LITMIR.BIZ

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would like a cup of tea first?’

      ‘Of course. Sorry,’ Mr Graham apologized. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come through to the lounge. We can have tea in there – or coffee, if you’d prefer.’

      ‘Tea will be fine,’ said Sally.

      ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Mrs Graham announced and scuttled away to where Sally assumed the out-dated kitchen would be. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,’ she called back over her shoulder.

      ‘This way,’ said Mr Graham, indicating the nearest door as if he was showing her to a seat in the theatre.

      Sally entered the room, taking everything in: more cheap-looking prints of paintings, moderately expensive bric-a-brac, china figurines of women in Victorian dresses holding parasols, a mustard-coloured carpet so thick it was bouncy, and as the centre piece an old oversized television newly adapted to receive a digital signal. Sally doubted they even knew why they needed the strange box that now sat on top of their former pride and joy.

      ‘Please,’ Graham invited her. ‘Take a seat.’

      Sally looked around for a seat no one would be able to share with her and decided on the fake leather armchair, the type she’d seen in old people’s rest homes.

      ‘Thanks,’ she said, perching herself on the edge of the chair, dropping the computer case that she used as a briefcase on the floor by her feet. Graham sat in what she assumed was his usual chair, prime of place for TV viewing.

      ‘This has all been very difficult for my wife,’ he began.

      ‘I’m sure it has,’ Sally empathized. ‘And for you too.’

      ‘I’ve been OK,’ he lied. ‘Bearing up. Someone has to, you know.’

      ‘Of course,’ Sally pretended to agree.

      ‘Ten years in the army teaches you a thing or two about coping with, with difficult situations.’

      ‘You were in the army?’ Sally asked, warming him up for the hard questions still to come.

      ‘I was.’ His voice and posture suddenly became more soldierly. ‘I did my National Service and, unlike most of my mates, I loved it. So I signed up for regular army when my year was up. The Green Jackets. But it’s a young man’s game, the army. After ten years I moved to civvie street.’

      ‘What did you do there?’ Sally asked, already knowing she wouldn’t be interested in the answer.

      ‘Sales,’ he answered curtly, as bored by his life as Sally would have been. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air until Sally thought of something to say.

      ‘Was …’ she began clumsily. ‘Sorry, is Louise your only child?’

      ‘Yes. How did you know?’

      ‘I didn’t,’ Sally lied. She’d recognized the desperation of single-child parents the moment they’d opened the door. Once Louise was gone they’d have nothing. ‘Not for sure.’

      ‘Oh,’ was all he replied, then more silence. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and check on that tea. Rose has been a little distracted the last couple of days. Won’t be a minute.’

      ‘Of course,’ said Sally. As soon as he was gone she stood and began to move slowly and silently, scrutinizing the room’s contents, careful not to touch anything. She homed in on the framed photographs on the mantelpiece above the old fake-flame electric fire. One or two showed Frank and Rose Graham in exotic locations, but most were of Louise, a collage of her life from young girl to womanhood. Sally liked the photographs. They were very different to the one and only photograph of Louise she’d seen up to now, the lifeless passport photo her husband had given them. These pictures were full of energy and joy, hope and expectations: a child beaming for the school photographer, a teenager posing with friends on a trip to the London Eye, a young woman receiving her graduation diploma outside some university. ‘Where the hell are you, Louise?’ Sally found herself saying. ‘What’s happened to you?’ Her peace was snatched away as the Grahams clattered back into the room, Mr Graham carrying the tray of tea and accompaniments as his wife opened the door and made sure his path was clear.

      ‘Here we are,’ Mrs Graham said almost cheerfully. ‘Pop it on the table, Frank, and I’ll sort it out from there.’ He did as he was told and retreated to his comfortable old chair as Sally returned to hers. ‘How do you take it, Sergeant?’

      ‘Milk and one,’ Sally told her. ‘And please, just call me Sally.’

      ‘All right, Sally,’ Mr Graham replied. ‘How can we help you find our daughter?’

      ‘Well,’ Sally began to answer before pausing to accept the cup and saucer Mrs Graham held out to her. ‘Thank you. Well, there may be questions that you’re best able to answer, about Louise – things that only a parent would know.’

      ‘She’s a good daughter,’ Mrs Graham insisted. ‘She always has been, but I shouldn’t think there’s anything we could tell you that John hasn’t already.’

      ‘Her husband?’ Sally sought to clarify.

      ‘He may be her husband,’ Mr Graham sniffed, ‘but he doesn’t know her like we do.’ So, Sally thought, Louise is a daddy’s girl and Daddy sounds a bit jealous.

      ‘You have a problem with him?’ Sally asked.

      ‘Yes, he does,’ Mrs Graham answered for him. ‘He’s had a problem with all her boyfriends. None of them were ever good enough for his Louise, including John.’

      ‘She could have done better,’ Mr Graham said coldly.

      ‘He’s a good husband and a good man,’ Mrs Graham scolded. ‘She did well to keep hold of him, if you ask me.’

      Mr Graham rolled his eyes in disapproval.

      ‘Is she happy?’ Sally asked. ‘In the marriage?’

      ‘Very,’ Mrs Graham replied. Mr Graham chewed his bottom lip.

      ‘Any problems that you know about?’ Sally continued to probe.

      ‘None,’ Mrs Graham answered bluntly. ‘They’re hoping to start a family together. Louise is so excited, she always wanted children, you see.’

      ‘A waste of her education if you ask me,’ Mr Graham reminded them he was there.

      ‘A higher diploma in graphic design,’ Mrs Graham scoffed. ‘She was never going to light up the world with that, was she? She only went to college because he made her.’ She jutted her chin towards her husband. Another roll of his eyes.

      ‘Was that where she met John?’ Sally asked.

      ‘No,’ Mrs Graham shook her head. ‘She met him through mutual friends a few years ago.’

      ‘I’m sorry to ask this,’ Sally apologized in advance, ‘but was there anybody else?’

      The Grahams were confused by her question. ‘Sorry?’ Mrs Graham frowned. ‘Anybody else? I don’t understand.’

      Sally sucked in a deep breath. ‘Is there any possibility that Louise could have been seeing another man?’ She watched their blank faces and waited for the reaction.

      ‘Another man?’ Mrs Graham asked.

      ‘It does happen,’ Sally told them. ‘It wouldn’t make her a bad person. It’s just something that can happen.’

      ‘Not to Louise,’ Mr Graham answered, more stern now; offended.

      ‘Are you sure?’ Sally persisted. ‘I need you to be absolutely sure.’

      ‘We’re sure,’ Mr Graham spoke for them both.

      Sally waited a while before continuing, studying Mrs Graham, looking for a contradiction in her face, a hint of shame or lying eyes avoiding hers,

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