The Mum Hunt

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘Come on, Matthew. We’ve got to find Lizzie,’ I reminded him, tugging on his jacket.

  ‘Esmie, go and wait over there, OK!’ He tried to shove me in the direction of the bus station exit while he went to greet his friends, but I followed behind him.

  ‘Hey, Matt. Guess what? Your pal, Jake, is breaking the law as we speak,’ the boy with ginger hair said, grinning as he lit up a cigarette.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Matthew started looking round to spot Jake. ‘He wasn’t in school. I thought he was off sick.’

  ‘Nah! We were just hanging out. Teaching Jake how to get himself some freebies from the shops.’

  Matthew looked surprised. ‘What? Nicking stuff, you mean?’

  ‘He didn’t reckon he had it in him. But we knew he did really! Hey! Way to go, Jake!’ We looked across and saw Jake emerging from the shop. He had both hands inside his pockets. He looked surprised and a bit embarrassed when he saw Matthew and me standing there.

  ‘Here you are,’ Jake said, pulling a couple of CDs out of his pockets. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked my brother.

  ‘Jake, did you really steal those?’ I asked, wide-eyed. I couldn’t believe it. Nobody I knew stole things.

  ‘Shut up, Esmie,’ Matthew said, quickly.

  ‘Jake tells us you’re not allowed out for breakfast any more, Matt,’ the ginger-haired boy said. ‘Too scared of your dad or something. That’s what you said, wasn’t it, Jake?’

  ‘I’m not scared of him,’ Matthew said, glaring sideways at Jake who was looking a bit sheepish.

  ‘Prove it then. Go and nick us something else!’

  ‘Don’t Matty!’ I said, frightened. It was wrong to steal. Dad never even told us that any more. He just assumed we knew it.

  ‘Little sister’s ordering you about now, Matt,’ the ginger one grinned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of her too! Go and grab her some sweeties or something. That’ll shut her up!’

  Matthew put his arm round my shoulder, protectively, which surprised me. ‘I don’t do anything just because someone tells me to,’ he said, stiffly, glaring at the ginger one. ‘Come on, Esmie.’ He started to turn me away from them.

  ‘That’s not what I heard. I heard your old man’s really got you under his thumb. Yes, Daddy! No, Daddy! Three bags full, Daddy!’ he mimicked, nastily.

  And that’s when Matthew pushed me out of the way, turned back and went for him. The ginger guy let out a yell and hit him back, and then the two of them were punching and shoving each other while Jake and the other guy tried to pull them apart.

  ‘Stop it!’ I screamed out. I was terrified. I’d never seen my brother fighting before. I was scared he’d get killed or knocked unconscious or arrested if he didn’t stop. As Jake pulled my brother away and the other boy held on to the ginger one, I got in between them. My brother had a cut on his cheek and blood coming out of his nose. The ginger guy’s right eye was all swollen. They were both breathing really heavily.

  ‘Take him home, Esmie,’ Jake said, as he let go of my brother and started to back away. ‘We’re getting out of here. I’ll ring you later, Matty, OK?’ And he went off with the others while Matthew held his hand up to his face and stared after him with a funny look in his eyes, as if he’d expected him to stay with us, not go off with them.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked him, gently, reaching up to touch his cut cheek. Matty and Jake had been best friends for as long as I could remember. ‘Shall I go and phone Dad?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Come on.’ He started to walk away.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Where d’you think, dummy? To find Lizzie.’

  We walked along the road in silence. Matthew was holding his arm like it was hurting him but I didn’t dare ask him again if he was all right. I wished Dad was here. Or Juliette. I didn’t really want to go and face Lizzie right now but Matthew seemed determined to carry on as if nothing had happened.

  Inside the chemist’s, there was a young woman behind the till. We went over to the main counter, and I waited for Matthew to say something but instead he started fumbling amongst the cough sweets. I could just make out the top of somebody’s head in the back behind the screen that separated the shop from the dispensing area. I couldn’t tell if it was Lizzie or not.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the young woman asked, suspiciously, staring at the drying blood on my brother’s face as if she thought he might be about to start a fight in here as well.

