Nothing To Lose

by Steven Suttie

  But now, it was all finally out in the open as Joanna spent twenty emotional minutes telling the police, and her husband, what she knew. Tony’s reaction to all of this was the biggest surprise of all. He was calm, understanding and supportive. Whilst Joanna appreciated his strong, loving hugs and soft words of encouragement, she also felt stupid for keeping this awful secret for the past two days.

  The police officers had only come around on an errand for CID, to find out why Lee had received a bank deposit from Joanna for £5,000 on the day he went missing. They got a lot more than that, as the full story of Lee’s addiction came out. The officers looked keen to leave when Joanna had finally finished her explanation. As they stood to leave, Joanna was desperate to hear some encouraging words. Something like “don’t worry, he’ll soon be home.” Or “little brothers eh?” But there was nothing like that. All the older officer said as he left was, “we’ll pass all of this on. Thanks for your time.”

  Tony was great about everything. He sat comforting Joanna for the following hour and reassured her that she had done nothing wrong, and that he completely understood her reasons for keeping quiet about the gambling problem, and the money.

  “You need to stop beating yourself up, love.”

  “Lee would still have managed to get hold of the money from somewhere else.”

  “Come on love, this isn’t your fault, all you’ve done is tried to help your brother.”

  “Liv doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. The main thing is finding Lee.”

  Tony did a great job of calming and comforting his wife. His gentle, supportive reassurance, along with the police’s lack of information regarding Lee’s whereabouts was helping to bring a renewed sense of optimism at a time when she had resigned herself to hearing the worst possible kind of news less than a couple of hours earlier. For the first time that day, Joanna was feeling calm, collected and thoughtful.

  The Hebden Bridge Facebook Group had become the number one place to find out the latest news and gossip regarding Lee’s disappearance. Comments about Lee on this local community group was testament to the good regard he was held in locally. In the hours following the announcement of his disappearance, the page was littered with well-meant comments.

  “Top lad Lee. He’ll be home soon.”

  “Saw him yesterday, seemed his usual friendly self. It’ll be right.”

  “I’ve known Lee all my life. Can’t believe this. But he won’t have gone far. Stay positive.”

  But the facts were looking very disheartening. Lee had not been seen since he stepped out of that bookies shop in Todmorden. His phone hadn’t been switched on, and that text message he’d sent to Olivia was extremely concerning for all who had been made aware of it. For Lee’s nearest and dearest, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep that positive, optimistic faith going for a happy ending.

  However, a beacon of hope emerged later on that night, just a few hours after the police had left Joanna and Tony’s house. It came from the Facebook page and it lifted everybody’s mood, especially as it had been written by a well-known and respected member of the local community.

  “Hi, just been talking in the pub with a guy who’s navigating the canal on his barge. He said he saw somebody who fits Lee’s description walking along the towpath towards Manchester yesterday. He said he was talking to him at a lock near Rochdale and that he seemed a bit down but was still friendly. He said he was from Hebden Bridge and that he’s going through a bad time.”

  This was a brilliant announcement. This was the first sighting of Lee since the bookies in Tod. Naturally, this news brought a great deal of positivity, not least to Olivia, and to Joanna and Tony. But this was just hearsay. This needed verifying properly, one way or another.

  Joanna had been alerted to the Facebook post by a phone call from Liv at 11.20pm. As soon as the call ended, Joanna and Tony logged into Facebook and searched out the post. Joanna sent the author of the post a private message.

  “Hi, this is Lee’s sister. Do you know which boat this man is on? And where it is moored? Please help!”

  Within minutes, the man replied. “Hi Joanna. I didn’t get the name of the boat, but the guy is called Frank and he’s moored up near the Stubbing Wharf. Hope this helps.”

  “Come on, we need to go and find this Frank,” said Joanna, leaping up off the settee. “Go and check the kids are asleep.”

