“It’s okay, mate. Go back to sleep.”
Nathan opened his eyes and saw his dad in the doorway. He sat up, relieved to discover he wasn’t paralysed.
“Did you see it, Dad?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, Nathan. Go back to sleep.”
“The lights, though, Dad. Did you see them?”
His dad came into the room. “They’ve gone now, mate.”
“You saw them?”
“Outside. Yes. But they’ve all gone now. Go back to sleep.”
“Have they brought her back?”
“No, mate. They’re looking for someone else.”
“Did you see the lights as well though?”
His dad nodded. “I think they’re searching the park.”
“For Zoe? Did they find the directions?”
His dad sat on the bed. “What directions, Nathan?”
“In the park.”
“What? No. Come on. Go back to sleep.” He tried to tuck Nathan in but he resisted.
“Who are they searching for then?” Nathan said.
His dad sighed. “A kid’s been stabbed.”
23
There was no India99, either that night or in the morning. The police did send a drone up to search for the weapon. They were experimenting with drones as a cheaper alternative to helicopters and they didn’t have a nickname or a call sign yet. Arthur’s brother got his drugs delivered to prison by a drone.
“I know it sounds terrible,” Nathan’s dad said the following afternoon. “And it’s tragic that kid’s in hospital fighting for his life,” he shook his head. “Fourteen years old. Kids have to grow up so young these days. But at least his parents know where their child is.”
Nathan was trying to read but his dad wouldn’t stop talking.
“It’s the not knowing isn’t it, Nath? It sounds like a cliché when you hear other people say it. But it is sort of true, you know, the lack of closure.”
Nathan looked over the top of his book. He was lying on his back on the carpet in front of the television. His dad was sitting at the living room table, staring out of the window. Nathan wasn’t even sure his dad was actually talking to him. He was like President Nixon talking to a window through a broken microphone.
“You know what the worst thing is, though? When I heard that boy hadn’t died,” his dad said. “I was relieved. But not because I was thinking of him or his family,” he turned away from the window to look at Nathan. “I mean I was relieved because I thought if the police had a murder to investigate, they wouldn’t have so much time to look for Zoe.”
His dad turned away again, as though he was ashamed of himself. Nathan lowered the library book and let it rest on his face like a roof. He pressed his open palms into the carpet, hoping he’d feel dizzy because the world was spinning so fast.
He heard his dad get up and go out into the hall. There were voices, at least one of the FLOs, and a Joe as well, PC Torres, maybe PC Kari, too. Nathan sat up. He closed the library book that was now overdue and that both he and Zoe had vandalised. He hid it under the sofa.
His dad came into the living room and got his phone. Nathan looked at PC Torres and PC Kari in the hall. They were both holding their caps under their arms. The undertakers did that at Nathan’s mum’s funeral. He thought Zoe must be dead. His dad said he was going to talk to the police in the kitchen and Nathan should stay with the FLOs. They were both there. They came into the living room and closed the door. They’d been at the house enough times now to know to lift the door a little, so it didn’t snag on the carpet.
Janet told Nathan to sit down at the table. She gave him a colouring book and a small box of crayons. Nathan was now certain Zoe was dead. People in authority had used colouring books to distract him or shut him up before – flight attendants and babysitters, cancer nurses and a train guard on a long journey once, and now the police. He looked down at the picture of the smiling giraffe on the cover of the book and it made him incredibly angry. If thinking that colouring in stupid looking cartoon animals was suitable for a ten-year-old boy wasn’t already insulting enough. Thinking it would comfort Nathan when his sister had just died really made him angry. He wrote ‘fuck’ along the trunk of an elephant.
He could hear his dad’s voice in the kitchen. It was muffled but his dad occasionally raised his voice enough for Nathan to hear part of what he was saying. He sounded very angry. Maybe the police had given his dad a colouring book too. Nathan heard the kitchen door open and his dad’s voice spilled out into the hall. Nathan coloured a hippopotamus in. What else was he supposed to do? The living room door opened, and Maureen came in. Nathan hadn’t heard her arrive. She said hello to Nathan and to the FLOs and took her coat off. She was wearing her Greggs uniform. Nathan knew she wouldn’t be selling any cakes today because Zoe was dead.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“Best wait for your dad.”
His dad came in a minute later and Nathan looked for the same blank and yet busy expression from when he’d told him and Zoe that their mum had just died. He waited for the same two words: ‘she’s gone’. Nathan already knew Zoe was gone, but up until now he thought she was coming back.
“Is Zoe dead?” Nathan said.
“Oh, mate,” his dad said. He crouched down next to Nathan and awkwardly hugged him.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Nathan said. He was crying.
“Oh, Nath. Of course she isn’t. I just have to go to the police station. That’s all.”
“What for?” Nathan sniffed loudly. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
“The police just need to clear a few things up. It’s easier for them if I do it there. That’s all. Mo’s going to stay with you till I get back. Oh, mate. Stop crying. You’ll set me off.”
