‘I’ve still not heard from Lori,’ I say to Nick.
‘You think she’ll complain?’ he says, meaning about the room.
‘No, I wasn’t thinking about that, just that it’s over a week since I emailed. And I texted, too. Nothing.’
He puts down the wood he’s carrying. ‘Try ringing?’
I nod, glad he’s not dismissed my concern. It will be seven in the evening in Chengdu. Lori teaches on a Sunday; she might still be at work.
Once we have brought everything in, I try her number. A recorded message tells me that it’s not been possible to connect me. Her phone is off.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I’ll see if Tom’s heard anything.’
‘OK.’ He gestures upstairs and goes off to begin packing up the boys’ things.
Finn is out in the garden, jumping around on the trampoline. Benji is dozing on the ground underneath. It’s a dull, warm day, the sky grey chalk. The blackbird is chinking an alarm call, though I can’t see any cats about. We’ve sparrows nesting in the eaves and I can hear them squabbling too.
Tom answers, ‘Jo?’
‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Good. You?’
An urge to tell him the truth, to share, which I squash down. ‘Fine, but we’ve not heard from Lori for over a week now, wondered if you had.’
‘No. We Skyped for my birthday.’
The start of the month, April Fool’s. It’s the thirteenth now.
‘Her last blog was posted on the second,’ I say.
‘The one about the weather,’ Tom says.
‘I’ve tried emailing, calling and texting – nothing,’ I say.
‘She mentioned the idea of a holiday,’ Tom says.
‘Yes, to me too. Did she say when or where?’
‘There was nothing definite.’
Finn is on his back, arms and legs spread out like a star. Nick moves something heavy upstairs and the whole house shakes with the vibration.
‘See if anyone else has heard from her,’ Tom suggests. ‘Give it a few more days?’
And then what? ‘Yes. Do you have a number for Dawn?’
‘No,’ he says.
‘Me neither.’
Someone speaks in the background, a woman, though I can’t make out the words, and I realize with a jolt that Tom’s not alone.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let me know if you hear anything.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Straight away.’
I can tell he’s smiling as he says, ‘I promise. She’ll be fine. You know Lori.’
We say goodbye and hang up. I think of who else she might be in touch with, who else I can contact. The list is small: I’ve numbers and emails for Jake and Amy, the couple she had been travelling with in Thailand and Vietnam, who should now be back in the UK. And I’ve a phone number for Erin, the only person from school whom Lori stayed in touch with. We don’t have details for any of the friends in China Lori has told us about.
