Do No Harm

by L. V. Hay

  Triss was waiting in the upper gym to meet the bouncy-castle man. She had a mug in her hand and a sour expression on her face. She did not say hello as I approached, preferring a good whinge instead: ‘Can’t believe I’m at work on a Saturday! Remind me why I’m a teacher?’

  ‘To inspire and educate young minds / to give something back / to keep you out of trouble – delete as appropriate.’ I grinned, handing her a small float of coins in a plastic ice-cream tub.

  ‘Wait, wait. Don’t tell me I’m doing the bouncy castle!’ Triss’s eyes were wide with horror. ‘All that screaming! Can’t I do the tombola or something?’

  I laughed. Triss was a reception teacher, screaming kids were her forte. ‘You can handle it. I’ll see if I can swap you halfway through the day.’

  ‘Fine…’ Triss grumbled, her face as dark and surly as a petulant teen’s.

  Moments later, the double doors of the hall opened and a man with a pot belly and a rolled-up bouncy castle appeared, whistling. I left them to it.

  I consulted my clipboard as I walked down the school hallways, the rubber soles of my flat shoes squeaking on the lino. That had been one of Sam Miller’s mum’s top tips: For the love of God, don’t wear heels. You’ll be on your feet, running around all day.

  Sebastian appeared carrying bags of plastic cups and paper plates to the kitchens. We would be serving chips, burgers and hot dogs: hot food always did well at fêtes, especially on colder, miserable days like this. As we passed each other, he gave me another cheery salute and I grinned, turning to watch his cute butt saunter away.

  Under the canopy on the tarmacked mini-football pitch, the stallholders were amassing, putting up their trestle tables and unpacking goods. The school’s stands were on the left: tombola; pin the tail on the donkey; guess the number of sweets in the jar; second-hand books and toys; plus a spot for Kelly’s lucky dip. On the right were craft and food traders who’d donated to the school in return for a stall: a chocolate fountain; a maker of wooden toys; a jeweller; a guy selling bubble swords and beach and garden goods. There wasn’t enough room for all of them, though.

  ‘Where do you want this?’ To my relief it was Jackson, my cousin Maya’s other half, carrying a large rolled-up canvas gazebo across his huge shoulders. Maya would be home with little Clyde, but I’d already spotted her girls, Jasmine and Amy, with Kelly in the staffroom, so I’d been waiting for Jackson to arrive with the gazebo for the stalls that wouldn’t fit under the canopy.

  I instructed him to put the gazebo up as close as he could to the canopy, so people could escape the weather as much as possible. Jackson gave me a meaty thumbs-up and wandered out into the rain. He didn’t even flinch as the bad weather hit him, even though he was dressed only in a T-shirt and shorts.

  The next two hours of prep time rocketed by in a blur. Before I knew it, it was ten o’clock. As I predicted, Sebastian needn’t have worried. There was a small queue by the school gates at five to the hour.

  The fête was declared open by the local mayor, decked out in all her traditional regalia. She shook hands with both Sebastian and me, then we posed for photographs for the local gazette. Her smile fixed in place, the mayor allowed a duo of year-five kids to lead her to the lower gym for a selection of songs sung by the school choir. Some parents followed the children and the mayor, others swarmed under the canopy and through the doors into the main building.

  I wandered around the stalls outside and inside the school, checking everyone had what they needed. Then I peeked through the doors to the upper gym. Despite her protestations, Triss was now barefoot and in her element on the bouncy castle. She was bossing kids around and jumping into the inflatable, sending giggling kids into the air.

  I took stallholders cups of tea, coffee and water; I fetched and carried, chatting with parents, who all seemed jovial and to be enjoying themselves; and I cleaned up as I went, picking up wrappers, lolly sticks and used napkins, depositing them in the black bin liner I trailed after me.

  About an hour in, I walked past the lower gym on my way to the kitchens, dragging two full bags of rubbish with me. The beats of a Beyoncé track boomed through the hall: I could see little girls in leotards twirling batons. I smiled as one of the little ones at the front dropped her baton, but then simply shrugged and chased after it under one of the benches.