  ‘We need to speak to the pharmacist,’ Matty said, too loudly. He sounded so nervous and he was acting so strangely, I was sure the woman would think this was some sort of hold-up. But just as I was imagining her pressing the secret button under the counter and summoning the entire local police force, including our father, to the rescue, the pharmacist came out front – and it was Lizzie.

  ‘Goodness,’ she said, looking horrified as she saw my brother. ‘You look like you’ve been in the wars.’

  And to my utter amazement, Matthew started crying.

  Lizzie rushed round to sit Matthew down on one of the seats where people waited for their prescriptions. Then she started telling the girl at the till to fetch some cotton wool and some warm water. I watched her gently cleaning off the blood from my brother’s face and got this funny feeling inside. I felt like I wasn’t me, but somebody else, watching all this from a long way away. And just as I was feeling pleased that we had found Lizzie again, I started to feel really scared as well. Because what was she going to say when we told her why we’d come?

  Lizzie had plenty to say. She had an idea too, which she wanted us to take back to Dad. We wanted her to come home with us to see him tonight, but she said that wouldn’t be giving him the choice about whether or not he wanted to see her again. We had to do it her way, or not at all, she said. So we agreed to give her way a try.

  Juliette had just gone out when we got back, and Dad looked in a better mood for a change. Before we could tell him about going to see Lizzie, he wanted to know what had happened to Matty. He insisted on taking off the plaster Lizzie had put on Matthew’s cheek in order to survey the damage for himself. Lizzie had cleaned up his face so he didn’t look so bad but he still had a swollen lip and his cheek was quite puffy too. Dad got a packet of frozen peas out of our freezer and told Matthew to hold it against his face, then he wanted to know everything.

  ‘Matty was in a fight but it wasn’t his fault,’ I said, quickly, when my brother didn’t reply.

  ‘It wasn’t a proper fight,’ Matthew muttered. ‘It was just this mate of Jake’s.’

  ‘I don’t see how Jake can still be his mate!’ I said, hotly. ‘Anyway, Jake shouldn’t have—’

  ‘That’s Jake’s problem,’ Matthew interrupted, giving me a quick, button-up glance.

  ‘Have you and Jake fallen out?’ Dad asked, gently pushing Matthew’s fringe back off his face in a way I hadn’t see him do in ages. Matthew didn’t move or say anything but his eyes sort of went all hurt-looking. ‘Oh, dear.’ Dad put his arm round my brother’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘Come on. Jake and you have been friends for a long time. I’m sure you’ll sort this one out.’ He kept his hand on my brother’s shoulder as he added, ‘So do you want to tell me what you were fighting about?’

  My brother sniffed. ‘Not really.’ He gave me a sideways glance to let me know that I wasn’t to say anything either. I didn’t see what the big deal was, since I reckoned Dad would be pleased, not angry, if he knew Matthew had refused to go and steal stuff with Jake and the others. I guess Matthew didn’t want to tell in case Dad phoned up Jake’s parents and got him into trouble – which he deserved, in my opinion.

  ‘Where were you, anyway?’ Dad asked. ‘And why was Esmie with you?’

  ‘We were at the bus station,’ Matthew said. ‘Dad, there’s something we need to tell you—’

  Just then, Dad’s radio-pager sounded. I hate that stupid pager, I really do. It always goes off just when I don’t want it to. I’d
like to throw it down the toilet or something, only Dad says that if I ever do, he’ll throw me down the toilet after it.

  ‘Why can’t they leave you alone?’ I fumed. ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘Esmie, I’m always on the end of the phone when there’s a murder investigation running. You know that. They might just want to keep me informed about something. It doesn’t mean I’ll have to go in.’ He got up and went upstairs to use the phone in his bedroom. He always talks where we can’t hear him if it’s anything to do with work.

  Matty and I waited in silence until he came hurrying back downstairs. He usually doesn’t say much about his work but yesterday he’d let slip that they’d taken someone in for questioning. That often means they’re about to make an arrest. And if they make an arrest that means they’ve caught their murderer – unless they’ve arrested the wrong person, of course.

  ‘Got to go, I’m afraid,’ Dad said, looking pretty keyed up about something. ‘Now what was it you wanted to tell me?’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘It can wait.’

