Safe at Home by Lauren North

Safe at Home by Lauren North

Author:Lauren North [North, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 33

Anna

The memory leaves my pulse racing, my mouth dry, my face burning crimson. I push it away and reach for the final folder. Rob’s stuff is written on a sticky label across the top and it occurs to me as I lift it out and sit on the bed how little I know about the company Rob works for.

We should’ve planned for this. I should know who to call if I can’t reach Rob. There should be a number pinned on the fridge and saved in my phone, a name, a contact, anyone who can tell me it’s all OK. I must have worried about it. I must have suggested we needed a plan, but it all happened so quickly and Rob was gone in a whirlwind of ‘Don’t worry,’ and ‘Everything will be fine,’ and it was. He came back every three months and he called every Sunday and so I never asked again.

I sip my tea and flip through the papers in Rob’s folder. It’s a jumble. No dividers or Post-it notes in sight. There are old letters sent to his company. A dissolution notice from Companies House. An eviction letter from the premises he leased. Reminders of our life before.

There is no contract for Artax here, no paperwork for his current employment. I wonder where else he’d keep it. I make a half-hearted search of the house. I look on the bookshelves and in the drawer in the kitchen where we keep the manuals for the appliances. I climb the loft ladder and search a few dusty boxes, but I find nothing.

In the end I Google the company and find a number for their Human Resources department. A man answers on the second ring.

‘This is Frank,’ he says by way of hello.

‘Oh hi, I’m sorry to trouble you, but my husband works for your company and—’

‘Name?’ he asks, cutting me off.

‘Robert James.’

‘Date of birth?’ he asks as I hear the tap tap of his keyboard.

I reel it off, knowing the digits as well as I know my own.

More tapping, then a pause.

‘I’m sorry, there’s no one with that name working for us,’ he says, his tone signalling the end of the conversation.

‘What?’ I huff a laugh at his comment. ‘But he does. He’s worked for you for four years.’

The man sighs, the air rattling in my ear. ‘Every employee’s name, address, contact details, location and job title is logged on our database the day they start. If your husband worked for us, his name would be on my screen, and it isn’t. There’s nothing I can do. Is it possible he’s working with a different contracting firm? We’re not the only ones who do this.’

‘I … I don’t think so. He definitely said Artax,’ I reply, my words full of conviction but my tone shrill.

‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.’

He ends the call and I stare at my phone for a long time, fighting the desire to phone the number again and speak to someone else.



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