Teddy’s Disappearance—The Facts
Mr. Charles wasn’t coping very well with his grandchildren and now seems more worried about his fish.
Casey pushed Teddy in the pond and showed no signs of wanting to help him until Mr. Charles appeared.
Old Nina? Could she be involved?
Jake Bishop? Would he be capable of hurting him? Maybe hiding him for the attention?
Melody Bird. An unlikely suspect, but she does go to the graveyard A LOT. Would she know of some place to hide him over there?
The first search party returned at 7:18 p.m. They hung around in the middle of the street for a while, not quite sure what to do next. The police were still going in and out of Mr. Charles’s house. Gordon turned toward home, fanning his scarlet face with his wide-brimmed hat as he went. Jake opened the door of number five, swigging from a can of Coke as Sue walked up to him and grabbed him in an awkward bear hug. He looked up at me over her shoulder and glared. Claudia went back to number three and Melody opened the door, Frankie yapping at their feet as they hugged as well. Mum turned to our house and looked up at the window. I held up my hand and gave a pathetic wave as she smiled weakly.
I stood at the top of the stairs as she came in.
“How did it go? Did you find anything?”
Mum shook her head and then rubbed at the back of her neck with her hand. She looked tired.
“I can’t believe this is happening. That poor family. Is your dad still out?”
I nodded. Dad had come home from work to find the police everywhere. He’d thrown his tie and briefcase into the hallway and rushed out to join another search team along with Jake’s brother, Leo, recently home from work, and Mr. Jenkins, who must have returned from his run when I wasn’t watching. He didn’t call up to let me know he was going like Mum had. I actually thought he’d forgotten I was there at all.
Mum leaned her head against the front door and closed her eyes.
“You know what I need right now, Matthew? I need a nice, big hug from my lovely, lovely son.”
Her eyes remained closed as she took a deep breath. I stayed still at the top of the stairs as I watched her. In her mind she was probably willing me to walk down the stairs, to take her hand as I rested my head in the little dip between her shoulder and collarbone. She’d then envelope me with her kind, strong arms as we stood there breathing in and out in time with each other.
Her eyes flickered open and they glistened as she looked up at me, sitting on the top step, frozen to the spot.
“I think I’ll put on the kettle,” she said and she made her way to the kitchen.
When I was five we used to walk to school each day with Sue and Jake. Jake would usually have some kind of makeshift weapon on him that he’d use to attack any shrub or hedge he thought could do with a good bashing, whereas I’d walk beside my mum and hold her hand.
“Matty! Matty! Let’s have a war!” he’d yell at me, thrusting a sharp stick into my chest. I turned away from him and nestled against Mum’s leg. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play, I just wanted to stay as close to my mum for as long as I could before I went into class.
“I don’t think he wants to today, Jake,” Mum said kindly. Jake huffed and ran on and began whacking at a bush with his stick.
We carried on walking, and I put my other hand over the top of hers, covering her soft knuckles.
“Jake, why don’t you hold my hand like Matthew?” said Sue, grabbing his arm to try and stop him from hitting the bush.
Jake scowled and tugged his arm away, then studied his palm. His pink, angry skin seemed to hypnotize him, and he stopped to pick at the little white flakes.
“Don’t do that, you’ll make your eczema sore! You don’t want to make it worse, do you?”
Sue dropped behind to inspect her son’s hand as Mum and I walked on.
“Do you know what?” said Mum. “One day you’ll be a really big boy and you won’t want to hold your mummy’s hand anymore.”
I frowned up at her and she laughed.
“It’s true! Us mummies know these things.”
Swinging our arms back and forth, I giggled as we marched onward like clockwork soldiers.
“I’ll always hold your hand, Mummy,” I said after we’d slowed down. “I promise. Even when I’m twelve years old!”
Mum laughed so much that this time I saw her bright, white teeth.
“We’ll see, Matthew,” she said, smiling. “We’ll see.”
And then she squeezed my hand a little tighter.
At 7:30 p.m. a woman wearing a smart blue dress with a light gray jacket stood in front of number eleven and spoke into a microphone. A man with a large camera on his shoulder filmed her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she kept turning toward Mr. Charles’s house and pointing and then she held up a large piece of paper, which must have been Teddy’s photograph. It was all over in ten minutes, and as soon as she’d finished the report she took off her gray jacket and fanned at her face. A police officer in a suit approached them and I thought he was going to ask them to leave, but he seemed pleased to see them and shook their hands before checking his watch. After they’d left, Officer Campen appeared carrying a roll of yellow tape. He spoke to a few passersby who were hanging around outside Gordon and Penny’s house, and they drifted off toward the end of the road.
7:43 p.m.—Still no sign of Teddy Dawson. The police are now taping off the end of Chestnut Close.
Penny Sullivan from number one was walking around the close with a tray of orange juice.
“Ice-cold orange juice?” she said to each one. “Something to cool you down, officer?”
