Missing - Dead or Alive

by Peter Martin

  ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ She beamed.

  ‘It’s hard to know what to say.’

  ‘Tell me what you think Tim will say when he comes back? Will he be happy with it?’

  ‘Maybe. He’ll be surprised, that’s for sure, and amused, but I doubt he’ll remember every minute detail.’

  ‘He will. You know he will. This is my shrine to him, from now until he comes back to us.’

  At once Bob became more aware of his wife’s state of mind, and realised he had to do his best to quell these obsessive thoughts, so changing the subject he said, ‘Ok, if you say so. Shall we watch the telly now?’

  ‘Don’t be so dismissive. Tim means everything to me, you should know that,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, and to me as well but – ’he began, but she’d already left the room.

  He followed her into their bedroom where she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He guessed before long the waterworks would start, so sitting beside her he put his hand on her arm. But this was going to be one of her silent moments and he knew no matter what he did she wouldn’t speak to him.

  A little time later, still hurt terribly over his attitude, she went downstairs to sit in the living room, but kept her distance from him. She picked up a book and pretended to read while he stared at the television. Neither of them spoke and finally he switched off the television and went to bed.

  As she found it hard to forgive him, for what she saw as despicable behaviour, she waited a while before going upstairs herself. Having washed and undressed she got into bed beside him, but shivered when straightaway he attempted to touch her, and pushed him away violently when he tried to put his arm round her.

  ‘Maria, don’t be like this,’ he protested.

  ‘Just leave me alone, you insensitive pig!’ She said. Perhaps this was the only way to get through to him.

  They lay apart for quite some time before Bob finally spoke again.

  ‘Look love, I’m sorry if I upset you, but swearing at me won’t help. You were right, I was being insensitive. I know how deeply you feel about this, and maybe you think I don’t love our son, but I do – honestly. I was just as devastated as you by Tim’s disappearance. And I’m dealing with it because there’s nothing more anyone can do. It’s no good kidding ourselves, love.’

  Maria smouldered, like a volcano ready to erupt. She wanted to ignore him, but let her emotions get the batter of her. ‘Don’t you talk like that to me, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t put this behind me; in fact I’ll carry on for however long it takes. I’ll never give up on him whatever you say or do. And if you won’t support me in this, I’ll go it alone.’

  ‘It’s not a question of that – you have to accept our son isn’t coming back to us right now. He may do one day, but when, is up to him. We can live in hope, but we have our own lives to lead. Don’t get me wrong, he means the world to me, but acting like you have, won’t make any difference. Except to make us even more miserable.’

  ‘Oh shut up!’ she shouted and turned away from him.

  She wouldn’t listen to his stupid ramblings. And the longer he continued, the more she’d hate him. She hadn’t forgotten his initial reaction when she’d first announced she was pregnant. He hadn’t been too happy because it wasn’t long after they’d got married and they hadn’t any money. During those first few years anyway, when Tim was rather a handful, Bob hadn’t been home much. Only as Tim got older and started to behave better did Bob begin to take an interest. She’d always suspected his feelings didn’t run as deep as hers – and now she was being proved right.

  His attitude only made her more determined to do her best for their son, and if it drove a wedge between them, so be it. She didn’t care what it cost – it wouldn’t change how she felt inside.

  Chapter 15

  While she was in this frame of mind there’d be no talking to her. She was so stubborn he’d be wasting his time trying. Maybe by letting her stew she’d eventually come round. After all he’d been though the same heart rendering experiences as she had, not only with Tim but also with relocating to another part of the country.

  So the next morning when he got up he decided not to wake her, and prepared his own breakfast, and sandwiches for work himself. When it was time to leave he went into their bedroom and sitting on the bed kissed her gently on the cheek.

  ‘Got to go now,’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘Mm,’ she mumbled half-asleep.

  ‘See you tonight.’

  ‘Mm,’ she mumbled again and then he left.

  On his journey to work he found it hard to concentrate, he felt guilty – was he handling the situation with Maria correctly? Should he have been more enthusiastic about her efforts with Tim’s room? And when the thought of getting her a small gift came into his head he felt a little easier.

  Unfortunately, his day at work was hectic, sorting out numerous insurance claims. Added to this he was still finding his way around the office and hadn’t got to know the staff yet. Which meant he worked through his lunch, and all thoughts of getting Maria a small gift vanished. It was well after five when, totally wound up in work, he rushed to leave the office, and was halfway down the high street when he remembered. The peace offering!

  Luckily, at this time of day people were mostly leaving, and he was able to find a parking place in Cliffburn High Street. He quickly got out of the car trying to think of something to buy. All that came to mind was a pair of gold pearl earrings. Expensive, but worth it if they helped him get back into Maria’s good books.

  Arriving home a little later than normal, he wanted to find out what mood she was in, before giving her the present, in case his gift antagonised her further.

  Having hung up his coat in the hall, he transferred the earrings to his trouser pocket, before venturing into the living room, where Maria sat on the sofa, a laptop computer perched on her lap. She was typing away furiously, immersed in whatever she was doing.

  ‘All right love?’ he asked, wondering where this laptop had come from.

  She looked up at him, not seeming in the least bit concerned. She gave him a slight smile.

  ‘That yours?’ he pointed to the laptop.

  ‘Yes, I bought it today.’

  ‘Whatever for? Something wrong with our desktop?’

