Woman Last Seen(38)
“Well, I’ll write this up,” she says. “Check the phone records. Circulate a missing persons report.”
“Do you need a photo?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
Daan immediately pulls one up on his phone, thrusts it under Clements’s nose.
“This is your wife?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Clements was expecting someone tall, blond, androgynous, but Kai Janssen isn’t anything like she imagined. She is a smiley brunette with brown eyes. She is familiar.
Clements is looking at a photograph of Leigh Fletcher.
16
Fiona
When the bell rings, both Mark and Fiona leap off the kitchen stools and speed toward the front door, racehorses out of the gate. Fiona thinks that Mark must be desperately hoping that the police officers were right, that Leigh has come home. Mark called Fiona after the police left earlier, to update her. Not that there was anything solid to report. He told her that the police seem to think Leigh will be home soon. That they are not too concerned. That women—presumably men too—sometimes do take a few days sabbatical from their families, following a row. They were reasonably reassuring; confident she’ll return safe and well. “Well, that’s what everyone is praying for,” commented Fiona, gently. Then she quietly offered, “Would you like me to come round? We could wait for news together?” She was finding it unbearable sitting alone in her kitchen. But she knew that however terrible she was feeling, however anxious, Mark would be a hundred times more so. The boys would be fretful, lost. She wanted to soothe them if she could.
Fiona loves Oliver and Sebastian; they are almost like family to her. They’ve been in her life for as long as Leigh has been in theirs. When they were younger, they called the two women Aunty Leigh and Aunty Fi. When Leigh became Mummy, Fiona hung on to Aunty Fi for a few years, but they’ve grown out of that now. Still, however much Fiona loves the boys, she has to admit they were a challenge this evening. It was clearly a good thing that she had come over. There was no doubt that her presence defused things.
The boys seemed pleased to see her, relieved. Seb, the less complicated of the two, hugged her tightly but then chatted about his day in a relatively usual way. He’s naively hopeful that she’ll tumble through the door any moment. Oli’s reaction is more nuanced. He’s sulky around his father, almost accusatory.
“I’m sure everything is okay,” Fiona said repeatedly because that’s what people say at times like this. She wants to appear positive but she’s lying to protect the boys. It’s obvious something bad has happened to Leigh. Leigh is not the irresponsible sort. She would be here if she could be. If she had a choice in the matter. She hasn’t checked in with the boys for days. Fiona suggested to Mark that they call hospitals. “I don’t want to alarm you, but we have to face the facts. It’s just not something she’d do. I still can’t take it in.”
Mark is in the hallway ahead of Fiona, she looks over his shoulders and sees the silhouettes of a hatted policeman and -woman at the door.
“Have you found her?” Mark demands as he swings open the door.
The female officer shakes her head, apologetically. “Can we come in?”
They all automatically traipse through to their small sitting room. It’s a mess but the kitchen is more so. To his credit Mark managed to make the boys a spag bol for supper; however, he clearly didn’t have the energy to wash up, so the kitchen isn’t the right place to talk. Fiona is torn—itching to restore order but also not wanting to look like she is interfering. Instead, she’s cracked open the bottle of Bordeaux that she brought with her. She thought it was more urgently needed, more supportive. She will wash up before she leaves tonight, though. She might suggest to Mark that she have a bit of a tidy around tomorrow. Everyone always feels better after a tidy around. Well, Fiona certainly does. Leigh is always teasing her about that. Fiona suddenly feels an intense pain in her gut thinking about Leigh. It’s too awful.
“You have some news?” Mark asks. His face stretched, like his nerves, with anticipation. “Should we have called the hospitals? Have you?”
They don’t answer directly but they obviously do have news, why else would they be here at this late hour? Besides, Fiona notices that there is an energy about them, they seem almost excited. What does that mean?
“What is your wife’s full name?” asks the female officer.
“Leigh Anne Fletcher. I told you before.”
“She never goes by any other name?”
Mark shakes his head. He looks mystified.
The male officer clarifies, “No nicknames? No—”
“Well, actually her real name is Kylie. Or it was,” Fiona interjects helpfully. Mark and the police officers quickly turn to her. Fiona doesn’t know what to do by way of introduction. She’s never had any dealings with the police. She throws out a small, slightly pathetic wave and almost instantly regrets it. She doesn’t want to look silly, frivolous, since the situation is obviously anything other. She quickly pulls her hand to her side. “I’m Fiona Phillipson, Leigh’s best friend. We’ve been best friends for over twenty years.”
Fiona has known Leigh longer than Mark has. She doesn’t explicitly add that, she doesn’t have to, she knows that the policewoman will understands her claim, her loyalty. Fiona’s love came first. The policewoman will get it. Men don’t get female friendship. Not really. The exquisite depth of a nonsexual relationship is too much for them to comprehend.