  I shouldered the kitchen’s door open and shoved the rubbish in the backroom. Across the tiles, Sebastian stood at the serving hatch, wielding a scoop over a metal tray. He was wearing a hairnet and deposited chips into paper bags for one of the lunch ladies, a woman in snake-print leggings with a frizzy eighties’ perm whose name I’d forgotten. I could see the queue on the other side extending all the way down the corridor, towards the back doors of the main building.

  I sidled up alongside my husband. ‘Need a hand?’

  ‘In a word, yes.’ Sebastian threw a hairnet at me and another scoop. I caught them up with a laugh, and took my place next to him at the serving hatch.

  It was all going so well.

  I should have known it wouldn’t last.

  Twenty-three

  ‘Sir, sir!’

  The first Sebastian heard of any problem was when a year-six, Jack McAllister, burst through the kitchen double doors.

  ‘What is it, Jack?’ An experienced teacher, Sebastian was not concerned by the urgency of the boy’s voice at first. If adults took every kid’s freak-out seriously, they would be in a permanent state of high alert.

  The boy was breathless. ‘It’s Mrs Stevens.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sebastian dumped the last lot of chips from the deep-fat fryer into another metal tray. The sound of Lily’s old name still rankled him, though he knew it shouldn’t.

  ‘She can’t find Denny.’

  Sebastian was still unconcerned. There were lots of children milling about at the fête, so it was not inconceivable that one little boy might be difficult to locate.

  ‘He won’t have left the building. If he isn’t with Triss – I mean Miss Lomax – he’ll be with Kelly from after-school club.’

  The little boy clenched his fists, radiating frustration. ‘No, sir, you don’t get it. Nobody can find him!’

  Now panic seized Sebastian. It felt cold, as if claws had seized his ribcage, stopping him from breathing properly. Frozen, he looked up at the lunch lady next to him.

  She nodded and took the tray of chips from his arms. ‘Go, go,’ she urged.

  Jack sped off ahead of Sebastian; he had to race to catch up with the little boy. Adrenaline surged through Sebastian’s veins, yet his legs felt heavy. As he ran down the tiled corridor, he scanned the atrium and the sports field beyond the windows. Thoughts clamoured through his head with the thundering speed of a freight train. What had Denny been wearing? He couldn’t remember. As Sebastian passed the door to the playground, he was comforted to hear various parents yelling his stepson’s name. Then disturbed: if all these people were searching, that meant Denny had not been found yet.

  ‘I can’t believe this!’

  Sebastian arrived in the gym to find the bouncy castle deflated and Triss and Kelly at each other’s throats. Or rather, it looked like Triss had turned on Kelly; the younger woman stood with her arms wrapped around herself in a protective stance. Triss’s pale skin was flushed with fury and black mascara tracked her cheeks with uncharacteristic tears.

  ‘I haven’t seen him since before the fête started, when he came up here.’ Kelly was grim-faced with guilt, but defiant. She was not accepting the blame for this. ‘You were the one who saw him last!’

  ‘He left the bouncy castle about twenty minutes ago … I thought he’d gone back to you!’ Triss snarled.

  ‘That’s hardly my fault. I’m not a bloody mind reader!’

  ‘Ladies, please. This is not helping.’ Sebastian appeared next to them, gesturing to the doors as Lily appeared in the gym. Now was not the time for accusations. They had to find Denny. Triss withdrew, head bowed.

  ‘He can’t ha
ve been gone that long, then?’ Lily’s eyes shone with fervour, but not with tears or panic. Good – she was still in teacher mode, yet to go to pieces.

  Sebastian took over, directing Triss and Kelly to join the search outside. He told his wife to wait with the bouncy castle. If Denny was nearby, he said, and had simply wandered off, then he was most likely to return to the last place he’d been. Lily and Sebastian both ignored the subtext of his words: if he had wandered off. Neither of them wanted to entertain or even imagine the alternative.

  Sebastian kissed her on the lips. ‘We’ll find him.’ He sounded more certain than he felt.

  Lily gave him a hasty nod, unable to speak.

