Then He Was Gone

by Stephen Edger

  The woman frowned. ‘What’s she talking about Bobby?’

  ‘Erm, I’m not sure, love. She thinks she saw her son in my car, but she must have mistaken Alex for him.’

  ‘Who’s Alex?’ Julia demanded.

  ‘He’s our son, like. I was driving him back from the hospital, through Petit-Fort-Philippe. That must have been when you saw him.’

  ‘Where is this Alex? I want to meet him.’

  The man held his hands out to calm her. ‘Listen, I can assure you that you’ve made a mistake. Now, I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but I promise there’s a misunderstanding here.’

  ‘If that’s true, why won’t you let me see him? Are you worried he’ll come running over and call me Mummy?’

  The woman opened her mouth to shout, but her husband wrapped his arm around her, and spoke first. ‘Ordinarily, I wouldn’t do this, but, given the shock you’re clearly experiencing, I think you should come in, and meet Alex. I think that’s the best way to resolve this.’

  He removed the last bag of groceries, before closing the boot. He led the three women back into the bungalow, and through to the largest room at the back of the house. Becky was surprised to see photographs of the man and woman hanging from the walls. There were two large armchairs, and a table with two seats tucked beneath it. It struck her as odd that there wasn’t a third chair for their son.

  ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on luv, and I’ll go and fetch Alex. Ladies, please take a seat.’

  Julia remained standing as Bobby left the room, returning a moment later. Becky covered her mouth as Bobby pushed the young boy through in a wheelchair. At first glance she could see how Julia could have mistaken him for Noah, particularly in her emotional state, but now in the cold light of day, it was clear that they had made a mistake.

  ‘This is Alex. Alex, these two ladies stopped by to meet you. Do you want to say hello?’

  Alex was older than Noah, maybe four years old. A belt around his torso secured him to the wheelchair. He tried to lift his arm to wave, but he could only manage to wiggle his fingers at them.

  ‘Alex suffers with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy,’ Bobby continued. ‘It’s a condition which affects the muscles around his hips, which means walking is too much of a struggle for him. Please, do take a seat.’

  Julia looked like she was ready to cry.

  Becky stepped forward. ‘I cannot begin to tell you how -’

  ‘Please, there’s no need to apologise. It was an honest mistake to make. Please don’t rush off. We don’t get many English visitors to this neck of the woods. I’d really like it if you’d stay for a cuppa. Please?’

  Becky forced a smile and encouraged Julia to sit at the table. Bobby wheeled Alex back to his bedroom, before carrying a tray of tea cups through.

  Julia met his eyes. ‘I am so sorry for accusing you of taking Noah. You must think I’m crazy.’

  He smiled to show no offence had been taken. ‘It’s me who should apologise to you, pet. I should have realised who you were sooner. Your lad’s disappearance has been all over the news since yesterday afternoon. You must be frantic with worry. I know if Alex ever disappeared, well, I don’t know what I’d do.’

  Becky sipped her tea. ‘So you live here in Gravelines?’

  ‘Aye, that’s right. After Alex was diagnosed, we decided that we wanted to make his life as comfortable and fulfilling as possible. DMD sufferers don’t often survive past their twenties, and Alex’s condition is particularly severe. There’s a large hospital in Calais, where they review his progress once a month. They’re a great bunch. My wife and I had always said we would retire to France one day, and we didn’t see the point in waiting. Alex loves going down to the water and watching the boats, and it’s a different way of life over here; so much more relaxed than home.’

  ‘Do you miss it?’

  ‘Britain? There are certain things we miss, but most of the everyday things are available over here anyway. It’s a lovely town, and doesn’t get overcrowded, even in the summer. It’s our own little piece of Eden, you know?’

  Bobby’s wife joined them at the table, with a plate of fairy cakes. ‘These are Alex’s favourite. I promised I’d make him some this morning. These ones are fresh out of the oven. Please help yourselves, as I always make too many.’

  Julia politely declined, but Becky accepted one. ‘Delicious.’