  Tony ran up the stairs two at a time and popped his head around each of his children’s bedroom doors. All was still and quiet, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t wide awake with their phones burning in their hands under their quilts. Tony ran back down the stairs, grabbing his coat off the post at the bottom.

  Joanna suddenly had a renewed look of life about her. Where her appearance had gradually been worn down over the previous 48 hours, now, it was as almost as though nothing had happened and good, old Joanna was back, the blood pumping stronger than ever through her veins.

  Tony opened the car door as Joanna got into the passenger seat, before slamming it shut and rushing around to his own side. Within seconds, the car was travelling at speed through the town centre, heading past the Co-Op and out of town.

  Stubbins Wharf, the place that the Facebook contact had mentioned, is a pub on the banks of the Rochdale canal, roughly half a mile away from the centre of Hebden Bridge. Several barges were moored up along this stretch of the canal, which was handy for the famous pub, whilst still in a relatively quiet and rural setting.

  Tony indicated left, and pulled into the car park of the pub. He and Joanna had their doors open as the car was still coming to a stop. They jogged past the pub and up the little lane which led to the canal towpath.

  “Put your torch on your phone!” said Joanna, as the pitch-black darkness of the towpath became apparent.

  “Frank!” said Joanna loudly, as Tony switched the light on and shone it at the muddy walkway alongside the still, silent canal.

  “FRANK!” she bellowed, making a few geese flap loudly and splash unceremoniously into the cut.

  Joanna started knocking on the window of the first canal barge she came to, just ten metres or so away from the pub.

  “Hello. Hello.” She shouted as she continued tapping. But the boat was in darkness. She walked on towards the next one, Tony was keen to stay close behind with the light, worried she might trip on one of the boats ropes which were tied up to the canal bank.

  “Hello!” said Joanna loudly, as she started tapping on another window. Suddenly, the curtain inside twitched and a scared looking woman appeared in the glass. “Is Frank with you?” asked Joanna, unaware of how intimidating this kind of activity was for the boat-owner. Regardless, the woman gestured to Joanna to wait and a few seconds later, the barge’s doors could be heard being opened from the inside as the big heavy bolts were being released.

  “What the…”

  “Sorry, sorry, I know it’s late, I didn’t mean to alarm you…”

  “Well you have done. Where’s the fire?” The lady was fuming, and it looked as though she’d been asleep prior to this rude awakening.

  “No, there’s no fire. I’m looking for a man called Frank. He’s on one of these boats.”

  “I don’t know of any Frank. But there’s a new boat moored up tonight, down there, under the railway bridge.”

  “And you know all these other boats?”

  “Yes, we’re all permanent this side of the bridge.”

  “And none are called Frank?”

  “How many times? I don’t know about a Frank. Now go on, and keep your noise down.”

  “Sorry, sorry, but…”

  The lady on the boat wasn’t interested, she closed the heavy doors with a crunch as Joanna was about to explain.

  “Come on,” said Tony, shining his torch down at the floor as they walked hurriedly towards the last boat, about thirty or so yards away from the grumpy woman’s.

  “Here we are, the lights are all on.” Tony tapped lightly on the glass
. His gentle knocking provoked a reaction and the canal barge suddenly rocked outwards as somebody walked along the corridor inside the vessel. It was an elderly bloke with a bushy beard.

  “Hello?” he asked as he reached the top step and lifted his hatch.

  “Hi, are you Frank?”

  “Depends who’s asking? If it’s the tax office the answer is no.” The man laughed at his joke.

  “No, we’re not from the tax. Are you Frank, then?”

  “Yes, allow me to be Frank. I am Frank, frankly.”

  Joanna rolled her eyes at Tony. This Frank seemed a bit pissed and she wondered if he was going to talk any sense.

  “Hiya Frank, I’m Joanna, this is my hubby Tony. I believe you were talking in the pub tonight, about the man who’s gone missing?”

  “Oh right, yes, come in.” Frank unbolted his cabin doors and opened them, gesturing the cold, sad looking couple on board.

