A Suitable Lie

by Michael J Malone

  ‘What’s going on, Jim?’

  ‘The young lassie that works in the Early Leaning Centre recognised me. Said that Ryan was quite chirpy when he was in…’

  ‘You didn’t—’ I tried to interrupt.

  ‘I didn’t let on anything was wrong. Kidded on the wee fella was with a mate while I was buying him a present in another shop.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The weirdo bought Ryan a fishing net. You know one of those wee nets at the end of a long pole? And a red bucket.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘A dinosaur,’ Jim said with a what else tone.

  ‘Right,’ I said thinking out loud. Listened for noises from the back garden and was satisfied that Bairden and Pat were otherwise occupied. ‘Where are you now?’

  29

  I gave Mum a peck on the cheek, a hug, and said, ‘I’m going to get my son.’

  I couldn’t face her if she was showing any negativity, so I walked out of the front door without looking back. By the time I reached the end of the street Jim had arrived in his big black car.

  I got in and looked at him.

  ‘Fucking idiot,’ I said.

  ‘Well-meaning fucking idiot,’ he corrected me.

  ‘Why would you even think … and why would you …?’ The questions crowded my mind and I couldn’t articulate what bothered me most about his ‘confession’.

  ‘Andy, let’s do that later, eh? We have a wee boy to find.’

  ‘Drive then,’ I replied.

  We drove in silence for a few minutes and the route brought us down Holmston Road, with the town cemetery on our left and the ranks of mature broad-leafed trees that bordered the River Ayr on the right. I remembered happier times and walks down by the river. Skimming stones on a small beach just beyond the foot bridge with the red handrails.

  ‘So Hunter’s got it in for you, then,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

  ‘Mad fucker.’ I paused. Ground my teeth. ‘What the hell did I ever do to him?’

  ‘You got the girl. You got the happy ever after.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I gave a snort. ‘Look how that turned out.’

  ‘He was always a bit jealous of you,’ Jim said, his eyes on the road, but his mind clearly back in the past. ‘I remember one time, you must have been in third year at school, playing against Belmont Academy. You skinned Hunter. Made him look like he had wooden feet. His eyes? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’

  ‘So, he hates me cos I made an arse of him on the pitch?’

  ‘He’s a nut-job. Whenever do folk like that need a reason to do anything?’

  ‘Wait till I get my hands on him…’

  ‘I understand the impulse, brother, but if you get yourself locked up for ripping into him, how does that help the boys? No mum and then no dad?

  ‘Down there,’ I cocked my head to indicate the river. ‘Do you think he’d take Ryan and his net down the river?’

  ‘Worth a look.’ Jim indicated and pulled in at the side of the road, parking under the tall wall of the cemetery.

  We crossed the road and half-walked, half-ran across the bridge and then made our way down to our left and a small pebble beach. There was no one there except a bald guy and his yellow Labrador.

  ‘Bob,’ he shouted, threw a stick downstream and the dog was off after the missile like his life depended on it.

  ‘Seen a man with a wee boy?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Sorry, mate. Haven’t seen anyone,’ he replied.

  I looked around the beach. Noted empty cans of beer, the tinfoil of a disposable charcoal barbecue and an empty clear plastic pack that had once held burgers.

  ‘Might have cleaned up after themselves,’ the bald guy said when he saw where I was looking.

  Nodding, I walked away. I was too disappointed to make conversation. Then called myself an idiot. What did I expect? To find Ryan that easily?

  Back on the path, returning to the car, I asked Jim.

  ‘Where would someone go with a kid, who had no idea about kids?’

  Jim looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly tea time. He’ll be looking to feed the wee man.’

  ‘Fast food, eh? He doesn’t have a car,’ I said thinking out loud. ‘That suggests Burger King on the High Street. Right next door to the Early Learning Centre’

  ‘Shit,’ said Jim. ‘I didn’t think to check in there.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said, picking up my pace.

  The burger bar was a bust. We walked the length of the place three times studying all the kids, almost got ourselves into a fight in the process when the father of what turned out to be a wee girl took exception to our presence.

