by Linda Green
‘Next time we come,’ I say.
‘Ohhhhh, I want to do it now.’
‘Don’t you want a game of hide-and-seek before we go?’
‘I do, I do,’ she squeals. ‘You hide first because you’re no good at it and I’ll find you easily.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, poking my tongue out at her. ‘And where are you going to count?’ She looks around and points at a large oak tree near the bottom entrance to the park.
‘OK, go on then. But make sure you count to one hundred, otherwise I’ll have no chance.’
She grins and runs off towards the tree. I realise that I am still holding her balloon. I may as well give up now and just stand here but I know that she will be cross with me if I do that. I hurry over to a large tree not too far from hers and stand behind it, trying lamely to hide the balloon. I hear her shouting, ‘Coming, ready or not.’ I press myself closer against the trunk, feeling the roughness of the bark against my bare arms and calves. I hear footsteps running towards me. Small footsteps. And a moment later ‘Found you’ is shouted at a ridiculous level of decibels. I turn to look at her. She appears torn between being chuffed at finding me so quickly and disappointed in her mother’s total failure to find a decent place to hide.
‘Easy-peasy,’ she says, hands on hips. ‘I saw my balloon.’
‘Yes, well it is rather a giveaway.’
‘You won’t find me.’
‘Come on then, missy,’ I say. ‘One hide and then we need to be off to get your brother.’
‘Make sure you count to one hundred.’
‘I will do.’
‘And shut your eyes.’
‘Yes.’
‘Now, Mummy. Before I go. Please.’
I shake my head and do as I am told. ‘One, two, three . . .’ I begin out loud. There is a little squeal followed by the sound of footsteps running away. I am only on twenty when I hear her scream. I know it is her scream straight away. You always know, it is one of those mother things. I open my eyes and quickly scan the park. And then I see her, lying in a heap on the little footpath which crosses the park barely fifty yards away. She is crying. Proper hurting crying.
I get to her quickly – one of the perks of my job. Ella holds up her hands to me. She’s managed to graze both of them, her left one quite badly. It’s bleeding a bit. Her face is crumpled, and snot is beginning to trickle from her nose.
I help her to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s have a look at you,’ I say.
‘My hands hurt,’ she wails.
‘I know. All this grass and you manage to find a bit of concrete to fall on.’
I realise I haven’t even got a tissue on me, let alone a wipe or a plaster. I think of the woman with the designer changing bag. I bet she’d have had a fully stocked first-aid kit in there.
‘Never mind, you’ll live,’ I say, brushing a bit of dirt off with the hand which isn’t holding the balloon. ‘It’s just a graze. We’ll get you cleaned up properly when we get home.’
Ella looks at me doubtfully. ‘I hurt my knees too,’ she says, sniffing loudly.
I pull up the bottoms of her cropped leggings to inspect the damage. ‘Yep, they’re still there, but you’ll have a couple of nice bruises tomorrow to impress Otis with.’
She manages a watery smile and wipes her nose with her hand before rubbing it on her dress.
‘Come on. Let’s go and get Otis.’
‘But I haven’t had my hide yet.’
‘I thought you were too hurt?’
‘I’m going to be a brave girl.’
I smile at her. Mum has probably said that to her when she’s fallen over before. I glance at my watch. ‘OK, super-quick though.’
‘You go back to the tree to count.’
‘Can’t I just do it here?’
Ella shakes her head. There is no point in arguing with her, it will simply take longer. I turn to walk back to the tree.
‘And don’t forget to close your eyes,’ she calls after me.
Before I can say anything in reply my mobile rings. I scrabble to pull it from my pocket and look at the screen. It’s a client who’s been trying to get in touch with me about increasing his number of sessions. I take the call and carry on walking over to the tree, struggling to hear what he’s saying above the noise. It takes for ever because he has to keep consulting his diary to see what dates and times he can do. I think we manage to arrange two extra sessions for the following week, but I know I’ll have to text him later to confirm it.
