by Peter Martin
He locked up the shed and went into the house through the back door. Then after washing his hands in the sink he carried on to the living room, where Maria sat dithering, a tearful frightened look on her face. Realising how wound up she was, he knew he needed to be calm for her benefit.
‘Still no sign?’
Maria shook her head.
‘No phone calls or anything?’
‘I’ve tried his phone umpteen times. Nothing. I don’t know what to think.’ She sniffed, trying not to cry.
‘This isn’t like him at all.’
‘Bob – I’m panicking. What are we going to do?’
‘Well, let’s not think the worst. If he’s had an accident or got himself into trouble, someone would have told us by now – surely?’
‘Well, we can’t just sit around like dummies, waiting for something to happen.’
‘So what do you suggest?’
‘Phone the police?’
‘Come on, at this time of night, they won’t be interested. Lots of fourteen year olds don’t tell their parents they’re staying out late.’
‘Yes, but they’re not Tim. Something’s not right, I can sense it in my bones. You want to wait until the police fish his body out of a canal?’
‘Of course not, but you’re over reacting. Tell you what, why don’t I sound out a few of his mates and our families, see if they’ve seen him. Someone must know where he is.’
Deep concern came into his wife’s eyes as she glanced at him, but he wouldn’t be bullied into doing anything rash, and went out to the hall. There by the phone, he looked up the telephone numbers of Tim’s friends, his cousins, and other family members. Luckily the numbers were listed under their first names, so he had no problem finding them. Unfortunately no one had any idea where Tim was – until he spoke to Terry.
‘Hi-ya Mr Shepherd,’ Terry said.
‘Terry, seen anything of our Tim on your travels, only he hasn’t come home yet?’
‘Er... Tim you say. Not really. Come to think of it I never saw him in school today. And he never answered his mobile either.’
‘We’ve had no luck with that either. And, he definitely set out this morning.’
‘Really – that’s strange. Tell you what, I’ll ask around and ring you back. Give me your number, Mr Shepherd.’
‘Ok thanks Terry, I appreciate it.’
Bob put the phone down, feeling a tightness in his chest. Was Terry right about Tim not being in school? He wished he knew. This was not good, and bound to set Maria off again. Thank God he’d made the calls on the hall phone instead of the extension in the living room.
When he returned to the living room, he could see the terror in Maria’s eyes, as she looked up at him. Pity he had no good news for her. Upon telling her what he’d learnt, omitting the bit about Tim not being in school, she began to sob. ‘Bob, you’ve got to phone the police now.’
‘No Maria, not yet eh. Let’s wait until his friend phones back. He said he wouldn’t be long. If he doesn’t find anything out, and Tim still hasn’t come back, then I’ll ring them – all right?’
‘Bob, just phone them now.’
‘Look, there’s no point in jumping the gun. He could come back at any time, and then how stupid will we look.’
Maria glared at him. ‘If anything’s happened to him, I’ll never forgive you Bob Shepherd – you hear me?’
He just frowned and sat down on the other side of the sofa to her.
The time slowly ticked by but still Tim didn’t return. He watched Maria get up every few minutes to look out of the window for their beloved son.
Roughly twenty minutes later Terry returned his call, only to confirm no one had seen Tim since yesterday. As Bob put the phone down he noticed it was ten fifteen, his lips moved downwards, resigned to the inevitable. No need for Maria to tell him. He picked up the phone and dialled 999. Tim wasn’t coming home that night.
Chapter 2
‘Hallo Dexford Police Station – how can I help you?’
Bob’s hands were clammy, and he stuttered when he spoke. ‘It’s… it’s my son… er… he... he... hasn’t come home tonight.’
‘All right sir, let me take down the details,’ the policeman said calmly, as if he was used to these calls.
For the next few minutes Bob told him everything he knew. The policeman sounded sympathetic, seemed to listen to every word, and promised to put out an alert for him. They were not to worry, he’d more than likely turn up within the next twenty-four hours. If not they’d send a liaison officer round to them.
After replacing the receiver, he returned to the living room, breathing out heavily, to face the onslaught from his wife.
‘I’ve told them – they say they can’t do much until he’s been missing for forty eight hours.’
‘Good God, why do we have to wait that long? What if he’s hurt?’
He nodded silently in agreement. ‘Standard procedure, apparently. It seems lots of kids go missing. All we can do is hope he comes home.’
Maria sat on the settee, unable to keep still, as Tim, her pride and joy, her own flesh and blood, who she imagined would someday be someone special, was missing.
Not only was she frantic over his disappearance, there was the small matter of the missing money and the credit card statement. Was her son connected to these as well, she wondered? He wouldn’t steal money from anyone – would he? The fact she’d kept Bob in the dark about this was making matters worse.
‘This doesn’t seem real. I can’t believe it’s happening,’ Bob said as he sank wearily down by her side. This was taking its toll on him too, and now she had to add to his woes.
‘Bob…’ She put her hand on his arm, and bit her lip before finding the courage to speak. ‘This may not have anything to do with Tim, but I had a hundred pounds in my purse yesterday, and now it’s gone. I’ve searched high and low but can’t find it anywhere, and I’m sure I haven’t spent it.’
