As it turned out, quite a lot.
And then there was a knock at the door.
3
Thomas never considered himself a troublesome boy. He rarely missed school, did his homework on time and whatever chores his mother set him he completed to a good standard and in double quick time. He didn't go out much and at the age of fourteen this was saying something. He'd never had a proper girlfriend to speak of. That is, if you didn't include Donna Walker who he'd had a quick fumble with at last years end of year disco. A fumble, he later learned, she’d had with four other boys on the same night.
He was a bright lad, top of the class for all subjects and had a special penchant for maths. His two close friends Chris and Gavin were equally bright and despite the fact they were normal teenage boys, they each took their schoolwork seriously; probably why Thomas befriended them in the first place. He was a serious boy, but that's not to say he didn't have fun. When the occasion arrived they would meet up on weekends for an Xbox day. Thomas was a Call of Duty junkie whilst the other two leant more towards Fifa.
He also knew he was good looking. Tall, blond and blessed with only a mere splattering of acne across his cheeks. He was getting to the age when he knew girls were starting to pay him more than just a passing glance. He was also nearing an age when he had a feeling that things were about to get exciting. The big problem was, despite all of these more than creditable points, his life currently sucked. Sucked big time.
If he were to trace back the origins of his problems, he would probably lay the majority of them at the foot of one Robert 'Bobby' Wharf; more commonly known as Thomas Wharf's father.
Even at a young age he knew his father was a prick. He was the sort of man that didn't give a shit about anyone but himself. He'd had so many different jobs Thomas had lost count. But the amazing thing was, every time he got fired it was never his fault. In fact, if Thomas had a penny for every time his father had been 'stitched up', he would be a very rich boy indeed.
Because of his father's erratic employment status, his mother was forced to work more and more hours to keep the bills paid and put food on the table. By the time he finally walked out on them around two years ago, she was holding down three different jobs. One as a cleaner at a localish caravan site at the weekends. One as a dinner lady at the village primary school and every evening (except Mondays) she worked in the village pub 'The Old Stag'.
Being such a loser as his father was, he couldn't care less that his wife was working every hour under the sun to feed him and his two sons, Thomas and his younger brother, Lucas. But if Thomas was to pinpoint the exact moment things started to go totally pear shaped, it was when his father got a job as a taxi driver in the local town.
Firstly, he convinced his wife Gillian - or Gilly as he insisted on calling her - to part with their savings to buy a car for the job. This caused an argument or two at the time, but as always Bobby won through claiming the new job would bring in more cash than they had ever had and the savings would be replaced in three months. Despite this being the same story he’d told her countless times, Gillian as usual conceded and, low and behold, after three months, not a penny had been replaced in the savings.
Secondly, and this was the real deal breaker, he had started 'seeing' the night dispatch caller at the taxi rank. She went by the name Deborah 'Debs' Hall, and was a girl Gillian knew all too well as she was in the same year at school. For want of a better word, Debs was a slapper. Was a slapper at school and even though Gillian hadn't seen her for quite some years, she presumed she was still a slapper now. These credentials were proven, when barely three months into the job, Debs got pregnant with Bobby's child.
Now, Bobby being the upstanding member of the community that he was, did the manly thing and did a runner one spring weekend never to be seen again, leaving behind Gillian, the boys and a very pregnant Debs. In the intervening years, Gillian had done what she could to file for divorce and chase for maintenance, but two years later she was still to see a single penny. Good old Bobby seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth. Probably to leave another trail of destruction on another poor unsuspecting individual.
Things had begun to suck more and more recently. His mother was still working the three jobs meaning the majority of his free time was taken up babysitting his younger brother, Lucas. Now, Lucas was never a problem, at eight years old he could watch all the movies that Thomas watched and join in with pretty much all the Xbox games that he played. When he had to put him to bed he went up without any problem and on the days when Thomas had to get him ready and take him to school, he was a breeze.
The issue came at the weekends or as was the case today, during the school holidays. As it was the summer season, his mother was beginning to pick up more and more midweek overtime shifts at the caravan site. For most of this half term, she had been leaving early (before 6am) and not getting home until mid afternoon. She was then out again at 5pm for her shift at the village pub. None of this gave Thomas much of a window to do anything with his friends; not without having to take Lucas along as well.
On this particular day his mother was not working and he'd arranged with his two friends to catch the bus and spend the day in the local town. There was obviously an ulterior motive to this, as a certain Kirsty Hughes (from the year above Thomas) and her two friends were also planning to be in the town at the same time. She had dropped some pretty big hints as to where she would be and at what time the previous week and Thomas was planning on more than a chance meeting.
However, on waking, it didn't take him long to discover his mother was not home and all his plans had yet again gone out the window.
Thomas rolled out of bed, staggered to the bathroom and relieved his bladder. The door to his mother's bedroom was open wide and it was obvious the bed hadn't been slept in the previous night. He could hear the sound of inane children's television from downstairs and presumed Lucas was already up.
'Lucas?' he called . 'Did mum go to work this morning?'
'Don't think so,' Lucas called back. 'If she did, she was gone before I got up.'
