Secrets of the Tides

by Hannah Richell

  ‘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.

  ‘OK. 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. ‘OK. 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 coastguard. It’s just a precaution, of course. No doubt he’s off playing with some other kids, or building sandcastles 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 coastguard.

  Alfie couldn’t swim.

  Helen felt her knees start to buckle 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 OK.’ 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?’

  ‘Tide Associates. 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 leaving 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 amongst 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 home-made 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 became emptier and emptier as sunburnt holidaymakers extricated themselves from their carefully chosen plots and made the long trudge back to their cars and their campsites. Eventually they were left with nothing but the deserted beach and the inevitable detritus from a thousand careless tourists. 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 park.

  At seven o’clock Helen broke off from the search to call Dora up at the house. She knew it was wishful thinking, she knew 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.

  ‘Should I come down there and help look? I’m going crazy up here on my own. Perhaps I could—’

  Helen hung up and turned back to the police officer next to her.

  ‘I need to see the cave. Take me there, before it gets dark.’

  The policeman opened his mouth to say something, but the look in Helen’s eyes stopped him. Instead he gave a curt nod. ‘Follow me.’

  Helen struggled to get into the Crag. Her cotton skirt was desperately impractical for climbing the cliff face and her espadrilles slipped dangerously on the rocks. The policeman who accompanied her, however, ably assisted her over the ledge with strong hands. As he lowered her down her feet touched the gritty floor of the cavern and she sucked in a deep breath.

  It was a desolate place; dank and gloomy and stinking with the smell of slimy vegetation, rotting fish and worse. What on earth had possessed the girls to go there? Helen couldn’t understand. She wandered around for a minute or two, her jaw clenched tightly as she ran her hands across the towering stone walls. It was as if she hoped the touch of her fingers might open up a secret doorway in the rock and allow her son to be released back into her arms, returned from the underworld into which he had been stolen.

  ‘You’ve searched every inch of this place?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the policeman confirmed. ‘We’ll get the sniffer dogs in tomorrow, if we don’t find him before then.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Why did they come here?’

  ‘Your daughter tells me it’s a secret haunt for local teenagers.’ He pointed up at the walls. ‘You can see from the graffiti they weren’t the first ones.’

  Helen looked at the spray paint scrawls and shuddered. She couldn’t bear to think of little Alfie playing in there. It was no place for a child. She swallowed. ‘I think I’m ready to leave now.’

  The officer nodded and they both moved to the narrow gap in the stone. As Helen hauled herself up and out onto the other side she noticed the sun was beginning to set. Alfie would be hungry. He’d missed his tea.

  They stayed at the beach until it got dark and a young WPC gently suggested they return home. Helen didn’t want to leave, she couldn’t bear to return home without her son, but it was obvious there was nothing more they could do in the faltering light. The coastguard’s helicopter had already been called in for the night and although they could see the lights of the search boats out in the bay, they’d been told even they too would be returning to shore soon. It was too late and too dark. They would have to wait until daybreak to start the search up again.

  Helen thought her heart might split wide open with the sheer ache of it all as she climbed into her car and drove Cassie the short distance back to the house. They both saw, but neither of them commented on the empty child seat glaring at them accusingly from the back seat and it took every ounce of her willpower for Helen to keep her foot on the accelerator and not turn the car around and hurl herself back onto the beach, screaming out her son’s name.

  ‘Is Dad coming home?’ Cassie asked finally, breaking the silence.

  ‘Yes. He’s on his way back from London. He’ll be here soon.’

  It was obvious they were both hoping Richard would know what to do.

  Helen thumped the steering wheel. ‘Where is he, Cass? Where did he go?’

  Cassie fiddled anxiously with the frayed hem of her denim skirt. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I honestly don’t. I thought he was with Dora. She told me she was taking him to get ice cream. Then she came back with some boy from school . . .’

  Dora was seated at the kitchen table when they got back. There was an untouched mug of tea in front of her and she sat nervously biting her fingernails. She leapt up as soon as they entered. ‘Is he with you?’

  Cassie shook her head and Dora slumped back into her seat, wilting like a sunflower as night approaches.

  Helen walked over to the kitchen sink and leaned against the draining board. She dropped her head and let out a loud sigh, releasing a tiny drop of her pent-up anger and tension. She couldn’t think; she couldn’t breathe. It was as if she had entered some strange twilight zone, a parallel universe where everything seemed to be imploding on itself. As she stood there, with her head bent over the sink, her
eyes slowly focused on a brightly coloured object in front of her. It was Alfie’s plastic breakfast bowl. It sat in the sink where she had dumped it only hours earlier; it still had a half-eaten Weeta-bix glued to its sides. With a surge of emotion, she rounded on the girls.

