During the hour-long journey she ran through every possible scenario of what might have happened, where he might have gone

One of the men swivelled round and whipped off his cap.

“Nothing, nothing but broken ends of the rails pointing down into the river.”

“Mrs Craig,” said Alec, now more composed. “I must go and speak to the provost. The bridge is down and the train with it.”

He turned to grab his coat from a hook on the wall then nodded as he passed her with the two men.

“But Mr Smith, can nothing be done? Surely a boat can be sent out? Passengers must be rescued?”

The stationmaster ushered Ann out of the office and locked the door.

“On a night like this, there’s nothing to be done. I fear they are all at the bottom of the Tay.”

Ann Craig swooned and began to fall. Donald caught her just before she hit the ground.

“Come away home, Mrs Craig, there’s nothing more to be done tonight.”

2015

“Why am I going to see Mrs C with my pyjamas on?” “She’s going to look after you for the morning, I’ve some things to do.”

As they walked across the street to the hotel, Fiona tapped his number on her phone again. It was still switched off.

“Mum, I want to show Mrs C my picture of Peter Pan.”

“No time to go home, Jamie. She’ll give you paper and you can draw her another one.”

“Okay, she’s got new colouring pencils in her desk.” He skipped across the road and they headed for the hotel entrance.

“Fiona, any idea what’s happened to—”

“Let’s discuss it in a minute, Doug,” she snapped at the rotund man standing by the door, pointing down at Jamie.

She marched towards the office. “Here he is, Mrs C,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Come away in, wee man. Let’s get you settled. My, is it a sleepover you’re here for?” She laughed and pointed at his pyjamas.

“Mum said there was no time to change.”

“Mrs C, would you mind taking him over the road for his clothes, but no rush, whenever you’ve time.”

She dropped a key on to the desk, leant down to kiss the top of Jamie’s head then turned back to face Doug, who was pointing at his watch.

“Where is he, Fiona? He was due in over an hour ago and his car’s gone. He’s never been late and we’re fully booked tonight.”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I need to go off to try a couple of places. Please bear with me, I’ll let you know.”

Fiona looked out the window as a white van passed and parked across the road outside the village shop.

“Doug, the paper van’s here, you know the review’s in today?”

Doug smiled. “I had no idea,” he said, patting his trouser pockets to check he had some change.

“I’ll go and get a copy. Will I pop one through your door in case she runs out?”

“Thanks, Doug,” Fiona said. “Back soon.”

Airport

She drove south much faster than the speed limit. God, she looked rough, she thought, glancing in the rear-view mirror at her messy, fair hair and sallow skin.

She ought to have at least taken a minute to brush on some blusher; she looked like death.

During the hour-long journey she ran through every possible scenario of what might have happened, where he might have gone, but her thoughts kept returning to the same thing.

She turned into Dundee airport, parked at the far end of the short-term car park and ran into the terminal, rushing over to the City Flyer check-in desk.

“Hello, sorry to bother you but what time did the London flight leave this morning?”

The girl in the navy jacket and red cravat looked up from her crossword and removed her glasses. “Left on time, eight twenty.”

“Can you tell me please if a Peter Gibson boarded this morning?”

The check-in girl shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t give out that kind of information.”

“But he’s my partner, er, husband,” said Fiona, deciding that embellishing her status might help.

“Sorry, not allowed.” She put on her glasses again and returned to her crossword.

Fiona opened her mouth to ask another question but realised there was no point.

She trudged back out of the terminal and headed towards her car. Once again she tapped out his number on her mobile phone again and listened. “Hi, Pete here. Leave a message and I’ll get right back.”

She stood by her car and shouted at the phone. “Pete, where the hell are you? Ring me!”

Between two terminal buildings and over the river she could see Fife bathed in the morning sunshine.

This was the sort of day she loved Dundee, with its vista over the water to the low rolling hills on the other side. But there was no time to linger; she needed to get back to Jamie.

Fiona was about to get into her car when she noticed two policemen standing by a red vehicle at the other end of the car park.

One was peering inside as the other circled the car, taking down details.

God, she thought, that’s Pete’s car. He must have been on the flight after all. She looked at her watch.

Criminal

If she alerted the policemen to where she thought he was going, could they stop him?

Stop him boarding the next Melbourne flight? But why would they do that? Apart from abandoning his car, he had done nothing criminal.

She climbed into the driver’s seat and sat back, mulling over whether to talk to the policemen.

She would look pretty foolish if there were some plausible explanation for his disappearance.

After all, he loved her, didn’t he? And she loved him; he had made her life worth living since Iain’s death.

Fiona started the engine and drove slowly towards the policemen, winding down her window as she approached.

She smiled and attempted a casual tone. “Has someone forgotten they’re in the short term car park?”

“No, that would be for the wardens, not the police,” said the older man, bending down at the back of the car and scribbling in his notepad.

The younger man sidled over and winked. “Stolen. Been found at last.”

Then he coughed and turned away as the older man stood up.

More tomorrow.

Sue Lawrence is a popular novelist as well as a cookery book author. The Night He Left is published by Freight. Down to the Sea, her first historical mystery, was published by Contraband in 2019. Sue’s latest book, The Unreliable Death of Lady Grange, was published in March by Saraband.