  The manager had to intervene to calm things down.

  ‘We’re looking for my son,’ I said. ‘He’s two and he’s with a tall, skinny bloke.’

  A look of recognition on the manager’s face. ‘We had the police in earlier showing the photo of a wee lad.’ Pause. ‘That’s your son?’

  I could only nod, my ability to speak temporarily on hold as disappointment took over. ‘Sorry, sir.’ He made a face of pity and I wanted to punch it out of him. ‘No one recognised the boy.’

  Jim tugged at my arm. ‘Let’s go, Andy. ‘He’s not here.’

  Outside, I leaned against the window.

  Fuck.

  Where were they?

  I closed my eyes in prayer and felt the heat of the early evening sun on my face.

  ‘It’s turned out a nice day,’ said Jim.

  I looked at him.

  ‘Where might a wee boy with a fishing net want to go on a lovely summer’s evening like this?’ he asked pointedly.

  And we were off at a run to the car again.

  At the beach, Jim parked up at the harbour end and we walked down to the water’s edge. We turned and faced the wide curve of Ayr bay. The tide was out so we set out across the wet, sticky sand.

  ‘We should split up,’ said Jim as he looked to his left and the low grey wall that ran along the beach. Groups of people were clustered along its length, families taking advantage of the break in the weather, no doubt trying to get their kids into nature and away from TVs. ‘You walk along the water. I’ll take the wall.’

  ‘’Kay,’ I said and strode off, studying every child I saw.

  ‘Look for a net,’ Jim shouted after me. ‘And a red bucket.’

  As I walked and searched I was encircled by good cheer at the simple things in life. Sunshine, sand and salt water lapping at my feet. All around me children of various ages, smiling parents and dogs. Laughter and barking. Screeches of joy. The high call of gulls.

  And it all reached my senses through the filter of my fear. My heart was a cold zone. The only thing that would reach it, my son safe and sound in my arms.

  I saw a small boy at the water’s edge. He was jumping each lazy wave and celebrating safe landing at the other side as if he was an Olympic winner. His parents celebrated with him and I wanted to shout at them: how can you be happy at this moment?

  Three kids in a group were clustered around a jellyfish. The creature was about the size of a large pizza and they were daring each other to poke at it with sticks.

  A black-and-white collie, his head low to the ground, sprinted past after a ball. Just beyond, a small boy on his own.

  With a lurch, I recognised the blond tuft of hair and his wide-footed stance. I ran over, grabbed him, he turned, a cry coming out of his mouth.

  ‘Sorry, son,’ I managed to say, when I saw it isn’t Ryan. The boy wailed, frightened. I heard a stampede behind me and two people I assumed to be his parents reached us. They both looked like they were in their late teens. The mother was red-faced with indignation and the father all beard and bristle.

  ‘What the hell are you playing at, mate?’ The father demanded.

  ‘I’m so sorry, wee pal,’ I said. The boy was in his mother’s arms, head on her shoulder. ‘So sorry.’ I reached out to try and touch him, but the mother twisted him away from my rea
ch.

  ‘What’s your deal, pal?’ asked the father.

  I looked at them, thinking that should be me. Protecting my son. I opened my mouth to explain. Closed it again. I didn’t want their pity. Or their judgement. Face burning, I turned from them, I mumbled another apology and strode away.

  ‘I’m phoning the polis, you freak,’ shouted the father.

  I turned to him and held my hands out in a placatory motion. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m so sorry. I thought he was…’ I turned away again. I didn’t want them to understand. I didn’t want them to do anything but leave me alone.

  I kept walking. Kicked at the surf. Skirted a couple of giant jellyfish.

  Ryan, where are you? I stood still and, hand up to my forehead, scanned the length of the shoreline. Nothing I could see gave me hope.

  Over to my left Jim was walking on top of the wall. Good idea, I thought. That would give him scope to check beachside and those people who hadn’t ventured onto the sand.

