by Paul Clayton
Frankie pulled a chair over to the window and looked out. The last southbound train was pulling out of the station and a couple of stragglers were scurrying across the road. She sat there as one hour morphed into two, and two hours trickled into three. Every moment, she hoped the shadowy form of Henry would turn the corner and walk along the road.
Henry was her special one. She’d suffered Jonny and Shannon’s father for almost five years of marriage; things hadn’t been easy and her answer had been to run away. That’s what marrying young did for you. Henry was unplanned, the result of a cheeky encounter on a girls’ night out. She liked to pretend that she never knew who the father was. What she did know was that, from the moment she’d felt Henry inside her, she wanted him. It was her job to protect him, to look after him and keep him safe. She would love him now and always – for as long as always lasted.
Her eyes had closed by the time the first crack of dawn appeared across the sky. She awoke, back and neck stiff from the hours spent in the chair. Creeping out of the room, she went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. As quietly as she could, she made her way into the kitchen and put the kettle on. When it had boiled, she sat at the kitchen table warming her hands on a large mug of tea. The thought of another day without Henry haunted her and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there when there was a knock on the door.
Chapter Seven
It had all seemed like such a magnificent idea, such a straightforward thing to do. But from the moment he’d let go of Dimwit’s lead in the park and urged the dog to run back in the direction of his mum, Henry’s feelings of doubt had grown. He could make it work; he could do this. Forty-eight hours wasn’t long. But as he scurried away behind the trees, his ten-year old’s sense of bravado weakened. After a miserable afternoon and evening, bumping into the woman’s car by the park had turned out to be nothing short of a miracle.
At first he’d thought she might be a witch or a clown of some sort. He’d seen clowns in horror movies. Red hair, blue shoes, green-and-yellow coat and thick comedy glasses – it all added up. That would have been just his luck. But she’d turned out to be an angel.
The best thing was that she hadn’t told him off and sent him home. She’d disappeared into the darkness and for a few moments Henry thought that she’d gone for good. Five minutes later, she’d returned with a large holdall and a key in her hand.
She opened the gate and let them both into the park. ‘Now, let’s find you somewhere safe and as dry as possible and hidden away for the night. Then we can sort things out in the morning.’
Henry smiled at her.
‘After all,’ she went on, ‘if it’s a dare, you have to do it. I used to get dared to do things at school. “We dare you to write on the blackboard, Cora.”’ She smiled at him again. ‘And do you know what? I did. I always did my dares, even when I made them up myself. So, we’d better make sure that you can do yours …’ She paused.
Henry realised why and held out his hand. ‘I’m Henry. Henry Baxter. And thank you for helping me.’
‘I’m Cora, Henry Baxter, and it’s my pleasure. After all, we have a secret to keep, don’t we, Henry Baxter?’ And with that she’d disappeared off into the bushes. Henry had limped after her to keep up.
She’d done what she had promised. In the middle of the undergrowth, about a hundred and fifty yards away, was an enormous tree. Henry was sure it was an oak tree. Robin Hood had an oak tree as his home – he’d read all about Robin Hood at school.
Cora opened the holdall and pulled out a bright-blue sleeping mat. ‘It’s a yoga mat, Henry, but it’s soft and it will help you sleep.’
Henry hadn’t thought about where he would sleep that night; he’d certainly never imagined that it would be on a comfortable blue yoga mat. Cora laid a shiny dark-green sleeping bag on top of it. What a wonderful bag – it had a hood like the one Bear Grylls slept in on the telly. This was getting better and better by the minute.
Cora placed a small bottle of water and a torch beside the sleeping bag. ‘Now, I think you’re old enough to sort yourself out, Henry. The park’s locked and you’re well hidden, away from prying eyes. You should be able to sleep and …’ She stopped. ‘If you need the bathroom, use those bushes over there.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you. This is going to help so much.’
‘I’ll come and get you in the morning, as soon the sun starts to come up. We’ll pack away this bag and then I’m going to walk you home. Agreed?’ Cora looked rather stern, but Henry could see a twinkle in her eyes.
‘Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Cora. ‘It was the first time he had spoken her name out loud, and it sounded mystical. He didn’t want to tell her that the full dare was for two days. It didn’t matter. As long as he spent one night out on his own, it would impress Angus McKinnon and the people who had dared him, particularly as he’d managed to sleep inside a park after they’d locked it to the public. He squatted down and clambered into the sleeping bag.
‘I’ll see you in the morning then,’ said Cora.
***
Now she stood behind him as he waited for the door to open. He bit back a tear as Frankie appeared in the doorway. Looking at her, he knew she had missed him; he knew he had done wrong and caused her pain. That was something Henry never wished to do because he had the best mum in the world.
She stepped forward and pulled him into the tightest of hugs and he knew he never wanted to be away from her again. Stepping back, he turned and put his hand out. ‘Mum, this is Cora. She helped me and she brought me home this morning, so don’t shout at her. She’s a very nice lady.’
Frankie smiled at him and looked at Cora. ‘I’m not really sure what to say, but thank you. Thank you. I’ve been so worried.’
‘Don’t worry, my dear. Take him inside. I’m sure you want to check him over. Quite a big adventure for such a little chap.’
