Bad Things Happen: when a child goes missing

by K Leitch

  ‘Right you are, I’ll get on to it straight away.’ He went to walk off when Carla stopped him.

  ‘Can you get Mandy to do a background search on mum and dad for me as well Ted, but be discreet won’t you? I don’t want to upset them unnecessarily.’ Ted nodded and went off.

  But he got no further than the gate when an enormous black Mercedes pulled a bit too quickly into the drive, barely missing the two officers that were standing there. Ted walked back angrily all ready to have a go, when a woman got out of the passenger side of the car; short blond hair and oozing glamour although she was obviously in her early sixties. She was dressed impeccably, and her makeup was perfect, despite the fact that she was audibly sniffing into the hanky that she was clutching in her hand. She stood and looked around for a moment. Several of the press photographers took the opportunity to take a few pictures. She walked towards the front door and, apparently deciding that Carla was in charge, came towards her and held out her hand in a very Margaret Thatcheresque way.

  ‘How do you do, I am Millicent Marshall, Gordon’s mother and this, when he finally gets here, is my husband Bernard.’ She looked round impatiently while Bernard Marshall made his slow precarious way round to where his wife was standing. Mr Marshall senior was obviously disabled, but he was apparently not letting his disability get the better of him. He grasped Carla’s hand in a firm grip and stared at her with tears in his eyes, ‘Please find our little lad detective, he means the world to us…can’t bear the thought of any harm coming to him…he’s such a bright little chap.’

  Carla shook his hand and promised that she would do her best. But obviously the attention had been taken away from Millicent Marshall for too long as she said petulantly, ‘Yes yes but come on in now Bernie, it’s coming on to rain and my hair won’t stand another soaking.’ Bernard raised his eyebrows at Carla and slowly started to follow his wife into the house. Ted and Carla shared a look and Carla went into the house behind them.

  ‘Gordon daaarrrlling,’ said Millicent as she put her arms round her son and gave him a hug. ‘Oh my dear this is just too, too terrible; you poor thing, how are you coping…oh you don’t have to tell me I can see for myself. Well not to worry sweetheart mummy’s here now, and I’m going to make it all better.’ Gordon was apparently used to this sort of talk because he was looking at his mother with complete devotion in his eyes. Susan, on the other hand, had been watching the whole display of motherly love with a curled lip. Millicent seemed to suddenly see Susan sitting on the sofa. ‘And how are you bearing up dear?’ she asked in a much cooler tone. Susan just nodded at her, obviously there was no love lost between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law thought Carla. Bernard finally came into the sitting room. He seemed to take in the situation immediately, and went straight over to Susan enveloping her in a big bear hug.

  ‘Now then love don’t you worry; our Owen is a tough little boy, he’ll be fine. And this lovely detective is going to do her best to bring him home for us, so keep your chin up ok?’ Susan gave him a watery smile, ‘Thank you Bernie,’ she whispered.

  ‘Where’s Hannah?’ asked Millicent sharply to the room in general.

  Gordon answered, nervously looking between mother and wife. ‘She’s at Fiona’s; we thought it best to keep her away from all the drama you know….’

  ‘No no that won’t do,’ said Millicent crossly, ‘she should be with Daddy and me; that’s why we came over to take her back with us…Gordon go and fetch her will you.’ Gordon went to do just that until he was halted by Susan shouting.

  ‘Don’t you dare Gordon…Hannah is perfectly happy with my mother Millicent! I will not have her disturbed today of all days.’ Gordon, not knowing which woman to obey, just stood his ground until Bernard came to the rescue.

  ‘That’s fine then love; if she’s with her Granny then she’s safe and sound. We’ll have her another day…um if that’s ok with you Suzy love?’

  ‘But Bernie, we said it would be better…,’ began Millicent petulantly.

  ‘Yes, yes but there’s a time and a place my dear and this is neither,’ he said firmly, and amazingly Millicent backed down but not before giving Susan a filthy look. ‘Well I suppose I’ll make myself a cup of tea then shall I? Seeing as no one else has thought to offer me one?’ she said, and with a last sneer at Susan she went off into the kitchen.

