Just one thing

Returning from the coffee shop, I find the living room quiet and deserted.  I check the bedroom. The laundry basket is still there.

Since Demeter fell, three years ago, the Resident Fan Boy has taken charge of the laundry.  I sort it and leave it ready, and he takes it up as soon as it's permissible to use the laundry rooms, at 8 am.  One of our neighbours, a fellow who thinks he's a wit, teases us regularly about this, and I remind him which century this is.

I remember it's the one morning a week that the RFB leads a Matins service at the cathedral, so I turn on some music in preparation for my sort of morning service, going over to set up Demeter's breakfast at her apartment.

Then I remember that the Matins service is supposed to end at 9:15 - an hour ago. I continue to make my morning toast, and think about Michael Mosley, a BBC radio personality and documentary host.  About a month ago, he was on holiday on a Greek island, and leaving his wife on the beach, set off for a walk.  Somehow, in the heat of the day, he didn't quite make it back to the pub, falling just out of sight of passersby.  He wasn't found for four days.

I decide to text my own husband:  "Are you okay?"

No reply.

"Are you at church?'

No reply.

I check the calendar, and try phoning.  No reply - it goes to voice message.  I wait five minutes.  Same result.

I text:  "Where on earth are you?"

I think of Clare Bailey, Mosley's wife, and how her thoughts must have progressed from mild concern (and mild annoyance), to worry, to panic.  I think helplessly of how I have little idea how to track the RFB down.  Should I call the church office?  (What's the damn number?) Will I stumble out to the street and wonder wildly which route to search?

The phone rings.  (Michael Mosley didn't have his phone with him.) The RFB has, of course, turned off his phone for the service, and forgot to turn it back on, before wandering off to have breakfast downtown and do some banking.  I think of Michael Mosley and all those little things he suggested for people to have better health and longer lives -- only to collapse on holiday, with no one knowing where he was, or how to track him.

My heart eventually stops hammering, seconds before the RFB hoves into view.