Until a year or so ago Mandy had actually lived on the Strand, in one of the low-rise flats near Marks and Spencer. It had been even more popular then than now as a haunt of shoplifters and bag-snatchers. This had been in the days before and during the transformation of the Strand into a fully fledged mall; before the arrival of the security cameras, and while the absence of doors at the entrances made for an easy escape. Mandy had made the occasional off-duty arrest in the walkway outside her own front door. Still, it had been great having M&S as her corner shop.
This year was the Strands 25th anniversary, though not, as events were now unfolding, much of a year to celebrate. A quarter of a century ago it had been a model of the newly imported American concept of precinct shopping. In a competition to name the centre sponsored by a local newspaper, Little America was narrowly defeated by New Strand, after Strand Road, which crossed Stanley Road at the site of the precinct.
It was opened in 1968, with due ceremony, by the Burgomaster of Mons, the Belgian town with which Bootle was twinned, and Mons gave its name to the New Strand’s main square. There were grander plans, in those days, to pedestrianise the neighbouring stretch of Stanley Road and create a major new through route on the other side of the centre, which was Washington Parade. The New Strands main entrance, the Hexagon, was therefore built facing Washington Parade. When the grand plans fell through, leaving Stanley Road as the main artery, the Strand was left stranded, somewhat back to front.
The original design was almost entirely concrete, with canopies extending from the shops, leaving wide areas of walkway exposed to the elements of nature. There were no doors and, especially by night, the New Strand was also exposed to drunks and the more unruly elements of human nature.
By the time of the big refurbishment in the late Eighties, the psychology of shopping had made great advances. It was one of the duties of the New Strands manager, Peter Williams, to take the chore out of shopping, and he oversaw a transformation into something approximating the American mall, which is usually pronounced ‘maul’ by Americans.
The redevelopment was designed to create an ambience of comfort and security which would enhance the shopping experience. The whole place was enclosed by roofing, with the addition of some glass to retain a degree of natural light, and doors were added. Much of the concrete disappeared behind reflective aluminium planking, which gave a bright, warm impression, not unlike chrome; Italian ceramic tiling replaced most of the old flooring, with granite tiles in Mons Square.
To correct the Strands reversed polarity between Stanley Road and Washington Parade, a series of arches, known as barrell vaults, were created over the Stanley Road entrances.
There were bench seats, pots of flowers and children’s rides. A public address system was installed, to relay piped music and the occasional message about a missing child. There were sprinklers, smoke detectors, and closed circuit television: 20 cameras, though only 16 actually recorded; each one of the 16 cameras supplying a tape with a single still image every two or three seconds. The tape could be decoded to display all 16 images at once on a monitor, or one image, or any combination in between. A private security firm, Guardrite, supplied a small team of men in rubber-soled shoes with walkie-talkies for additional protection.
The New Strand now became the Strand Shopping Centre, and a logo was adopted, an anchor, to emphasise the nautical theme employed in naming the centres walkways: Esplanade, Mariners Way and Medway. There were other walkways — Raven Way, Palatine and Hexagon — but these were more obscure nautical references.
Peter Williams organised a Grand Opening Extravaganza for the relaunch in the autumn of 1989. There were personal appearances by Garfield the Cat and Rupert the Bear, and live entertainment in Mons Square, and this tradition had been continued, with occasional performances by groups of Morris Dancers or the Bootle Village Pipe Band. The Square was Jso useful for the occasional community service promotion, and this emphasised the centres links with the local people. The bulk of the Strand’s customers, after all, came to shop there from within a three-mile radius.
The Strand had 114 shops, but the big three were Marks & Spencer, TJ Hughes and Woolworths. It was a sign of the times that there were a growing number of discount stores. As Peter Williams said, you traded at a level that suited the area, and the Strand wasn’t Harrods. A few miles up the road in Southport, where the people were posher, you might be able to buy a good quality ladies fashion suit, but in Bootle there wasn’t a lot of call for that.
Peter Williams was an admirer of the new combined shopping and leisure centres like the Metro in Gateshead, with its cinema and bowling alley, its fountains and ponds. There was real theming in Gateshead — Peter particularly liked the Roman Forum — but the Strand could never accommodate something of that nature. It just wasn’t big enough to theme. The Metro attracted several million people every year. The Strand was doing all right on 120,000 a week. It was busiest on Saturdays, and at weekday lunchtimes when the local office workers turned out.
Like all centres, the Strand was a popular refuge for the elderly and the young. Older people sat on benches and passed the time of day. Youngsters gathered in groups and, yes, sometimes they were truants, and sometimes they were up to mischief. The Guardrite men kept watch through the cameras, or on patrol, and many of the shops now had their own security, but shoplifting was prevalent.
The Strand did its best to promote protection and safety. In September of last year, Peter Williams had initiated a campaign targeted at children, warning them of the dangers of strangers. The centre had given away dozens of small items of school equipment, such as rulers and plastic pencil cases, embossed with the slogan, Don’t Talk To Strangers.