Henry released himself from his mother’s arms and turned to face Cora. ‘Thank you for helping me.’ And with that, he slipped past his mother and into the flat, doing his best to hide the soreness of his hip.
‘Goodbye, Henry,’ Cora called after him. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again.’
But Henry didn’t hear her. Jonny was busy ruffling his hair and firing questions at him, and all the commotion had even managed to waken Shannon.
Chapter Eight
Cora watched Henry disappear into the house. ‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ she said. ‘I think he was doing it to impress somebody. No harm done in the end, though.’
The boy’s mother glared at her. She folded her arms and squared off in the doorway. ‘No harm done? I’ve been to the police. I’ve been up all night, and he turns up this morning with you in tow, and you say don’t do anything about it?’
Cora took a card out of her bag and offered it to the woman. ‘Sorry, but I don’t know your name. It didn’t seem right to question Henry or be over-inquisitive or frightening.’
The woman unfolded her arms and took the card. ‘I’m Frankie. Frankie Baxter.’
‘I’m Cora Walsh. That’s my number. If you or the police need to talk to me, then give me a call. I only did what I thought was best. And if it’s any consolation, I didn’t get much sleep either.’
Cora walked down the path, crossed the road and headed past the station. She was glad Henry was home and hoped that his mother would understand why she’d helped him on his night-time escapade. How wonderful to be a child so loved that your absence robbed your mother of sleep for a night. To be a child who could cause worry, who gave his mother such an immense sense of relief as soon as he was back in her arms. A child who was wanted and loved.
On her way home, Cora picked up some shopping in the supermarket. It wasn’t busy so early in the morning, which she liked. She put the key in the door of her flat and
pushed it open with her shoulder, both arms laden with bags. She put the shopping in the kitchen. Taking off her coat, she unpacked it and set about making herself a cup of tea.
She took the tea to a table by the window and flipped open the laptop that lay there. As she waited for it to boot up, she gazed out of the window at the park below.
She’d lied to Frankie: she hadn’t lost any sleep over the boy in the park. Cora had slept, woken up when her alarm sounded and dressed to go down and find Henry in the park.
She took a sip of tea and smiled to herself. Opening a new document on her screen, she typed two words at the top as a title: Frankie Baxter.
***
Frankie couldn’t stay angry with Henry for long. She made him a cup of hot chocolate and let him have banana milk on his cornflakes as a treat. There wasn’t any money for such extravagances, but his safe return called for it.
She sat at the breakfast table as he wolfed down his breakfast. Her head was full of questions but she didn’t let any of them escape. ‘Wait until he’s ready,’ she told herself.
After dispatching Henry upstairs to have a shower and dress in clean clothes, Frankie picked up the phone. She called the police station using the number PC Ashley had left her. It wasn’t the constable who answered but a young female who seemed less than interested.
‘I want to speak to somebody about my son who was reported missing last night,’ Frankie said.
A quick burst of something classical and she heard a different voice. ‘Front desk. Sergeant Chescoe here. Is that Mrs Baxter?’
Frankie took a deep breath. ‘Yes it is, sergeant. I’m calling to say that my son turned up this morning. He slept rough last night. Some kind person brought him back home. He’s fine.’
There was a harrumph at the other end of the phone. ‘No missing boy, then? Well, that all’s good, isn’t it? Lucky kid.’
‘Yes, he’s very lucky. Please thank the constable who came round last night. I think he said he was going to search the park.’ She thought about adding, ‘But he didn’t, otherwise he might have found my son.’
‘Thanks once again,’ she said aloud and ended the call.
Things were looking a little more like a normal Saturday morning. Shannon was in front of the television, Jonny getting ready to leave for his Saturday job, and Henry was washed, fed and back home. Frankie sat at the kitchen table and put together a shopping list for later in the day. As she wrote banana milk, burgers, pizza, her attention wandered to the card lying on the table.
There was the name Cora Walsh and a telephone number. No address, nothing else, just a number. Almost inviting her to call.
Chapter Nine
From the window of her flat, Cora could see the café on the other side of the lake in the park. Although it was early in the year, there were a few tables and chairs outside to catch the late February sunshine. Cora picked up the pair of binoculars she kept on the window ledge and focused them. No sign yet.
It had thrilled her to get the phone call that morning. Although she’d left the card, she hadn’t been sure Frankie Baxter would actually call. In fact, Cora had started to work on new ways of getting back in contact with Frankie. Something casual – a chance meeting in the street, perhaps? She had ways of getting in touch with people.
She wondered if Frankie wanted to forget her youngest son disappearing off into the night and being returned by a perfect stranger. Cora believed a stranger was a friend you hadn’t met yet. But it seemed the allure of the telephone number and the name on the plain card with no other information had worked its spell; this morning, Frankie had called and arranged to meet for a cup of coffee in the park.
Cora surveyed the tables outside the café once more. There were now three people in view: a couple at the table nearest the lake, and a single person sitting in the shelter of the café wall. Judging by the mismatch of colours, that was Frankie Baxter.
***
‘Did the police give you any hassle for wasting their time?’ Cora asked.