  ‘OK. Tell me tomorrow. Matthew, you’ll have to stay home and look after your sister.’ He picked up his car keys which were lying on top of the newspaper on the table. ‘Oh, and I want you to tape something for me. It’s a programme on . . . Now, where is it?’ He picked up a pen, found the TV section in the paper, and marked whatever it was on the page. ‘Juliette is staying over at a friend’s, so don’t expect her back, and I don’t want you waiting up for me either. I don’t know how long this is going to take.’

  ‘What’s up, Dad?’ Matty asked. ‘Won’t your suspect talk? Have you got to beat a confession out of him?’

  Dad rolled up the newspaper and swatted him on the head with it. ‘I’ll deal with you later, sunshine.’ He disappeared through the door, calling back, ‘And don’t think I don’t know exactly how many beers there are in that fridge!’

  ‘We’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning to tell him,’ I sighed, as we heard his car pull out of the driveway.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Matty exclaimed.

  ‘What?’

  He was looking up the thing Dad had asked us to tape. ‘This programme. It’s called Au pairs from Hell!’ He shook his head at me. ‘How are we ever going to persuade him to let Juliette stay?’

  ‘We will if we get him and Lizzie back together,’ I said, frowning. ‘He’ll be happy then and he won’t be angry with Juliette any more.’

  ‘Esmie, even if Dad does agree to meet Lizzie again, it doesn’t mean they’re going to hit it off.’ my brother warned me.

  ‘I know that!’ I replied, impatiently.

  ‘And even if they do, and Dad does ask Juliette to stay, that doesn’t mean she definitely will. I reckon she’s pretty cheesed off with him. She might be only too glad to head off back to France.’

  ‘We’ve just got to try, that’s all,’ I murmured.

  My brother seemed about to say something else but he must have thought better of it because he closed his mouth again and went through to set the video for Dad.

  I set my own alarm for the following morning because I didn’t trust Matty not to sleep through his. At nine o’clock I went into my brother’s room to wake him up like we’d agreed. He yawned as he sat up in bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was bare-chested and his chest didn’t have a single hair on it, unlike Dad’s. I didn’t think Holly would think he looked much like Brad Pitt if she could see him this morning, though I had to admit his face had got better looking since Dad had taken him to the doctor to get some stuff for his spots.

  ‘Come on. It’s time,’ I said.

  Our plan was that I would wake Dad up with a tray of tea and toast and tell him what Lizzie had said when we’d been to see her the day before.

  ‘He’s more likely to listen to you,’ my brother had reasoned, when we’d been deciding who should tell him. ‘Especially if you put on your Daddy’s-little-girl act.’

  So after we’d made Dad’s breakfast, Matthew carried the tray upstairs and handed it to me outside his door. He gave me a thumbs-up sign and whispered, ‘Good luck,’ as I went into Dad’s room.

  Dad was snoring when I went in. I carefully set down the tray on the end of his bed.

  ‘Dad?’ I shook him and he rolled over, nearly sending the whole tray flying. ‘Dad, I’ve made you breakfast in bed.’

  He started to rub his eyes. ‘Hey!’ he grunted.

  ‘I’ve made you breakfast in bed,’ I said again. ‘To say sorry. For what we did.’

  ‘Huh?’ He looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he heaved himself up and pushed back his pillows to lean against them.

  ‘We’re really sorry we set you up on that blind date with Lizzie. We didn’t think it would all go wrong like that,’ I continued, quickly.

  Dad looked more awake. ‘Hmm . . . Well . . . Knowing Juliette, I expect she made it sound like it couldn’t possibly go wrong!’ he said. Then he sighed. ‘All right, I forgive you. Come here and give me a kiss, then!’

  I shrieked as he pulled me towards him because Dad’s kisses first thing in the morning are horrible. It means him rubbing my face with his scratchy chin and it always really tickles. But at least he didn’t seem mad at me any more. I didn’t want to spoil things so I waited until he’d finished all his toast before I said, slowly, ‘Dad, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course, sweetheart!’

