Fiona dropped her bike helmet when she saw me. It hit the parquet floor in the hall with a resounding thud.
‘Sophie!’ she yelped.
‘Fiona?’ I answered, barely enough energy to speak.
‘Good god, Sophie,’ she said, taking me in her arms. ‘You gave me a fright.’ She explained later that she could only see my feet and had immediately thought the worst. ‘I thought …’ The lines around her eyes creased with concern. ‘You haven’t taken anything have you?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope.’
Relief passed over her face. ‘What are you doing down here then?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying to right myself. ‘I guess it all got too much.’ I had been told not to phone Paul.
Fiona pursed her lips. ‘Maybe you should see a doctor.’
I didn’t answer and bit my lower lip, determined not to cry again. Too late. My eyes moistened and I wiped my already red-rimmed eyes. Fiona sat next to me, leaning up against a kitchen cupboard door and rearranged my head so that I was lying on her lap. She started to stroke my hair like I was a young child.
‘I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, Sophie,’ she said soothingly and I inhaled the scent of laundry conditioner on her jeans. ‘You’re coping so well.’ We both knew that was a lie but I didn’t argue, not as long as she allowed me to remain where I was. ‘Amy would be so proud of you.’ I flinched, guilty at the realisation that I was lying here being comforted when she was out there in need of my help. I sat up; my head rushed with the sudden onset of light-headedness and I waited for the feeling to pass. ‘Sophie?’
‘I’m fine. Honestly.’
‘I’ll make you something to eat.’ Fiona lifted herself off the floor. ‘I expect you haven’t eaten today, have you?’
I shook my head miserably. ‘No, but I’m not hungry.’
‘Sophie, you need your energy. This is your body’s way of telling you to look after yourself.’ She started busying herself in the kitchen and she grabbed the loaf from the breadbin. ‘Going a bit stale but nothing the toaster can’t fix.’ She looked at me. ‘Would you mind putting the kettle on?’
‘OK,’ I agreed, although the last thing I wanted was another cup of tea.
Once I had filled the kettle with water and switched it on, Fiona asked me to chop a couple of tomatoes. I looked at her dully and nodded, before I set to slicing the tomatoes. Then it was spooning sugar into the teacups, pouring the milk, buttering the bread, until I realised she was sat, on a stool at the end of the counter, watching me. A small smile played at her lips.
‘What?’ I asked, defensively. Then I realised, she was getting me up and moving. This was her way of showing me I could do it; I could cope.
‘I’d like a bit of mustard on mine whilst you’re at it.’ She grinned.
I smiled and took the jar, opened it and started to dab mustard on one side of the bread. ‘I see what you’re doing.’
‘I’m not doing anything.’ She laughed. ‘OK, maybe I am. A bit.’
I handed the sandwich to her and one cup of sugary tea. ‘Here you are.’
‘Ta.’ She bit into the bread. ‘You’re a dab hand at sarnie-making.’
I brought up a stool and joined her. It wasn’t long before I had wolfed down the sandwich and gulped back the tea.
‘I guess I needed that,’ I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
‘I’d say.’ Fiona laughed, still with half a sandwich to go.
I chuckled. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
I cupped my head in my hands, my elbows leaning on the counter. ‘For being here.’
‘Where’s Oliver?’ she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster. ‘I was surprised not to find him here. No way would he have allowed you to get in such a state.’
‘Oliver’s gone,’ I stated flatly.
‘Gone?’ She raised an eyebrow.
I sighed deeply. ‘I’m pretty hard to live with at the best of times, let alone when something like this happens.’
‘Bet you’re not that bad,’ she said, rising from the stool and filling up the kettle again. ‘Tea?’
‘No, thanks. I’m drowning in the stuff. He said he’d be back. Tonight.’ I shrugged. ‘But, we’ll see.’
‘Yeah, well, he seems like the kind of guy who’d stick to his word.’ She caught my eye. ‘He loves you a lot.’
A lump rose in my throat. ‘I know. Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to let someone love me, you know?’
She strode over and put a hand on mine. ‘I know. But you deserve to be loved, Sophie, just as much as anyone.’
I nodded, swallowing hard. ‘I can’t think about it though. I just need to get Amy back home safe and sound. That’s all that matters right now.’
‘Speaking of which, once I’ve finished this, we’ll head over to the station for the next press conference.’
I nodded, told her I’d go upstairs and change. As I headed out the kitchen door, Fiona’s mobile rang. The caller didn’t wait for any introductions or niceties before speaking and Fiona kept saying, ‘Uh-huh.’ I lingered in the doorway, watching her beseechingly: was there news?
Fiona finally spoke, ‘I’ll tell her. Yep, we’ll be there in an hour for the conference. Bye.’ My heart sank: it couldn’t be good news if the press conference was going ahead. ‘Yep, bye.’
‘What is it?’ I pleaded. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Nope, quite the opposite.’
My heart lifted. ‘They’ve found her? They know where she is?’
Fiona frowned. ‘Sorry. No, not that good.’
‘Oh.’ My shoulders fell.
‘The CCTV footage. There’s been some developments.’
‘Developments?’
‘That’s all I know.’
I headed upstairs to change, to ready myself for whatever came next.