  Sebastian had heard about the horror of lost children: the fear that gripped a parent in your gut; the terror that surged through your limbs to the extremities, making adults feel like they were shaking all over. The breath catching in your throat; the bargaining that rolled over in your mind in a never-ending loop: pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokayplease. Sebastian had thought it all hyperbole.

  It wasn’t.

  As Lily waited in the upper gym, Sebastian searched with the other teachers and the volunteer parents. Under the benches; in the gym lockers and stationery cupboards; in every classroom. In the upper- and lower-school toilets; in the playhouse in the kindergarten playground; even under the stage in the lower gym that doubled as a drama hall.

  Every time someone said ‘Not here’, Sebastian’s belief the little boy was still there was shaken. Yet still they all pushed forwards, the triumph of hope over experience; everyone seemed to have decided to be sure he must still be there, in the school. It was simply unthinkable he was not.

  They were in the last room – the science room nearest the upper gym. The tables and chairs were all clear: no one hidden under the metal legs. At the back of the room was a large store cupboard for all the science equipment. Sebastian hesitated. He looked to Jackson, who’d trailed along with him. He could read the expression on the other man’s face, because it was probably on his own, too. It said, If we open that door and Denny is not in there, it’s time to call the police.

  Then the next horrifying instalment would have to kick off: the authorities would sweep in, with interviews, statements, sniffer dogs and accusations. Every parent would be quizzed; allegations would take precedence. An image of the inevitable headline in the papers burned its way across Sebastian’s brain: ‘CHILD SNATCHED AT SCHOOL FÊTE’. Its subheading, below: ‘Clueless adults let him go, right under their noses’. Sebastian banished the critical words, hating himself for thinking of the bad publicity for Avonwood at a time like this.

  He took a deep breath, then strode across the classroom and wrenched open the store cupboard door. Though he braced himself, there was still a part of him that expected to see the little boy curled up inside. Perhaps exploring; or fallen asleep; or trapped in there accidentally; maybe all three.

  But Denny was not in there.

  Dismay stabbed Sebastian in the belly. He turned, shoulders slumped, towards Jackson. The big man already had his phone to his ear.

  Someone on the other end answered. ‘Police please…’ said Jackson.

  Then, a sudden commotion in the corridor, beyond the science room.

  ‘Denny! Denny, thank God!’

  Lily.

  Sebastian raced out of the room, towards the sound of his wife’s voice. There was a small crowd circling around her. He pushed his way through. As people recognised him, the throng parted to let him in.

  Sebastian blinked, unsure if the sight was just his brain showing what he wanted to see. But no, the little boy was very much there. Sebastian could see a crying Lily; she knelt on the floor of the gym, her arms around the neck of a very confused, but very much okay, Denny.

  ‘Oh, Jesus. Oh, thank God.’ Relief flooded through Sebastian now. He felt lightheaded; the room spun.

  Lily sat back on her heels, her hands still on Denny’s shoulders, unwilling to let go. ‘Don’t you ever do that to us again, you hear?’

  Denny nodded, wide-eyed. He looked up, to the side. Sebastian followed his gaze, towards the window of the sports hall. Though there was nothing to be seen there except the street beyond, Sebastian was sure there was a sudden movement, just on the periphery of his vision. His brow wrinkled in confusion.

  Had someone just ducked out of sight?

  ‘Sorry, Mummy.’ Denny’s mouth formed the words, but again the little boy glanced sideways, back towards the window.

  Lily was too relieved and grateful to notice, but though he saw no movement through the glass this time, Sebastian was sure of it now. Someone had been outside, prompting the boy.

  Twenty-four

  The release I felt when Denny trotted in to the upper gym, alone and bewildered, was indescribable. The pain in my chest that hadn’t allowed me to breathe properly for the last hour dissipated. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright suddenly swept through me even harder, making my vision swim. The hubbub of voices gathered around us seemed deafening, joy and relief swelling outwards from every adult in the room.

  I found myself on my knees, at my son’s height, my arms wide open. Looking stunned, Denny allowed me to fling my arms around his neck.

  Tears pricked my eyelids as grateful fury followed. ‘Don’t you ever do that to us again, you hear?’