  ‘Did you really like Elizabeth . . . Lizzie, I mean . . . when we were all together in that restaurant?’

  Dad put his teacup down. ‘Well . . . yes. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t blame her for leaving like that when she saw her phone number pinned to our fridge!’ I said. ‘She must have got a terrible fright!’

  ‘Well, of course she must!’ Dad frowned. ‘I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the police! I did phone her the next day to try and explain but her number was disconnected.’

  ‘You did?’ I sat up. This was news to me.

  He nodded. ‘But she obviously didn’t want to speak to me again.’ He frowned again. ‘It was a really irresponsible thing that Juliette did! It wasn’t harmless at all!’

  ‘Dad . . .’ I began slowly, ‘if I told you Matty and I had been to see Lizzie and told her everything and that she wasn’t mad at you any more, what would you say?’

  He stared at me.

  ‘We went to see her,’ I added, quickly. ‘At the chemist. We told her what happened. She was OK about it. Well, not at first, but she was after we’d talked for a bit.’

  ‘Esmie—’

  ‘We thought she’d be less freaked out if she knew the truth,’ I continued, rapidly. ‘And Dad, she’s not freaked out at all now. And she said she wouldn’t mind meeting you again if you really wanted to. Please, will you meet her again, Dad? She’s going to be in the park this morning walking her dog – well, her aunt’s dog. Dad, you don’t have to go right this minute,’ I added in alarm, as he pushed his tray away and swung his legs round very rapidly. ‘She won’t be there until eleven o’clock. She said she always sits for a bit by the duckpond . . .’

  ‘Esmie, I am getting up in order to use the bathroom,’ Dad interrupted me. ‘I am not on my way to the park! I can’t believe . . .’ And then I realized that he was angry. He turned and glared at me. ‘Esmie, I can’t believe, after everything I’ve said, that you and Matthew would interfere like this again!’

  And he went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  I was trembling. I’d thought he’d be pleased. Shocked at first, yes, but then pleased. I mean, what was so wrong with interfering in any case? Wasn’t it OK to interfere if you knew that if you did, you could help someone you really loved?

  ‘What happened?’ my brother asked, switching off his portable TV as I went into his room. He’d been eating toast himself judging by all the crumbs on his bed. My eye caught our mother’s photograph in the silver frame on his desk. She was smiling out at us so happ
ily that I felt like knocking her over. I mean, what was there to smile about? Unless she was happy that everything was going wrong.

  ‘He’s really mad at us,’ I said, sitting on the bed beside him. I told my brother what Dad had said. ‘And he’s not going to the park to see her.’

  Matthew narrowed his eyes. Then he seemed to snap into action. He jumped out of bed. ‘Here’s what we do now, then. Listen . . .’

  I had to admit that his determination to see our plan work out, no matter what it took, was pretty impressive. His idea was that I should go missing for a couple of hours so that Dad would have to go looking for me. ‘I mean, where’s the first place he’s bound to look for you after what you’ve told him this morning?’ he said, when I looked puzzled.

  I thought about it for a moment, then I smiled. ‘The park!’

  ‘Exactly! Where, with any luck, Lizzie will be lying in wait for him!’

  ‘I’ll go and get dressed now,’ I said, getting up. ‘But I shouldn’t really go down to the park, should I?’

  ‘Of course not! We need to get Dad and Lizzie alone together. Go into town and look round the shops or something.’

  I nodded, glancing again at the photograph of my mother on Matthew’s desk. Her eyes were looking right at me, and it seemed like she was very, I don’t know, amused about something. And suddenly I had a crazy thought.

  You might not believe in heaven and all that stuff – lots of people don’t – and if your mum or dad is dead you might think that the only way they can live on is in your memory. I know that’s what Dad thinks. I mean, he talks to my mum sometimes because it makes him feel better to make believe that she’s still there, not because he truly believes she is. At least that’s what he says. Dad would probably say that the mother I talk to is sort of like an imaginary friend too, if I ever told him about her. Maybe he’s right. But sometimes I reckon I can almost feel her watching over me and I get so that I’m almost positive that she is still here in some way I don’t really understand. And if she is, then what if she can interfere in our lives from up in heaven?