Richard shook his head quickly. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive. We won’t get anywhere if we give up now.’
‘I’m not giving up. It’s just—’
Richard held up his hand. ‘Stop, Helen. Just stop.’ He stood up with another loud scrape of wood against tiles. ‘I’m going to take a shower. It’s going to be a long night.’
Helen slept in Alfie’s room; at least, she lay on his bed underneath his duvet and inhaled the sweet little boy smells of Johnson’s shampoo and vanilla Play-doh and baby breath as soft and sweet as a delicate summer breeze. And as she lay there she submitted herself to the strange, twilight world between waking and sleep where dreams become most surreal and vivid. Her head whirled with a crazy mix of images: Tobias moving over her with his eyes closed and perspiration forming on his brow, Alfie gleefully crayoning vivid scrawls onto the dark walls of the Crag, Dora bursting into the house with that fearful look on her face and Richard, strong, dependable Richard, squeezing her cold hand in his warm one and reassuring over and over, ‘We’ll get him back. I promise, we’ll get him back.’
She didn’t think she slept, but she must have done, because Richard was suddenly shaking her from her strange slumber and whispering in her ear, ‘It’s nearly daybreak; time to find our boy.’
After he had left the room Helen lay for a moment on the little bed and let the enormity of Alfie’s absence engulf her all over again. She felt it tickle the back of her throat and then slowly pour down through her insides like cold, liquid mercury, moving faster and faster before it settled in a painful, heavy pool in her gut. She sighed and pulled herself up from the mattress, feeling her fear slosh and settle as she moved. It was still dark outside but she could hear Richard clattering downstairs in the kitchen, preparing for his departure. Before she left the room she made Alfie’s bed carefully; he would be tired when they brought him home.
In the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was like looking at a stranger. Her green eyes were red and lifeless and there were dark rings of make-up smudged around them. She needed to change too. She was still in the same clothes she’d been wearing the day before. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, unclasped her bra and slipped her crumpled cotton skirt down over her calves. As it landed on the floor she saw, once again, the dark grass stain from the day before. It stared up at her accusingly. Helen looked at it for a moment and then swept the skirt up into her arms and flung it with a sob into the rubbish bin under the sink.
Then she sat on the edge of the bath and gave in to deep, painful sobs that made her body shudder and shake. She sat naked and alone with her hands wrapped around her belly, keening for her baby, feeling the ache of his absence deep in her core.
Richard was letting Betty and Bill Dryden into the house when she came down the stairs. Bill shuffled awkwardly by the front door, holding his cap before him in his weathered hands, but Betty walked straight over to Helen and pulled her into her motherly embrace.
‘You poor dears, you must be going out of your minds with worry. I’ll get the kettle on, shall I? Make us a nice cup of tea?’
Helen nodded into the top of Betty’s grey, curled hair, grateful that somebody seemed to be taking charge.
‘We’ll be off, Helen,’ said Richard. ‘We’re meeting the police down at the car park. I’ll call you as soon as we find him.’
Helen nodded again and watched as Richard and Bill let themselves out of the front door.
‘Come on.’ Betty ushered Helen into the kitchen. ‘Let’s get this kettle on. The girls will be up soon and you’ll all need breakfast. Got to keep your strength up – for Alfie.’
Helen followed Betty into the kitchen and watched as the elderly woman fussed and bustled around the kitchen, finding tea bags and putting mugs on a tray.
‘I’ll put a little sugar in your tea, Helen,’ she said. ‘You look like you could do with it.’
Helen nodded again. It seemed she had lost her voice. Instead she turned to look at the colourful paint scrawls she’d tacked to the wall earlier that year, all abstract masterpieces by Alfie. She’d looked at them many times in the past, but she observed them now as if through fresh eyes, drinking in every brush stroke and every splotch of colour as if it were the first time she’d seen them. One was called ‘Pirate Ship and the Moon’. Another, ‘Dinosaur on a Slide’. It hurt to look at them, but Helen couldn’t drag her eyes away. He was out there, somewhere. They would find him.