Some of them waved her away with a nod and a smile, too busy to speak to her, and a few took a glass and drank the cold juice in one go. Penny returned to number one, probably looking through her kitchen cupboards to see what other refreshments she could rustle up.
The other search party came back at 8:17 p.m. Dad had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder. Jake’s older brother, Leo, was talking on his phone, and Rory Jenkins was eating some sort of nutrition bar. He looked up at me as he crossed the road toward his house and I stared back. Eating at a time like this didn’t seem right. He brushed the crumbs from the front of his T-shirt, watching me all the time. Hannah came out to meet him and put her hands up to her husband’s face and kissed him. He threw a heavy arm around her shoulder and they walked slowly back to the house, Hannah’s huge stomach swaying from side to side. The sight of it made me feel sick, so I went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face until I felt better.
Dad came in telling Mum they’d found nothing and that they’d shut the end of the road off so no one could come onto the close without permission. I heard them move into the kitchen to start on dinner. The door of number three opened and Melody jumped down the step and skipped across the road. I groaned. She was heading straight toward us.
“Hello, Melody, love,” Mum said quietly when she opened the door. “Go on up, I’m sure Matthew would like some company right now.”
I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t like any company right now.
“Hi, Matty!” Melody said as if it was just another day and nothing had happened, like a small child going missing. She came into the office and looked around, staring at the elephant mobile.
“Oh wow. Is your Mum having another baby?”
She spun the mobile with her finger and the elephants hurtled around and around.
“No. Look, can you not do that, please?”
The elephants spun faster and faster until two of them became tangled up and she stopped.
“So what’s with all this stuff then?” she said as she poked about in the bags under the mobile. On one of the boxes was a photograph of a chubby, blond baby boy, a toothless smile on his face as he sat happily in a brilliant white diaper.
“It was for my brother. He died. Look, can you not touch anything, please?”
Melody stood
up.
“Died? What do you mean he died?”
“He died, okay? What do you want, Melody?”
I stood with my arms folded. I wondered what she’d do if she knew he was dead because of me. I could tell her—just like that. It was all my fault, Melody. Now will you go away and stop bothering me?
She sat on the edge of the desk.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know.” Her face looked sad. “That must be hard for you.”
I nodded. In my head I was making a mental note of everything I now needed to clean after she’d gone:
Edge of the door, doorframe—whole door?
Elephant mobile—how can I clean that?!
Desk. Clear everything off and blast with antibacterial spray.
“Did you see the newspeople here earlier? My mum thinks he’s just wandered off somewhere. Do you? Or do you think someone has taken him?”
I shrugged. “I would have thought if he’d wandered off he would have been found by now,” I said.
She picked up my notebook, which was next to her on the desk.
“Oh wow, this is brilliant!” she said as she read. “You’ve got everything in here! You should show this to the police! 5:23 p.m. Mr. Charles is mowing his lawn again. It’s the fifth time this week.”
She giggled as she turned a few more pages. I stepped across the room.
“Can you give that back to me? It’s private.”
“10:02 a.m. Old Nina is watering her pots.”
Turning to the last page, she read what I’d written in silence and then glanced up at me; her face looked horrified. Looking down again, she read aloud:
“Melody Bird. An unlikely suspect, but she does go to the graveyard A LOT. Would she know of some place to hide him over there?”
I jiggled around in front of her, wanting to snatch the book back but not quite finding the courage to do it.
“Matthew? Do you think I took Teddy?”
She had tears in her eyes.
“I … I … No, of course not.”
I quickly grabbed the book from her, forgetting I wasn’t wearing any gloves. Her mouth hung open.
“It’s nothing, Melody! I was just bored, writing some stuff down. It’s not important.”
“But … but I don’t understand. Why would you think I did it?”
“I don’t know! I just wondered why you go to the graveyard so much. That’s all. I just thought there may be something over there you were hiding. It doesn’t matter, I was just writing anything down.”
I dropped the notebook onto the desk. Melody put her hands on her hips as she came toward me.
“I didn’t take Teddy Dawson and I can’t believe you’d say such a thing. I thought we were friends?”
I pressed myself against the windowsill.
“That’s the first I’ve heard about it,” I said.
Melody gasped, and then she spun around and ran down the stairs.
I made my TV debut at 9:03 p.m. Mum screamed upstairs at me.
“MATTY! Quick, get down here!”
I jumped off my bed, and for a few blissful seconds it felt like I was just running downstairs for dinner, like I used to. Dad was standing by the conservatory door, eating a bag of chips. Mum was perched on the edge of our cream leather sofa, staring at the large flat screen.
“He’s just wandered off, that’s all,” said Dad. “They’ll find him. He’ll be home before it gets dark, you mark my words.”
I glanced out at the yard. It was getting dark already.
Dad tipped the chips bag up and shook the crumbs into his mouth. I hated it when he did that.