'Fuck sake,' Thomas muttered. His mother had promised she wouldn't be working. In fact, he still had the £20 she’d given him as spending money. Why go to all that trouble if you were just going to work anyway? He knew they were short of cash and she was picking up as much overtime as possible, but even so, she had promised.
Another thought occurred to him 'Did you hear her come in last night?' he said.
'I didn't hear nothing.'
'Great,' he said, and got himself dressed. Before joining his brother he went into his mother's room. Not only were the bedclothes untouched, the curtains were still wide open.
Odd, he thought. Very odd.
On a few occasions she had been out later when there were special events in the bar, but each time she had always told them both beforehand. Thomas was a light sleeper and would always hear her come in. Likewise, in the morning, he would hear her getting ready. But she'd never just upped and left.
Lucas was in the front room watching a Spongebob episode he must have seen a thousand times. At some point during the morning he must have got hungry and prepared his own breakfast. The remains of which - an empty tube of Pringles and two Curly Wurly wrappers - littered the floor.
'Did mum leave a note or anything?' Thomas asked.
'There's nothing in the kitchen. Maybe by the phone?'
Inexplicably the house phone was kept in the hallway just inside the front door. Beside it was a small notepad his mother sometimes used. Thomas checked it, but it too, was blank.
'No, nothing,' he said. 'Are you sure she didn't say anything about working today?'
Lucas was now stood behind and made him jump when he spoke. 'She didn't say nothing Tommy. Whats wrong?'
'It's nothing. I was just gonna go to town, that's all. Looks like I can't now. It's just you and me again.'
There was a cheery Yay! From his brother and he trotted back to the television.
To have no note or message from his mother was strange. She had been working an awful lot lately so he couldn't blame her for being forgetful, but when it came to her boys (especially Lucas) she was usually very diligent.
He retrieved his phone from the front room and sent her a Mum are you working today? text. If she was working at the caravan site this morning, then she would carry her phone with her and, historically, would get straight back to him. Whilst he waited, he went to the kitchen to pour himself some juice and that was when he saw the the broken window.
The kitchen had a solid door that opened onto their smart fenced in garden. It had two panels of glass; the lower of which was broken. He could tell why Lucas had not spotted it. Because of the frosted nature of the safety glass, the whole panel had not shattered. Instead, the breakage was limited to a small circular hole about eight inches in diameter. To Thomas, it looked like a medium sized rock had been used to make a hole just big enough to reach through and unlatch the door; the keys to which were permanently kept there.
The keys were still in place and to confirm his suspicions, the door handle was unlocked. He looked down the length of the garden and saw two further worrying things; the back gate was wide open and his mother's handbag was lying on the lawn.
He felt a twang of panic shoot up the back of his neck and across the top of his head and immediately checked his phone for a text reply. When he saw there was nothing, he dialled his mother's number. Moments later a buzzing came from the bag laying on the garden.
'Shit,' he said.
'Is that mums bag?' Lucas said from beside him, and for the second time in as many minutes, he jumped.
'Yes, it is,' he said.
'What's it doing there? Why didn't she take it with her to work?'
'I don't know Lucas,' he said. 'I'm going to phone her work and see if she's there. Now go inside and be careful of the broken glass.'
'Why's the door broken? Tommy, I'm scared. Has something happened to mum?'
'Mum's fine,' he said, hoping this was the truth. 'She's just forgotten her bag that's all. Let me phone her work and see what's going on.'
'Ok,' he said and went in. Thomas was glad he hadn't asked how she had got to work without her bag. That was something he was trying to figure out himself.
He called the caravan site and after thirty seconds of distorted music, got through to the receptionist.
'Hello,' he said. 'So sorry to bother you. My name is Thomas. Thomas Wharf. My mother is a caravan cleaner on your site and I was just wondering if I can talk with her, as she has left her phone at home.'
The receptionist immediately went into lethargic jobs-worth mode. 'Is it an emergency,' she said, 'because if not, it's against policy for employees to use the switchboard. Its strictly for customer bookings and enquires only.'
Thomas thought quickly as he sensed the truth would get him nowhere. 'I understand that,' he said, 'and I would never bother her unless it was important. But my younger brother - Lucas - has a very high temperature and a rash all over his back. I really don't know what to do. Please can you find her?'
'Of course. Of course,' she said, all lethargy gone from her voice. 'What did you say your name was? I will track her down.'
He gave his name and his mother's and the receptionist put him on hold whilst she presumably made some calls. Less than two minutes later she was back on the line and the confusion in her voice was exactly what he had feared.
'Hello Thomas,' she said, 'I'm terribly sorry, but I've called the housekeeping department manager and your mother isn't down to work today. He called around the team as well and no one has seen her today. Are you sure she's working today?'
'Oh, that's ok,' he said, ‘it's my mistake. She wasn't here when we woke up and I just presumed she was at work. She must be at her friends. Thank you for checking though.'
'That's no problem,' she said, 'have you tried her mob.....'