  “Thanks a lot,” said Tony as he led the way, shining his torch on the deck for Joanna.

  “Mind your head as you come down,” said Frank. “Can I offer you a hot drink?” He seemed nice enough.

  “No, no, we’re aright, thanks.”

  “Right, well, how can I help?” Frank sat down on a small stool, gesturing the sofa to his unannounced visitors.

  “The lad who’s missing, Lee, it’s my brother.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “Somebody on Facebook said that you were in the pub earlier, saying that you’ve seen him?” Joanna’s face was filled with hope.

  “Yes, well, what it were, a few people were talking about it in the pub, they had his picture on their phones. So I mentioned that I’d seen a bloke who looked just like him yesterday. He helped me through a lock.”

  “And it was definitely him?” asked Joanna.

  “What did he look like, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Tony, he was becoming increasingly concerned that this Frank was just talking shit to impress strangers in the pub.

  “Right, let me see. He was a big lad, I’d say six foot if not a bit bigger. Big lad, like I say, looks like he can handle himself. Dark hair, had a reasonably good tan for this time of year so I imagined that he was an outdoors type of bloke.”

  “What was he wearing?” asked Joanna, desperate for this information to be genuine.

  “Ah, what was he wearing? You’ve, God, that’s a good question. I’m guessing it was work wear, yes, he had a phone number on his back.”

  Finally, this conversation was bearing fruit and both Tony and Joanna sensed that this friendly old drunk really had seen Lee.

  “I was just pulling up, ready to open the lock, up by top end of Littleborough, coming towards the tops.

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway, I saw him, this bloke, he was sat on the balance beam of the lock. He looked a bit sad and lost, so I started talking to him, asked him if he would help me to open the lock.”

  “Did he?”

  “Oh, yes. Couldn’t do enough to help me.”

  “That’s our Lee!” said Joanna to Tony, with a warm smile.

  “Like I say, he seemed pretty upset.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, it was just his demeanour. I spent about five or ten minutes with him, he didn’t say much, I was doing all the talking.”

  “Did he say what he was doing?”

  “No, he just said he was headed for Manchester. I told him it’s a fair old walk, as I’d just come up from that way. He didn’t seem phased by it though.”

  “How far is it? Littleborough to Manchester?” asked Joanna.

  “Oh, I couldn’t say. I measure distances by locks these days!”

  “It’s about twenty miles.” Tony spoke confidently.

  “What time was this?”

  “It was earlier, before lunch I’d say.”

  “And this was yesterday?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Aw God, you really don’t know what this means. It’s the first sighting of him since he was last seen, officially.” Joanna grabbed her phone out of her handbag and started looking through her photos. After a few moments of silence, she finally held the phone out, showing Frank a photo of her brother. The picture had been taken a few months earlier. Lee looked happy and relaxed, holding a beer in one hand while his other arm was wrapped around Olivia’s waist.

  “Yes. That’s him. Definitely.” Frank was 100% sure that the man in the photograph was the same person he had met near to Littleborough, about twenty locks away.

  “Are you totally sure?” asked Tony.

  “Honestly. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t. That’s the lad I spoke to yesterday. He told me that he’s having a bit of trouble with a job he’s supposed to be working on.”

  “Aw, Tony, it’s definitely him.” Joanna broke down in tears, the emotions that she had been trying to suppress since hearing of this possible sighting were now flowing freely. Tony comforted his wife as Frank watched on, looking a little embarrassed and unsure of what to do with himself.

  This was the news that Joanna had craved so desperately. Her darkest thoughts had tortured her for the past two days, question marks about where Lee might have gone to end his life had been at the forefront of her mind, although she had not uttered a word about these dreadful thoughts. Now, thanks to Frank, she had a real glimmer of hope that Lee had survived the first day of his mental anguish. It now seemed appropriate to start considering that there might, just might be the possibility of a happy ending to this ghastly, nightmare scenario.