  ‘Do you think your lad might be here in Gravelines, then?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘We don’t know,’ Becky answered. ‘We believe it’s possible he was left somewhere between Calais and Dunkirk, and a friend said a strange boy wouldn’t stand out so much in a town this size. Oh God, I just remembered, I should tell Antoine where we are.’ She began to type a message into her phone.

  ‘Your friend is probably right. This is the biggest town between Calais and Dunkirk. I can’t say I’ve noticed anyone strange hanging around, and I definitely haven’t recognised the lad. I will keep my eyes open though. If you leave us your number, I’ll phone if we do spot him.’

  Becky and Julia finished their drinks before apologising again, as they left the bungalow. Julia was quiet as they made their way back towards the town square where Antoine was waiting by his Clio.

  Becky pulled her closer. ‘We will find him, Jules. This was just a misunderstanding. You can’t give up hope. We’ll continue on to Dunkirk, and keep showing his photograph -’

  ‘No. I want to go back to Calais immediately. I want an update from Durand. I want to know what they’re doing to get my boy back!’

  FIFTEEN

  The car journey back to the hotel was deathly silent, with only the hum of the road to remind them they were still alive. Julia’s embarrassment was obvious to Becky, but neither had explained to Antoine exactly what had happened when they’d run off. All he knew was that Julia had had enough of searching. He’d continued showing the boy’s photograph around the marketplace after they’d fled, but nobody had seen the boy or the figure in the faded Superdry t-shirt.

  Becky had missed a call from Caleb, the man she’d been dating for four months, but it didn’t feel right to call him from the car. She didn’t want Julia to think she wasn’t focused on the search. She sent him a message to say she would call him later and that she missed him. She hadn’t realised how much she was missing him. She’d kept the relationship casual, but she knew he wanted more. She wished he was here now; not that he could do anything to help them, but it would give her someone else to talk to. She admonished herself for being so selfish; Julia needed her now.

  As they drew closer to the hotel, Julia demanded Antoine continue on to the police station in Calais. ‘I want to speak to the lead investigator. I don’t want to just sit in the hotel waiting.’

  Antoine looked at Julia via the rear-view mirror. ‘The gendarmerie is maybe closed now. It is lunchtime.’

  ‘I don’t care. If they are shut, we will wait for them to return.’

  Antoine shrugged and steered the car away from the hotel. When they arrived on Route du Pont d’Oye, he pulled up at the closed green gates of the Gendarmerie Nationale, which looked more like a school than a police station.

  Julia stared out of the window. ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Oui. This is where Durand will run the investigation.’

  ‘What time do they reopen?’

  Antoine opened his door. ‘I will go and check.’ He returned five minutes later. ‘I spoke with one of the agents who was by the cars. Apparently, Durand is at a command post near Cité Europe, and we can speak to him there.’

  Becky sat back, and focused on the road, hoping the layout would start to look familiar. It was quiet along the coastal road, but half a mile from the shopping centre, there was a sudden increase in activity. The main road leading to the shopping centre was barricaded by two police cars and a handful of agents, asking drivers to follow the detour that had been set up. Beyond the barricade, Becky could see a long line of men in blue slowly marchin
g along the roadway; their faces focused on the ground immediately in front of them.

  ‘Probably looking for evidence,’ Antoine acknowledged when he saw her staring at the men.

  ‘Evidence? What sort of evidence?’

  He glanced up at Julia’s reflection in the mirror, but didn’t reply.

  They followed the sign-posts marking the detour, but each time he headed for a road to the site, he found it blocked by police cars. When they reached the last barricade, he called one of the agents over, and explained who was in the car, and why they needed to pass. The agent radioed the message across, and was given the all-clear to allow the Clio through.

  Louis Durand met them at the end of the road, but didn’t look happy at being disturbed. ‘Madame Saidi, please wait at the hotel. There is nothing you can do to help us here.’

  ‘I want to know why you haven’t found Noah yet. You said that Alerte-whatever it was called would find him. You said it had never failed to locate a missing child. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours and he is still missing.’