I reach the tree and put the phone back in my pocket and return to my counting position, my arms folded on the trunk, my forehead resting against them. And I do shut my eyes, mainly because my life will not be worth living if she catches me with them open. I wonder what number I should be on by now. Once, when I started to look for Ella too early, she was furious when I found her. ‘You didn’t do it properly. I’d only got to eighty when you started looking.’
It will stand her in good stead at school, her ability to count to one hundred. Her ability to speak her mind, however, will probably land her in a whole load of trouble.
A slight breeze ripples through the leaves above me. I realise Ella will probably be wondering where I am by now. I will have done it wrong again.
I open my eyes, blinking a couple of times as the light floods back in. I look around the park. There is no sign of her. She takes great pride in her ability to hide in tiny places. It is one of the rare occasions when being small means you can get one over the big people.
I wander over to a nearby tree and check behind it. Not that I think for a moment she will be there but it is all part of the game. I check the other usual suspects: behind the rubbish bins, the hedge on the far side of the playground, the various benches dotted around the park. And once I’ve drawn the expected blank I stop and scour the park, hoping I might see a flash of green and white stripe from her dress. It is like looking at one of her Where’s Wally? books. When you know what you are looking for, it somehow becomes even harder to spot it among the sea of things you definitely aren’t looking for. I sigh. I should have given her the balloon to hold on to. It is only as I think this that I realise I am no longer holding a ribbon. Stupidly, I look up to where the balloon should be, as if it might magically be suspended in the air above me. Not surprisingly, it isn’t.
Fuck. I look up at the sky, shielding my eyes with my hand, and slowly turn through 360 degrees in case I can see the balloon anywhere, but I can’t. That’s the trouble with helium. In the old days you could let go of a balloon and find it five minutes later, stuck in some hedge; nowadays it will be orbiting the planet by the time you realise. I’m not even sure when I let go of it. It could have been when I took the call on my mobile, or maybe even before that when Ella fell over. I think she would have noticed if it had gone then, mind. Although perhaps she was in too much of a state to notice anything.
I groan out loud. Ella is going to have a complete meltdown about this. Alex once drove all the way back to Bridlington because we’d lost Bobby Chicken, and she thought she might have left him in the toilets on the front and refused to sleep without him. But Bobby Chicken was nowhere to be found when Alex got there and Ella cried herself to sleep for the next few nights.
I’ll have to promise to buy her another balloon and it will end up being one of those three-quid Disney character ones the small bald bloke in town sells. And I’m not even sure I’ve got that much money in the car, and I know I haven’t got my bank card so the likelihood is she’s going to be howling all the way to football camp and probably all the way home.
I glance at my watch and realise I need to forget about the balloon and concentrate on finding Ella if I’m to have any chance of getting to Otis’s presentation on time.
I go back to the tree where I was counting and try to remember every place she has ever hidden before. I go to each of them in turn: the war memorial, the tyre swing which is separate from the rest of the playground, the ice-cream sign, every hedge
, every tree. Still nothing. I hurry over to the playground. The stickiness of the heat is starting to get to everyone. Children are looking hot and bothered; tempers are fraying; grandparents sitting on benches are beginning to wilt. I go to every piece of equipment in turn, check under the slide, behind the see-saw, in every one of those strange spinning circle things. I go back to the climbing frame and squint into the sun as I look at every child on it. It suddenly occurs to me that she could be hiding inside the metal tube of the slide. I peer up it from the bottom. It is hard to make anything out. I call up to a bigger boy who is standing at the top, about to go down.
‘Is there a little girl hiding in there? About four, in a green and white striped dress?’ He looks then shakes his head.
‘Thanks,’ I call back.
I sigh and shake my head, glancing again at my watch. This is getting ridiculous now. She is going to make us late for Otis.
‘OK, Ella, I give up,’ I shout. ‘You win. Please come out now. We need to go.’
