The Love of a Family

by Rebecca Shaw

  Graham was on the phone in a moment, but got no reply. ‘Maybe she’s bringing him home right now.’

  ‘Have you got her mobile number?’

  ‘No, I’ve never had a need to. I’ll keep trying.’

  It must have been the longest half an hour in the history of the world. The three of them sat in the kitchen not daring to catch anyone’s eye, not wanting to speak, and unable to draw strength from each other because all three were so distraught. Finally, when the journey from Susan’s to their house would easily have been accomplished, Graham spoke. ‘We’ll go to Susan’s in the car. That’s what we’ll do. Perhaps her phone is out of order.’

  ‘One of us will have to stay here in case someone brings him home.’

  ‘Good thinking, Myra. Piers and I will go. Bring your inhaler Piers, just in case. I’ve got my mobile so if in the meantime he comes back home ring me, Myra. Don’t bother about food for me, I don’t feel like any.’

  ‘Neither do I. Just go. Please.’

  Myra paced the house from room to room, especially Oliver’s, hoping against hope that something might occur to her and she’d realise why he’d gone. Even if he’d told Piers he was going to Susan’s, they had no way of knowing if he’d made it there.

  The silly boy. A letter from school! Had he done something very wrong, opened the letter and then not dared to let Graham know, neither what he’d done or the fact he’d opened a letter addressed to his uncle? Whatever it was, he couldn’t possibly have done something so bad that they wouldn’t want him any more. He was a very dear boy, she could admit to herself, and Graham said very gifted.

  Finally, with no word from Graham for over an hour, she huddled in a chair in the sitting room wishing she could do something, anything to help. It must have been exhaustion or shock that caused her to eventually fall fast asleep, a deeper sleep than she ever had even at night in bed. So when the telephone rang she jerked awake and leapt to her feet all in the same moment.

  The phone, where was the phone? If only Graham hadn’t bought this new cordless phone then at least she would have known where it was. Then she remembered it had been in her hand when she sat down. Here it was! Down the side of the chair cushion. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Susan’s just got back from work.’

  ‘And . . .?’

  ‘She’s not seen him.’

  ‘Oh God! No.’

  ‘She stayed on late at the office, for a leaving party. So we don’t know if he’s been here or not. We’re coming home, Piers is exhausted. We’d better keep the line clear in case Oliver rings and when I get back, if we haven’t heard from him then I really will ring the police. Sit tight, Myra, we’ll get things sorted somehow.’

  ‘We’re fast losing time when we should be acting.’

  ‘I know. I know. We’ll be about twenty minutes.’

  Myra checked her watch, it was only seven o’clock. Seven o’clock? She thought it must be at least ten or even eleven. So they hadn’t lost as much time as she thought. But where was Oliver? He must have been devastated when Susan didn’t come home. Good thing Susan hadn’t taken the boys on if this was what she did, out drinking on a work night. They were best where they were, with her and Graham.

  She’d make a cup of tea in case Oliver came home and needed a hot drink. Or for Graham when he came back. The phone went again. It was Graham calling from outside the police station.

  ‘Have you heard anything?’

  ‘No. Not a word.’

  ‘I’m going in then, they’ll want to speak to Piers anyway so they can do that at the same time. Don’t worry too much, Myra, it could all be something very simple that we haven’t thought of. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  A whole hour and a half later the two of them arrived home, by which time Myra was out of her mind.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I’ve told them all I can. I happened to have those photos we took last time we went kite flying, they were still in the car, so I’ve left a good one of him and in the morning if there’s no news they’ll circulate it. They took it very calmly which was annoying. They didn’t seem to realise that he is not a boy who normally goes exactly where he pleases without telling us. I think good parents must be thin on the ground.’

  Piers had seated himself on a chair and looked completely drained.

  ‘I think, Piers, a mug of hot chocolate would be a good idea, do you?’

  He nodded.

  ‘With a chocolate biscuit?’

  Another nod.