  Carla swallowed her surprise at Millicent’s rudeness. Obviously Bernard Marshall was used to his wife’s ways, but she could see Susan looking understandably furious at her mother-in-law as she left the room, and she couldn’t blame her, the woman was a nightmare!

  CHAPTER 12

  Duncan woke to the sound of dogs barking outside his van. He prised open his eyes and then immediately closed them again; his head was pounding and his mouth tasted like the bottom of a hamster cage. He lay there and tried to remember the last time he had woken up without feeling like this. It seemed like a long time ago, before his empire had collapsed; before Leah had left, when his life hadn’t been a crock of shit. There were raised voices outside, intermingled with barking dogs, were shouts of anger. Duncan groaned and slowly sat up. A couple of empty beer cans rolled off him and onto the floor; joining with the pile of empty cans already there. He kicked them to one side and reached for his jeans which he could see rolled into a ball by the bed. He stood and pulled them on quickly heading for the door. Judging from the language coming from outside, Terry was giving some of the locals an early morning lesson in gypsy hospitality. ‘Fucking hell that’s all we need,’ he said under his breath.

  Duncan was completely aware of the fear and anger that local people felt when a gypsy camp appeared near their homes. Their reputation, however exaggerated, went before them. And no matter how he had tried over the last year or so when he had travelled with the camp; he hadn’t been able to persuade people that they were only looking for somewhere to park their vans, and they really were no threat to anyone. Duncan had hoped to have been able to speak to anyone that ventured near the camp this morning before Terry put his oar in. But that plan had come to nothing; as a result of his own fucking stupidity and weakness. If he hadn’t drunk enough to sink the titanic last night; he would have been awake bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. Ready to have taken on the locals and, maybe, even sweet talked them round to his way of thinking.

  He took in the scene that opened up to him as he looked out of the door. Terry with the inevitable Gabe at his side was shouting at a couple of old dears who had been walking their dogs. He had a couple of camp dogs with him; who were obviously joining in with their own doggy brand of insults to the feisty little terriers that accompanied the two women; driving them into a frenzy of high pitched growling and snarling. Duncan swore under his breath again; and went forward plastering a smile on his face. He could hear the shorter of the two women ranting on as he got closer.

  ‘How dare you young man, I have never been so insulted in my life. All I asked was how long you were planning on being here. I walk my dog on this common every day, and I’ll have you know that this is one of Hector’s favourite spots. You lot seem to think you can just park your caravans any where you like willy nilly, giving no thought to the people who live here and who use this common everyday….come away Hector!…’ This was said to the well groomed little terrier who was at that moment intent on showing Terry’s springer spaniel that what he didn’t have in size, was more than made up for in ferocity, ‘…and there was certainly no need for that sort of language,’ she finished spluttering with indignity.

  ‘Fuck off you old cow,’ started Terry, ‘and take that poor excuse for a…’

  ‘Good morning ladies,’ interrupted Duncan; facing down the now almost purple face of the spluttering woman. He turned to her companion, a rather tall thin lady with all the expression of a trout.

  ‘Duncan McKinny at your service; how can I help you this morning?’ The taller woman just stared at him with her mouth open.

  ‘At last,’ said purple face, ‘someone
who speaks to us in a civilised manner. All I wanted to know young man was how long you…’

  ‘And I told you to fu…,’ started Terry, but he was again interrupted by Duncan, who shoved him out of the way.

  ‘Well as to that madam we can’t say for definite. But let me assure you that we will not cause any damage to this beautiful common, nor will we be a problem to any of you that live in the village, you have my word. We just need somewhere to park our vans. There are only a few of us, just Terry and Gabe who have the blue van over in the far corner, and my grandparents Martha and Joe live in this rather beautiful one just here. Terry’s mother and his brothers share the…’

  ‘Yes that’s all very well but I like to walk my dogs here and you are all in the way. I will be informing the council as soon as I get home and I won’t forget to mention how I was spoken to either,’ she said looking at Terry angrily. He just smiled and stuck two fingers up at her, which angered her so much that she just let out a loud ‘huff’ and walked away with her nose in the air. Trout face tried to follow but was having difficulty dragging her dog away from Amber, Duncan’s Labrador, with which it had struck up a friendship.

