Free Dark Place to Hide by A J Waines

take with you. My dental appointment last Monday is marked up in pencil, there’s a note in your handwriting to call your mum on Friday and a reminder to put the recycling bin out on Tuesday morning. Nothing useful.
    It’s late, but I’m not tired in the least. I check your social media sites again to see if anything new has been posted, leave a text for Alexa to check if she’s heard from you, then go to the second bedroom, which we’re using as a study. I decide to start here and treat every room in the house like a crime scene. I take the Dictaphone from my briefcase and start walking and talking, making notes about what I see and don’t see.

Chapter 10
Diane
    9 July
    It has been raining all day, but still Tara has turned up at the cottage wearing shorts and wedge sandals with the platform made of coiled rope. They are sodden and she takes them off at the door. Frank is dozing on the hearthrug and Tara stops to stroke his tail with her bare foot before she joins Diane in the kitchen. Harper is out at a criminology department meeting and Diane has invited Tara over for homemade spaghetti bolognese.
    ‘You always make everything so special,’ Tara remarks, admiring the table in the centre of the kitchen, decorated with napkins in the shape of fleur-de-lis, a vase of sweet peas from the garden and a single pink rose tied onto each napkin ring.
    ‘Only for special people,’ Diane says with a wry smile, straightening a fork.
    She brings the steaming dish to the table and serves up.
    She knows as soon as she tips the first forkful onto her tongue that she’s put too much chilli in it. ‘Sorry…’ she groans with her mouth full.
    ‘S’okay,’ Tara replies, stoically, flapping her hand in front of her mouth. ‘I know you’re not a natural in the kitchen. I can always get a take-away on the way home.’
    Diane sniggers, slurping a long snake of spaghetti through pursed lips. She loves the way Tara says it as it is.
    Tara takes a big gulp of red wine, shutting her eyes briefly as it goes down. ‘Here’s to the end of term,’ she announces.
    ‘I can’t wait,’ Diane says, tapping her glass against her friend’s. She always makes one glass last while Tara has two – a habit from her swimming days. ‘I still haven’t got anything ready for assembly on Friday. Did you know our dear deputy head has roped me in to doing it again. Third time this term.’
    ‘It’s only because you do such a good job.
And
I think he’s got the hots for you.’
    Diane pulls face. ‘Well – he can flipping-well pour iced water on it. He’s getting on my nerves; always there when I turn around.’
    Tara plucks a piece of rocket from the salad bowl. ‘Morrell’s a bit officious, but he’s not that bad.’
    ‘Yes, he
is
,’ Diane retorts. ‘He’s so slimy for a start. I hate the way bits of spittle collect at the corner of his mouth when he speaks to you. Have you noticed? And he comes too close – he’s far too familiar for my liking.’
    ‘You have too much sex-appeal, Dee, that’s your problem.’
    ‘That’s grand coming from you.’ Most of the male members of staff and a couple of the female ones have had crushes on Tara since she arrived.
    ‘If only.’ Tara has dated regularly – a string of no-hoper boyfriends. She tends to fall for the moody silent type then gets upset when they’re moody and silent. She finds kind, warm men boring. Diane has never been like that. She’s always wanted someone straightforward who didn’t play games.
    Tara makes polite in-roads into the spaghetti, then puffs out a breath and props her fork on the plate, calling it a day.
    ‘At what point did you know Harper was the one?’ she asks wistfully, sitting back twirling her wine glass.
    ‘It’s strange. I knew straight away when we met at that rally in Trafalgar Square. I never thought I’d ever find anyone like Harper. He was holding an umbrella and a bag of cherries and he offered me one casually, like we knew each