  ‘I’m asking you one more time, do you have even the smallest possible suspicion where else he might have gone?’

  A shake of his head.

  ‘Better have your hot chocolate and then be off to bed.’ Graham sat back in the chair and almost overbalanced in it. He grabbed the edge of the table to save himself and was forced to laugh because he spotted a hint of a smile on Piers’ face. ‘We’ll find him, son, he’s a sensible chap, he won’t have done anything completely silly. Did he tell you about the letter? What was in it?’

  ‘Something to do with money and it wasn’t him and he didn’t want you to know.’

  ‘I see. You drink up and then off to bed.’

  Piers was too tired to cry but he wanted to. ‘When he comes back, will we have to go?’

  Myra swung round shouting vehemently, ‘No, you will not have to go. This is where you live and where you’re staying. Right?’

  Piers, startled by her loud voice, knocked his mug over and the chocolate spread all across the table. This was the final straw. He fled upstairs, his hysterical sobs ricocheting off the walls. Graham leapt up to go after him but Myra put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘You drink your tea, and eat that ham roll I’ve just made for you. I’ll see to him.’

  Every shred of mothering instinct that Myra had came to the fore for the next half an hour. She didn’t know she had it in her. He even allowed her to undress him and go with him to the bathroom for clean pyjamas. She reassured him time and again that he was safe where he was and finally she appeared to have convinced him. ‘I shan’t ask you again, this is the last time, do you really not know where he went?’

  ‘He said he would go to Cousin Susan’s and sleep in that box room. I didn’t want to go. The cats and that, you know.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t go, you’re a bit young for gallivanting. Now you try to sleep, Uncle Graham will sort it all out. He’s clever is Uncle Graham, you see. Goodnight, Piers, thanks for being such a good boy.’

  She stood at the door and switched off the light. ‘Perhaps you’d like the night light on on the landing?’

  ‘Yes, please. Sorry about the mess in the kitchen.’

  ‘That’s nothing, it won’t take a minute to clear up.’

  Myra sat on the top step worried sick. She’d put on a calm front for Piers’ sake but under it all she was terrified something appalling would have happened to Oliver. She’d visions of his broken body being found in a ditch somewhere, of him drawing his last breath with no one to care. Of being caught up in one of those dreadful situations you saw on TV or read about in the papers; evil twisted minds that preyed on young children. She had to race for the lavatory where she fetched up nothing but bile as it was so long since she’d eaten. Her stomach in torment with fear she staggered down the stairs to Graham.

  His hands were locked together resting on the table and she grabbed them with both her own. ‘Graham, what are we going to do?’

  ‘You’re staying here and I’m going to visit the two late-night cafes I can think of. I’ll take a photo, see if anyone recognises him or he might even be there when I go in. It’s probably pointless I know but . . .’

  ‘Of course, if he has money he’ll want to keep warm and get something to eat. If only Susan had just gone straight home from the office.’

  ‘Well, she didn’t, she wasn’t to know, we can’t blame her. I’m off. Don’t put the bolts on the front door will you by mistake?’ He released his hands and went without another word.r />
  To the world Graham appeared worried but positive, however, inside himself he was sick beyond endurance. The ham roll Myra had made him he’d wrapped in a piece of kitchen roll and dumped in the bin, which fortunately was almost full so he could push it down where a casual observer wouldn’t notice it. Just thinking of Oliver without support out in this cold dark night feeling abandoned and afraid crucified him.

  Like in a film where the hero can always find a parking space right outside his target building, Graham pulled in outside the first of the cafes he intended to visit and sat for a moment thinking how he would approach this terrible situation.

  The cafe was well lit with ranks of fluroescent tubes so every person sitting in there was visible. No dark corners for hiding one’s identity should one wish to. Taking the plunge Graham whipped out of his car and into the cafe and went to the counter.

  ‘Cup o’ tea, mister? Full English? Coffee with hot milk? No?’

  Graham showed him the photo. ‘Has this boy been in here tonight?’

