‘Is she a relation of Leigh’s?’ Fiona asks. ‘The similarity is striking. A cousin, perhaps?’ The officer gives a small shake of her head. She keeps her eyes fixed on Mark.
‘I don’t understand. What sort of anniversary? A work anniversary?’ asks Mark.
‘No. Her wedding anniversary. I’m sorry to be the one who has to inform you, Mr Fletcher, but there is strong evidence to suggest your wife is a bigamist.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Fiona demands hotly. Mark says nothing. His mouth is gaping open and closed, open and closed. He looks like a fish on a riverbank gasping for breath. Or maybe waiting for the hammer to bash his head. Stop everything.
‘I’ve just come from her other home. The home she has shared with Mr Janssen for over three years. I’m really sorry.’
The officer says the words ‘really sorry’ but she does not appear sorry. She is studying Mark carefully. Working out what he’s thinking. Whether he knew this. Fiona wonders: did he? He drops his head into his hands, so no one can look him in the eye. Fiona feels sick, her mind is working overtime. ‘I don’t understand. Are you saying Leigh is there at this other home with this Mr Janssen?’ she asks.
‘No, unfortunately she’s missing from there too.’
Fiona offers to make tea. She really wants a glass of something stronger. Vodka, ideally. She thinks of the countless times she and Leigh have had a vodka here in Leigh’s home – Leigh prefers it with orange, Fiona likes cranberry. She’d take it straight right now. Although, honestly, she feels dizzy enough. A cup of tea is far more sensible, considering everything. The young male police officer follows her into the kitchen, leaving Mark and the policewoman alone. Mark still has his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking. It looks a lot like he’s crying but Fiona can’t see his face to know for sure. He could, she supposes, be shaking with shock. Or anger. Fiona looks at the policeboy; her guess is that he’s in his mid-twenties. Even so, he is assured, purposeful. She’s glad he followed her into the kitchen. She’s unsure whether she can manage making the tea, he’ll have to do it. She plonks herself on a breakfast bar stool.
‘I’m just trying to process what your colleague has just claimed.’
‘DC Clements is pretty certain she has her facts straight. She did some checks before we came over here.’
‘Leigh has been secretly married to someone else for three years?’
‘Yeah. Daan Janssen. He’s in bits, too.’
Fiona is pretty sure that isn’t information that should be shared with her, but she files it away to examine later. It might be useful; it might be important. ‘Leigh is this Kai? They are definitely the same person?’ Her voice is high with incredulity.
‘Kylie, you said so yourself. Kai. Leigh.’
‘That’s fucking madness.’
The policeboy deftly moves around Leigh’s kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, until he finds mugs, spoons and teabags. He adds milk and sugar to Fiona’s, even though she mutters that she only drinks almond milk, that she doesn’t take sugar.
‘Drink it up,’ he instructs. Fiona is not lactose intolerant; she just prefers the taste of almond milk, but it obviously isn’t the moment to be fussy. She does as he says. ‘Quite the shock, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t know?’
‘No.’
He leans closer, lowers his voice. ‘Even though you’re her best friend? You can say if you did know. You haven’t committed a crime or done anything wrong in keeping your friend’s secret.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Fiona asserts firmly. He shrugs. Fiona notices that he is wearing a wedding ring; she’s surprised, he seems so young. She suddenly feels old and unsure. This boy is married.
He spots her staring at his ring and asks, ‘Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘Hard for you to get your head around this, then. Your best friend being married twice at the same time.’
‘Hard for anyone, I should imagine,’ Fiona snaps. She doesn’t want to sound irritable, but it is undeniably annoying that a child, practically half her age, is guessing at her emotional range. It’s true she has never been married even though she’s nearly forty-four, but she is aware of the concept. It has just never happened for her. Of course, there have been relationships. She’s lived with various partners before, but she’s never had anyone drop down on one knee. All three of her live-in relationships ended with infidelity. Theirs, not hers. Two left for other women and she chucked the third one out when she discovered he was being unfaithful. Fiona is no mug. She knows her worth. Leigh often says that men find Fiona intimidating or ultimately inaccessible because she is married to her work. It’s certainly true that her work takes up a lot of her time and that she feels passionate about it, but should that be an insurmountable barrier? Fiona wonders how people find it so easy to meet and marry. More and more men Fiona meets nowadays are married and looking for nothing other than a side dish. That is not something she can sign off on.
She briefly wonders whether this policeboy will remain faithful to his wife. He probably is now. He’s so young, they are most likely at it like rabbits, totally absorbed in one another, but will they stay faithful? Fiona doubts it, given her experience. The good ones are few and far between. Suddenly, Fiona is aware of the ungracious thoughts swirling around her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about the policeman’s marriage. She should be thinking about Leigh. What the fuck is wrong with her? She is probably in shock.
Fiona and Constable