  ‘What the hell do you think you were doing today?’ Her voice was icy cold but there was fire in her eyes as she looked searchingly first at Dora, then Cassie, and then back to Dora.

  The girls glanced nervously at each other. She could see fear in their eyes.

  ‘Look at me,’ Helen shouted. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ Cassie started. ‘It was my idea to go to the Crag. Dora didn’t really want to, but I told her I was going and she said we should stick together.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I told you girls to keep an eye on him. I thought I could trust you. You’re not kids any more.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t understand how a little boy can just disappear on a crowded beach.’

  Cassie hung her head in shame.

  ‘He’s three years old, for God’s sake!’ Helen’s voice trembled. ‘He’s just a baby.’

  ‘Mum,’ Dora pleaded, ‘We’re really—’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hear it, Dora. I told you girls to stick together. You left your brother and sister and wandered off on your own to get ice cream! And Alfie followed you, and now he’s lost.’ Helen shook her head again. ‘I told you to stick together.’

  ‘Mum,’ Dora pleaded in a small voice, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry!’ Helen turned on Dora. ‘You’re sorry? Do you think “sorry” will help Alfie, who’s out there now, all on his own, in the dark . . .’

  Dora began to sob.

  ‘Do you think “sorry” will make this all right?’

  Dora shook her head.

  Cassie opened her mouth to speak but Helen held a hand up to stop her.

  ‘Sorry doesn’t bring Alfie home and tuck him in upstairs, warm and safe in his bed. Sorry doesn’t keep him out of harm’s way with a tummy full of food and our loving arms around him. There are lots of things I want to hear from you right now. But I certainly don’t want to hear that you are sorry, young lady!’ Helen could feel her body trembling, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘I just don’t know what you were thinking,’ she continued, shaking her head in bewilderment. ‘He’s just a little boy . . . a baby.’ She paused, and then suddenly all the anger left her and she felt herself collapse slowly to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had lost all tension. ‘Oh my baby,’ she cried. ‘My poor, poor baby . . .’

  For a moment the room was filled with her noisy sobs. She felt a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off angrily.

  ‘Mum . . .’ she heard Dora plead. ‘Mum . . .’ But she couldn’t listen.

  ‘Just go away. Get out of my sight. I can’t stand to look at you right now, Dora.’

  ‘Mum?’ It was Cassie this time.

  ‘Get out!’ screamed Helen. ‘Get out, the both of you! Get out of my sight!’

  They didn’t need to be told again. She heard the girls run from the room, Dora’s noisy cries reverberating all the way upstairs to her bedroom.

  Helen remained curled in a foetal position on the kitchen floor until her back ached and the chill from the kitchen tiles had numbed her flesh through the flimsy summer skirt. It was uncomfortable but it was nothing compared to the fear that gripped at her insides when she thought of her little boy out there in the dark, lost and alone. She’d thought she could trust the girls; she’d thought they were old enough to act responsibly. But she had been proved wrong. She had asked them to stick together but Dora had disobeyed. If only they had all stayed together, Alfie would never have gone wandering off.

  There was a jangle of keys in the front door. Helen unfolded herself stiffly and went to meet her husband. He walked through the door, ashen-faced and crumpled in his business suit, and pulled her into his arms. They stood together for a long while, just holding each other and letting the enormity of the situation sink in.

  ‘Our baby,’ she whispered, ‘our poor baby. He’s out there,’ she cried.

  Richard stroked her hair and shushed her like a distressed infant. ‘We’ll find him.’

  There was a creak on the staircase. Helen didn’t look up but she felt Richard turn his head and then slowly, he opened his arms and she felt the warm body of their daughter join their embrace. She breathed in the sweet smell of Cassie’s golden hair and closed her eyes. Richard was right; they would find him.

  For a few moments the three of them stood together in the hall, clinging desperately to each other, and the hope that Alfie would be back in their arms at first light. When Helen did eventually open her eyes she looked up and saw Dora standing alone at the top of the stairs. She was watching them anxiously through tear-stained eyes. Helen gazed at her coldly for a moment. How could she have broken her promise? How could she have left Alfie and Cassie and gone off with that boy? She stared at Dora a moment longer, unable to hide her disgust, before turning her back and heading into the kitchen to fix Richard some tea.

