'Thank God you’re OK. Where the hell have you been? I have been worried sick about you. Why didn’t you answer the phone? Where were you last night? Look I’m sorry; I am SO sorry. But I love you!’

The caller could hear breathing. Someone – a man – was talking in the background.  

‘Hello? Who’s there? Is that you?’

Linda Welch put the phone down, ran to the toilet in her en suite and threw up. There was blood in the vomit, but that was the least of her worries.

Something has happened. I know something has happened. She wouldn’t have left me like that; without saying a word. She would have got in touch.

Linda Welch flushed the toilet, splashed cold water on her face, gargled with mou...

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