  ‘Run away ’as ’e?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘I’ve been here since tea, not seen him. There was a young lad in here but he had black hair in a pony tail so it wasn’t him. Sorry.’

  ‘Thanks for your help.’

  He couldn’t allow himself to be disappointed, common sense told him he wouldn’t find him the first place he tried, but he was, nevertheless. He walked to the other late-night cafe round the corner, down the alley and across the road. This was pokier, less well lit and definitely scruffier. Surely to goodness he wasn’t in here?

  He was right. Oliver was nowhere to be seen, for which he was glad, as the clientele, sparse though it was, looked like the kind that would have no sympathy for a boy his age, rather the opposite. As a last resort he showed the photo of Oliver to the man behind the counter. ‘No mate, not been in here, not tonight. Not ever.’

  As he walked back he heard footsteps and swung about to see who was following him but whoever it was must have slipped into a doorway because there was no one visible. He checked he’d locked the car and went to walk along the river where once in the past he’d seen homeless people sleeping the night away. He slowed his pace as he passed but there was no heap of person on a seat that looked remotely like a boy of twelve with blond curly hair.

  He walked round the town peering in shop doorways and down alleyways, anywhere that Oliver might have found refuge, but there was no sign of him. He could walk about all night and not find him it was all futile, but at least he’d tried.

  It was hours later when he finally came back home having run out of places to try. He softly bolted the front door, went into the kitchen and drank a whole glass of water, thought about food but changed his mind, knowing he’d never keep it down; turned off the lights and went up to the bathroom. There was some comfort to be had going through his nightly routine but all of it was tainted by his crushing anxiety.

  He didn’t even switch his bedroom light on because Myra had switched on the night light on the landing for Piers who didn’t like the dark.

  He put on his new pyjamas and climbed into bed, exhausted. This was what worry did—

  ‘No luck then?’

  His scalp prickled with the shock. It was Myra in his bed.

  ‘Myra?’

  ‘Who did you expect? I couldn’t bear to sleep on my own. Oh Graham what are we going to do?’ She felt round for his hand and gripped it tightly. ‘I’m at my wits end, what if he gets spirited away by . . . well you know men with designs on young children. It’s too terrible to contemplate. What if . . . he’s already . . . dead? Tell me, what are we going to do?’

  ‘We could talk all night and not find an answer. Come daylight we’ll contact the police again. Maybe they’ll have some idea where he is, they must have had countless boys who’ve done this before, he’s not the first.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he is, but this one is ours, Graham.’

  He knew better than to comment on her remark but in his heart a small part of him rejoiced, hardly daring to believe how much she had changed.

  ‘Let’s try to get some sleep shall we?’

  ‘Sleep? I can’t sleep. I shall stay awake all night in case the phone rings. Were the cafes busy?’

  ‘Oh! Yes. Very busy. I never thought . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I should’ve left a phone number with the cafe people then they could have phoned me if he came in.’

  ‘What time do they open in the morning?’

  ‘The better one opens at six.’

  ‘Set the alarm then and you could ring at six.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘We shan’t sleep, but just in case.’

  ‘Right.’ So he altered it to six instead of seven, turned on his side and found Myra had tucked in behind him. Was this the beginning of what had been? Turning to him in her desperate anxiety? If Oliver had disappeared six weeks ago she would have been glad and sent Piers after him. It had taken the two of them, Oliver and Piers, to bring out the love in her. They had succeeded where his meekness had miserably failed. He found her hand and tucked it under his arm and she snuggled closer.

  They woke instantly at the sound of the doorbell ringing furiously. Graham snatched up his dressing gown and fled downstairs. Myra leaned over the banister hardly daring to listen.

  Graham almost had heart failure because all he could see in the beam of the outside light were two police officers and no Oliver.

  ‘Mr Butler! I can see you’re worried, but don’t be. We’ve found him you’ll be pleased to hear. He’s sitting in the car scared to death about coming in. He wants to know if you still want him.’

