As Helen sits in the living room and contemplates Dora’s situation, her head begins to fill with a carousel of images from the past. They crowd into her mind’s eye like faded Polaroids: the girls shell-seeking on the beach, skinny and sunburned in swimsuits; Richard cloistered away in his study at Christmas, his fair head bent in concentration over a drawing board; Alfie giggling, his chubby limbs flailing wildly as Dora pulls him along the polished wooden floorboards in the laundry basket; Cassie stomping moodily up the stairs after yet another telling-off about a broken curfew; her husband running ahead of her up to Golden Cap, his coat flapping in the wind; Alfie drawing a smile on the kitchen table with uneaten peas; her three children, two fair heads and one dark, bent together as they thread summer daisies into long looping chains; and finally, Dora’s stricken face as she bursts into the kitchen that summer’s afternoon with the unbearable news that had pulled their world apart.
Scenes from her life wash over her until, overcome by emotion, Helen’s carefully preserved countenance dissolves. As the television strobes color across the living room walls she cries an endless river of fat, silent tears. She weeps for a decade of regret and she mourns, all over again, for a little life lost to them forever.
Chapter 11
Helen
Eleven Years Earlier
The house was deathly quiet when Helen returned. She let herself in through the front door and closed it behind her with a gentle click, leaning her forehead against the coolness of the wall for just a moment. There was the familiar hum of the ancient fridge in the kitchen, and the soft reverberations of the house breathing on its foundations, but all sounds of human life were absent. The children were still out, probably down at the beach making themselves sick on ice cream and fizzy drinks. She smiled; it was the last day of the holidays—a little indulgence wouldn’t do them any harm. She’d make them something healthy for tea, extras for Richard. He’d be grateful for a home-cooked meal when he got in off the train from London.
She felt flushed and giddy. Tobias had been rough with her and she could still feel the weight of his body pressing down on hers in the long grass of the field they had found that morning. There had been nothing romantic about their encounter; it was sordid and hasty. But Helen had submitted to his desires, excited by his need to possess her. And afterward, she had lain in his arms and abandoned herself to his daydreams of a life without husbands and wives and children and responsibilities. They’d lain together on the warm earth, planning their alternative life as long blades of grass and the seed heads of hemlock danced against the blue sky overhead.
Gathering herself, Helen floated through the hallway humming quietly, an inane pop song that had stuck in her head on the drive home. She always felt so alive seeing Tobias. It was like a jolt of electricity through her body, recharging her tired limbs and refreshing her mind, clearing away the banal cobwebs of her life for just a few short hours. Tobias was right; he did do her good.
As she wandered down the hallway she checked her watch. It was nearly three. If she was lucky she would have time to shower and change before the kids returned. Reaching the bottom step of the staircase she turned to regard herself in the long mirror. Yes, the difference was noticeable: She looked lighter, happier. Would it be obvious to anyone else? As she surveyed her reflection carefully in the mirror her eye was suddenly caught by a dark green smudge ground into the daisy-patterned fabric of her skirt; a grass stain. It must have happened when she was with Tobias. Damn. She rubbed at it but she knew she’d never get it out of the pale cotton; it was ruined. With a sigh she turned to head upstairs, but as her foot touched the bottom step she heard the slam of the back door.
“Mum? Mum, are you home?”
Damn. It was Dora. They were back already.
“In here,” she called out airily, running her fingers through her hair and patting at her face self-consciously. She could have done with five minutes to herself, at least.
Dora emerged from the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed red and she seemed to be struggling to breathe, drawing air into her lungs with great, ragged gasps.
“Is he here?” she panted, her eyes flicking nervously around the hallway.
“Is who here?” Helen forced an innocent smile, but she couldn’t help the redness that crept over her face. There was no way Dora could know about Tobias. It was impossible. But her daughter’s face burned an even deeper crimson and there were tears welling in her eyes. Helen swallowed nervously.
“Oh, Mum,” she cried, “something awful’s happened.”
“What is it? What’s happened?” Please, God, she willed. Dora could not have found out about the affair—anything but that.
“It’s Alfie.” Dora sobbed. “He’s missing.”
The innocent smile on Helen’s lips froze as her daughter’s words slowly sank in. Helen shook her head. “What do you mean, missing?”
“We can’t find him anywhere.”
Helen moved closer and seized her daughter’s arm. “Where is he, Dora? Where’s your brother?”
Dora couldn’t hold her mother’s gaze and Helen, feeling the first coil of fear twist in her gut, dug her fingers deeper into the flesh on her arm. Dora flinched and tried to squirm out of her tight grasp but Helen wouldn’t let go.
“Where is he?” she demanded again.
Dora let out a hysterical sob. “I don’t know! We’ve looked and looked but he’s vanished.”
“Vanished? Where’s Cassie?” Helen stopped for a moment. “Is this some silly prank you kids have cooked up to scare me? If it is, it’s not funny.”
“No,” Dora whispered. “I swear. We were at the beach. I went to get ice cream. I thought he was with Cassie. But he must have followed me, and now we can’t find him. Oh, Mum…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. The tears were flowing fast and heavy now.
