photos. ‘Two years,’ he said, appearing slightly more animated. ‘What’s yours called?’ He reached down and gave Boris a half-hearted pat.
‘This is Boris. He’s a rescue dog – been with me for four years now.’ She pretended to do a double-take. ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m sure I know you from somewhere!’
Ross pushed back his shoulders and looked pleased. ‘Have you been to one of my talks?’
Amy pretended to consider. ‘I don’t think it’s that … Forgive me if I’m wrong, but are you by any chance on CupidsWeb?’
Ross blinked at her. ‘Er, yes, I am, actually.’
Amy clicked her fingers. ‘That’s it! So am I. I remember now – I was looking at your profile yesterday. You’re a writer, aren’t you? What a weird coincidence! I don’t even live around here, I was just staying with an old schoolfriend last night who lives up the road.’ The words gushed out and she wondered if he could tell how nervous she felt – it sounded so implausible. She had to keep reminding herself that this man could have something to do with Becky’s disappearance. He might be dangerous.
Ross looked properly at her and held out his hand for Amy to shake.
‘I’m Amy,’ she said, taking his hand.
‘Ross. Very nice to meet you, Amy, and yes – what a coincidence. I’m not a writer as such, although I’ve written a book on self-help techniques. I’m a motivational speaker.’
‘Oh, yes, that was it, sorry. I remembered something about a book.’ She lowered her eyelashes and pretended to look coy. Her heart pounded and she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She was aware that if how she felt was visible, Ross would mistake her nervousness for desire.
‘I added you into my Favourites, actually.’
‘Did you now?’ he said, putting his head to one side and regarding her flirtatiously. It was incredible how different he looked to the miserable-looking man who had shuffled into the park not five minutes earlier.
He looked at his watch, pushing his arm forward in an exaggerated manner. As his sleeve shot up, Amy caught a glimpse of what looked like either a hospital bracelet or a festival wrist pass. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got time for a coffee, have you? Strike while the iron’s hot, as they say?’
He grinned hopefully at her, and Amy smiled back.
‘I could murder a latte,’ she said, and he gestured towards the little café behind them.
‘Let’s go!’ He whistled to Wiggins and they set off together, Amy marvelling at how easy it had been. Now all she had to do was work out what to say to Ross to find out what, if anything, he knew about Becky’s vanishing act.
Ross hooked Wiggins’s lead over the fence outside the little café, picking up an empty stainless-steel dog bowl on the ground by the gate. ‘Can we sit out here so I can smoke?’ he asked. ‘I’ll go and get the hounds a drink. Latte for you?’
Amy nodded, and sat down at the picnic table inside the little picket fence. Boris sat next to her, regarding Wiggins with curiosity. She took out her phone again and checked Twitter. Four new retweets of her appeal – that was good. Then something caught her eye, in her Mentions folder: BColtman …
Amy’s hand flew to her mouth. A tweet from Becky! All it said was:
@Amyjo stop looking for me. I’m in Thailand. I’m fine.
Amy felt as though she had been winded, all the breath left her lungs in a weird squeeze of suction. So Becky really was in Asia? But even after an argument, surely she’d never write something as cold as that, knowing from the appeal how worried Amy had been.
She typed a reply immediately, as a direct message:
WTF? Why didn’t you tell me?
She paused, thinking that it sounded a little aggressive, then sent another message:
I love you. Been so worried.
As she hit Send, Ross emerged carrying a tray containing two coffees and a bowl of water, which he put down for the dogs. He handed Amy her latte and, as she took it, he saw her face.
‘This is Boris. He’s a rescue dog – been with me for four years now.’ She pretended to do a double-take. ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m sure I know you from somewhere!’
Ross pushed back his shoulders and looked pleased. ‘Have you been to one of my talks?’
Amy pretended to consider. ‘I don’t think it’s that … Forgive me if I’m wrong, but are you by any chance on CupidsWeb?’
Ross blinked at her. ‘Er, yes, I am, actually.’
Amy clicked her fingers. ‘That’s it! So am I. I remember now – I was looking at your profile yesterday. You’re a writer, aren’t you? What a weird coincidence! I don’t even live around here, I was just staying with an old schoolfriend last night who lives up the road.’ The words gushed out and she wondered if he could tell how nervous she felt – it sounded so implausible. She had to keep reminding herself that this man could have something to do with Becky’s disappearance. He might be dangerous.
Ross looked properly at her and held out his hand for Amy to shake.
‘I’m Amy,’ she said, taking his hand.
‘Ross. Very nice to meet you, Amy, and yes – what a coincidence. I’m not a writer as such, although I’ve written a book on self-help techniques. I’m a motivational speaker.’
‘Oh, yes, that was it, sorry. I remembered something about a book.’ She lowered her eyelashes and pretended to look coy. Her heart pounded and she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She was aware that if how she felt was visible, Ross would mistake her nervousness for desire.
‘I added you into my Favourites, actually.’
‘Did you now?’ he said, putting his head to one side and regarding her flirtatiously. It was incredible how different he looked to the miserable-looking man who had shuffled into the park not five minutes earlier.
He looked at his watch, pushing his arm forward in an exaggerated manner. As his sleeve shot up, Amy caught a glimpse of what looked like either a hospital bracelet or a festival wrist pass. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got time for a coffee, have you? Strike while the iron’s hot, as they say?’
He grinned hopefully at her, and Amy smiled back.
‘I could murder a latte,’ she said, and he gestured towards the little café behind them.
‘Let’s go!’ He whistled to Wiggins and they set off together, Amy marvelling at how easy it had been. Now all she had to do was work out what to say to Ross to find out what, if anything, he knew about Becky’s vanishing act.
Ross hooked Wiggins’s lead over the fence outside the little café, picking up an empty stainless-steel dog bowl on the ground by the gate. ‘Can we sit out here so I can smoke?’ he asked. ‘I’ll go and get the hounds a drink. Latte for you?’
Amy nodded, and sat down at the picnic table inside the little picket fence. Boris sat next to her, regarding Wiggins with curiosity. She took out her phone again and checked Twitter. Four new retweets of her appeal – that was good. Then something caught her eye, in her Mentions folder: BColtman …
Amy’s hand flew to her mouth. A tweet from Becky! All it said was:
@Amyjo stop looking for me. I’m in Thailand. I’m fine.
Amy felt as though she had been winded, all the breath left her lungs in a weird squeeze of suction. So Becky really was in Asia? But even after an argument, surely she’d never write something as cold as that, knowing from the appeal how worried Amy had been.
She typed a reply immediately, as a direct message:
WTF? Why didn’t you tell me?
She paused, thinking that it sounded a little aggressive, then sent another message:
I love you. Been so worried.
As she hit Send, Ross emerged carrying a tray containing two coffees and a bowl of water, which he put down for the dogs. He handed Amy her latte and, as she took it, he saw her face.
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