Page 12 of Not in a Million Years

‘True. Did he say when he was planning to go?’

‘Kate, he didn’t even say whether he was planning to go. I’ve listened to that message again and again and none of it’s clear. You know what he’s like.’

‘And there’s nothing on his Facebook or Instagram.’

‘Twitter?’

‘He’s not on there.’

‘And he hasn’t updated his LinkedIn since he got his new job,’ Daniel said. ‘I even tried calling his work to ask if they knew where he was, or if they were concerned because he hadn’t been in or whatever, but they wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m not his emergency contact.’

‘Right. Who do you suppose is? His mum or dad?’

‘I guess so. In spite of the fact they don’t exactly get on, not since they had that massive falling-out over money when his parents had to sell their investment property that he was living in.’

I remembered that episode in Andy’s life well. He’d been immersed in the party lifestyle that had eventually spiralled into full-blown addiction at that point and had seen the implosion of his father’s business during the financial crash as a personal affront, and the sale of the property as a betrayal by his parents.

Basically, he’d been enjoying the ultimate cushy number and didn’t like it ending. It definitely hadn’t been his finest hour, but his feelings of hurt had been genuine. Looking back, I could see it had been more of a crisis and less of a man-child tantrum than we’d all realised at the time.

‘So, do you think we should call them?’ I asked. ‘I mean, if something has happened to Andy – he’s their only son, after all. Even if they aren’t on good terms at the moment, they’d want to know.’

‘He mentioned his mum’s been ill,’ Daniel said. ‘I got the impression things between them had kind of thawed a bit. But we shouldn’t worry them if it turns out he’s just gone on holiday and run out of credit on his phone, or something daft like that.’

‘Yeah, I can see Andy going on holiday and running out of credit on his phone.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But then he’d top it up right away, wouldn’t he? Or connect to Wi-Fi. I mean, if he was somewhere fabulous with a gorgeous guy, there’s no way he’d not be telling us about it, like, non-stop.’

Daniel nodded. ‘Exactly,’ he said again.

I finished my coffee and the glass of water that had come with it, and started on my half of the pain au chocolat. We’d been in the café for half an hour, and it already felt as if we were running out of road.

Then Daniel said, ‘I wonder if he’s on TikTok.’

‘On TikTok? What? Is he fourteen?’

Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘Thirty-eight going on fourteen.’

It was my turn to not-quite laugh. ‘I haven’t got TikTok. On account of not being fourteen.’

‘I have. I post videos on it for work, and they get loads of views. I’ve got ten thousand followers on there.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Sure.’ Daniel tapped the screen of his phone and passed it to me.

There was a video playing of a brush smoothing varnish over a tabletop, in a wood that I guessed might be teak – not that I knew anything about wood. It was kind of mesmerising, and I could see why people might want to watch it, if they had absolutely nothing better to do. Then the picture cut to Daniel standing at a workbench, smiling and gesturing as he explained something to the camera, and his huge following didn’t seem quite so mysterious after all. Not that I was going to say that to him.

‘Lots of woodworkers and metalworkers have accounts on there,’ he went on. ‘It’s a thing. And the way the algorithm works, the more you watch, the more you get served.’

‘So it helps you sell loads of tables that cost north of five grand?’

‘Why? You thinking of buying one?’

I flushed. The truth was I had longingly stalked several of the beautiful mid-century modern pieces Daniel had restored over the years, but felt that relations between us were too strained for me to ask if I could buy one at mates’ rates.

‘Nope,’ I said. ‘I’m all good on the table front, but thanks all the same.’

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