  ‘Well done Terry, brilliant people skills,’ said Duncan irritably as they walked back to the vans. ‘When are you going to realise that we need these people on our side?’

  ‘And when are you going to realise that nothing we say or do is going to make any difference. Nobody ever wants us in their back yard, it starts today mate; they will already be trying to get us out. I’ve lived with this all my life Duncan mate, you’ve only been on the road with us for the last year or so believe me I know what I’m talking about,’ he finished with a grin and went to walk off when Duncan stopped him.

  ‘By the way Tel, did you see anyone while you were waiting for us last night?’

  Terry looked at him guardedly, ‘No…what do you mean see anyone…where?’

  ‘Here, in the woods I mean; I nearly totalled the Land Rover last night when this…um figure suddenly ran out in front of me. Scared the shit out of me I can tell you; looked like a girl I think, although I only saw her for a couple of seconds before she disappeared into the trees…I just wondered if you’d seen anyone wondering around?’

  Terry was already shaking his head laughing.

  ‘No not a thing mate; I think you’re imagining things, getting yourself all spooked because of all the scary trees and stuff. Ha ha imagine the big tough Duncan scared of a shadow haha.’ He went off chortling to himself and Duncan knew that the tale of his mystery sighting would be all round the camp by lunchtime. He looked up to see the fishy faced woman standing quite close by looking at him rather intently. She was still pulling at her ferocious little terrier, who had his nose stuck up Amber’s bottom. Duncan raised his hand and smiled at her but she just dragged at her dog and scuttled away as quickly as she could.

  Duncan went back into his own van, kicking aside all the mess that was on the floor, he finished dressing and then fired up his little stove. The gas took a while to heat up so he beat eggs together with some cheese and seasoning before putting it into the frying pan. Then he put coffee into three cups and waited for the tiny kettle to boil. When the meal was ready he put everything on a tray and made his way precariously out of his van and over to the pretty lace curtained van that belonged to his grandparents.

  ‘Wakey wakey rise and shine,’ he said as he went inside. The caravan couldn’t have been more different from his own. It was immaculate and filled with lots of pretty handmade lacy things. The sofa in the tiny living room was covered in squishy soft cushions and the kitchen gleamed with shiny pots and pans. Duncan opened the door at the end of the van that led into his grandparent’s bedroom. Martha McKinny was already sitting up; pretty as a picture despite her ninety three years, wearing an elaborate lace cap that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Jane Austen novel. She gave him a smile of welcome as she saw him come in. Joe on the other hand, was obviously having a bad day and pain lined his face as he tried to sit up. Duncan put down the tray and rushed round to help him.

  ‘Take it easy Grampy…I’ve got you…that’s it now where’s your cushion, ok are you comfortable?’

  ‘I’m grand lad, don’t fuss so,’ said the old man testily. ‘Don’t know why you always have to be fussing.’

  ‘Stop your complaining Joseph McKinny,’ said Martha sharply. ‘The lad’s just trying to help…thank you son and whatever’s on that tray smells lovely…but it’ll be getting cold if you don’t stop standing there and give it to us.’ Duncan jumped into action helping them both to their breakfast and sitting and talking with them while they ate.

  About eighteen months ago Duncan had been wallowing in self pity. His graphic design business that he had built up from scratch had gone bust. He had found out that the girl that he had thought loved him for himself had in fact only loved him for what he could give her. So consequently she had left him; for his ex-business partner he later found out. Who had somehow managed to stay solvent, even though Duncan had lost almost everything.

  So in true McKinny fashion he had turned to the bottle. And had made his dreadful life even worse by either insulting or coming on to, (depending on level of drunkenness and sex) most of his friends.

