Daan has been a delicious secret that she has nursed for five months now. A secret that she brings out whenever she is alone, to be examined gently, carefully. Furtively. She’s never spoken to Leigh about him. She has wanted to, on about a hundred occasions. She wonders now what would have happened if she had. Imagine if she had mentioned that she was dating a rich Dutchman, would Leigh have blanched? If Fiona had photos of Daan, and had shared them with her best friend, would Leigh have broken down? Confessed? Fiona doesn’t have photos of Daan though, the photos only went one way between them and there were no occasions when it would have seemed reasonable to take a couple shot.
Fiona had not mentioned Daan to Leigh when they first hooked up because she knew Leigh would have been dismissive, even supercilious. If Fiona had confided the details of her relationship with her friend, Leigh would have insisted on saying that Fiona was nothing more than a booty call and heading for trouble. Fiona knew Leigh would have concluded that her rich mystery man was probably involved with someone else because, in truth, all the indicators were there. Leigh had done that before. She believed in tough love and never had any problem with telling Fiona if her lovers were losers or likeable. She didn’t hold back.
Fiona had always struggled with Leigh’s brutal dismissals of her romantic involvements. It was humiliating, patronising. Leigh seemed a bit smug; she clearly enjoyed playing the happy wife, able to dole out advice, offer guidance to her hapless single friend. Fiona used to have to bite her tongue. She wanted to demand, ‘What do you know about it? Dating has changed since you met Mark.’ But she didn’t, because whilst part of her felt belittled, hurt, another part of her hoped Leigh did know more than her, and might somehow magically guide her to the happily ever after. But it has turned out that Leigh was a liar, a cheat. She really was only playing being the happy wife. Leigh was far from the perfect wife and mother, the perfect friend that she portrayed. She had no right to offer advice. Her life was a sham, a fraud. She had caused so much pain and confusion.
How could Leigh do what she had done and not tell Fiona? They were supposed to be best friends. All those years. All those lies. To think Fiona had felt bad about keeping quiet about her thing with Daan for a few months. Sleeping with a man who she suspected was involved with someone else was hardly a moral crime in comparison. She hadn’t even planned to keep quiet about that forever, only until whatever they had was a bit more established. Just until it was robust enough to withstand Leigh’s scepticism and scorn.
Daan. What is she supposed to think about him now? Having sex with him, actually sleeping with him last night was a mistake, it has clouded her judgement again. Stopping over was so much more intimate than a hook-up. She now knew what his breath smelt like in the morning (annoyingly still attractive), it had been something else feeling his warm, rhythmic breath on her neck as he slept.
Still, she has to look at the facts. Daan isn’t a faithful husband. Should she tell the DC that? Is it relevant? She doesn’t want to be drawn into this quagmire. But if it helps the police build a profile of Daan then she probably should tell.
One thing Fiona is clear on is that it is essential Mark does not meet Daan. What Mark is dealing with is monumentally painful, confusing and cruel. She understands – more than anyone – how viciously hurt he must be. Her pain is tearing her into pieces, what might Mark’s pain destroy? If anything kicked off between the two men, it would just add to the misery.
Fiona does not go straight back to Mark’s. She needs some time to think about what to do next. She calls him, says she’ll pop over later this afternoon, or early evening. She buys some more groceries, noting the shelves look like the mouth of a seven-year-old who has lost baby teeth, black gaps stand stark. Fiona feels a swell of impatience at people’s selfishness. There would be enough to go around if no one hogged more than they needed. She does a few errands, returns home for a shower and, even though it’s a Sunday, she calls her boss to confirm she’ll be continuing to work from home for the foreseeable future. Her boss is flexible, less interested in the tragedy of her missing best friend than she would be in normal circumstances because a lockdown of the city seems imminent. It’s all anybody is thinking and talking about. Hospitals are being prepared for an influx of patients, the police are being drilled for potential rioting and looting. All resources are being redirected that way.
‘Stay safe, yeah?’ says her boss. It is said with self-consciousness but sincerity.
Fiona feels her stomach contract with anxiety. What will a locked-down city mean for Leigh? She knows she has one more call to make. Yes, obviously being unfaithful is a long way away from being someone who might hurt his wife. Fiona isn’t saying Daan is capable of that, she’ll leave that decision up to the police. All she can do is give them the information she has.
34
DC Clements
Sunday 22nd March
Despite the alert that was issued on Thursday, no members of the public have reported a