Thomas hung up before she could finish. Something wasn't right here and he wasn't about to explain it all to some receptionist miles away. He next tried the pub in the village. It was barely 8am and the phone rung for some time until it was answered. The female voice at the other end sounded very groggy.
'Hello,' it said, 'The Old Stag, Meadowbank.'
'Hello,' he said. 'Sorry to bother you so early. My names Thomas, Thomas Wharf. My mother Gillian.....'
'Hello Thomas,' the voice cut in. 'It's Sharon. Your mum's told us all about you! How can I help?'
'Oh, hi, Sharon,' he said, without a clue as to who Sharon was, 'I was just wondering what time she finished last night. It doesn't look like she's been home yet.'
'Dirty stop out!' she said. 'No, I'm only joking. It was dead last night. We locked up just before eleven and she was out of here by quarter past. Are you sure she hasn't been home? She said she was looking forward to her day off.'
'Yeah, that's what I thought,' he said. 'Never mind, she's probably just picked up an extra shift at the caravan site. I can't keep up with all the hours she works! Thank you though. So sorry to bother you.'
'That's no problem,' she said, then seriously, 'is everything alright, Thomas?'
'Yes, I'm sure everything's fine,' he said. ‘Probably just crossed wires. Thank you again.' He hung up again before she could respond. He knew his mother didn't have a lot of friends; none that he would know the number for anyway. He looked back at the broken window and the bag discarded on the lawn.
Where are you mum? he thought and turned to go back in. As if to answer his thoughts, a blast of guitar music came from three doors down and an idea came to mind. At fourteen he was still only a kid and despite popular belief, even kids needed adult help.
Sometimes.
4
'If it's double glazing you're selling, then, i'm sorry, but we're not interested!' Andrew said. Despite the unexpected knock on the door, he was still in high spirits. As soon as the joke had left his mouth however, he could tell it was incredibly mistimed.
In front of him stood two boys. Both very blond, good looking and clearly brothers. The one doing the knocking, he guessed, was around thirteen and at a push maybe touching fourteen. The second, hanging back in his elder brothers shadow, was a lot younger and closer to eight. The reason for the inappropriateness was written all over their faces; both were pasty white and wide eyed. The younger of the two actually looked like he’d been crying.
'I'm sorry,' said the elder. 'I don't understand.'
'No need to apologise. Sometimes my mouth speaks before the brain is engaged. How can I help you boys?'
'I'm really sorry to bother you, Mr Scott.' said the elder. 'My name is Thomas. Thomas Wharf and this is my little brother, Lucas. We live three doors down at number two?'
Andrew nodded, he'd seen the two of them playing in the lane a couple of times since they'd moved in.
'I'm a bit worried,' he continued. 'We can't seem to find our mum.' He edged forward and spoke softly so the younger couldn't hear. 'I'm worried because I think something may have happened to her.'
Andrew was taken aback by the boys frankness and also his maturity in shielding his brother. 'You better come in,' he said.
He led them to the lounge and invited them to a seat. There was a half finished bottle of Coke in the fridge and he poured out two glasses. They both thanked him in unison and sipped their drinks in silence. The wide eyed look they had was unnerving, but at least the elder seemed to have regained some of his composure; presumably as they were now in the presence of an adult.
Andrew was the first to speak. 'You say you can't find your mum?' he said.
They both nodded. Again in unison.
'When was the last time you saw her?'
'Last night,' the elder, Thomas said. 'She left for work about half four. She works in the pub in the village. I called them this morning and they said she finished about eleven fifteen. She has another job in the mornings at a caravan site, but she was meant to be off today.'
'Did you call them?'
'Yeah. It was the first call I made. They said she wasn't in today.'
'Could she not have just, you know, gone out with a friend or something?' Andrew said. The kid seemed pretty switched on and he suspected he had already gone through the same thought process.
'She could have,' he said. But the doubt in his voice confirmed his own suspicions.
Andrew edged forward in his seat. He stole a glance at the younger one and he knew by his alertness that the time for sensitivity had passed. 'What makes you think something may have happened to her,' he asked.
Thomas held his gaze as he answered. Something that impressed Andrew even further. 'Because our back door has been broken into and my mother's bag was lying in the garden.'
Although it all sounded very odd, Andrew still held onto the belief that there was a rational explanation for it all. The boys were naturally shaken up and to wake with your mother missing and the back door smashed was scary; especially for the younger one. As the minutes passed, he sensed Thomas gaining more and more composure. It seemed he had tried all the obvious routes of enquiry which left Andrew with one remaining option.
'Can you show me?' he said and Thomas visibly relaxed.
'Of course,' he said. 'Thank you so much, er...Mr Scott.'
'Please. We're all friends here aren't we?' he winked at Lucas who immediately brightened. 'Call me Andrew.’
The three of them walked the short distance back to the boys house. Thomas was in the lead, closely followed by Lucas with Andrew bringing up the rear. He unlocked the front door and took Andrew straight through to the kitchen. By the look of the damage, Andrew guessed the kid had been right about a rock being used. Creating just enough of a hole to get a hand through to unlock the door.
Meadowbank: A dark fantasy thriller (The Shael Chronicles Book 2) Page 2