Frankie gratefully sipped the latte that Cora had bought. The park café might be a bit of a dump, but the cost of two lattes was a meal for her family. ‘No, they were quite happy about it. The desk sergeant I spoke to was a bit old school, but they seemed pleased it was another case they could tick a box next to.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Cora. There was a silence. ‘And how is the wonder boy?’
Thinking of Henry always made Frankie smile. ‘He’s doing fine, though he’s got a massive bruise on his hip.’
‘I think he might have been trying to climb the park railings when I found him. Bit of a fall. Has he said any more about it?’
‘No, and I haven’t pushed him. I can’t help wondering if it was something I did. You do, don’t you, with your children? If anything is wrong, the first person you blame is yourself.’
Cora tried to nod, as if in agreement. ‘I don’t have children. Difficult for me to say.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Though I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong.’ How much should she say? Just enough to make her knowledge powerful, but not enough to upset Frankie. ‘From the little he said, I think it was some sort of dare. To spend a night or two out on his own.’
Frankie held the latte in both hands. ‘It’s just so hard. I worry all the time. I don’t want to interfere, not be a nosy mum, but these days you don’t know what’s happening. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any social media or anything like that, but I haven’t checked his phone. It’s a pretty basic thing, he bought it second hand. Jonny showed him how to set it up. Jonny’s sensible and I’ve asked him if Henry has a Twitter or SnapBot account or whatever. Jonny says he’s pretty sure he hasn’t, but he hasn’t checked. I was tempted to ask if he would, but getting one of my kids to spy on another – it’s not the way you do things, is it?’ She stopped to take a breath.
‘I think parenting must be very difficult to get right.’ Cora stirred her coffee and offered Frankie a biscuit.
‘I shouldn’t. It’ll make me fat. But you know what? At the moment, I feel so down and guilty, I could eat the plate.’ Frankie laughed.
Cora joined in. ‘Go on. Eat the lot of them.’ She pushed the plate a little closer and Frankie bit into a biscuit. ‘I’m around, you know.’
Frankie paused mid-cookie. ‘Around?’
‘Yes. You know, if you need somebody. I mean, I’m sure you have loads of friends, but does it ever do any harm to have another?’ Cora took a big gulp of her coffee and placed the mug on the table. ‘I like having friends. They’re important to me.’
Frankie looked at her. ‘Yes. That would be nice.’
They walked back into town together. Frankie had parked at the supermarket in order to do a big family shop. She told Cora about where she worked at the call centre on the industrial estate down by the railway.
‘It sounds important,’ said Cora.
‘Not at all. They ring up, they ask questions. We put the questions into a computer and the computer tells us whatever is wrong with their washing machine or their tumble dryer or their dishwasher. And if they’re not happy with what the computer tells us to tell them, we tell them to fuck off.’ She saw Cora’s look of alarm. ‘We don’t really,’ she laughed. ‘But that’s what we want to do. We tell them to go online and log a complaint. It’s a chronic boring job, all day on the phone, never talking to anybody who hasn’t got a problem.’
‘Then why do you do it?’ Cora asked.
‘Because it lets me work the hours I want so I can take the kids to school in the mornings. I can take off half term or take time off if one of them is ill. I lose money, of course. Most days I have a manny.’
‘A what?’ Cora seemed to be finding it hard to keep up.
‘A manny. It’s a male nanny. They’re all the rage. This one’s not qualified. He’s an out-of-work actor. He put an ad in the newsagents and he�
��s cheap.’
‘Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but should you be leaving Henry with somebody like that? Does he know what he’s doing?’
‘He’s really nice. He keeps them all entertained and Henry adores him. They play games together, which I suppose he loves, being an actor. He’s been on the telly – six lines in an episode of Holby. Jonny looks up to him and Shannon pretends not to notice he’s there. He does it for the money. Out-of-work actors do anything for cash.’
By the time they arrived at the supermarket, Frankie was ready to say goodbye but Cora grabbed a basket. ‘I’ll wander around with you, if don’t mind. I’ve got a few bits and bobs to get.’
Frankie ploughed her way up and down the aisles, filling the trolley with as many things in packets as she could find that were easy to cook and cheap, with a bit of fresh stuff as treats for the weekend. Anything on a BOGOF – Buy One Get One Free – went into the trolley; she’d work out what to do with it later. She noticed Cora’s basket remained largely empty: tea bags, moisturising cream, a tub of luxury rum-and-raisin ice cream and a hunk of cheese from the deli counter.
As they walked along the wine aisle, Cora took two bottles of Prosecco from the shelf. She put one in her basket and placed the other in Frankie’s trolley.
‘Hey, what you doing? I can’t afford that.’ Frankie reached down and grabbed the bottle.
Cora stopped her. ‘No. It’s a little treat from me. You deserve it. You’re wonderful with those kids. Go home, pour yourself a glass and disappear into the bathroom for an hour. That’s what I do.’
Frankie laughed. ‘Thank you.’ Still smiling they headed towards the tills. Having paid their bills, Frankie pushed the trolley towards the exit.
‘You will be in touch again, won’t you?’ Cora asked.
‘Yes, I will. Yes, soon.’