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Mandy Waller pushed the buttons on the Cyfas terminal in her car as she arrived. The code 04 automatically logged her arrival time at the Strand with Divisional Control. 16.37. By this time Denise was sitting in the centre managers office. As Mandy noted details and description, completing the MFH forms, it became apparent that James had been missing for longer than 30 minutes. It was an hour by now, which was already ominously long. Usually, Mandy knew, they were found before the police needed to be called, or clipped round the ear by relieved parents by the time the police arrived.
Mandy radioed through a description, emphasising the time James had been missing. She then went back into the Strand with Denise for another search. They concentrated on places, such as the pet shop, that might have attracted a small child.
Denise, very distressed, could not understand how it had happened so quickly. ‘I was only in the shop for a few seconds. I turned round and he’d gone.’ She was full of guilt and self-blame. If only she hadn’t done this… she shouldn’t have done that. Mandy, who did not regard herself as a natural sort of person for giving comfort, tried hard to be reassuring. The machinery of a police search was being mobilised. Everything that could be done was being done.
One of the Strand’s cleaners came up to the office with the news that another child, a four-year-old, had gone missing at around the same time as James. The four-year-old had been found and told his parents that a man in a white coat had tried to entice him into a car.
When James’s disappearance was reported on the local radio news bulletins, an anonymous caller told the police that they had seen a man with a pony-tail at the Strand earlier that day whom they suspected of being involved in the abduction of children. The pony-tail man was known to the police, and a search began to find him.
Another caller thought he had seen James in a car in Southport, 40 minutes up the road. This too was followed up, without success.
The quest to find James gained momentum quickly and methodically. Calls went out to the local media, taxi firms, and bus and train services. Officers began searching on foot and by car, through the Strand and outside, along and around the canal and in the streets immediately surrounding the centre: the walkways, the car parks, the neighbouring shops, the amusement arcades.
Denise suggested that if James had been able to find his way out of the Strand, he would start walking, and just keep on going. But it was reasonable to presume that a two-year-old could not go far unaided.
Perhaps, as is sometimes the case when children disappear, it was a domestic matter? Nicola’s Ford Orion, still in its space on the ground floor of the multi-storey car park, was examined, the boot opened and checked. A visit was made to the home address given by Denise. Ralph was still out. He didn’t yet know what was happening.
The command control log was busy, recording the requests, the actions, the information, and the negative responses.
1731 by 6796B04V — Multi storey car park checked no trace from 7208.
1731 by3642B02V— TB12 widening search — Strand Rd/TA Centre — Irlam Road — Marsh Ln — Merton Rd.
1731 by 6796B04V — Service road checked no trace from 720B.
Negative at the cafe.
1732 by 6796B04V — 6847 checking the Mersey bus Cafe!canteen.
1735 by 9173 H04 — From Insp Owen infd TS33 is making with loud speaker.
1736 by 3642 B02V — Canal bank Carolina St side checked by 3991 — no trace.
1738 by 6796B04V — Building site searched no trace.
1739 by 3642 B02V — From BS13 — TJ Hughes has been checked by staffrno trace-now locking up…
A police motor bike collected a public address system and took it to the Strand so that appeals could be broadcast to passers-by. Specialist search teams from the Operational Support Division were turned out. High-powered Dragon lamps were brought in from neighbouring stations. The Force helicopter, Mike One, went up to illuminate the search on the ground.
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There was further news of the pony-tail man, though he had still not been found. His presence at the Strand was confirmed and when he had been seen, the log recorded, he had appeared SIM. Strange in manner.
The police were also continuing to try and track down Ralph Bulger, who was somewhere between relatives in Kirkby. Mandy Waller took Denise back to Marsh Lane police station for a cup of tea while they waited for news.
9
When Jon and Bobby came down from the reservoir they turned back on to Breeze Hill and began walking towards the flyover, towards Walton. A woman in a house a few doors away from the reservoir heard a noise on the road outside, a moan that sounded like a child’s moan. She looked out and saw the trio on the pavement directly in front of her house. Jon and Bobby were walking past with James between them, each holding one of his hands.
They were seen again as they passed the newsagents on the corner of Imrie Street. A woman heard one of the boys call James. ‘Come on.’ She thought James, whose hood was up, looked a little bewildered. She went into the shop, and when she came out they had disappeared.
Under the flyover, along the walkways, and out onto County Road, heading for the shops, James is still being held between Jon and Bobby. It’s getting dark quickly, now.
There was another woman with another dog, and she was curious. They told her they had found James at the Strand, and she asked why they hadn’t taken him to the nearest police station. They told her they were going to Walton Lane Police Station.
‘Walton Lane Police Station?’
A younger woman, just outside Gayflowers the florist, overheard this and intervened. She had just been shopping with her daughter, who was tired and nagging her mum to go home so she could watch children’s television.
She looked down at James and saw that he was tired, too, and perhaps distressed, but not showing any signs of struggle. He looked up at Bobby.
‘What’s the matter?’ said the younger woman. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘They’ve just asked me the way to Walton Lane Police Station,’ said the woman with the dog.
‘Why do you want a police station?’