A few children look over at me. I feel a bit stupid, standing there calling out to an invisible child. I wait a few minutes, but when she doesn’t emerge I move away and start a circuit of the park, calling the same thing over and over again as I run past all the places I have already looked.
‘Come on out, Ella, right this minute. We’re going to be late for Otis.’ My tone changes as the minutes tick by.
I look again at my watch as I run past the playground a second time. We need to go. We need to leave right away.
‘Ella, now!’ I shout. ‘Come here now.’
An elderly man, probably here with his grandchildren, calls out to me: ‘Have you lost someone, lovey?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not lost. She’s just playing hide-and-seek. She won’t come out.’
‘Ice cream,’ he says. ‘That’ll do it. Tell her you’ve got an ice cream for her.’
Maybe he’s right. Maybe she’s so bloody stubborn that I am going to have to resort to bribery. I don’t do bribery, though. Certainly not with ice cream. Once you go down that path there is no way back.
‘Ella, I’m going,’ I call. ‘We have to leave now.’
My vest top is sticking to my back. This is so ridiculous. Otis will be really upset. I look at my watch again. We won’t get there in time for the presentation but I still need to pick him up in twenty minutes. I dial Mum’s number. I can’t think of anything else to do.
‘Hello, love,’ she says. ‘Is Otis going to pop in with his medal on the way back?’
‘Mum, I’m really sorry. Can you go and pick him up for me, please?’
‘What do you mean? Where are you?’
‘I’m still at the park. I can’t find Ella.’
‘You’ve lost her?’
‘No, I haven’t lost her. We’re playing hide-and-seek and she won’t come out from wherever she is. You know what she’s like.’
Mum starts laughing. ‘Little monkey. As stubborn as her own mother, that one.’
‘Would you mind going? If I find her in the next few minutes I’ll give you a call, but I don’t want Otis doing his nut. And tell him I’m sorry I missed his presentation. I’ll make it up to him.’
‘Course I’ll get him, love. I’ll take him to chippy with me after, shall I?’
‘Yeah, I’ll see you there. Thanks, Mum.’
I stuff the phone back into my pocket, cross that I am having to put other people out because of Ella’s behaviour.
‘Ella, come on. It’s not funny,’ I shout. ‘Come out now.’
It is only as I look again behind the hedge that it occurs to me that she might not be being stubborn at all. She could be hurt. She’s already fallen over once today. What if she’s slipped and fallen down somewhere and I can’t see her?
I look around me. I can’t think of anywhere she could actually have fallen into though. There are no ponds or ditches that I can think of. Maybe I’m being ridiculous. Or maybe I’m missing something really obvious. I get out my mobile and call Alex. The phone rings several times before he answers.
‘Sorry Lis, I’m about to go into this meeting. Can it wait till later?’
‘I don’t know. We’re playing hide-and-seek at the park and I can’t find Ella.’
Alex starts laughing. The same deep throaty laugh which I usually find attractive but right now irritates the hell out of me.
‘Piss off. It’s not funny.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Being outwitted by a four-year-old is pretty amusing, if you ask me.’
‘Alex, I’m being serious. I’ve been looking for ages. I’ve had to ask Mum to go and pick Otis up because I’m not going to make it in time.’
‘You know what she’s like. She’ll be squeezed into some tiny space laughing her socks off at you.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve been all over. I’ve shouted that she’s won, that I’ve given up and she still hasn’t come out.’
‘She probably hasn’t heard you. Or she’s pretending she hasn’t.’
‘I don’t know. I’m worried she’s fallen over and hurt herself or got stuck somewhere.’
‘She’ll be fine. She’ll be loving this. She’ll go on about it for weeks when you find her.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Of course I am. Otis has probably told her what the world record for hide-and-seek is and she’s trying to beat it.’
‘I guess I’ll go and have another look.’
‘OK, and I promise I won’t remind you about this call ever. Well, not more than once a day, at any rate.’
‘Very funny.’
