Luke,’ Alisha says, shuffling along the sofa. ‘You should be studying media or photography at uni.’

‘My parents insisted I’d be better off with a computing degree. They see videography as more of a hobby. I get their point. So, I’m going to pursue my computing and take some side courses to improve my media skills. In the meantime, when my A levels are over, plans are afoot to go full steam ahead with a techie vlog I’ve been working on.’

‘Where are you going to uni?’ I ask.

‘Imperial College.’ He turns back to Alisha.

It takes longer than the estimated ten minutes. I get my phone out of my back pocket and text Jim to say I’ll bring a takeaway home with me. He texts straight back.

No, let’s get the kids to bed first and get a delivery later X

Two other texts arrive in quick succession.

It’s Friday night, after all X

And you’re not working for once X

Once Luke has finished, he packs up his bag. ‘Is it OK to pop to your study and upload this final piece on your computer?’

‘Sure,’ says Alisha, and she disappears into the hallway after him, telling us she’ll be with us in a minute.

‘Do you think she and Marc could be having an affair?’ Sasha whispers.

‘Sasha!’ I cast her a look. Really?

‘I know, I know. I can’t, for the life of me, think what he was doing with her.’

Alisha returns and seats herself opposite us. ‘Now what can I do for you?’ she says as if we are clients.

Sasha sits up straight. ‘I’ll cut to the chase, Alisha,’ she says, a little too confrontational. ‘I need to know why you and Marc met last week in the Wild Café.’

Alisha sits up straighter and steeples her fingers. She sucks her lips in, looking from Sasha to me and back again. She takes a deep breath. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

Thirteen

‘Why not?’ Sasha bangs her bottle of water on the table.

‘I’m sorry, but client confidentiality does not allow me to discuss the private affairs of my clients. You’ll have to ask his permission for me to discuss his business.’

‘I can’t.’

Alisha takes a sip of water.

What does she know?

Sasha drops her head and rests her chin in her hand, massaging her cheeks with long hard strokes. She pauses and looks up, and her story propels out of her mouth like projectile vomit, covering the room with a nasty sense of unease.

Alisha reaches forward and slides her slender hand along the table towards Sasha. Her voice softens as if to cushion her words. ‘I’m so sorry for your situation, but I can’t discuss client details with anyone. No one at all. Unless I thought he was committing a crime. He could come back tomorrow, and I would be in dreadful trouble if he found out I betrayed his trust. Especially since he went to the police with a request not to be found.’

Sasha tries to reason with her, but there’s no breaking down Alisha’s barrier of professionalism.

There’s an awkward silence. ‘Look,’ Alisha says. ‘I don’t want to add fuel to an already burning fire, but can I suggest you talk to Annie?’

‘Annie,’ Sasha repeats, with a frown.

‘Monday, that was the day he disappeared, right?’

Sasha nods.

‘I was leaving for work, and I saw her arguing with Marc outside Art’s gym. It was early.’ She pauses for a moment. ‘I usually leave around six, but I was late on Monday because I was going straight to a breakfast meeting with a client, so I reckon it was more like six-fifteen.’

‘What were they arguing about?’

‘I don’t know, I couldn’t make it out, but it was pretty heated. I’m surprised no one else heard.’

‘Annie never mentioned anything.’

‘Please could I ask you to keep my name out of this?’

Sasha smashes her clenched fist on the table, anguish paining her face. ‘What is happening?’

‘Where’ve you been?’ Jim asks when I finally get home with the kids. ‘You haven’t answered my texts.’

I bend down to kiss away his annoyance, ignoring his rolling eyes. ‘I took the kids to the park for ice cream and popped to Sasha’s. Hannah gave them dinner. I’ve sent them to run a bath. I’ll get them to bed; they’re whacked. You order the takeaway. I’m starving.’

‘You need to go through this playlist for the party,’ he calls after me.

By the time I’ve bathed the kids, read them two stories apiece and got them off to sleep, an hour has passed before I get back downstairs to the smell of onion bhaji and chicken tikka masala. Jim’s iPhone is belting out a Michael Jackson tune. I throw him a questioning look. ‘Enough of the face, it’s from the party playlist,’ he says with a grin. ‘I’ve done my homework. It’s up there as a tune to include.’

Two generous glasses of wine