AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swivelled on the heel of my wedding shoe as the memory sharpened, and reached for a stone further to my right. It lifted easily and beneath it, embedded in the damp soil like an archaeological treasure, was a Yale key to Finn’s front door.
‘He told me about this in case I ever needed it in an emergency,’ I explained, prising up the key with my fingernail. ‘I think this situation qualifies.’
‘Don’t you have yourownkey to his place?’ Hannah asked, sounding suddenly much more like a reporter than I did.
I got to my feet, brushing the dirt from my hands. ‘I do, but it’s back at my place, and I didn’t want to waste time going there to collect it.’
Getting into the building proved to be more of a challenge than finding Finn’s hidden key. I buzzed the bells of both flats on the upper storey and then those on the ground floor. No one answered. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, so it wasn’t really surprising that everyone was out. I stared at the only bell I had yet to try.
Its owner answered with her customary lack of charm. ‘Who is it?’ she barked.
I leant closer to the panel to speak, ignoring a series of toots from a passing car. In the five minutes we’d been standing at the doorway, we’d attracted a fair bit of attention from motorists.
‘Mrs Barnard,’ I began, ‘it’s Gemma Fletcher. Finn’s fiancée,’ I added, even though I was fairly sure she’d recognise my name.
‘Whosefiancée?’ came back the disembodied voice.
Hannah’s eyebrows rose in an expression of almost comedic incredulity.
I took a deep breath before replying. ‘The trick is not to lose your rag with her,’ Finn had once observed. It was almost as if he’d been preparing me for this moment.
‘Finn Douglas. Your neighbour,’ I said politely. ‘We’ve met each other several times in the hallway, Mrs Barnard,’ I reminded her, although I suspected she knew that as well as I did. ‘Could you let me into the building, please.’ It was hard to remain calm, knowing there was a very real risk that Finn might at this minute be lying sick or injured just two floors above me. ‘I really do need to get into Finn’s flat as a matter of urgency, Mrs Barnard. Please can you let me in.’
I counted the seconds. I got to eight before the door in front of us yielded with a satisfying buzz and swung open.
‘Thank you,’ I said into the intercom, embarrassed to hear the unexpected crack in my voice.
The foyer had a strong scent of lemons, which had always puzzled me, but today I scarcely noticed it as I gathered up fistfuls of voluminous wedding dress and headed for the stairs. I tripped twice on the treads as I raced up two linoleum-covered flights to the second floor.
Mrs Barnard’s front door was directly opposite Finn’s, and I had absolutely no doubt that she was watching us avidly through the fisheye peephole as we slid the mud-encrusted key into the lock and let ourselves into Finn’s home.
‘Finn,’ I cried out, even before the front door had fully opened. It was shocking to realise I was actually hoping to hear a weak voice calling out for help, but there was no reply. There was a weird stillness to the flat that was obvious even in the hallway. The first door I tried was that of the bathroom, and the mental image I’d conjured up of an injured Finn was so strong that for a moment it superimposed itself over reality. In those initial seconds I believed I could actually see him lying prone on the floor, blood seeping from a head wound on to the smooth skin of his forehead. But a single blink reset the picture and revealed that the bathroom was, in fact, empty.
I spun around, almost knocking Hannah off her feet. We shared a look that I knew would haunt me for a long time. Finn’s bedroom was next.
The first thing that struck me was that he’d stripped the covers from the bed. The familiar grey duvet set, which always smelt intoxicatingly of him, was nowhere to be seen. I glanced around the room, absently noting its preternatural tidiness. Finn was always a little messy, so this orderliness was peculiar. There were usually a few garments left draped over the armchair in the corner of the room or a lone sock on the floor that hadn’t quite made it to the laundry basket. But today everything was tidy enough for an estate-agent viewing.
The only room left to search was the open-plan lounge and kitchen. But it was as empty as the rest of the flat. Wherever my fiancé was, it definitely wasn’t here. I scoped the kitchen for signs that he’d been there that morning. But there were no telltale toast crumbs scattered on the worktop, no dirty plates or mugs beside the sink.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Hannah, coming to stand beside me as I opened the door of Finn’s fridge.
I shrugged helplessly. ‘Answers. Clues,’ I replied, staring at the single carton of milk sitting in isolation on the middle shelf. Its bulging sides declared it unfit for consumption. I reached for the container and dropped it into the kitchen bin, surprised to find that for once it was completely empty.
‘Finn doesn’t really cook, so there’s never much in the fridge,’ I explained, slamming the door, still unable to shake a feeling of wrongness that hovered just out of reach at the edge of my understanding.
*
‘What now?’ asked Hannah when we were back in her car once again. ‘Do you want to go to the hotel?’
I wasn’t sure of much at that point, but the thought of walking into my wedding reception without Finn at my side was too sad to contemplate.
‘Something has happened to him,’ I said, returning to the phrase that was fast becoming my new mantra. ‘Do you think I ought to contact the police?’
Hannah’s response was an immediate ‘No’. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Finn’s been AWOL for a little over three hours, hon. I think that’s just called “late” rather than “missing”.’
My eyes began to prickle uncomfortably, but Hannah wasn’t trying to be cruel, just logical.
‘Then I need to contact all the local hospitals myself, to see if he’s been admitted to any of them.’