“Where’s Cassie?” Helen asked again.
“She’s still at the beach.”
Helen moved quickly. Her car keys were sitting on the hall table where she had thrown them only moments ago. “You stupid girl! I told you to all stay together. Wait here. I’m going to find him. I’ll deal with you when we get back.”
“Mum, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t—”
Helen held up her hand to silence her daughter. “We’ll talk about your punishment later. When Alfie’s home.”
She didn’t stop to listen to Dora’s pitiful sobs. Instead she ran from the house, leapt into her car, and raced down the driveway as fast as she could.
It was only a short drive to the beach, but by the time Helen pulled into the lot, she had convinced herself she would find Cassie and Alfie sitting astride the seawall waiting for her. She could see them now, their two fair heads shining in the afternoon sunshine as they waved and swung their legs carelessly in front of them. It was all just some silly mix-up. Dora had overreacted.
She parked in a disabled spot and leapt from the car, running through the throng of holidaymakers all laden with deck chairs and picnic hampers, rugs and inflatables as they started to leave the beach. A few gave her curious glances as she pushed past, but she ignored them. She had to get to Cassie.
And then she saw her, exactly where she had pictured her only moments before, standing by the seawall. But as she drew closer, she could see that the second fair head she had imagined next to her daughter’s was missing. Cassie was standing next to a girl Helen didn’t know, a girl with long, black hair and the whitest skin. There was no sign of Alfie.
Helen moaned and ran toward them blindly.
“Where is he?” she gasped as she drew closer. Then when Cassie didn’t reply, she screamed it again: “Where’s Alfie?” She seized Cassie’s arms and shook her violently until she went limp like a rag doll in her arms and she felt someone restraining her from behind and murmuring soft, reassuring words.
“Calm down…we’re searching for him…the Coast Guard is on its way…we will find him.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, turning t
o the woman who held her. “He’s only a baby.”
“I understand this is very distressing for you,” the young woman soothed. “If you’ll just come with me for a moment, Mrs. Tide…” Helen noticed for the first time that the woman was wearing a police uniform. She let herself be led away into the shade of the awning of the little beach shop. There seemed to be a crowd gathering around them, but Helen ignored the stares and whispers, scanning the crowds frantically, willing the face of her son to appear in front of her. Why were they all just standing there? Why weren’t they looking for Alfie?
Helen gazed out across the beach in desperation. The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon and a light scattering of amber-colored clouds was forming out at sea. She could see fishing boats making their way in to shore, spent from a day on the ocean. There was a sudden flurry of activity down by the breakers as a series of gulls flapped and squawked territorially over the remains of a picnic. Farther up the beach a plastic bag blew across the pebbles, toward them. Helen’s heart leapt as she saw a little boy chase it across the stones, but hope turned to dismay as she realized it wasn’t Alfie. When she looked around again, Cassie had disappeared from view.
“Where’s my daughter?” she snapped at the policewoman next to her.
The woman put a reassuring hand on her arm. “They’re just asking her a few questions.”
“I want to see her. I want to hear what she has to say. Where have they taken her?”
“She’s in the shop, but it might be best if…”
Helen didn’t wait to hear the rest. She lunged through the doorway into the shop, and then, finding it empty, barged through into the back room where she could hear the murmur of voices.
The little stockroom was dark and cramped. Cassie was perched on a pile of boxes in front of a policeman who scribbled hasty notes into a pad. Cassie’s gaze seemed to be fixed on a spot of tatty linoleum on the floor in front of her and she was picking agitatedly at the torn corner of a box, shredding the corrugated cardboard into tiny pieces that fluttered slowly to the floor. She looked up nervously as Helen entered the room, and then returned her gaze to the floor.
“Do you mind,” Helen addressed the policeman. “I’m her mother. I’d like to hear this too.” It wasn’t a question.
The young policeman nodded and turned back to Cassie. “So you all walked down together from the campsite.”
Cassie nodded.
“What time did you arrive at the beach?”
“It was about eleven o’clock this morning. We met Sam first and then headed to the Crag.”
“Who’s Sam?” Helen asked sharply.
The policeman shot her a look. He wasn’t angry but it was clear that he thought it best if he were the one asking the questions.
“Is Sam the girl outside?” he asked.
Cassie nodded. “She’s my friend.”
“And where is the Crag, Cassandra?” the policeman asked.
“It’s at the far end of the beach,” Cassie continued, “near the rock pools. It’s just a cave, where teenagers hang out sometimes…you know…to just…just hang out.”
The policeman nodded. “Could you show us where this cave is?”
“Yes, but we already looked there. He’s not there.”
“Okay, but we’d like to take another look. So you headed to the cave at around eleven o’clock this morning with Alfie and Sam?”
“Yes. And Dora, my sister. She was there too.”
The policeman scribbled in his book again. “Were you all together in the cave for long?”
“Yes. We were there for an hour or so. Then Dora said she was going to get ice cream.” Cassie thought for a moment. “No, it was more than an hour. I remember she asked me the time before she left. It was just before one PM.”