  ‘I’ve been speaking with the police,’ Richard said a few minutes later. He’d joined her in the kitchen and sat fidgeting at the kitchen table. ‘They’re going to start up the search again at first light. They’re bringing dogs with them. We’ll find him, Helen, I promise.’

  Helen didn’t say anything. Instead she concentrated on the steady cloud of steam rising out of the mouth of the kettle. She wondered how long she would be able to stand the scalding heat of it if she were to hold her hand out over the vapour.

  ‘Apparently they’ve had lots of locals volunteering to help too,’ he continued. ‘Bill Dryden’s coming to the house first thing. We’ll get search parties organised and head out across the cliffs to the beach. Alfie’s probably just got himself lost and is tucked up asleep in a warm little nook somewhere on the cliffs; or in a ditch in Farmer Plummer’s fields. We’ll be laughing about this in a few days, you’ll see. It will be one of those stories we’ll tell at his twenty-first to embarrass him.’ His smile was forced.

  Helen nodded, wanting to believe him. ‘At least it’s a warm night,’ she relented. ‘Thank goodness he’s got long sleeves and trousers on. I never thought I’d be so grateful for his Superman obsession.’

  Richard gave a small smile.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  The kettle released its piercing whistle into the silence and Helen turned it off, uncertain what to do next. In the end she turned and pulled a chair out opposite Richard at the kitchen table. The wooden legs scraped against the floor tiles with a slow, painful scream.

  ‘The police offered to send a GP up to us, but I said it wasn’t necessary.’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘I doubt we’ll sleep tonight, but I couldn’t bear the thought of taking painkillers and being out of it when they find him. Did I do the right thing?’

  Helen nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. She didn’t want anything to numb her pain; she needed to feel every shard of it deep in her heart.

  ‘Do you think the girls are OK?’

  Helen shrugged.

  ‘It’s very quiet upstairs.’

  ‘They’ve probably gone to bed. Best place for them. I’m not sure I can face them right now. I’m so disappointed in Dora.’

  Richard raised his head and looked at her.

  ‘I told her they had to stick together. I told her they could only go to the beach if they all stuck together.’

  Richard looked down at his hands. ‘I thought we’d always said the beach was off limits for Alfie unless you or I were present.’

  Helen looked up at him guiltily. ‘They’re nearly adults, Richard. I thought I could trust them. But it seems Dora decided to head off on her own. She went to buy ice cream and met up with some boy from school.’
>
  Richard sighed and they sat in silence a while longer, before he cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t realise you had to work today, Helen. I thought you weren’t due back for a week or so.’

  Helen felt a flush of shame spread across her face. It seemed like a lifetime ago now that she had lain in that field with Tobias and made love to him while the birds rustled and the crickets chirruped in her ears. ‘I had to go in . . .’ she blustered. ‘I had to go through my timetables with the Dean.’

  Richard nodded. ‘Sorry, I’m not . . . it’s not . . .’ He held up his hands. ‘Nothing matters but us finding him, first thing tomorrow.’

  As Helen looked into the tired, troubled eyes of her husband she wondered, for just a split second, whether she should tell him. It was only ever supposed to be a bit of fun. Nobody was ever supposed to find out. What would she achieve now if she were to lay this secret upon Richard and expose her infidelity to him? Would it really help the desperate situation they found themselves in?

  No.

  She couldn’t do it. They had enough to deal with right now; and really, what difference did it make where she was? What if she had actually been called onto campus? They would still be living the same nightmare now. No, there was no need to confess about the affair to Richard. It wasn’t her fault. Helen swallowed back the cold, hollow feeling nagging insistently at her belly and reached across for Richard’s hand. The warmth of his skin surprised her and she gripped it tightly in her own icy hand.

  ‘I keep wondering if he could make his own way back to the house,’ Richard murmured. ‘Do you think he knows the way?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’ve wondered the same myself. He’s a bright kid.’ She looked out at the blackness of the night pressing against the windowpane and shuddered. ‘I just keep thinking if he could come home, he would.’

  Richard looked up sharply. ‘What do you mean, “if he could come home”?’

  Helen swallowed. ‘I want to believe, I really do.’ She faltered and swallowed again. ‘It’s just his cape,’ she said finally, in a quiet voice. ‘Why was it on the rocks, by the pools? Why did he take it off there?’