  “Come on, let’s head home. Busy day in the morning.” Joanna stood from the little sofa seat that she had perched on.

  “Have you got a phone number, Frank? Just in case we need to ask you something else.” Tony was being his usual, calm and practical self.

  “Er, yes, just a minute.” Frank walked across to the kitchen and started looking through his phone. Eventually, he came back with the retro looking mobile. “Here we are, oh I can never work these bloody things…”

  Once Frank had figured out how to find his phone number, Joanna and Tony thanked him for his help. Tony kept the phone’s torch on as he led Joanna along the towpath. He was relieved to see such a change in Joanna’s spirit. She didn’t stop talking all the way along the towpath, still chattering away as they reached the pub car park and she was still going on with herself as Tony drove them back towards town, and home. Tony wasn’t complaining though, it meant the world to see her back to her usual positive, pragmatic self.

  “I’m going to print some pictures of Lee off. We can hand them out to boaters. If we get the bikes out, we can ride the whole way along the canal, see if we can work out where he’s gone. You never know, we might find him. He’ll be ready for home now, ready to face the music. Is that tyre still flat on your bike? How long does it take to ride to Manchester from Tod? No, do you know what we’d be better setting off from here, he might be on his way back. How much ink is there in the printer? Will you be alright taking the day off tomorrow? It gets light about half-seven now, so I’ll make some butties and we go as soon as it gets light. I’ll have to text Barbara and tell her I won’t be in tomorrow, she’ll be alright about it, she knows what’s going on.”

  “Yes, no probs, love.”

  The following morning, Tony and Joanna set off on their bike ride at first light. Joanna had set the printer off before she’d gone to bed, printing the photo of Lee that she had shown to Frank on his canal boat. Underneath she had written, “Missing. Lee Riley. Loved and adored by his family. If you have seen Lee, please phone Joanna, his proud sister.” Beneath that she had typed her phone number. Her idea was that the poster would have two purposes. One purpose was for handing to people along the canal. The other was to pin up along the way, in the hope that Lee would see it and realise how much he meant to everybody. Especially Joanna, and to Olivia, who was standing in the photograph with him.

  The Rochdale canal, which starts in Manchester city centre
and ends in Sowerby Bridge, is one of the nation’s most picturesque waterways. From Hebden Bridge, it makes its way through the stunning Calder Valley to the foot of the Pennines, where more than thirty locks elevate the canal over the top of the peaks, before they drop it back down again on the Manchester side.

  The bike-ride is usually one of the most beautiful rides in this part of Britain. But not today, as Joanna and Tony’s attention was not on the picturesque surroundings. Instead, they were more concerned with looking behind the dry-stone walls, the little fishing huts and old, broken sheds and garages.

  As they neared Littleborough, the small town on the Manchester side of the Pennines, the opportunity to speak to boat-owners and tourists who had hired vessels, as well as dog-walkers and oncoming cyclists was really starting to slow progress down.

  Joanna soon realised that she didn’t need to spend the first few minutes introducing herself and explaining the circumstances of her being on the canal today. As time went on, she began to realise that a simple, “have you seen this man anywhere along the canal?” was a much faster, and productive opening gambit.

  Sadly, the reaction was disappointing. Of the first twenty or thirty people that the couple had approached, not one of them had seen Lee. Annoyingly, none of them seemed too bothered, either, which really wound Joanna up at first. But she soon got used to the apathy that people who had never even seen her before felt about her missing brother. It was just life. Nobody actually said “I couldn’t give a shit, mate.” But they may as well have done.

  Joanna continued to put the posters up, using drawing pins or Sellotape depending on the surface she was fixing the home-made poster to. She felt confident that somebody along here would have seen Lee, after all, this was the place that he’d been sitting only two days earlier, when he’d been helping Frank open the lock.

  She kept checking her phone, to see if anybody had called her. It was a disappointment each time. It really felt as though nobody cared. Nobody gave a toss about this, the scariest, most nerve-wracking time of her life.