‘This tragedy only serves to highlight an issue we have been discussing for almost a decade now,’ Julius continued, ‘which is the obvious lack of security in hospitals. I have long been an advocate of CCTV on EVERY corridor, in EVERY lift and certainly in all reception areas and car parks.’
This was news to Julius’s longstanding PA, who leant against the wall as she reeled with the sophistry.
‘Perhaps if such a system had been in place in this very hospital on this very morning, my own daughter wouldn’t be missing right now. It’s time to put this matter back at the top of the agenda …’
Anna watched on as Julius slid comfortably into his familiar political territory, using this prime but inappropriate opportunity to bang a pet drum.
Even DI Thripshaw could see this wasn’t good, and he interrupted Julius: ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Lindon-Clarke. Perhaps Mrs Lindon-Clarke would like to second that emulsion with her own words …?’
‘No,’ said Julius, irritated by the intervention just as he was preparing to take flight.
Thripshaw could see that the journos were glazing over while Julius was speaking, and that was the last thing he wanted. He needed this to be impactful. He needed to make sure a heart and soul was seen by the cameras. Neither was present in Julius.
‘Yes,’ he said firmly, ‘I think so … Mrs Lindon-Clarke?’ He indicated for Anna to take the microphone. She didn’t move, so Thripshaw pushed it towards her, and gestured that the floor was hers.
Anna looked down at her hands, which she noticed were clenched tight, whitening the knuckles; then she looked at the microphone and up at the waiting journalists, poised with their notebooks and pens … She slowly leant forward, and spoke quietly.
‘Someone has ripped my heart out of me. Please give her back … or I can’t live. Don’t hurt her, don’t hurt my heart … please …’ And with that, Anna could no longer stem the tide of torment she was holding back. Speaking out and admitting how she felt, putting her anguish into the air like that, burst the dam. She put her hands to her face to hide the tears that came gushing out of her, but the force of her suppressed despair was too powerful to stop. In any other circumstance, she would have been mortified to be blubbing so openly in public. She was famously emotionally restrained. Not this sad morning, 1 January 2000, the day her life fell apart. On this day, she had nothing to lose. She’d already lost it.
As Julius went to put his arm around her, she batted him away as if he were fire she was fending off. She didn’t want to feel the burn of his touch, or anyone’s touch unless it was Florence. She longed for the beautiful soft flesh on flesh with her, the flesh of her flesh. She wanted it so badly that she physically hurt.
Julius was embarrassed that his effort to comfort his wife had been so publicly rebuffed. The journalists were definitely scribbling now, and he could feel the zooms of the cameras. This was tabloid gold. Their relationship laid bare with such intimate awkwardness at this extraordinary moment.
Anna was barely able to stand when she was ushered out of the room by the two policemen and Julius.
DI Thripshaw wound it up very quickly. ‘We’ll leave it at that. As you can clearly see, this has been a complete tragedy for this poor family, so if anyone has ANY information, we’d be grateful to hear from you. We’re not operating under any aspersions currently, but I can promise you we will not give up on this. I have given Mr and Mrs Lindon-Clarke my solemn vow that we will continue to hunt for the cruel people who took their daughter, and that search will persist until we’re thick in the head. Thank you. Sorry there isn’t time for questions, my fault, I underestimated the fragility of Mrs Lindon-Clarke. As you witnessed, it’s way too soon. Thank you.’ And with that, he followed the others out of the door.
Once in the anteroom, Julius furiously berated DI Thripshaw. ‘What d’you think you’re doing? How dare you cut me short like that?’
‘It wasn’t helping. Leave it at that,’ replied Thripshaw. ‘Perhaps you could …?’ He nodded towards Anna.
This annoyed Julius even further. Not only had the dolt ruined Julius’s big moment, but he had leapfrogged over the bigger issues to highlight Julius’s lack of empathy. How gauche, on both counts. And how annoyingly perceptive. Julius had to concede, especially with so many people standing around, so he went to his wife, who was doubled over and trembling, and he took her in his arms.
‘C’m’ere, my love, come on now. We’ll sort this out somehow. Someone somewhere knows where she is. We’ve just got to find her, that’s all. Which we will. Come on,’ he reassured her. Anna clung to him. He may have been wreckage, but he seemed to be floating.
Turds do. Don’t they? Turds and sweetcorn.
Surprisingly, Julius found this approach useful. Anna seemed to respond. She had certainly calmed down a bit, and it gave him a status in the hellish scenario. He could possibly even be a bit of a hero if he played his cards right. He decided that he would endeavour to support her as much as he could, yes, but he also pledged to himself that he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. It was bloody awful. Someone had taken his daughter, but at the same time, and for the first time ever,