  Beyond him I could see the four white towers of Ayr Pavilion. There was a kid’s soft-play area there. Pirate Pete’s. It would be worth checking if our beach search proved unsuccessful.

  Jim had paused in his walk and was looking down at me at the water’s edge as if wondering what I was doing. I waved him on and continued walking.

  More jellyfish.

  More dogs.

  More kids.

  No Ryan.

  30

  Keep moving, I told myself. Keep moving.

  You’ll find him.

  A heavy lurch in my gut and a sourness in my mouth.

  But what if…

  I stumbled. Breath caught in my throat. I hunched over, hands just above my knees and forced air into my lungs. Don’t go there, Andy. He’s not been gone a day yet. You’ll find him. Besides, Hunter was a bully and like all bullies it was a sense of power he was trying to assert over his victim. Ryan was a small child, therefore his ‘power’ was assured. There was nothing to assert.

  It was flimsy reasoning, but for that moment it offered me some hope. And in that moment hope was all I had.

  At this end of the beach, the curve of the water’s edge brought me closer to the wall and I could see Jim walking on the pavement, a grim expression on his face. He stopped an elderly couple. Spoke. They each shook their heads. The woman reached out and touched his arm before they walked away.

  A toddler and his sister walked in front of me, hand in hand. The sister gave the boy a stone and told him to make a big splash. He threw it, his arm coming across his body but the stone plinked into the sand just inches away from him.

  ‘Way,’ she cheered. ‘That was good.’

  ‘Again,’ he chanted. ‘Again.’

  I put a spurt on. Their happiness was a wound I couldn’t bear.

  Just ahead of me was the Seafield end of the beach. There was a ramp from the road down to the water’s edge, a flat-roofed shop and restaurant and beyond that a stretch of sand dunes.

  We played here a lot as kids, the marram grass that topped the dunes the bane of my short-trousered legs. But as a teen it was the perfect spot to take a girl to engage in some heavy petting. You could set a towel down among the dunes and hide from the world together.

  This end of the beach was quieter and therefore easier to navigate. As I passed the shop I could see just a few people ahead of me and none of them were the height of Ryan.

  I wondered if I should stop here and turned to see what Jim was doing, but he was obscured by the height of the dunes and the lack of a shout from him suggested that he had kept on walking.

  Minutes later I was approaching the small estuary where the River Doon flowed into the sea. There was nothing here but swans and gulls, so I turned to look for Jim. The dunes were much flatter at this point, so I could see him. He was on top of the wall, arms stretched wide in question. I shook my head and turned to walk back.

  Hopeless, this was hopeless.

  I kicked at the water.

  Fucking hopeless.

  Hands deep in my pockets, shoulders hunched, I made my way back along the beach.

  A hundred yards away a man was crouched at the water’s edge, trousers rolled up past his knees. Where did he come from? I looked to my right and the sand dunes. He must have been sitting up there, out of sight.

  I walked closer. Something about him was familiar. And as I did so I could see that his bulk was hiding the shape of someone else. A small someone else.

  A boy.

  I tried to speak, but it came out in a squeak.

  ‘Ryan?’

  I picked up my pace. Cleared my throat.

  ‘Ryan?’

  Was it him? I held my expectation as I might hold my breath.

  The man was being solicitous. His shoulders were moving in laughter. I could see him put his hand on the boy’s back. Offering support. And the breeze brought me the sound of his answering laugh. High and unrestrained.

  They were so caught up in their game, neither of them heard me approach. The boy stepped beyond the man in search of something in the water. My heart turned solid in my chest and I somehow managed to speak.

  It was the small red bucket at his feet that did it.

  ‘Ryan?’ I said.

  31

  They both turned to face me at the same instant. Hunter’s face lengthened in surprise. Ryan’s burst into a smile.

  ‘Daddy,’ he sang. ‘Daddy.’

  Hunter rose out of his crouch and held Ryan back.

  ‘Clever daddy found us,’ Hunter said.

