In Memory - Emma Fairclough

In Memory of Emma

Emma and I met in 2012 while we were both serving police officers in Luton, one of the busiest stations outside of the Metropolitan Police area.

At first, we were on separate teams, but I often found my crewmate in the smoke shelter, chatting with a female officer who seemed to change her hair color almost daily. I was instantly intrigued—and equally attracted. That officer, of course, was Emma.

Eventually, we ended up on the same team and became permanent crewmates—whenever we were on duty, we were always in the same car together. We had an ongoing joke that Emma controlled the duty pen (meaning she handled all the paperwork), while I had the keys and did all the driving.

Together, we faced every challenge that came with the job—violent offenders, domestic abuse victims, and everything in between. Emma never once shied away from confrontation. I’ll never forget the time I got bitten by an offender while restraining him. Emma was beside herself with guilt because she wasn’t able to help—she was too busy restraining a second offender at the same time!

Eventually, I moved to another team, and that’s when Emma and I began our relationship.

Due to the nature of our shifts and living in different locations, I suggested Emma move in with me just six weeks into our relationship—otherwise, we’d hardly ever see each other. It worked. Four years later, we were married.

Our wedding was incredible—100 guests joined us for the ceremony, with another 50 arriving for the evening celebration. We were truly blessed with amazing friends and colleagues, many of whom said it was the best wedding they’d ever been to.

We had a blast.

Emma loved to plan our adventures. Every year, she would secretly organize weekends away—Northern Holland to visit friends, New York, Dubai, Iceland. She even planned a Harley Davidson motorcycle trip along Route 66 for my 50th birthday, a day she later described as one of the best of her life.

She always dreamed of owning a Range Rover Evoque (please don’t judge!). In 2020, she was so proud of herself when she finally found a low-priced, older model. We even upgraded to a newer one just five months before she passed away.

Like all couples, we had our ups and downs. But—and I know this sounds like a cliché—we never went to bed on an argument. Emma even mentioned that in her final notes.

Emma was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer in 2019. She faced it with the same determination and strength that defined every part of her life. Her treatment included a nine-hour surgical debulking operation and six grueling rounds of chemotherapy. Yet, just eight weeks after surgery, she was already preparing to return to work.

For Emma, giving up wasn’t an option.

At the time of her diagnosis, she was a proactive officer working on a specialist team tackling gun and gang crime. When her bosses restructured the unit, they created a new intelligence analyst role specifically for her. At first, Emma was hesitant—going from a fast-paced frontline officer to an analyst wasn’t something she had planned. But, as always, she embraced the challenge and excelled, earning commendations for her work.

She continued working right up until her hospital admission on 10th January, logging onto police systems from home whenever she felt well enough.

Emma spent two weeks in the hospital before being transferred to a local hospice, where she remained for 20 days. Even then, she continued putting others first—she pre-ordered Gousto meals for me, bought birthday gifts (even though my birthday fell two weeks after her admission), and arranged presents for her niece and nephew to receive after she passed.

She even bought a ring for me to wear, which arrived the morning after she died.

Two days after her passing, I received a Valentine’s card and gift from her. That was Emma—always thinking of others, always showing love.

She was the kindest, most generous, and most easygoing person I’ve ever known.

After her mother’s sudden passing in 2020, Emma became the heart of her family, making sure to speak to her dad every single day, no matter what she was going through. Everyone who met her—both professionally and personally—had nothing but good things to say.

Emma passed away on 12th February 2025 at 21:00, peacefully in her sleep, with a smile on her face.

I had been by her side for the full week leading up to that moment, as the disease took over her body, alongside crippling anxiety. Every night, she told me off for sleeping in the chair beside her, saying I must be uncomfortable—even though I told her otherwise.

She will forever be remembered by everyone who was lucky enough to know her.

Rest easy, Emma. You were, and always will be, extraordinary.

Written by Mark Fairclough in memory of his beloved wife.