The Gift

by Louise Jensen

  ‘Of course. It’s turning out to be a belter, isn’t it?’ He pulls his collar away from his neck. I walk back down the hill and as I turn around Tom and Joe aren’t arguing any more. They are standing stiffly. Arms folded. Not saying anything at all.

  Shielding my eyes against the sun I watch ducks peck at soggy bread thrown by mums and toddlers.

  ‘Callie used to love feeding the birds,’ Amanda says. ‘One year she wanted a swan princess party. I couldn’t find a costume to buy and Tom was working all hours so Joe bought feathers from a craft shop and stuck them onto cardboard to make her some wings. I’ll never forget her face.’ She breathes out, slow and deliberate and I take her hand.

  ‘Tell me about the party.’

  ‘It was—’ She stops and clears her throat as though unused to the sound of her own voice. ‘It was at home. Pass the parcel. Traditional games. We didn’t have much when they were small. A couple of years ago we took them to Fortnum & Mason for afternoon tea and then to a West End show. And last year we flew to Paris. I never spent my birthdays in England when I was young and I wanted them to experience the same thing. The excitement of spending your special day in a different country, but to be honest all they talked about were the parties they had as kids. The time Sophie tried to pin the tail on the donkey but stuck a drawing pin into Joe’s thigh instead. I don’t think it really hurt. She didn’t push too hard but he’d hopped around on one leg, screaming, making the girls roar with laughter. I wanted to give them everything but it rained in Paris. We took a boat trip down the Seine and it was freezing. Not the memories I wanted to create. Callie must have liked it, I suppose. She went back there with Nathan a few weeks later.’

  ‘I think birthdays are always more exciting when you’re young. The anticipation. We grow out of that, don’t we?’

  ‘Maybe but I felt I always let them down. I never gave them enough.’

  ‘All a child needs is a mother’s love,’ I say wincing at how trite the words sound.

  ‘I have a bucket full of love, and no one to give it to.’ A film of tears glazes Amanda’s eyes, and I slip my arm around her.

  Peals of laughter pierce the air and we both look to our right. Playing tag on a patch of grass the colour of wine bottles are two small girls, matching denim dresses, and I feel Amanda’s shoulders rise as she sharply inhales. Her eyes follow them as they chase each other, but it’s not them I’m watching. Behind them, on a bench shaded by trees, dappled sunlight obscuring his face, is a figure, black hood drawn over his head. I stare at him, and his head tilts to the side as if he knows I am looking at him but he doesn’t move.

  Tom and Joe return with half melted ice cream trickling down the side of waffle cones, and Joe tries to make conversation but Tom and Amanda are transfixed by the girls, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the figure. We finish our ice creams, and as we stand, he does too.

  We walk towards the exit; Tom and Joe are discussing the fish in the lake, but I don’t pay proper attention. I can’t help looking over my shoulder, the girls are still playing, the man has disappeared and I crane my neck, trying to see past the trees that flank the path, as though he might be hiding. Was he ever there at all?

  ‘Are you OK, Jenna?’ Joe asks.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I say, but I’m not. In spite of Vanessa explaining Secondary Traumatic Stress to me, my fear is spreading like the ripples on the duck pond, and I can’t seem to still it.

  32

  Harry isn’t due to arrive at the vets until ten to see the animals, but it’s a little after nine when I arrive at the practice. I have been awake since first light trying to bury thoughts of Callie under a blanket of Sunday chores, but as I’d emptied the fridge, squeaking a damp dishcloth over its glass shelves, I found myself ruminating again. The walls of the kitchen seem to inch forward, photos of Callie looming over me, until I’d grabbed my bag and keys and come here in an attempt to escape her, but her heart thump-thump-thumps inside my chest and I know that even if I take all her pictures down I will never be free of her. Not really.

  The front door to the practice is unlocked and I instantly worry that I’d forgotten to lock up when I’d left but then I remember I haven’t been here since Thursday. For once, I am not to blame, but that doesn’t dispel the writhing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Who else could be here? I look over my shoulder. The car park is empty.

  Pushing open the door I am surprised to see Rachel stooped over the computer.