  ‘Jelly fishing,’ Ryan said and pointed at his bucket. ‘Jelly fishing.’ From where I was standing I could see that the bucket was almost full to the brim. The water was opaque with little bits of pink.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ I asked and with every cell in my body, I wanted to crash through Hunter, pick up Ryan and carry him away to safety, but I reined myself in. I had to do this in a way that had least impact on my son.

  Words first.

  If that didn’t work I was prepared to use whatever would.

  ‘Anna played us both,’ Ken said. ‘She was a damaged woman, but at least,’ he looked down at Ryan with a smile that surprised me in its warmth. ‘… at least she brought me this wee charmer.’

  ‘If you think you are walking off this beach with my son, your brain has taken up residence in Mars.’

  ‘Thing is, big guy. He’s not your son. He’s mine.’

  As he spoke the light in his eyes died and they took on a dark lustre that almost had me take a step back. A shadowed part of me recognised that darkness, refused to give it a name, reeled from its danger.

  ‘And when, in this fairy tale of yours do you describe to the boy how you killed his mother?’ I hissed.

  ‘He’ll understand one day.’ He shrugged as if her murder was the matter of a simple disagreement. ‘In a way, it was what she really wanted.’

  ‘Gimme a break, mate…’

  ‘You’re not hearing me, mate. She wanted me to kill her. It was like she’d had enough. She’d tried for long enough to goad you into it, but she knew I didn’t have the same weakness.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about, Hunter?’

  ‘Daddy?’ Ryan’s face tightened as something in him noted the change in atmosphere.

  ‘It’s okay, son,’ I said. ‘We’ll be going home to Gran’s shortly.’

  ‘What part of, he’s my son, don’t you understand?’ Hunter took a step to the side, hiding Ryan behind his legs.

  ‘She was lying to you, Ken. It’s what she did. She worked out what would mess with your head and she’d lay it on you.’

  ‘I was shagging her for years,’ Hunter crowed. ‘And you, Mr Pillar of Society knew nothing.’ He grinned. Feral. ‘Anna told me everything. We used to laugh when she’d describe how you just lay there and took it. The big rugby player couldn’t hit back.’ He sang the last sentence with an effeminate tone. ‘Call yourself a man? You’re pathetic. There’s no way you have the
balls to father a son like this. That’s how I know he’s mine.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hit a woman,’ I said, my anger threatening to spill over. ‘But I can as sure as fuck take a piece of you. So, step aside, let me take my boy home and we’ll say no more about it.’

  ‘This…’ Hunter reached into a back pocket, brought out a knife and flicked it open ‘… says otherwise.’ It was a small weapon, but I had no doubt it could cause a serious amount of damage.

  ‘I’ll shove that knife up your arse.’

  ‘You’d like to try,’ said Hunter, flashing his teeth. He pulled Ryan round so that he stood at the side furthest from me.

  Ryan squealed in surprise, his eyes large with fear.

  Hunter pointed the knife at Ryan. ‘What do you think?’ he asked in a reasonable tone, as if he was about to take him to the shop to buy an ice-cream. ‘You let us leave the beach and no one gets hurt.’

  ‘Yeah, cos that’s good fathering right there,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you a great example? Wasn’t it enough that you killed his mother?’

  ‘I’d rather kill him too than see you walk off with him.’

  A cold calm came over me. ‘Anything happens to that boy and I will rip your head from your shoulders.’

  Hunter chuckled. Threw his head back and belly-laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  ‘You’re a pussy, Boyd. You’ve proved that a thousand times. Sure, you can swing a punch, but actually do any harm?’ He snorted. Grew serious. Pulled Ryan in to his side with his left arm and with his right held the knife under his throat. ‘One movement and it will all be over. The wee lamb won’t even feel a thing.’

  ‘Hurt him and I swear to God…’ I took a step closer, my breath coming in gasps.

  ‘Pussy, Boyd. You’re a pussy.’ He took a step to the side.

  I could rush him, but there was a strong chance that Ryan would get hurt. I looked around me for a weapon. Nothing, apart from the bamboo pole and the bucket.

  I thought about scooping up some sand and throwing it in his face. Discounted that. I scanned the beach around me.