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logical excuses. No one has called, his mobile remains unanswered, no one has knocked on the door. We’ve tried all the hospitals, woken all his friends, dragged his boss and his colleagues from their beds. Nobody has any more suggestions. Nobody has anything more to say. Kay decides that she’s going to call the police, and the pastry chef seizes on the momentary distraction to make his overdue escape and bolt for the door.
    I might be mistaken but I think I see him raise his hands to the sky and offer a silent prayer as he sprints down the path towards his car. What a story to tell his friends. How he got invited back to some crazy woman’s flat for a quickie shag and ended up in the centre of a family crisis. How he was goosed by the semi-drunk mother, seduced by the sexy sister and confronted with the mystery of the missing brother by the immaculately groomed wife. I stand in the porch and watch him drive away (make a mental note to avoid walking home past the Café Vasco for the rest of my life) and head back inside. Another one down. Another vision of awkwardness and embarrassment, drifts away into the night.
     
    Back in the house, Kay is just off the phone and my mother is giving her the third degree.
    ‘What good is tomorrow ? Why can’t they send someone now?’
    ‘It’s too early. They said we’d have to wait…at least until morning.’
    ‘Well, what are we meant to do? We can’t just sit here. Give me the phone, I’ll call them back.’
    Kay shakes her head, she looks pale. The mere act of dialling 999 has visibly dented her.
    ‘If he was younger, or vulnerable…they could do something now. But a grown man staying out late…we’ll have to sit tight. They said a missing adult usually turns up within twenty-four hours.’
    ‘Well, that’s good then,’ says Sylvie, weakly. ‘I mean, in a way…he’s probably just…’ She fades out.
    ‘Did you tell them it wasn’t like him? Did you tell them it’s completely out of character?’
    ‘Of course I did. You just heard me.’
    ‘Well, what about his phone? Did you say he wasn’t answering his phone?’
    My sister-in-law checks herself. I sense her battling to stay calm.
    ‘They said we should try not to panic. That he’s probably held up somewhere. If he’s not back by tomorrow…we can fill in a missing person’s report.’
    Kay lifts her hands to her ears, partly to compose herself, partly to shut out my mother. She’s wondering if the police might be right; if she’s missed something; if there’s some small chance she might be overreacting.
    ‘They asked if he could be staying at a hotel,’ she says, quietly. ‘They wanted to know if we’d had a fight.’
    ‘Did you?’
    She shakes her head, no.
    ‘Maybe he crashed out at a friend’s house,’ says Robert. ‘Perhaps he just flaked out after too much wine.’
    ‘We’ve tried them all, Robert. I’ve tried everyone I can think of. I don’t know who else I can call.’
    ‘Perhaps he’s with someone you don’t know.’ says Robert, trying to be helpful. ‘Could that be possible…do you think?’
    ‘What are you suggesting?’
    Robert shrugs his shoulders. He’s not suggesting anything.
    ‘Might he have met someone? Could he have run into someone and gone home with them?’
    ‘A woman ?’
    ‘No…God, no. I meant someone from school…an old schoolfriend, something like that.’
    We shift uncomfortably in our seats. He didn’t mean to imply it, but this would make some kind of sense. Kay and Daniel have had a row of some kind. He went to spend the night in a hotel. Could he be cheating on her? Could he? She picks up on our betrayal immediately, feels us all slipping away.
    ‘Daniel and I are fine,’ she says, turning to my mother. ‘There’ve been no arguments. None .’
    My mother stares hard at her drink. Kay sits down next to the phone.
    ‘They said I should call again later,’ she says, dejectedly. ‘I’m supposed to let them know…if he turns