Hey love, picture this: I get home after a long day at the office in central London, head up to the flat on the third floor and ring the buzzer like always. Nothing. I knock, still no answer. I pull out the spare key and slip inside.
What I walk into makes my stomach drop. The tellys still on, buzzing with static. The fridge door hangs ajar, and the kitchen floor is a mess of scattered tshirts, towels and a bunch of baby toys. I take a step forward, peek into the bathroom and see a puddle of water as if someone bolted out in a hurry.
Wheres Emily? Wheres little Oliver? My phones dead on her end, no signal at all.
My mind starts racing maybe a breakin? But theres no cash, no jewellery, nothing worth stealing. So why does it look like someones fled, tossing everything in their path?
I fumble for my phone and dial Emily. Just the cold, indifferent automated voice: The subscriber is temporarily unavailable. My hearts pounding like mad. Did I get home a few minutes too late? If Id arrived earlier maybe I couldve stopped this
Then, out of nowhere, I hear footsteps behind me.
Hey love, you home? Emilys voice rings out.
I whirl around. Shes standing in the doorway, a grocery bag in her hand, looking calm and smiling.
Whats going on? Wheres Oliver? Whys your phone off? I blurt out.
She slips off her coat, drops the bag on the table and asks, How was your day?
I cant hold it together. What happened? WHERES THE KID?!
She raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement. Relax, hes at his grandmas. I only popped out to the shop for a halfhour.
And this mess? I point at the chaos.
She chuckles, plops down on the sofa and says, Ask me what Ive been up to today.
I cross my arms, trying to sound tough. What?
She stretches, lets out a lazy yawn and, still smiling, replies, Nothing much. Just had a lazy day.