‘What on earth are we to do?’ she demanded. Even though there was no way they could be overheard, she spoke in a whisper. ‘That wretched man! Where can he be? What is he up to, messing us about like this? And his silly wife, working herself into such a state over nothing! What are we supposed to do about it? The police weren’t really interested and why should they be? He hasn’t been gone that long. I just don’t know what to do about our little soirée!’ Derek was staring out of the window. His hands were thrust into his pockets defensively. ‘Don’t ask me! How should I know?’ He was very like her but in his late thirties. There was strong family resemblance but he had so far kept his youthful charm. He was never short of female admirers but had never felt inclined to marry. She tugged at his arm. ‘At least talk about it, Derek. We have to deal with the situation. Mrs Brent is in her room, no doubt crying her eyes out by now. The police aren’t taking it very seriously.