  ‘Rach?’ I am hesitant as I cross reception. We haven’t really spoken since that awkward Wednesday evening at mine. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘It is today, isn’t it, that Harry is coming? I thought it would be nice to see him. To spend some time with you.’ The whites of her eyes are peppered with tiny red blood vessels.

  ‘You look awful,’ I blurt out.

  ‘Cheers, mate. I’ll go home and crash soon. I’ve been stacking shelves all night in Asda. Trying to get the cash together for Liam’s school trip.’

  ‘I didn’t know you’d taken a second job?’

  ‘It was my first night. And my last. I’m just looking online to see if there are any other part-time jobs.’

  ‘I can help.’ But by the time I have walked around the back of the desk she is powering down the computer.

  ‘You can help by making me a strong coffee.’ She offers a tired smile, and I head towards the kitchen. It’s the least I can do.

  Harry bursts into the surgery clutching a Lego model. ‘It’s an escape pod from Star Wars, Jenna.’

  I crouch down and examine it carefully before handing it back to him.

  ‘Morning.’ I flash a smile at Kathy, Sam’s mum. Even though we’d had that nice tea last week it still feels a little odd. I’m not sure how we fit together without Sam.

  ‘Morning, Jenna. Thanks for doing this. He’s talked of nothing else all week. Well nearly nothing else.’ Her face darkens and I wonder whether Harry is still pestering Kathy to meet his dad.

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to it. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘If it’s OK with you I’ll nip to Tesco. Be back in a couple of hours?’

  ‘No rush. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Harry?’

  But he’s already wandered out the back and I can hear him chattering to Rachel, and I say goodbye to Kathy and join them. Harry is kneeling on the floor dangling a stick with a feather on the end in front of a young black cat. She has a white stripe across her nose and is called Zebra. She hunches down, eyes following the toy and, as she pounces on it, Harry roars with delight. We don’t usually board animals if their owners are going away but Zebra belongs to one of John and Linda’s friends, and John is a soft touch when people ask for favours.

  Harry plays with Zebra for most of the morning, and when the kitten is exhausted, Rachel scoops her up and places her back in her cage.

  ‘Come see what’s in here, Harry, but you have to be quiet.’ I take his hand and lead him into a small room. Harry walks with exaggerated steps towards the dog crate, on the tips of his toes, trying not to make a sound. He covers his mouth with both hands as he sees a small, black mongrel cowering on a once-white fleecy blanket.

  Keeping my voice low I explain that the dog was brought in after being found in a garden. ‘We think she was hit by a car and we call her Lavender after the bush she was found in.’

  She isn’t chipped and no one has claimed her yet. We’ll keep her until her leg has healed and then we’ll hand her over to the too-crowded animal shelter, where dogs tremble between bars as visitors scan the cages wanting the cutest, the cuddliest, or they bark incessantly, hurling themselves at the wire pick me-pick me-pick me.

  ‘So no one loves her?’ Tears well quickly and his voice is loud, and I put my hand on my arm to calm him.

  ‘We don’t know that yet, Harry. She might have a family somewhere who are looking for her.’ I doubt this looking at her matted fur, and her visible ribs.

  ‘I love her. I really love her. Can I k
eep her?’

  We go through this with one animal or another each time Harry visits and sometimes I think it’s too much for him, he gets so emotional, but Kathy says each time he leaves he says he’s enjoyed it and begs to come back again.

  ‘I think her family will come soon,’ I say diplomatically. I know Kathy isn’t too keen on getting a dog.

  ‘Mum says dogs are hard work. Children are hard work too but dogs are harder.’

  ‘That’s right, Harry. They take lots of looking after.’

  ‘And walks and feeding. Do you think my dad has a dog?’

  I’m thrown by the question and I busy myself filling Lavender’s water bowl while I think of a reply.

  ‘I don’t know Harry,’ is the best I can come up with.

  ‘If Dad has a dog I could walk him, and I would love him and he would love me.’ Harry declares. ‘I’m going to meet Dad soon.’

  ‘Really?’ I’m surprised. Kathy must have tracked him down.