If anything, the second day was worse than the first. The house quickly filled with police officers and well-meaning friends who descended upon them, everyone desperate to help, but no one really knowing what to do. They flapped and flitted from room to room, conducting intense, hushed conversations while Helen remained seated at the kitchen table, in a state of disbelief, watching the machinations of the search revolve around her, while her head remained fixed in one position, turned towards the telephone, waiting for Richard to ring with the triumphant news that they had found Alfie.
At lunchtime she glanced out of the window and saw several cars and a large white van parked at the end of the driveway.
‘What do they want?’ she murmured to a passing police officer, carrying a tray of tea out of the kitchen. She noticed absent-mindedly that he had used Daphne’s best china cups.
The man followed her gaze up the drive. ‘The vultures are circling,’ he said apologetically. ‘The media have got the sniff of a story.’
Helen shrugged. ‘Perhaps they can help? Perhaps if they cover the story someone will remember something important from yesterday?’
The policeman gave a polite nod and left her alone in the kitchen.
Betty bustled in moments later. ‘Do you want me to fix you some lunch, Helen? You haven’t eaten a thing all morning. You really should try to eat something . . .’
Helen shook her head. ‘I couldn’t, really.’
Betty looked worried. ‘Well, what about the girls then? Can I do something for them?’
Helen shrugged. She hadn’t seen either of the girls since breakfast. Cassie had shuffled into the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea and taken herself off somewhere. Dora had gone out at first light, following Bill and Richard at a distance down the driveway. Helen had been glad to see her go.
‘You’re very kind but really, we’re fine. I’m not sure anyone is terribly hungry.’
‘Well at least let me fix some sandwiches for those nice policemen? They’ll need something in their tummies to keep them going.’
Helen nodded and then excused herself from the kitchen. She didn’t think she could stomach the sight or smell of food. She felt like a gulping grey fish, washed up on a sandbank, drawing in her last gasps as the tide sank further and further away from her. Each breath she took physically hurt, a terrible searing pain that gripped at her insides, each breath signifying another moment without Alfie.
She was in the conservatory when Dora found her a little later. Helen didn’t hear her approach until she stood just metres behind her and gave a loud cough, making her jump and spin with surprise.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ Helen turned back to the garden with disappointment.
‘Mum, there’s something I need to tell you. Something important.’
Helen swung around again, eyeing Dora carefully. ‘Go on.’
‘Yesterday, when I left the Crag, there were two people near the cave. They were lying in the shade of the rocks. Grown-ups. A man and a woman. I remember he smiled at me and waved. It was a bit strange.’
Helen felt her breath catch in her throat.
‘The man had long dark hair,’ Dora continued, pulling at her T-shirt sleeves nervously. ‘I thought he was a woman, at first. He was wearing jeans. And a T-shirt, red, I think. Yes, definitely red.’
‘Did you see the woman?’
‘No. I didn’t get a good look at her. She was lying down.’
Helen felt her heart begin t
o pound wildly in her chest. Witnesses. They must have seen something. Why hadn’t they come forward yesterday? They might be able to tell them which direction Alfie had gone in. They might be able to help. It was something to cling on to.
‘Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?’ she snapped, rising quickly from her chair.
Dora backed away slightly. ‘I forgot. There was so much going on.’
Helen looked at her in disbelief. ‘You forgot?’
‘It was confusing. I was so worried about Alfie—’
Helen could feel her body trembling. She stalked to the doorway, grabbing Dora’s wrist as she went.
‘Come with me.’
They half ran, half walked all the way down the oak-panelled hallway until they reached the door to Helen’s study. She pushed it open without knocking – it was her house God dammit – and blurted her words before the officers inside could speak.
‘My daughter has just remembered something. Something important.’ She looked down at Dora. ‘Go on; tell them what you told me.’
Dora looked up at her with alarm and fear.
‘Go on,’ Helen urged. ‘Quickly!’
Richard was out all that day and late into the evening. He eventually returned home exhausted and grey. Helen knew from the look on his face not to ask how the search had gone.
