Perfect Day

number first. She knows that Mel is his friend at work. He sometimes mentions lunch with her, and if he comes home with a joke, it is usually Mel who has told him it. Recently, he hasn’t mentioned her, and Nell wonders whether that means they have fallen out, or whether they are getting closer.
    The woman who answers says, ‘No, they left this morning.’
    ‘Left?’
    ‘Left the country. They’ve gone to Indonesia .’
    For a second, Nell imagines two people on a white beach, holding hands. A woman and a man, and then the man turns round and it’s Alexander.
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘I’ve got an e-mail address for Joe...’ the woman offers.
    ‘No. No, it’s fine,’ Nell says, remembering now that Alexander said something last night about a party for Mel and Joe.
    She rings the number next to Vivienne. A bright voice answers, ‘Hello?’ as if she’s been practising saying it in a sexy way.
    ‘Oh, hello, sorry to disturb you,’ Nell begins. ‘It’s just Nell. I live with Alexander, and he’s not home, and I was just wondering if you knew...’
    She hates herself for not rehearsing something better, as she hears herself sounding like a wronged wife.
    ‘I thought he was sick,’ Vivienne interrupts.
    ‘Sick?’
    ‘He wasn’t in today. He left a message, didn’t he?’
    ‘A message?’
    ‘I didn’t take it. It must have been Malcolm. Hasn’t he been at home?’
    ‘No. Well, I don’t think so. I’ve been out.’
    Nell looks around the room. The newspaper is still on the table folded in its pristine state, just as it was delivered this morning. Proof, if she needed proof, that Alexander has not been here. Of course he hasn’t been home.
    ‘I hope I haven’t said something I shouldn’t,’ Vivienne says.
    ‘What time was the message?’ Nell asks.
    ‘I don’t know exactly. There’s usually someone in by nine. Have you got Malcolm’s number — but I’m not sure he’ll know any more than me.’
    There’s relish in her voice at the possibility of intrigue.
    ‘Early morning, this message...’
    ‘Early morning,’ Vivienne confirms. ‘Very early,’ she says, as if that somehow makes it worse.
    ‘The reason I’m asking is that the train Alexander usually catches crashed today,’ Nell tells her. Impatience makes her speech fast and cold.
    ‘Oh my God! That wasn’t Alexander’s train, was it?’ Vivienne says.
    ‘I think so.’
    ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry... God, he was on the train and he wasn’t in work... I don’t know why nobody thought... maybe because he called. We just assumed... Look, ring Malcolm. Do you want me to ring Malcolm?’
    ‘No. I’ll ring,’ Nell says, guessing that this is the woman who turns everything into a drama. She knows instinctively that Alexander will be furious with her for explaining the situation to her if...
    ‘You will ring me and let me know?’ Vivienne pleads. ‘I’m so sorry...’
    Nell puts down the phone and stares at the receiver until the outline of it blurs, but no tears come. Logic tells her that he must be dead or injured. There’s no other possible explanation for his not appearing at work, not being at home, not ringing. Dead, dead, dead. Nell tries to make it more real by concentrating on the word, but she can’t. She’s suspended in a state which is devoid of emotion except hollow fear. She stares at the phone almost wanting it to ring and for someone to confirm the worst. Then she might be able to feel what she’s supposed to feel.

    * * *

    There’s a camp message on Malcolm’s answerphone saying that he’s out celebrating being single again. She listens to it, then puts the phone down
    Why did Alexander make a phone call to school to say that he wasn’t coming in? When? Alexander never uses the phone if he can help it. Far more likely that Vivienne is mistaken and Alexander didn’t call at all.
    Nell goes into the kitchen and clears away the breakfast things from this morning. She tips the half-eaten bowl of Cornflakes into the swing-top bin and rinses the cups. Tomorrow there will be another bowl of Cornflakes set out optimistically, and Lucy will take another few spoonfuls and Nell will tip the rest in the bin again. A child’s life is all about ritual and routine. How will she ever be able to explain to her that Daddy went out as usual but did not come back? How will Lucy ever be able to rely on anything again?
    ‘It doesn’t matter that I didn’t say goodbye to Daddy
    Nell didn’t say goodbye to him either.