  ‘Yes. I’ve asked Mum. He will probably take me to the park. You know Debbie at school? I sit next to her. I don’t like her though. She picks her nose and wipes her bogeys under the desk when she thinks no one’s looking. Her dad sleeps at a different house now with someone called Auntie Sharon although she’s not really Debbie’s auntie. That’s stupid, isn’t it?’ Harry’s words stream so fast I have to stop what I’m doing and concentrate. ‘Her dad takes her out every Sunday. They can’t stay at home and play video games as Auntie Sharon gets “one of her heads” and the flat is too small and fresh air is best. They go to the park because her dad says he can’t afford to take her anywhere good because her mum is “bleeding him dry”. But I think the park is good. And if Auntie Sharon has one of her turns they have to stay out longer and eat McDonald’s for tea.’ Harry takes a breath and I jump in.

  ‘Has your dad been in touch, Harry?’

  ‘Not yet but Mum says he’ll turn up soon like a penny. How can you be like a penny, Jenna?’

  Bad, I think, but I shrug my shoulders. ‘I don’t know, Harry. Do you want to measure out some food for Lavender?’

  The dog watches as Harry scoops dried food that smells of gravy into a measuring cup, before clattering the chunks into a stainless steel bowl. Picking it up with two hands he walks carefully over to Lavender who doesn’t move but thumps her tail. Harry puts the food down, and she sniffs it and licks her lips before staring up at us beseechingly as if wanting permission to eat.

  ‘Tuck in, girl.’ I scratch her behind the ear. ‘No one will hurt you here.’

  Lavender shuffles the biscuits around with her nose, sniffing hard, before wolfing the lot down.

  ‘I’m going to the loo, Jenna,’ Harry says. ‘When I’ve finished you might want to give it five minutes.’ He wafts his hand in front of his nose as he speaks. ‘That’s what Sam says in the mornings!’ Peals of laughter follow Harry down the corridor. He closes the toilet door behind him, and I walk out into the courtyard. Rachel is sitting at the picnic table, her head in her hands.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I ask.

  ‘Shattered. I’m going to head off soon. Can we talk for a sec?’

  ‘Of course.’ I slide onto the bench opposite her. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s about those photos in your kitchen, the ones of Callie?’

  My palms are flat on the table and they slide across the surface as I push myself up. A splinter embeds itself into the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger. I wince as a droplet of blood springs to the surface as I pick out the sliver of wood.

  ‘Jenna, please. Sit.’

  ‘I thought I heard the bell on the door.’ I cock my head to one side but there’s nothing to be heard except the birds twittering with delight as they swing from the green nets hanging from the feeder, pecking at fat balls.

  ‘Kathy will find us. Listen. I know you want to help Callie’s parents feel better in any way you can and I get that, I do. But I want to help you feel better, do you see?’

  ‘I know.’ I sit down heavily and the bench shifts in the gravel with a crunch.

  ‘I miss you.’

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘Physically you are, but mentally? You’re so preoccupied with Callie, and I can’t pretend to understand how it feels, having a piece of someone else inside you but—’

  ‘I’ve been talking to Vanessa.’ I cut in. ‘I know my behaviour has been a little…’ I’m loathe to use the word obsessive, ‘erratic but I’ve got to deal with this in my own way. In my own time.’

  ‘I’m so pleased you’ve talked to her. Did it help?’

  ‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘I won’t explain it all now when you’re so tired but Vanessa’s going to help me. Thanks for bearing with me, Rach. You’re such a good friend. I know it hasn’t been easy. I haven’t been easy. I can’t wait until my six-month check-up next week. When my medication is reduced, I hope I’ll feel more like the old me again. Shift some of this weight I’ve gained at least.’ I place a hand over my stomach.

  ‘You don’t want to share this then?’ She pulls a Mars Bar from her pocket.

  ‘Do you really have to ask?’ I raise my eyebrows and she smiles and peels back the wrapper and twists the chocolate into two. The caramel stretches before it snaps, and she hands me half. A truce of sorts.

  ‘Jenna?’ Kathy pokes her head out the back door.

  ‘Hi.’ I stand licking my sticky fingers. ‘Harry’s in the loo. He said he might be a while!’

  ‘It’s not easy living in a house of boys,’ Kathy sighs theatrically. ‘He’d better not be long. There’s fish fingers defrosting in the boot.’

  I walk inside and tap on the toilet door. ‘Harry? Your mum’s here.’