‘The police want to talk to us in a moment, in the lounge. Are you feeling up to it?’
Helen nodded. She was desperate for some news, something to hold on to. She’d heard nothing since she had dragged Dora in to face the police. Of course she felt up to it.
She joined him in the lounge moments later and they sat next to each other, holding hands as a senior-looking police officer took the seat in front of them. Helen watched the careful way the man pulled his trousers up over his knees as he sat and noted the starched collar of his white shirt. He had strong brown hands and a kind face. No doubt he had a loving wife and a happy family waiting for him at home right now and she felt a sudden stab of jealousy for his simple, uncomplicated life.
‘Your son has been missing for over twenty-four hours now,’ he began.
Helen bit her lip and nodded.
‘We’ve covered a significant area today with the help of our own search teams and the assistance of local volunteers. I don’t need to tell you that we have very grave concerns for Alfie’s safety.’
Richard squeezed Helen’s hand tightly but they both remained quiet.
‘The land search has failed to offer any clues about what might have happened to your son. We’ve found no traces of a possible route away from the cave and no evidence that he might have decided to strike out on his own, perhaps heading to the car park in pursuit of Dora, or even trying to find his way home. Despite the crowds on the beach we’ve had no witnesses come forward. The only real evidence we have is the clothing found by the rock pools.’ He looked them both in the eye. ‘I don’t need to tell you that this is very worrying indeed.’
Richard coughed. ‘It doesn’t mean . . . he’s young, but he’s not stupid, officer.’
The policeman gave a slight nod. ‘I know, Mr Tide. But the rocks would have been slippery and at that time of day the tide was turning. Little kids are fascinated by water. It would only take one wave to knock him off his feet and the shelf drops away steeply off that side of the beach. We know there is a dangerous rip . . .’
Helen pressed her head into Richard’s shoulder, trying to block out the mental picture that suddenly swam before her eyes.
‘This is a very real scenario we are looking at. We need you to be prepared; do you understand?’
Helen couldn’t move. She kept her face pressed into her husband’s shoulder, concentrating on her slow, steady breathing as she drank in the warm, reassuring scent of him.
‘What about the couple Dora saw by the cliffs?’ she asked finally, turning to address the policeman, fumbling desperately for something else to cling to.
Helen felt Richard shift his weight slightly.
‘We interviewed your daughter this afternoon,’ he continued. ‘Dora does remember seeing a man and a woman near the Crag when she left to buy ice cream. She didn’t get a close look at them but we have a basic description and it’s enough for us to go on for now. We’re going to try to track down the couple. We’d like to ask them some questions.’
‘Yes!’ agreed Helen. ‘You have to find them. They might have seen which direction Alfie went in.’
It was only slight, but Helen saw the policeman hesitate. ‘Possibly, yes.’
‘You have to find them,’ she urged again, hope suddenly surging through her body. ‘They’re sure to have seen him.’ She turned to Richard. ‘Aren’t they?’
Richard gave a tiny nod of his head but he didn’t meet her eye. Helen couldn’t understand it. Why weren’t they all over this? It was a real lead. ‘You know,’ she continued, ‘I can’t think why Dora didn’t mention this before.’
The policeman intervened. ‘I believe, Mrs Tide, in all the panic and confusion she just forgot. It’s quite normal. And you see,’ he continued, ‘she doesn’t remember seeing them when she returned to the Crag with the ice creams. Only as she left the cave that first time.’
Richard gave a little cough. ‘So you have another scenario in mind, officer?’
The policeman looked down at his lap and an ugly thought suddenly buzzed in Helen’s imagination, nagging at her like a dirty, pestilent fly. She tried to shoo it away but it buzzed straight back again, loud and insistent.
‘You think they might have taken him?’ she said. It was barely a whisper.
It was the policeman’s turn to look away, averting his gaze ever so slightly to the empty space above their heads. ‘We want to talk to all possible persons of interest. As soon as we have any leads, any at all, we will let you know.’