  ‘Madame Saidi, I assure you, we are doing everything in our power to find your son.’

  ‘Like what? I don’t know what you are doing, because nobody has told me.’

  He led them away, so that her raised voice wouldn’t be overheard by any of his men. ‘The Alerte-Enlèvement is live. Every person in France is looking for your son. We are closing the net around the man who took him. Every television station and newspaper is telling your story. We will find whoever did this.’

  ‘I don’t care about who took Noah; I just want you to bring him back to me. He’ll be terrified without me around. He’s already lost one parent, he can’t…he needs me.’

  ‘Madame Saidi, my men have been, how do you say, uh, combing the area. They are looking for anything that might indicate who took the boy, or where he was taken to. We have agents at every port, train station and airport in the north of France checking for him.’

  ‘What about the rest of the country? What if they drove him somewhere south to take him out of the country?’

  ‘The Alerte-Enlèvement was started within two hours of the boy’s disappearance. It is not possible that they could have driven to another port or airport to take the boy away without someone seeing them. I am certain your son is still in France.’

  ‘So where is he then? I don’t know how nobody knows where he is. Someone somewhere must know.’

  ‘Please, Madame Saidi, I need you to wait at the hotel, or better still, you should return to your home in England.’

  ‘No! No way! There is no way I’m leaving France while Noah is still out there without me. I don’t care how long it takes: I’m not going anywhere!’

  Durand grabbed her hand and dragged her up the steps to the entrance of the shopping centre. ‘Look around you, Madame. Tell me what you see.’

  She pulled her hand free, and gingerly rubbed it. ‘I don’t know what you expect me to say.’

  ‘I will tell you what I see. I see my men checking every speck of dirt and litter to see if it might have been discarded by the abductor. I see dogs hunting for your son’s scent. I see men and women who have given up their day off to detain and question registered sex offenders across the country. I understand and appreciate that finding your son is important to you, but it is important to me as well. It is important to every person in my country. We are proud of our record, and we will not rest until we find the people responsible for this.’

  For the second time that day, Julia didn’t know what to say. Durand turned and walked away.

  Becky reached the top of the stairs and hurried after him. ‘Judge? I’m sorry, I’m not sure how I should address you correctly.’

  ‘My name is Louis Durand.’

  ‘Monsieur Durand, may I speak to you privately?’

  He checked his watch, before nodding.

  Becky took his arm and led him away from where Julia stood bewildered. ‘I don’t want to ask you this in front of my friend: do you think Noah is still alive?’

  He sighed. ‘To be honest with you, I do not know. If he was dead, I think we would have discovered his body by now. Yet, in my experience, the more time that passes, the less likely it is we will find him.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do? Time goes so slowly sitting in the hotel praying for the phone to ring. I need to feel we’re doing something to help. Please?’

  ‘There may be one thing. As your friend said, somebody out there knows where the boy is. We need to appeal to them to come forward. There will be a press conference this evening. Perhaps you can convince your friend to attend, and speak to the journalists about her son? We can prepare a statement for her to read.’

  ‘I’m not sure she will want to do that. This is a really traumatic thing she’s going through. But, I’ll ask her. Is there anything else?’

  He shook his head, but then remembered something. ‘Actuellement, there is something I wanted to ask. Madame Saidi’s husband, he was, uh…he was not white, correct?’

  ‘Adie? No, he was born in Iran, but he was raised in the UK. Why?’

  ‘I saw from the photograph of the boy, that his skin was different to his mother’s. The boy’s father is dead, oui? How did he die?’

  ‘He was in the British army. He was serving in Afghanistan when his vehicle was hit by a mortar bomb. He was one of six men killed.’

  ‘My father was in the army too. He died when I was seven.’

  ‘It’s been a bad year for her.’

  ‘Does she have any other family? Brothers, sisters?’

  Becky shook her head. ‘Jules is an only child.’

  ‘What about her husband? Did he have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘Um, yeah, I think he has a brother. Why?’