Why don’t you cry then? Nathan thought. That was what everyone wanted, wasn’t it? Innocent people cried. But Nathan knew his dad couldn’t cry. There just wasn’t enough time. And crying would be a release. A signal that he’d given up. While everyone talked about golden hours and diminishing returns, likelihoods and unlikelihoods, worst case scenarios, Nathan’s dad had to stay positive, even if it was deluded or hopeless to do so. Without Nathan’s dad as their cheerleader, the FLOs and the Joes and all the other feds, the five-o, po-po and everyone on social media would give up. Nathan’s dad wasn’t allowed that luxury yet. Even now, when, as far as Nathan could tell, his dad was being arrested, he had to stay strong.
“I won’t be gone long,” Nathan’s dad said. “Okay?”
“How long?”
“Not long.”
“Not long compared to what? A journey to Mars? A sneeze? Ten years, six seconds? Be more precise, Dad.”
His dad couldn’t help laughing and Nathan laughed, too, even though he hadn’t finished crying yet.
“I’ll be gone an hour or two at the most I expect,” his dad said. He looked at the police for confirmation.
“Let’s hope so,” PC Torres said.
His dad picked up his sheepskin jacket. He put his right arm in the sleeve but couldn’t seem to manage the left. It looked like he’d picked up a similar jacket belonging to someone smaller than him by mistake. At any other time, Nathan would have found it funny. In the end his dad gave up. He took the jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. He slow-motion jabbed Nathan on the chin and told him not to worry.
Nathan said okay and the police left with his dad. He watched them from the living room window. PC Kari had put his cap on, presumably to free the space under his arm for the clear plastic bag he was carrying, containing Nathan’s dad’s laptop. PC Torres had a bag too. Hers had some of Nathan’s dad’s clothes in. It looked like she was collecting them for charity. The bag was see-through, and Nathan saw a pair of his dad’s trainers, some jeans and a white T-shirt.
Maureen put her arm around Nathan’s shoulder. To comfort him, but also, Nathan was sure, to stop him from running after his dad. And he really did want to run after him. He wanted
to see if the police were waiting until they were away from the house before they put the handcuffs on. He imagined PC Kari placing a hand on his dad’s head to stop him banging it as he climbed into the back of the police car. The neighbours would all come out to watch. They’d stand there with their arms folded, smugly nodding to themselves because they’d known it was him all along.
24
It was almost seven-thirty in the evening when Nathan’s dad finally came home. When the feds took Arthur’s brother to the police station, he still hadn’t come back almost three years later. Nathan had been sick with worry that the same would happen to his dad. He couldn’t eat the pasta Maureen had cooked and now he was hungry, so Maureen had made him some tomato soup. It had enough garlic in it to kill Dracula. Nathan sat at the table making loud slurping noises and letting his spoon bang and scrape against the bowl because the house had been so quiet without Zoe, and now his dad was gone too. Maureen wasn’t even humming. He thought she might be broken. They both kept looking out of the window for Nathan’s dad. Maureen tried to pretend she wasn’t looking, so as not to worry Nathan any more than he already was. When he saw his dad walking towards the house, he had to stop himself from rushing out into the hall to hug him. He didn’t want to act as though he was relieved or even surprised that the police had let him go.
“I’ve left you some dinner. It just needs heating up,” Maureen said.
Nathan’s dad removed his sheepskin jacket without any of the trouble he’d had putting it on earlier. Arthur said his brother lost loads of weight in prison, but Nathan didn’t think his dad had been gone long enough for that.
“Did anyone ring?” his dad said.
Maureen said no, but Nathan’s dad picked up the house phone and checked for a dialling tone. He looked around the room for something, then sighed, no doubt realising his laptop and mobile were at the police station. He looked exhausted. His skin was almost grey. He looked like the police had used age-progression software on his actual face.
Maureen went home soon after that. She told Nathan’s dad there was soup in the fridge and a bowl of pasta in the microwave. He just needed to press start. He thanked his sister in a way that told her he had no intention of eating anything, and Maureen went out to the kitchen and pressed start herself. A couple of minutes later, the microwave pinged and Nathan and his dad both looked around for the laptop, thinking it was an email.
Nathan’s dad took the pasta out of the microwave and sat on the sofa next to Nathan. He looked down at the bowl a few times, surprised to see it there, as though he’d felt the warmth on his legs and thought it was his computer.
“What did you do today?” his dad said.
“Reading and watching telly.”
“Anything good on?”
Nathan shook his head.
His dad looked at the bowl of pasta again.
“Shall we order a takeaway?”
Nathan went and got the menus from the kitchen. When the food arrived Nathan’s dad dished it up, discovering more gaps in the house left by Zoe – no vegetable Balti, no Peshwari naan – and they ate from trays on their laps. Nathan’s dad told Nathan he would do his best to explain what had happened at the police station. It seemed easier for him if he made it sound like a riddle in a school maths test.
“There are thirty-five CCTV cameras on the way from the mural to our house and after you and Zoe turned into the estate there are no more cameras. We’re apparently lucky we live somewhere there’s no need for CCTV. Because every home on the estate overlooks at least one other home and we’re all supposed to look out for one another,” his dad paused for the first of many deep sighs.