‘You can’t just snatch a little boy off a crowded beach. Someone would have seen something. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s out there, lost. He just can’t find his own way home. You have to find him.’ Her voice was rising hysterically in pitch and Richard put a hand on her arm, trying to restrain her.
‘Shhhh, darling,’ he soothed. ‘Getting upset now isn’t going to help anyone, is it? It isn’t going to help Alfie.’
Helen clenched her teeth and fell silent. Damn Dora. How could she forget this vital piece of information? First her blatant disobedience in leaving her brother and sister to go off with some boy from her class, and now this; she had wasted precious police time by forgetting important details. She was angry with Cassie too, of course she was, but Dora’s mistakes made her blood boil.
‘As I said,’ repeated the policeman, beginning to rise from his armchair, ‘as soon as we have any leads you will be the first to know. We’re doing all we can. Now you both should try and get some rest. Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out.’
Richard thanked the man and then pulled Helen into his arms. ‘Stay strong,’ he urged. ‘We have to stay strong.’
Helen nodded, but inside she felt her heart crumble slowly, like an old fire-eaten log collapsing into a pile of cold ashes.
That night the rain came. Helen heard it pattering softly on the creeping foliage outside her bedroom window. She looked across for Richard but saw only an empty hollow on his side of the bed and feeling a rising panic, she pulled herself up and ran to the window. The weather was turning.
The night was dark as ink. Thick clouds shrouded the moon. Helen couldn’t even see as far as the orchard. Alfie was out there, somewhere, and wherever he was, it was raining down on him.
She shrugged her dressing gown on and padded quickly down the stairs to the kitchen. It was dark and empty, quiet except for the low whirr of the dishwasher. Betty must have put it on earlier. Letting herself out of the back door, she stepped onto the drenched patio tiles, hardly noticing the wetness of the stone under her bare feet or the cold drops of rain as they began to fall on her hair and skin and night-clothes. Cats and dogs. That’s what Alfie would
have said. He still hadn’t grasped that the expression wasn’t to be taken literally, rushing to the window to look for animals falling from the sky whenever a heavy rain came. The thought made her wince.
She moved through the garden, wandering down the sodden lawn towards the dripping trees in the fruit orchard. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that she couldn’t lie there in the house, while her son was out there, somewhere, afraid and alone.
Rain streamed down her face, mingling with warm, salty tears. She felt her body begin to shiver under the wet chill of her clothes, but she carried on, regardless. Alfie was out there, she knew it.
‘Alfie!’ she cried, her voice desperate and high. ‘Alfie! Where are you?’
Her cries were met with nothing but the thick splatter of rain drops falling onto the leaves of the pear trees and the distant sound of the surf breaking below.
‘Alfie, it’s Mummy. Where are you?’ she called. ‘Alfie!’
She listened again, but there was nothing.
Helen fell heavily to her knees. She felt the dampness of the grass rise up through her nightdress but she didn’t care. It was nothing, nothing to what he would be feeling out there. She needed to feel the fullness of his pain, just to feel close to him again.
Helen lay on the wet grass, curling up into a tiny ball and clutching her knees to her chest, letting the hard rain wash down over her. And as she lay there she sobbed and sobbed, calling his name out over and over and screaming at the sky, ‘Take me, take me instead. I’ll do anything, just give me my baby back’, until her voice was hoarse and her body was overtaken with uncontrollable shivering. But still she couldn’t move; she wouldn’t move from that spot until Alfie was returned to her. Because she knew she couldn’t go on without him.
She lay there for a long time, in the cold and the wet, until she felt strong, warm arms lift her gently and carry her back into the house. She felt herself stripped of her wet clothes, and wrapped in a blanket. She felt the sting of a hot water bottle as it was placed in her lap, and the chatter of her teeth as a cup of sugary tea was held to her lips, and the soft sound of Richard’s anxious voice as he phoned for the doctor. And all the while she wanted to cry out in agony, ‘Leave me be. Leave me to suffer. Let me feel this pain.’ Because deep in her heart, she knew it was nothing compared to what Alfie was feeling, wherever he was.
Secrets of the Tides Page 18
