Unknown by Unknown

“Have some tea.”
    “Nobody seems to have seen Barbara since you and Stuart left her,” Andy explained. “I went to the Roxburgh, then the railway station—”
    “The station? Oh!” Judith gasped.
    “What is it? Andy asked. “Is there?—”
    “No, nothing, expect that we checked the time for my train tomorrow—this morning, I mean. When we came out of the station, Stuart was waiting.”
    But she remembered Barbara’s insistence on checking the train times. Was it possible that she had wanted to make sure of other trains for her own purposes?
    She yawned suddenly, and Andy said gently, “Go to bed now, Judith. You ought to get some sleep before you start your journey.”
    She went slowly up to the room she shared with Susan, and the child was sitting bolt upright in bed.
    “Aunt Judy!” She thrust out her arms and clung tightly to Judith. “Where’s Mummy? She isn’t dead, is she?”
    “No, darling, of course not.”
    “Then why doesn’t she come home?”
    “She’ll be home soon.”
    Judith could feel the child’s wet cheek against her own.
    “Then you’ve got to stay here until she comes. You will, won’t you?” Susan’s tear-bright eyes searched her aunt’s face.
    Judith nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She tucked the rumpled bedclothes around Susan’s wriggling body.
    “You won’t go back to London? Promise?”
    “I’ll stay here today anyway.”
    Judith paused before descending the stairs again. It was no use trying to sleep, she decided. Barbara had begged her to remain all the summer on Kylsaig, but surely she had not chosen this last day of the holiday to disappear so that Judith might be forced to stay.
    Graham’s words echoed in Judith’s ear. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right . . ." What was the plan that was going to be all right? Yet that might be no more than the simple task of persuading Andy to accept the job that Graham wanted to offer, the job that would provide Barbara’s escape from a life she disliked.
    Stuart and Neil had already left and Andy was alone in the kitchen, his head propped in his hands. In the dim light of dawn, his face looked haggard and grey. Judith put her arm across his shoulders.
    “I didn’t ask when the others were here, but did you go to the police?” she asked quietly.
    “Stuart suggested it, but I thought I’d wait a few hours. Now, God forgive me, it may be a mistake, and perhaps I ought to have told them. Barbara may be anywhere, ill—unable to help herself—”
    She understood his reluctance. No man is over-eager to admit that his wife has disappeared.
    “Let’s have some breakfast,” she suggested. “Then you’ll feel better able to tackle what to do next.”
    He stumbled to his feet. “Yes. I don’t feel able to eat, but you must have your own breakfast. Then I’ll carry your suitcases down to the ferry and you can come when you’re ready.”
    “I’m not going, Andy.”
    Startled by her quiet decisiveness, he swung round to face her. “But you can’t do that. There’s your job—”
    “I’ll write out a telegram and somebody can send it for me to my store.”
    “Judy, I can’t let you do this—just for us,” he protested.
    “There are the children. They need someone here until we know—what has happened.”
    “I could send them to Mairi Drummond, or maybe the McKinnons would take them for a few days.”
    “No, Andy. They’re better in their own home, and I’m going to stay here at least until the week-end. After that, we’ll see.”
    She persuaded him to eat some food, then gave him the scribbled message to pass on to the ferryman’s wife at the post-office.
    “If I have any news, I’ll telephone the ferry and someone will find a way to let you know,” he promised before he went once more to the mainland.
    Robbie and Susan were both up early and unwilling to go to school, but Judith persuaded them at least to get ready.
    Susan, extremely subdued, watched every movement that Judith