  The judge checked Julia was far enough away. ‘Often in cases where a child is taken, we look at the parents and close family members first.’

  ‘Wait, you’re suggesting that Jules’s brother-in-law snatched Noah?’

  ‘I am not suggesting anything. All I am asking is what kind of relationship she has with her husband’s family.’

  ‘I don’t know him, to be honest. I think I might have met him at their wedding years ago, but I don’t think she sees him much. We live in Southampton, but he’s up in the Midlands somewhere I think.’

  He frowned.

  ‘It’s like we live in Calais, and he lives in Marseille. There is a big distance between them.’

  ‘Ah, I see. It would be good if you and Madame Saidi are at the press conference later. It is possible that some British journalists will be there too, so it would help if she can speak.’

  Becky said she would try, and allowed the judge to return to the small van that had been set up as the hub of the investigation.

  Julia was standing next to the Clio smoking one of Antoine’s cigarettes when Becky reached them. ‘What was he speaking to you about?’

  ‘He asked me to convince you to come and speak at a press conference he’s arranged this evening. He thinks it would help to hear an appeal from you as Noah’s mother. He said the British press might be there too. What do you think?’

  She coughed as she inhaled the cigarette. ‘You know how I feel about public speaking.’

  ‘You don’t have to speak if you’d prefer not to. There’s no harm in you being there though. I’ll go with you. I don’t mind.’

  ‘What good is a press conference?’ Are they hoping to guilt-trip the bastard?’

  ‘It keeps it fresh in the public’s mind. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.’

  Julia stomped out the cigarette and clambered into the back of the Clio without another word. Becky shrugged at Antoine, and asked him to return them to the hotel. As she climbed into the car, she couldn’t help but wonder why Durand was really interested in Adie’s brother.

  SIXTEEN

  Julia dozed on the bed, somewhere between sleep and daydreaming. She would be alert for the telephone, but was oblivious to Becky sneaking o
ut of the room, and down to the hotel bar. The ‘bar’, as the hotel owner had described it, was more like a wooden countertop, behind which hung bottled spirits. Becky paid for a small glass of white wine, and headed out to the small veranda at the back of the hotel. She was surprised none of the other guests were out here, soaking up the last of the autumnal sun’s rays. But then she heard splashing and laughter coming from the other side of the fence, at the hotel’s half-size pool. A swim sounded good, but she didn’t have any swimwear. She sniffed the top she’d been wearing since the morning before.

  She’d need to pick up some new clothes first thing, and would ask Antoine later if he knew of any reasonably-priced clothes shops nearby. She didn’t particularly want to go back to Cité Europe. At least, not yet.

  She sipped her wine, and pulled out her phone, wondering what Caleb was up to.

  She’d spent the last four Sundays at Caleb’s house; not really doing anything. He liked to sleep in at the weekends, eat brunch and then read the Sunday newspapers. It was very relaxed. Then at five o’clock he would serve dinner, which last week had been a delicious rump with Yorkshire puddings and all the trimmings. He was quite the chef. Another star in his column.

  Although she didn’t like to admit it, he’d been a good influence on her. It was because of him that she was trying to eat healthier. Chocolate bars were no longer her first call when her stomach grumbled.

  Caleb said that the key to sticking to a healthy diet was to find the good foods that you enjoy and make them the staple. She’d swapped basmati rice for brown, white bread for wholemeal, and no more than two slices per day. She’d reduced the sugar in her tea from two spoons to one, and even drinking alcohol was now a weekend-only activity. It had all made a difference.

  A month into the relationship he’d suggested they join a gym together. She’d reluctantly shown him her membership card, which she’d used only once since the induction night. He hadn’t judged her. He’d said he would join and they could have a date night at the gym once a week. That’s why she’d spent the last six Wednesdays hitting the treadmills and exercise bikes. Caleb focused on the rowing machines and sculpting his already well-defined upper arms. He was an alpha male in his prime. And he wanted to be with her.