  When he had first seen the calls on his phone from his old childhood playmate Terry, he’d ignored them. Terry lived in a van on the same site as his grandparents. As a boy they had hung out together whenever Duncan had been visiting. But he hadn’t seen him in years, and he was far too full of his own self pity to want to speak to him now. But the calls kept coming; and eventually he had answered. Only to discover that Terry had been trying to get hold of him to let him know that Mary, the girl that Duncan had been paying to look after Martha and Joe McKinny for the past two years, had left the camp. And his grandparents were struggling to cope on their own. They were both in their nineties and crippled with arthritis.

  Duncan was filled with guilt; it wasn’t surprising that Mary had left, he had completely forgotten about paying her for the last couple of months. He had been so busy feeling sorry for himself, that he hadn’t given any of them a thought for weeks. He made up his mind that he would go down to Devon (where the camp had been at that time) and look after them himself. After all how hard could it be? And anyway he needed something to take his mind off his own problems, so he had sold his flat and bought a caravan and a 4x4 to pull it, and had made his way down to the camp. At first his grandparents had been horrified that he had given up his home to look after them, and pleaded with him just to find them someone else to replace Mary. But soon Martha began to realise how much Duncan himself needed to be there with them. So she put up with the dodgy cooking and the rather dubious washing and made him feel needed again.

  CHAPTER 13 - CARLA

  Carla sighed as she thought about how the hunt for little Owen Marshall was progressing; it wasn’t progressing, that was the truth. They had so little to go on, so far nobody had seen anything, nobody had heard anything. The CCTV cameras might show something up, but apart from that they were just going through the motions. The sex offenders register had thrown up a couple of local names; both of which had been checked out. One was dead; and the other had a water tight alibi for the night in question. He had been in A&E after being beaten up by a gang of youths outside a pub in Foxwood.

  Carla had been to the school and spoken to the headmistress, Mrs Gayle, and to Owen’s class teacher Miss King. Both had nothing but good things to say about the little boy. He was a happy well adjusted child. Maybe slightly below average, but that fact was made up for by how much effort he put into everything he did. He was popular with the others in his class; and as far as they knew he had no problems at home. Miss Gayle did however have a few things to say about Mrs Marshall. Apparently she had had a few run ins with the school because she felt that her son’s marks weren’t high enough, especially as his grandfather had donated money to help build a new gym.

  Carla went to the office
and spoke to Tracy to see if she had heard about it.

  ‘Oh now that you mention it I do remember her coming in all flushed and angry and demanding to speak to Margery, but we never knew what it was about…she’s very discreet, Margery is,’ said Tracy in disgust, the old head had been a right old gossip which had suited Tracy much better. ‘How’s the hunt going anyway? Are you any nearer finding him? I just can’t imagine what those poor parents are going through.’

  Carla grimaced, ‘I know, they’re in bits; I wish I had some news for them but we have nothing so far. I am going to join in the hunt later, after I’ve been to the hospital. Maggie is meeting me there; Jed still hasn’t come round and I think she’s getting a bit frantic…especially as she is having to spend time with Greg!’

  Tracy grimaced. ‘Can’t say I blame her; it must be the last thing she feels like dealing with.’ She broke off as her phone started ringing. Carla could see that she was busy, so she blew her a kiss and left her to it. She walked the short distance from the school to the little police station that stood on the other side of the green. The front desk seemed to be teaming with people, all trying to get the attention of Constable Sheila Davies who had been roistered onto that particular duty today. She gave Carla a wave to get her attention as she passed. Carla smiled and squeezed her way through to the desk. ‘You’re popular today Sheila… has something come in for me?’

  ‘There’s a couple of elderly ladies um…the Ms Flyns that want to speak to you… sisters I think,’ replied Sheila with a glint in her eye. ‘Wouldn’t take no for an answer so I’ve put them in interview room 1…good luck.’

  Carla raised her eyebrows and tutted with irritation. ‘What do they want? Did they say?’

  ‘No sorry,’ said Sheila laughing, ‘But they were most insistent wouldn’t leave without seeing you.’