Page 40 of The First Mistake

I hesitate before answering. Only cold callers would refer to me so formally. ‘Yes,’ I say, through a resigned sigh.

‘It’s Mark Edwards at Range Rover. Just to let you know that your car’s all ready for you. I’m afraid we’ve had to replace all four tyres.’

I resist the temptation to say, I bet if it had beenMrDavies you’d been dealing with, it would only have been two.

‘Why? What was the problem?’ I ask instead.

‘Well, the two front tyres were already flat, as you could see, but by the time the car reached us, both rear tyres were on their way as well.’

‘That’s ridiculously unlucky,’ I say, a tad sarcastically.

‘Indeed,’ he says. ‘You might want to rethink where you park it in future.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because it appears that all four tyres were slashed with a knife.’

A chill runs through me as I imagine someone systematically working their way around the car, thrusting a blade into the rubber.

‘You’ve gone white,’ says Beth, as I numbly end the call. ‘What is it?’

I force a smile. ‘That’s probably because they told me how much the car was going to cost.’

‘That’ll teach you for buying one for the same money that you could buy a house,’ she says, laughing.

‘Indeed,’ I say, ashamed at the comparison.

I know she’s only joking, but the comment makes the divide between our lifestyles painfully obvious. Perhaps everything that’s been happening lately is my payback; a warning not to take anything for granted.

‘So, what’s the next step?’ I ask, in an attempt to bat my paranoia away. ‘How are you going to go about finding Millie’s father?’

‘Well, I’m not sure the official channels are going to be much help. I applied for child maintenance a few years ago and they opened a file, but they never managed to track him down. I don’t know if they keep looking – I don’t suppose they have the time.’

‘And if someone doesn’t want to be found ...’

‘True enough,’ she says. ‘But I did have a look on the internet, with the little information that I have.’

I reach into my bag for a pen and pad, relishing the idea of having someone else’s problem to focus on instead of my own.

‘So, what have you got so far?’ I ask, turning to a fresh page and writing Beth before underlining it.

She smiles wryly. ‘So, he had his own business.’

‘And?’ I ask.

‘Surprise, surprise, it no longer exists.’

‘Okay, what about his parents?’ I ask.

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, but as quick as it came, it’s gone again. ‘I didn’t meet either of them, so no leads there.’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘Did he have any hobbies? Any places he used to go?’

‘He worked really hard and was away a lot. He was hugely ambitious, and he wanted the best for us.’ She laughs hollowly. ‘Or so I thought.’

She stops and looks lost in her thoughts, as if it’s only just dawning on her that when he said he was working, he was actually with the other woman.

‘Did you own a place together?’ I ask, in an attempt to bring her back.

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