  ‘My God! Of course we do. Bring him in.’

  ‘Oliver!’ Myra shouted from upstairs. She ran to get her dressing gown and was down in the hall before Oliver got out of the police car. ‘Oliver! Hurry up!’

  He was enveloped in her arms and squeezed so hard he could scarcely breath. ‘Oh! Oliver I’ve been so worried, you foolish boy, it doesn’t matter what’s happened we just want you home.’ She ran her fingers through his curls and kissed him hard, several times. ‘Come in. You need a shower and a hot drink. Have you had anything to eat?’

  Oliver nodded, speechless with exhaustion and worry. He couldn’t believe the reception he’d got, fearing the anger and bitterness he always faced with Myra and here she was cuddling him. Better get her to let go or the police would be thinking he was a little kid. Which he wasn’t, except right at this moment it felt good to have her cuddling and kissing him.

  He could hear the police talking to Uncle Graham and guessed they were telling him how they found him. Sod that man behind the counter in that dirty cafe for phoning the police, the only reason he liked it was because it was warm and dark enough that he wouldn’t be easily recognised. But the talk the police gave him had made him decide he’d never run away again, and that was for certain.

  Showered and sitting downstairs in the kitchen in fresh pyjamas, eating a massive ham roll which he didn’t want, and drinking Myra’s speciality hot chocolate with plenty of sugar he had to explain himself. Uncle Graham had asked him and he knew he needed to tell them everything for his own sake, too.

  ‘The school trip to London, the one we all had to take £20 in for? The last day for the money was Friday. Everyone except one boy who’d been off ill had paid, but on Monday he brought his money and the history teacher, Mr Blacker, put the money in his desk till he had time to see to it. At lunchtime I realised I’d left a book behind and went back to the classroom to get it. That was all I did, picked up the textbook off the teacher’s desk where he’d put it for safekeeping, and as I left the classroom the Hicks twins came in, I don’t know what for because I didn’t stay to find out. Next thing I hear, the money is missing from Mr Blacker’s desk. The twins said they’d seen me in there near his desk when they went in to pick up a pile of exercise books for Mr Blacker. So he sent for me. The rest you know.’<
br />
  ‘No, we don’t. Piers said you’d been given a letter from school.’

  ‘That was on Tuesday because they said they needed to investigate who’d taken the money, and wanted to talk to you.’

  Myra gasped. ‘But there could have been dozens of boys who’d gone in there. You weren’t the only one to know it was there. Why pick on you?’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘I did not take the money. Honestly, Uncle Graham.’

  ‘You know that, I know that and so does Myra, but why didn’t you come home and give me the letter? Then I could have gone to school and sorted it out.’

  Oliver didn’t answer for a moment, because he didn’t know it. ‘I panicked. Dad would have known I hadn’t taken the money but you don’t know me.’

  ‘I see what you mean. You’ve heard me say about telling the truth whatever the consequences . . .’

  ‘I have but I didn’t know if you would know I was telling the truth. So I went. I thought if I disappeared they couldn’t accuse me of it. Which now I see is daft. I even saw you, looking for me and that only made me feel worse. But you know I didn’t need the money because Piers and I had plenty with what we brought with us and the spending money you gave us. And I wouldn’t steal, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t understand why you’ve been saving all your pocket money. You mustn’t be cross with Piers, but he showed us where you’ve been keeping it.’

  While frantically trying to think of a convincing reason, Oliver took a long drink of his hot chocolate. ‘Don’t know.’

  Graham tapped the hand that held the mug. ‘I think you do. I think it was your insurance in case things didn’t work out here.’

  Oliver’s pale exhausted face flushed suddenly.

  Myra realised that Graham was absolutely right and she felt ashamed of herself. Oliver’s fear of the consequences of this false accusation was entirely down to her. She knew Piers was very anxious about living with her and Graham but she had never given a thought to Oliver feeling the same but not giving off signals like Piers had. Children, she saw now had deeper worries than she had ever imagined.