‘Oh come on. You’re not suggesting he’d steal from us – are you? No, no – he’s as straight as a dye, our Tim. If he wanted any money, he’d have asked us – wouldn’t he?’
‘And there’s something else.’ And closing her eyes for a second continued, ‘My credit card statement has three entries on it I can’t account for, totalling seven hundred and fifty pounds.’
Bob raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re joking! You haven’t lost your card, have you? It needs to be reported straightaway, or whoever’s stolen it will take even more money off it.’
‘There’s no need. The card is in my purse - I’ve checked.’
‘We’ll have to inform the police about this?’
‘No! No! No! The police will think he’s a thief. When he comes back we’ll ask him for an explanation.’
‘I don’t like the sound of this – it’s too much of a coincidence. We should search his room. Perhaps there’s a clue there. I hate looking through his private things, but we don’t have a choice.’
Maria grimaced, but Bob was right, and reluctantly got out of her seat. They hurried to the hall, and upstairs to the second bedroom; only marginally smaller than their own, with the same white fitted wardrobes and light patterned wallpaper. The bed stood against the left hand wall and opposite was a long set of draws, on top of which stood his stereo. Strangely it looked unusually tidy, which was quite out of character for him.
‘All right, let’s start going through his things, I’ll look in the wardrobes; you go through the chest of draws.’
Maria nodded in agreement, but a lump came in her throat, as now they were prying; she rarely went into this room except to vacuum the carpet once a week.
However, she began her search in earnest. Going through the draws she found only clothes in the top two draws and in the other two were his school books. The bottom draw contained hundreds of old and obscure football programmes, some from before he was born, a hobby he was at times obsessive about. Bob had once said several might be worth a fair bit of money.
>
Under the bed, she found shoes, trainers, slippers and old magazines mostly about the media and football. By his stereo, she flicked through his CD collection, even looking at the back of the speakers, but to no avail. Bob too, had drawn a blank, having searched through the rest of Tim’s assorted clutter. Almost as if the lad had covered his tracks in anticipation.
Maria sighed, then went full up again. ‘This doesn’t make sense.’
‘That’s right. Surely no one would have taken him, I mean he’s a big lad; it would need someone very strong.’
‘It’s still possible Bob. He might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Oh my God, that doesn’t bear thinking about,’ she cried grabbing hold of his arm in a panic.
‘No one’s murdered him love – he’s upset over something – that’s all. What, I can’t say, but he’s got to be with friends who are sheltering him right now. Or he’s got involved with a girl. Who knows? We need to be patient – that’s all.’
It didn’t involve a girl. Her boy liked girls, although she wasn’t aware of him having a girlfriend – football and school were more important at present. That’s why she feared something bad had happened to him.
‘What should we do now?’ she asked.
‘Best let our folks know what’s happened, I suppose – sooner or later they’ll find out from the media anyway. I’d rather it came from us – wouldn’t you?’
‘No, no, we won’t tell them yet, until we find out the truth.’
‘Ok if that’s what you want. Anyway, there’s no point in sitting around. We may as well go to bed.’
Maria shook her head. ‘I can’t. What if he comes home? I want to be here if he does, so I can talk to him.’
‘He won’t come back at this time of night – it’s well after twelve o’clock.’
‘He may do. I’m staying downstairs in case he does. I’ll sit by the phone and leave the front and back doors unbolted. He has a key, so he can get in.’ At that she headed downstairs.
Bob didn’t look surprised to hear this, and he followed her to the living room putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s all right love, I’ll come and sit with you – ok?’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘Yes I do, and I want us to be together when he comes back,’ he insisted, guiding her to the settee with him.
Maria switched a lamp on, and sat by the phone, breathing softly to herself, trembling over her only son’s plight.
Bob beside her, looked nervously down at the ground. Maria could see he was as worried as her.
They sat holding hands for a long time, locked in their own thoughts, hardly speaking. Maria prayed for either the phone to ring or for the front door to open. But neither happened.
As time passed, she dropped off once or twice. Then woke to see Bob struggling to keep his eyes open.
At some point she must have fallen asleep because when she next looked up it was light. She gazed across at Bob, lying with his head back, his mouth wide open, snoring. If it hadn’t been for the situation they were in, she might have found it amusing.
She was filled with mixed emotions, and gently nudged him with her elbow, which made him moan and open his eyes. Right now she needed his support or she wouldn’t get through this, especially if Tim didn’t come back. But when he asked ‘Has anyone phoned?’
‘No, no one at all,’ Maria replied sharply
‘It isn’t looking very good is it?’
‘Oh Bob, what’s happened to him? I feel so useless sitting here doing nothing, waiting for the phone to ring, or for him to knock on the door. Shouldn’t we go and look for him?’
‘But where do we look, love?’
‘I’ve no idea, anywhere close by. I can’t stop here waiting for something to happen. It’s not enough. He’s our only son Bob – the son we made and bought into this world, and who I love more than life itself.’