  Silence.

  I knock again. Harder this time.

  ‘Harry?’

  I try the handle. The door opens into an empty room.

  ‘Harry?’ My feet slip-slide on the floor as I dash from room to room, sweat beading on my brow.

  ‘Kathy…’ I swallow hard. ‘I’m so sorry. He’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere.’ And it is only then I notice the scattered pieces of Lego on the floor.

  33

  Kathy’s hand grips mine tightly as we sit in the back of the police car. The police have already checked the surrounding area but we still stare out of our respective windows, desperate for a sight of Harry. There are so many boys with dark brown hair and each time I spot one I feel a shard of hope that shatters into tiny pieces when I realise it’s not him. Kathy hasn’t shouted or screamed or done any of the things I’d probably do in her position but I know even if she were to fly at me, fists pummelling, punching out her rage, I couldn’t feel any worse than I do right now. When the police asked if we’d heard anything, me and Rachel had exchanged a look, both remembering the way I’d stood in the courtyard, thinking I’d heard the bell on the door, but I’d sat down again and we’d eaten chocolate. The caramel and guilt rose in my stomach and I felt like I was going to vomit.

  We’re on our way back to Kathy’s now. Her house has already been checked and we know Harry isn’t there but it’s early days we’re told and statistically it’s likely he’ll just turn up. Children go missing all the time apparently but they’re not Harry, are they? With his floppy brown fringe and infectious smile. It doesn’t make sense he’d have wandered off. He never has before.

  At Kathy’s, a policewoman asks the same questions I’ve already answered.

  There was nothing unusual in Harry’s behaviour. He gave no indication he was thinking of running away. We’d talked about the animals. About school. About Harry wanting to work for the Dogs Trust and rescue stray animals in a yellow van like in the adverts.

  ‘And you didn’t notice anyone suspicious outside the building at all?’ The policewoman holds a mug of steaming coffee in front of me but when I stretch out my hand to take it I’m trembling so much she sets it on the table instead.

  I hesitate before I answer this one. I’m not sure how to explain the sense o
f being followed. Being watched. I’ve nothing concrete to tell her, and anyway Vanessa thinks it’s all in my head. Besides, even if it isn’t, it can’t be connected to Harry going missing, can it? And I didn’t actually see anyone this morning.

  ‘No.’

  ‘And there was nothing else?’ The way she studies me is almost like she knows I’m holding something back.

  ‘Well.’ I look at Kathy’s white face. Her red-rimmed eyes. I don’t want to upset her even more and yet there was one more thing we talked about, and I know this might be important. ‘Harry mentioned his dad. He really wanted to meet him and was wondering if he might have a pet dog.’

  A sob escapes Kathy and she clenches her hands into fists. ‘Harry’s always asking for a dog. If he comes back, he can have anything he wants. Anything.’

  I shuffle closer to her and put my hands around her shoulders. She shrugs me off.

  ‘And Harry’s dad. Is he in the picture?’

  Kathy shakes her head. ‘Owen? He’s a waste of space. He’s never had anything to do with Harry.’

  ‘Do you have contact details for him. A phone number? Address?’

  Kathy wipes her nose and unlocks her phone. She scrolls through her contacts and relays his number. ‘He hasn’t been answering any of my calls. He stopped paying maintenance months ago.’

  A flash of cherry red passes the window and rumbles into the driveway. Brakes squeak. Sam. I hold my breath as the front door bangs open and the thud of familiar footsteps pound the hallway. He’s framed in the doorway, taking in the police, before he rushes to kneel in front of Kathy and he wraps his arms around her. ‘It’s OK, Mum. We’ll find him.’

  ‘They’re asking about Owen. But he wouldn’t have taken him, would he? He doesn’t want anything to do with Harry. But what if he’s fed up with paying for him every month? Oh God.’ She rocks back and forth. ‘He wouldn’t hurt him, would he, Sam?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Sam twists his head and addresses the policewoman. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Do you have a recent photo of Harry?’

  Sam pulls out his phone and swipes through his photos. Over his shoulder I see pictures of Harry at the farm feeding goats; Harry in the garden playing with the hosepipe; Harry tearing wrapping paper from a large square box. His face shines with happiness from each one.