Several days passed, and no message came. Mutual friends had no idea, so I stopped calling them. In any case it was embarrassing, unmanly even, to have to admit to having mislaid one’s wife.
I racked my brain for the names of some of her friends, but the problem was that I couldn’t remember their surnames.
Talking of friends, Hermann the German rang to say that he and his fiancée Marlene would be leaving Edinburgh and hoped to come and stay tomorrow. Fine I said. If Rika phoned in, it might shame her into a reappearance.
To take my mind off things I busied myself with a round of frantic gardening and lawn grooming designed to irritate Mr Gibbon. I mastered the slow movement of the ‘Pathétique Sonata’.
A couple of days later, ...