“The last time Zoe was seen, by anyone else apart from you, was just after you both left the Tesco garage. Someone from the flats over the road has just given the police some grainy CCTV footage. It’s really out of focus and Zoe’s only recognisable because of you skipping along by her side,” his dad gave him another affectionate slow-motion punch to the chin. “The police have managed to track down and speak to everyone else on this new CCTV film. They’ve spoken to everyone going in or coming out of the estate after you and Zoe went in. The last two people were me and Craig at about two in the morning. So, basically, the police think Zoe must have left the house again, when you were asleep, either after I came home, or possibly before that. Why didn’t I check her room, Nath?” his dad shook his head and took a long pause. “Because there’s no CCTV of Zo leaving the estate, the police think she could have returned to the park. But there are no cameras in the park either, and so there’s no film of her coming out of any of the twelve entrances… or exits. It’s like she vanished, mate.”
His dad put a whole onion bhaji in his mouth. To stop himself from talking, Nathan thought.
“Why were you shouting at the police?” Nathan said when his dad had finished the bhaji.
“When was I shouting?”
“In the kitchen, when the police came.”
“I wasn’t really shouting…was I? They wanted to take my phone and my laptop, and I didn’t want them to. In case Zoe tried to ring.”
“Why did they want your phone and your laptop?”
“In case it could help them.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, mate.”
“Is that why they arrested you? Because you wouldn’t give them your phone?”
“They didn’t arrest me, Nath. They just wanted to ask me some questions—”
“You were there for so long though.”
“They had a lot of questions.”
“When the feds took Arthur’s brother, they didn’t let him go at all.”
“The feds?”
“That’s what Arthur calls them.”
“Well, the feds have let me go, haven’t they?” he looked at Nathan. “You’re not satisfied with that explanation, are you? I can tell,” his dad moved closer. He smelled of what Nathan imagined a police cell would smell like. “When bad things happen to kids, a lot of the time it’s someone from their own family who’s responsible and the police have to eliminate them from their enquiries.”
“What does that mean?”
“Eliminate? It means to…cross off their list.”
“What list?”
“Those closest to Zoe.”
“Will they have to cross me off their list, too?”
“No, mate. Of course they won’t. Can we talk about something else now? I’m knackered,” he pointed at the last onion bhaji. “Half each?” He broke it into two pieces.
“Is it because you didn’t cry on television?” Nathan said. “Is that why they think you’re a suspect?”
“Didn’t I?” his dad said. “I felt like I cried,” he shrugged. “I suppose I was trying to keep it together. Be the big man.”
They finished the food and Nathan took the plates and trays out to the kitchen. Nathan knew it was his fault the police had taken his dad away. Because he’d told everyone about the arguments and about Zoe’s cuts and bruises.
“Maybe we’d be better off if the council did evict us,” his dad called out from the living room. “We could move into a gated community with hundreds of cameras and a concierge.”
“What’s a concierge?” Nathan called back.
“A bloke in a uniform who stops your kids from running off.”
Nathan scooped the curry into the kitchen bin. He put the little bag of salad that they never ate in the fridge, with the pot of leftover cucumber raita. He closed the fridge door and wiped his greasy hands down his Adidas three stripes.
Nathan was scared his dad was going to prison. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but Arthur said that didn’t matter. The feds could send anyone to prison if they wanted. They did it all the time. If they couldn’t solve a case, they could just arrest someone and blame them for it. Nathan needed to find Zoe and bring her home, to prove that she was all right. He had to make contact. All he could think of doing was finding a way to get to the park to retrieve the
original Luigi board. With the real Luigi board, he’d be able to make contact.
He moved the letter from the school about the Space and Science Far Beyond Infinity Workshop to the top centre of the fridge door where his dad would see it. He held it in place with an extra fridge magnet in the shape of a map of Hayling Island, and then he repositioned the letter so it was at a slight angle. His dad would never be able to leave it like that. When he straightened the letter, perhaps, like Nathan had just done, his dad would notice the date of the Space Workshop was tomorrow.
25
Nathan put his school uniform on, brushed his teeth and checked his dad’s bedroom was empty. He reset Zoe’s alien alarms and went downstairs. He fed Officer Dibble and made his dad a cup of coffee. On the fridge door the letter from the school had been straightened. He removed it and replaced it with a Zoe leaflet and went along the hall to the living room.
When his dad opened his eyes, he saw Nathan standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and the letter in the other. His dad looked suitably ambushed. Nathan needed to act fast.
“Can I go to school?”
“What?” His dad looked around, presumably searching for his laptop and phone. Both still with the police.
“The astronaut is coming to school today,” Nathan said. “Can I go?”
Before his dad had time to sit up straight, Nathan gave him the letter. His dad blinked deliberately, trying to make his eyes work. Nathan gave him his reading glasses.
“I thought you didn’t want to go,” his dad said, taking the glasses but not putting them on.
“I changed my mind.”
His dad looked at the letter, still not reading it. “I can’t leave the house empty.”
“I can go on my own.” Nathan did his best to sound grown up and safe and not another person about to go missing.
A Godawful Small Affair Page 14