‘Now go and smoke her out and let me get on with the meeting.’
‘OK.’
‘Love you. ’
‘Yeah. Call me when you’re leaving.’ I put the phone back in my pocket, feeling a bit sheepish. Remembering the time I rang Alex at work because I had taken Otis out for a walk in his new buggy, had put the brake on and couldn’t work out how the hell to take it off again. This will be like that. He will never let me forget it. Only this time I’ll have the kids ribbing me about it too.
I take a deep breath and look about me, sure that I am missing something blindingly obvious. My eyes settle on the butterfly house at the top of the park. That’s where she’ll have gone. She’ll have thought she was being clever. Finding somewhere new she’s never hidden before.
I start running. Weaving my way in and out of the people meandering along the path. When I get there I find an elderly man standing outside with an apron on. It is a pound to go in. I hadn’t realised. Ella didn’t have any money on her. She couldn’t have got in. Not unless she’d slipped in with another group without him noticing.
‘Have you seen a little girl on her own?’ I ask. ‘She’s four, fair, shoulder-length hair, wearing a green and white striped dress.’
He shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have, love. It’s been a busy afternoon, mind.’
‘Can I just go in to check?’ I ask. ‘I’m really sorry, but I haven’t got any money on me.’
‘Course you can, love.’
I push through the plastic curtain. It’s like stepping off a plane into a tropical climate. There is a path leading through the tangle of plants, which push up towards the glass ceiling. I hurry along the wooden pathway, apologising as I go to those who I push past. The path is roped off all the way along. Ella won’t have ducked under the rope. She would have been too worried about getting into trouble. Besides, even if she had done, I’m sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand the heat for long. I squeeze past the last group of people and out the other end.
‘No luck?’ asks the old man.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’ll go back into the park. I’m sure I’ll find her.’
I run back towards the playground. Stopping and checking all the equipment before I start calling again.
‘Ella,’ I shout. ‘I’ve given up. You need to come out. Straight away.’
Nothing. I am aware of a couple of people looking at me. Probably thinkin
g what a bad parent I am for having such a disobedient child.
‘We’re playing hide-and-seek,’ I say to the woman next to me, by way of explanation. ‘Only it seems she’s better at hiding than I am at seeking.’
She nods, looking me up and down. I am suddenly aware that I am dripping with sweat from the butterfly house.
‘I’ve just been to look in there,’ I say, pointing back at it.
‘How old is she?’ asks the woman, who is wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt.
‘Four,’ I say. ‘Nearly five. She’s got a green and white striped dress on and leggings.’
She shakes her head. ‘No, I haven’t seen her, and we’ve been here a good fifteen minutes or so.’
I have a crunching sensation in my stomach. I wipe the moisture from my top lip.
‘Never mind,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I’ll find her soon.’
‘What’s her name?’ she asks.
‘Ella.’
‘I’ll get my son to help you look,’ she says. Before I can stop her she has called over a tall skinny boy who looks about the same age as Otis.
‘Lady wants you to find a little girl in a green and white striped dress,’ she says. ‘Her name’s Ella. She’s playing hide-and-seek, only her mum can’t find her.’
The boy looks at me with what appears to be a hint of pity on his face.
‘There’s an ice cream in it for you, Dan,’ his mum says.
‘I’ll get her,’ he says and races off across the park calling out her name as he goes.
Somehow it makes it worse. The fact that someone else is now looking for Ella. Like she is actually properly lost or something. Every time I shout, I hear Dan’s voice echoing her name back to me. I retrace my steps. Maybe she’s changed her hiding place, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t come out by now. She must have heard me calling. Unless she has hurt herself. Maybe even fallen and knocked herself out or something.
Before I know it, other people are joining in the hunt. They don’t even ask me; they just do it. I see Dan’s mum talking to other parents in the playground, like she’s organising some sort of search party. She’s only trying to help, I know that. But it is too much. I don’t want all this. I just want to find her without a fuss.