The policeman nodded again and scribbled in his pad.
“When she returned, Dora asked me where Alfie was. I thought she was joking. Sam and I hadn’t seen Alfie since she’d left. We thought she’d taken him with her.”
Helen felt her stomach plunge and let out an audible whimper. “So neither of you was looking after him? What did I tell you girls?”
The policeman held up his hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Tide, I know it’s hard but time is of the essence here.”
Helen nodded and bit her tongue.
“So the last time you saw Alfie was just before one PM today?”
Cassie nodded. Helen looked at her watch. It was nearly four.
“Do you think he left the cave? Followed Dora down the beach? Do you remember him saying anything about what he’d like to do? Where he might want to go?”
Cassie shook her head. “He was happy in the cave.” Cassie suddenly remembered something and let out a small sob. “He thought it was a bat cave. He thought the seagulls were bats.”
Helen felt tears sting her eyes. Her little boy was out there, alone.
“And what were you and Sam doing while Dora was off buying ice cream?”
Cassie blushed. “Just…chatting…and, you know…smoking.”
Helen felt her blood rise. Cassie smoked?
“I see.” The policeman scribbled something else into his pad.
“What was Alfie wearing the last time you saw him?”
“A Superman costume.”
The policeman gave a small smile as he scribbled in his pad.
“Can you describe it for me?”
“Blue pajama bottoms, red Wellington boots, a blue T-shirt with the Superman logo on it, and a red cloak.” Cassie glanced up at Helen for a moment and then looked away again. “Mum had sewn a big yellow S onto it. But we found the cloak, up by the rock pools. Sam did.”
Helen’s stomach took another sickening plunge. She wanted to scream, but she forced herself to remain quiet, jamming her fist into her mouth and biting down hard on her fingers. It hurt, but she didn’t care.
The policeman nodded again. It seemed he’d already seen the item of clothing.
“Do you remember seeing Alfie take his cloak off in the cave?”
Helen held her breath, but Cassie shook her head.
“So he might have left the cave and then removed it, near the rocks?”
Cassie gave a slow nod. Helen wanted to reach out and shake her, but she just bit down harder on her hand, feeling the ache of her flesh beneath her teeth.
“Okay. That’s very helpful, Cassandra. We’ll need to ask you and Sam some more questions but I think we’ve got enough to start with. Is your sister here?”
Cassie looked at her mother, and Helen shook her head. “Sorry, Officer, I asked her to stay up at the house in case Alfie found his way back there. I thought it was best. I came here as soon as she told me what had happened.”
The policeman scribbled a final detail in his notebook and then snapped it shut. “Okay. We’ll speak to Dora up at the house.” The policeman mumbled something quickly into his crackling walkie-talkie, and then stood. “Cassandra, you’ve been very helpful,” he repeated before turning to Helen. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him, Mrs. Tide. We’ve got two officers down on the beach looking for your son right now and I’m about to radio the Coast Guard. It’s just a precaution, of course. No doubt he’s off playing with some other kids, or building sand castles somewhere on the beach. You know what kids are like.”
Helen nodded and tried hard not to think about why they might need to call the Coast Guard.
Alfie couldn’t swim.
Helen felt her knees start to buckle beneath her but the policeman moved quickly and his strong arms were underneath her before she hit the ground.
“Do you want to sit down, madam?”
“No, no, I’ll be okay.” She pushed him away. “My husband,” she said. “He’s in London. I should call him.” She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking the news to Richard, but he needed to be told. He would know what to do. Suddenly Helen was overwhelmed by the need to feel her husband’s strong arms around her. He would find their boy.
“Where does he work?”
“He runs his own firm. Fitzhardinge Street.”
The policeman nodded. “We’ll contact him now.”
Helen gave a small, grateful nod and then left the little shop, stepping out into the noise and confusion outside.
It was like being underwater. She knew it was important to listen to what the police were telling her, but she found it hard to focus on anything but the crowds of people beginning to leave the beach. She wanted to scream at them all to stay where they were. She wanted to freeze them in time and run from cluster to cluster, searching for Alfie’s face among them. And so when the police had finally finished with their questions, she and Cassie began to scour the crowds, stopping everyone they met to check if they had seen a little boy in a homemade Superman costume. But it didn’t matter who they asked; each time their question was met with a wary but sympathetic shake of the head and soon the beach began to empty as sunburned tourists extricated themselves from their carefully chosen plots and began the long trudge back to their cars and their campsites. Eventually they were left with nothing but the empty beach and the inevitable detritus from the careless vacationers. Helen kicked her way wearily through cans and plastic bottles, ice cream wrappers and empty chip cartons as she made her way back to the car.
At seven o’clock Helen broke off from the search to call Dora up at the house. She knew it was wishful thinking, that the police would have notified her if he had arrived at Clifftops, but she couldn’t help but hope Alfie might have found his way home, somehow.
Dora picked up on the first ring.
“Is he there?” Helen asked.
“No,” said Dora.
Helen was about to hang up but Dora continued.
The House of Tides Page 16