“Where would he have gone though, Brian? We’ve looked everywhere. Penny said they’re searching the building site near the old swimming pool now.”
There was a large development of houses being built on the edge of town, and now I was picturing Teddy, toddling along, staring up at the giant, dinosaur-like cranes. Could he have been so hypnotized by them he missed a deep crater and fell in? It was unlikely. The whole area was pretty secure with high fencing, and besides, it was busy around there. Surely someone would have spotted a little boy wearing a diaper, all on his own?
Mum jumped out of her seat and pointed at the TV.
“Look! It’s on!”
A woman was standing on our street talking into a microphone. I recognized her as the reporter wearing the gray jacket who’d been standing outside just before the police had taped off the road.
“… the fifteen-month-old boy was last seen wearing a pull-up style diaper and a white T-shirt with a picture of an ice-cream cone on the front. The police believe he may have been holding a blue, square security blanket and wasn’t wearing any shoes …”
She was holding a laminated photograph in one hand, and as the camera zoomed in Teddy’s face filled the screen. He was wearing a white shirt with a fancy waistcoat; around his neck was a crumpled, gold necktie that he’d clearly tried to yank off. His pale blue eyes glistened with recent tears—possibly brought on from being stuffed into an outfit that made him look like a miniature magician.
It had been a long time since I’d seen the TV this close up, and it was making my eyes water. Dad scrunched up the bag in his hand and a few tiny crumbs fell onto the carpet. I needed to get back to my room. I turned to go, but then Mum leaped out of her seat again.
“Matthew, you’re on the TV!”
The camera pulled back as the reporter pointed to Mr. Charles’s lawn.
“… last seen playing in his grandfather’s front yard here on Chestnut Close …”
In the top left-hand corner of the screen was our house, and in an upstairs window stood a figure. It was me. I was just standing there, like an idiot, thinking nobody could possibly be looking at me.
“What do you watch up there all day, son? You looking for birds or something? Ornithology?”
Mum gave him a glare.
“I’m only asking, Sheila.”
I ignored them.
“… the police are calling for anyone with information to get in touch with the incident room at …”
The screen cut to a phone number. Mum turned to me and smiled, patting the sofa beside her.
“Why don’t you stay down here with us this evening, Matthew? Watch a bit of TV to take your mind off everything? I don’t expect we’ll get much sleep tonight.”
“No, not tonight, thanks,” I said.
Mum stood up and I had the feeling she was going to try and touch me, so I quickly dodged around her and ran upstairs to wash my hands. Eleven squirts of antibacterial soap, some scalding hot water, and nine washes later and I felt a bit better.
It was still busy outside with police coming and going. Mr. Charles’s front yard looked like a bizarre gift-wrapped present: The front wall and gate were draped in yellow tape. An officer I hadn’t seen before stood guarding the door. Mr. Jenkins and Hannah were in their own yard, his arm draped heavily around her shoulder. I wondered if she knew what a horrible teacher her husband was. I don’t suppose it was the kind of thing he mentioned at home:
Hello, darling. I made a boy cry during gym today! It was that weird kid next door. He said he had to wash his hands after throwing one javelin. Can you believe it? I told him he was on a pathway to failure and if he carried on like this he’d be a failure for the rest of his life …
The thought of the PE lesson made my eyes fill but I blinked the tears away, refusing to cry over it again. Hannah turned around and I saw her huge pregnant stomach, so I quickly looked away.
The computer trumpeted an email’s arrival.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Subject: Urgent
If you’re going to investigate Teddy’s disappearance properly, then you’re going to need my help.
Melody
I read the email over a few times.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: Urgent
What?
Matthew
/>
I ran to my room and grabbed a new bottle of water. Next door’s backyard was surrounded by four industrial lamps ready for when darkness fell. Three police officers stood on the patio discussing something. I went back to the office, drinking half of the water as I read Melody’s next email.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: Urgent
Well, you’re not doing a very good job so far by making wild accusations about me! And, I’m not being rude here but you don’t go out and you can’t do much from your house, can you? You’re going to need someone at street level. Someone to do the actual investigating.
I quickly typed back.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: Urgent
And I suppose that someone is you?!
I found that I was smiling as I hit Send.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: Urgent
Yes.
Face it, Matthew, you can’t do it without me! I’m willing to forgive you for what you wrote in your notebook. I understand that you need to write your ideas down, even if that one was INCREDIBLY STUPID. [She inserted an emoji here with its face all screwed up.]
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: Urgent
Melody Bird, you are definitely one of a kind.
A few seconds later her reply pinged up on the screen.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: Urgent
I know.
When do we start?
I sat there for two minutes, thinking.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: Urgent
Suspects number one and two are Mr. Charles and Casey. See if you can get into their house tomorrow. Make an excuse, take over a cake or something? Do some snooping around? See what mood he’s in—does he seem too happy considering his grandson has disappeared? Is Casey acting like a girl whose brother is missing?
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
The Goldfish Boy Page 8
