Free Looking for Alex by Marian Dillon

how she worked, and qualifications gained. And although there was no photo, there was a brief biography. It told me that Alex Day had been born in the north, but later had moved to London. She’d lived most of her life there, doing many and varied jobs — some were listed — but then retrained as a therapist. Ten years ago she’d moved to Norwich. There was other stuff, but those were the bones of it. Lastly there was an email address and mobile phone number.
    My first reaction was this couldn’t be her, she wouldn’t do that, put herself on the web for anyone to find her. Or would she? What if after all these years underground she felt the need to surface? What if she wanted someone to find her? I looked again, and one part jumped out:
I have a strong desire to help other people reach resolution and fulfilment.
    I reached for my phone and texted Dan.
    It’s possible. Good work! Did you tell Fitz?
    Yes,
he replied at once. And then,
here
’
s his number.
    I stared at it. I can ring this, I thought, and talk to Fitz, which seemed even stranger than having seen him: a direct line to his voice, to his thoughts, any time I wanted. My hand hovered over the keys, wavering, wondering if Fitz would know Dan had given me his number.
Let me know if you do find Alex,
he’d said, but he hadn’t offered his number himself. Maybe that had been just a throwaway line, a way of leaving without having to go through the pretence that we might meet again.
    I texted,
what do you think of Dan’s find?
Then after that,
he gave me your number, hope that’s ok
    Half an hour later, when I was showered and dressed and just thinking that he wouldn’t reply, my phone buzzed, did a little dance on the silky bed cover:
interesting
. That was all. I threw my phone down and went back to the website, browsing the entries for other therapists, all of whom had photos that ranged from cheerful smiles to enigmatic stares. I was thinking, There has to be a reason why Alex Day hasn’t put her photo on. I looked again at the bio, trying to get a feel for this person. Waitressing and modelling were included as previous jobs, and I tried to picture my Alex serving hotel meals in a tight black skirt, or pouting sexily in mail-order lingerie. By closing my eyes briefly I could see her, petite and pretty, with an elfin face and hennaed hair, and coal-black eyes.
    I reached for my phone once more and glared at Fitz’s text. Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you curious too? Or do you know things that I don’t? Then the phone vibrated in my hand and started to ring.
    ‘Hi, Fitz.’
    ‘Hi. How was your day?’
    ‘Mmm…it wasn’t the best. I was tired after last night, training a bunch of managers who didn’t want to be there. How about you?’
    ‘Well, I’ve been told to fuck off a few times and kicked in the shins, so not too dissimilar, I suppose.’
    I laughed. ‘Just a bit more direct.’
    ‘Yeah, right. Where are you?’
    ‘Sitting in my hotel room, summoning the energy to go out and get some dinner.’
    I heard the rattle of cutlery in a drawer and then a spoon in a pan, stirring. ‘I’ve been tired too,’ he said. ‘Late nights, mid-week, just can’t do them now.’ There was a slight pause, maybe while he peered into whatever he was cooking, lifting the spoon to his lips, tasting it. ‘It was good to see you. Who’d have thought?’
    ‘Unbelievable.’
    ‘Well,’ he said, after another silence, and this time I pictured him doing a small shake of the head, deciding not to say what had been in his mind, ‘I looked at the website. It’s hard to say if it’s Alex, obviously, without a photo. Like I said, it must be a common name.’
    ‘I suppose so. I could try to find out some more, maybe. Or I could just phone, say who I am and ask to speak to her? I don’t know. What do you think?’
    ‘Depends.’
    ‘On…?’
    ‘Well, if it is her, wouldn’t you want to give her some warning? To just phone out of the blue, it backs