‘We’ve found him by the Strand,’ said Jon.
‘If you found him by the Strand, why didn’t you go to the police station by the Strand?’
‘That’s what I asked,’ said the woman with the dog.
‘I don’t know where it is,’ said Jon.
‘Well, you’ve walked a long way from the Strand to Walton Lane Police Station.’
A man told us to come this way.’
The younger woman thought all this was unusual. She turned to Bobby.
‘Why go to Walton Lane Police Station?’
‘That’s where the man directed us,’ Jon replied.
“Where d’you live?’
Bobby opened his mouth to answer, but Jon cut across him.
‘The police station’s on our way home.’
Bobby let go of James’s hand and looked away. The younger woman thought he looked uneasy and nervous.
‘Get hold of his hand,’ said Jon calmly. Bobby did.
Walton Lane’s in that direction,’ said the younger woman, pointing. James looked up, to the woman, and to Jon.
‘Are you all right, son?’ the woman asked, but James did not respond.
Which is the way?’ said Jon, looking over the road to St Mary’s Church. ‘Did you say it was over this way?’
The other woman had been talking away to her dog. ‘Don’t go near him,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t like children.’
‘The best way,’ said the younger woman, ‘is to go across, behind Walton Church.’ That was Walton Village.
‘No, it’s too dark that way,’ said the woman with the dog. She told them to go down County Road and left along Church Road West.
The three boys turned to go back down the walkways under the flyover. The younger woman called them to stop, because she didn’t think it was safe, young boys down there in the dark. She asked the other woman to watch her daughter and her shopping while she saw the boys across the road. The woman said she couldn’t, because her dog didn’t like children.
Which way again, missus?’ said Jon.
‘The Village,’ said the younger woman, pointing to the church.
‘Church Road, it’s lighter,’ said the woman with the dog.
The boys crossed to the central reservation.
Are you sure you know the way?’ shouted the younger woman.
Jon turned round, and pointed down County Road. ‘I’ll go that way, missus.’
‘Our Ken will know,’ said Bobby, who did not have a brother called Ken, loudly to Jon.
When they had reached the far side of the road the younger woman was reassured. She turned to walk under the flyover, while the woman with the dog stood watching the boys. ‘They’re by the bus stop,’ she called after the younger woman, who had lost sight of the boys.
It was just after five when Jon and Bobby walked into the County DIY shop on County Road. They had passed Church Road West and gone further down, before crossing back to the other side of County Road. The shop was small and cluttered, like a traditional ironmongers. The sign outside offered ‘Glass, Glazing, Patio Doors’ and ‘Window Frames Fitted’. Jon was still holding James’s hand as they went in. The owner was behind the counter, immediately alert. He’d been losing stock to boys this age over recent weeks, so he was keeping an eye on these two.
His attention was caught by James, who seemed slightly distressed. The owner attributed this to the graze on the side of his forehead, which was obviously fresh because it was still moist, and the red mark on his right cheek. Bobby stepped forward and asked if the shop sold some particular item. It might have been something daft like, ‘Do you sell fishy knickers?’ which was one of Bobby’s lines when he was skirting. The shop didn’t sell whatever it was he asked for.
‘D’you know where there’s a sweet shop? We want to buy some sweets for our brother.’
‘There’s one round the corner, and one over the road.’
They left the DIY shop, and continued back along County Road to the pet shop, ‘Animate — Pet and Aquatic Centre’, which displays exotic fish in stacks of rectangular tanks, heated and illuminated by brilliant fluorescent tubes. Jon and Bobby
were holding James’s hands as they entered the shop, and the assistant soon noticed the graze on James’s forehead.
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They walked over to the fish tanks and Bobby let go of James’s hand. They stood looking at the Weather Loach, a sedentary fish which spends most of its time lying motionless at the bottom of the tank.
‘It’s dead,’ said Bobby.
‘It’s not dead, it’s just lying there,’ said the assistant.
But Bobby insisted and finally, thinking he was very cheeky, the assistant prodded the Weather Loach to life, to prove her point.
Her colleague came out from the storeroom, and thought it strange that Jon kept hold of James’s hand. Small children who came into the shop usually ran around looking at all the animals. The other assistant, who had had enough of Bobby’s cheek, told them all to leave.
There was a commotion outside, a few doors down on County Road. The building over the bookies, William Hill’s, had caught fire, and passers-by had gathered to watch the flurry of activity. Fire engines, police cars, ambulances. Jon and Bobby stood watching with James for a while, before walking back up towards the flyover, to cross County Road again.
Jon recognised a woman, a friend of his parents, who was standing chatting with a couple of other women outside the bank. The woman knew John, too, but she didn’t recognise him. She watched as the three boys crossed the road, fearing for their safety. They looked so little against the heavy traffic, two small boys and a toddler. She grabbed her friend’s hand, cutting through the conversation. ‘Oh, look at them kids with that toddler crossing that road.’ It made her so nervous she had to turn away and not look back as the boys ran to the far side.
The Sleep of Reason: The James Bulger Case Page 4