She saw the effect her pleas were having on him – the squinting of his eyes, and his tongue licking his lips; maybe she was getting through.
‘All right, let’s get dressed, have breakfast and then make a start.’
She nodded. Went to the bathroom first, had a cool shower to help keep her awake, before returning to their bedroom to change. After eating half a bowl of cereals, she drank a cup of tea, leaving the dishes in the sink. Going into the hall for her coat, on passing the living room door, she saw Bob standing up looking out of the window.
He couldn’t take it all in. And how on earth were they going to find their son by just riding around the streets? He didn’t relish this one bit, but what else could they do? It may pacify Maria and that was about all.
‘Ready, Bob?’
‘I suppose. Better phone work first, to tell them we’re not coming in today and why. I’ll ring mine, and I’ll speak to yours after that, if you want.’
‘Thanks – I don’t want to talk to them myself.’
Bob phoned his immediate superior, Alan Bishop, who was very sympathetic - he had kids of his own. Alan said to take as much time off as he needed, but to let him know if there were any developments.
After phoning Maria’s work, who were also understanding and keen to be seen as helpful, Bob found it difficult not to become emotional.
He walked into the living room from the hall to see Maria sitting in the armchair by the fire, wearing her outdoor clothes; she was drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair as if impatient to get started on their search for Tim.
Aware of the subdued expression on her face, he asked, ‘Are you all right love?’
‘Not really.’
‘Me neither. I didn’t enjoy telling everyone the bad news, it seemed to make it more real, somehow. Hope they don’t start pestering us.’
‘Can we go now?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Hurry up.’
Grabbing his coat from the hall stand he followed her out of the house, still of the same mind that it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
He locked the front door behind him, got into the car, and opened the passenger’s side door, allowing Maria to get in. Then pulling off the drive, they went left towards the main road leading to Dexford town centre.
‘Ok,’ he said as he drove on. ‘So where do you want me to start?’
‘Just anywhere Tim might have been.’
‘Yes, but where’s that?’
‘Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll do it by myself.’
‘No... no, of course I do. Ok, I’ll sort it –’
She sighed. ‘You know where I mean as well as I do. Go round the streets where we live, by the school and then into Dexford itself. His usual haunts.’
‘You know thinking about it, we were never too interested in where he was going or who he was with; it was all about his school work.’
Maria didn’t reply to that so Bob drove slowly around neighbouring streets, trying to remember all the times he’d driven Tim round to various friends’ houses. The streets were empty at this time of the morning. Maria’s eyes constantly surveyed the area, but Tim was nowhere to be seen.
Next they drove past his school, the bus stop where Tim caught the bus home, and onto the park where they’d taken him to play on the swings and roundabouts when he was young, and also to play football. Then on to the local sports ground where he’d played football for a local under fourteen team.
Next they went on into Dexford, past the shopping centre, the cinema, the ice rink where Bob had taught him how to skate. Then over to a MacDonald’s restaurant he and his mates used to frequent at weekends. Lastly Bob drove to the bus station and the railway station, but their search was fruitless.
During this time, the atmosphere between them was tense, they only spoke when one of them thought of a place Tim had been to.
By one o’clock Bob finally parked the car in the multi-storey car park in the town centre. He switched off the engine.
‘Bit of a waste of time, eh Maria?’
Maria glared at him, obvious
ly not in agreement.
‘So what now?’ Bob stretched his legs and arms as if to emphasise he’d had enough.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she said sullenly. ‘I wish I did. All I want is to have our son back – is that too much to ask?’
‘No, but he could be anywhere.’
‘Yes and he might be dead, or terribly injured, and we’re not there for him. He’ll be frightened and so alone. Have we failed him? Is it our fault he’s gone?’
‘Of course it isn’t. Nobody’s failed him. I told you, he’ll come back when he’s good and ready – you know what teenagers are like.’
‘But he’s not like other teenagers. He’s got his head screwed on has our Tim. He has,’ she shouted at him.
‘All right, but getting at me won’t solve anything. Now then – why don’t we grab a bite to eat?’
Maria moved her head from right to left, her hands clasped tightly together. ‘Is that all you can think about? Take me home, will you?’
‘Ok, anything you say.’ Bob held up his hands in surrender.
So they headed home, and from the sniffing going on, Bob guessed Maria was crying. He wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come - and if they had, would it have made any difference? So when they got out of the car it was no surprise to see tears trickling down her cheeks.
The next morning, when Tim still hadn’t turned up, he phoned the police again. Within an hour there was a knock on the door. Bob went to answer it because Maria was in such a state. Two police officers stood in front of him. They introduced themselves as PC Andrew Davidson, who looked to be in his early forties, with jet black hair, and striking blue eyes, and Sergeant Gail Meadows, plump and pretty, a plain clothed police woman who had short blond hair and freckles. And who Bob thought later looked a little older than her colleague.
Bob showed them to the living room, where a pale Maria sat on the red brushed velvet settee, a tissue in her hand dabbing away tears.
He offered to make them a cup of tea but they declined, preferring it seemed to get on with their investigation into Tim’s disappearance.