  But I was too relieved to want to spoil this moment with more rebukes. I looked up and saw my husband watching us, his expression difficult to read.

  Sebastian turned away and murmured something to Jackson. The big man nodded and clapped his gnarled hands together. This seemed to restore real time, which had been on pause during the crisis. The throng broke up and began to drift away. There were mutters of So glad it worked out and Thank God for that, as other parents dragged overexcited, sugared-up kids away, leaving wrappers and detritus in their wake.

  Jackson shot me a sympathetic look. ‘Better clean up and get all the stalls taken down.’

  I groaned. Sam Miller’s mum was going to go postal. I’d assured her absolutely nothing would go wrong at her precious event, yet here I was somehow losing my own kid.

  ‘I’ll handle things here,’ said Sebastian. ‘You take Denny home, Lily. I’ll call you a taxi.’ He fished his phone from his pocket.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but then fatigue surged through me all over again. I picked Denny up, his eyes rolling back in his head, as worn out as me by the morning’s events. I grabbed our stuff from the staffroom and went outside to wait for the taxi.

  It was only much later, as I prepared to put an exhausted Denny to bed with his numerous cuddly animals, that I remembered Sebastian’s strange expression when we’d first found Denny. He’d been looking towards the gym window, unbridled fury contorting his face. I had an inkling I knew why, because on the taxi ride home I’d had the same thought: Denny had never really been lost at all.

  Maxwell had taken him, from right under our noses.

  As I moved back into the living area, I found Sebastian, finally home from the fête. He was slumped on the sofa, can in hand, flicking through the TV channels, every one of them showing some kind of reality show: Swap a Wife, Live with the Poor People, Find Love on an Island, That’s Entertainment.

  Sebastian looked terrible, much older than his twenty-nine years. His skin was grey, his clothes crumpled, the stress evident on his face.

  He looked up as I appeared. ‘So, Denny tell you where he went?’

  I shrugged. ‘The loo, apparently.’

  Sebastian furrowed his brow. I tried to make sense of it, too: how did a little boy avoid being seen for an entire hour, while about sixty adults were looking for him?

  ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Sebastian’s mouth was a grim line, as if daring me to disagree with him.

  I sighed as I sat down. ‘Yes. It was Maxwell. I know.’

  Sebastian clapped his hands together. ‘I told you! This shit has been him, all along!’

/>   I could not resist. ‘So, he beat himself up?’

  Sebastian seemed to deflate. Exhausted, strung-out, it appeared as if he could not lie to my face a second time. ‘The lawyer you sent told me to deny everything.’

  ‘To the police. Not to me, Sebastian!’ I could not keep the hurt out of my voice. Then something else occurred to me: Fran’s impeccable, completely unflappable form in the emergency governors’ meeting; her unwavering belief that Sebastian was guilty. ‘Did you tell your mum you’d hit Maxwell?’

  Sebastian’s sheepish expression confirmed he had.

  ‘God!’ I stood up, trying to pace away the fury. ‘We’re supposed to be partners, Seb. You’re not supposed to be sharing stuff with your mum rather than me!’

  Sebastian held up his palms in a placatory gesture, getting to his feet too. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it to happen. She was just there, to pick me up from the station…’

  ‘Because she has a car! And because they let you go in the middle of the night. I couldn’t leave Denny.’

  Sebastian took my anger in his stride. He did not raise his voice in return. ‘I know, I know. I’m an idiot. I guess I was worried, you know? I just didn’t want you thinking I was, well, like him.’

  My anger melted away in an instant. I pulled Sebastian close, hugging him. ‘You are an idiot. I could never think you were like Maxwell.’

  I could feel relief spreading through his stressed body, unravelling through his back and limbs. ‘What are we like, eh?’ he said.

  Lying in bed later, my husband snoring softly beside me, I thought over the events of the day. Despite Sebastian’s lack of honesty over hitting Maxwell, I couldn’t deny he was on the money this time. But Maxwell hadn’t turned up with Denny, playing the hero in front of an audience, as I would have imagined he would if he’d wanted to make a show. And it couldn’t be about seeing his son – he had regular access to Denny – I’d never stopped that. So his covert abduction this afternoon made little sense.