  ‘Well, that’s yours darling. I wanted one of my own and this is perfect. When the police phoned to say as usual they had nothing to report, I got depressed.’

  ‘I see.’ was all he said. She didn’t normally use that term ‘darling’. He needn’t have bought those earrings.

  ‘I wanted to do something myself, so that’s why I’m constructing a website for our son. I’m posting photographs, writing about his life, and explaining that he’s disappeared. This can reach the whole world, so if there’s anybody out there who knows something or has seen him, they can get in touch via the site or email us. It’s a good idea, don’t you think?’ She smiled to herself without looking up.

  ‘I suppose,’ he had to admit. ‘But whether it’ll do any good, is hard to predict. Although what have we got to lose.’

  ‘I’m really positive about this. It might help bring Tim back to us.’

  Bob smiled but didn’t necessarily agree. Surely, they’d exhausted every possibility. However, he’d never tell Maria that. And he hadn’t the energy for another row. So he humoured her and hoped that would satisfy her for now.

  ‘So what’s for tea?’

  ‘Oh my God, I’m sorry but this work has made me lose all track of time. Be a dear and get us a take away, would you? I don’t mind what we have – I’m so hungry I could eat anything.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Bob said flatly, not amused, having spent a hard day at work while she’d sat at home messing about with a stupid website for their son. Thank God he’d managed to keep his temper under control, he thought as he made his way to the car.

  It was half an hour later when he returned with two Chinese takeaways. He gave one t
o Maria, the other he ate sitting in front of the television. After a while he noticed how busy she still was on the computer, seeming to have forgotten about her meal, which was on the coffee table in front of her.

  In one way he was glad she was taking an interest in something, even though he felt it was futile and wouldn’t lead her to Tim. After he’d finished his meal, he made a cup of tea, and brought Maria one, putting it next to her takeaway, saying ‘Don’t forget your tea, love.’

  ‘What… oh yes… I’ll eat it in a minute,’ she promised him. Eventually he took it away without a word because it must have gone cold.

  He carried on with his evening routine of shaving, washing and changing into his casual clothes. Then sat down intent on watching television for the rest of the evening. Finally after about an hour Maria looked up from her computer, and spoke. ‘It’s done Bob – I’d like your opinion on it.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ He got up from the armchair and went over to sit next to her on the sofa from where he studied the finished website. It started with a description of what the site was about. And underneath was the most recent photograph of Tim with the caption ‘Missing’.

  The second page told the story of his life so far, illustrated with dozens of photographs of every stage of his life. What help the baby photographs would be Bob couldn’t imagine, but again he said nothing.

  On another page Maria explained the torment she and Bob were going through, and encouraged people with similar experiences to contact them. Finally she asked any visitors to the site to get in touch by email, should they see Tim or anyone resembling him. There was even a poignant plea to Tim from Maria in which she included Bob, begging him to get in touch if he happened to find this website.

  It was slick, well presented and written; a credit to Maria’s undoubted skill. He had nothing but admiration for her determination and effort, saying, ‘You’ve done a great job – I’m proud of you, love. No one could have done it better.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She planted a kiss on his lips.

  ‘It deserves to get us somewhere.’ But feared it was something of a long shot.

  ‘That’s my aim anyway.’

  It had been such a bizarre evening with Maria totally engrossed with setting up the website that he’d forgotten all about the earrings in his pocket. He only hoped all her efforts paid off, or she’d sink even further into a bottomless pit of grief.

  Maria was thrilled by his positive reaction to the website. It gave her hope that the site would soon yield results.

  Going to bed late, well after Bob, she lay awake for some time wondering if anyone would get in touch with news of Tim, or be willing to share their experiences. The only downside was how long it might take.

  About a week later, she’d just washed up after lunch when there was a knock at the door. Her pulse raced with anticipation as she wasn’t expecting anyone, hoping it was Tim, or news of him. But when she opened the front door, standing before her was their friendly next door neighbour, Alan.

  She blinked in surprise as they’d hardly seen anything of their neighbours since the night they’d been invited round for dinner, except to say hello to them on the odd occasion. Now she suddenly felt guilty for not giving him and his wife a return invite. What on earth did he want? Something trivial she hoped.

  ‘Hello there,’ Alan said looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Sorry to disturb you but I wondered if you’d allow me to ask you a question.’

  ‘Of course, how can I help?’ Maria said, her eyes narrowing.

  ‘Er, well, can I come in for a moment? It’s rather a delicate matter, and I’d rather not discuss it on your doorstep.’

  ‘Oh, it’s like that is it? You’d better come in.’

  She allowed him to walk past her into the living room.

  ‘Like a drink, Alan?’

  ‘No, I’m fine thanks. I’ll come straight to the point - I don’t wish to intrude on your time. When I was surfing the net last night I came across a site I hadn’t seen before – ‘Find Tim Shepherd’ I think it’s called. Then I remembered your name is Shepherd, and as I scrolled down I saw all the lovely pictures, including some of you and Bob. I was so surprised.’

  She couldn’t look him in the eye but gave a faint acknowledgement.

  ‘Maria – why didn’t you say something when you came round? We’d have understood. It would have been so reassuring to hear your story and compare it to our own.’

  ‘Maybe, but it didn’t seem appropriate – and to be honest I couldn’t talk about it at that time. Now, what with all the work I’ve put into this website, it doesn’t seem quite so painful.’

  ‘I think it’s easier to share your problems than bottle them up inside. Although your heartache must be similar to ours, in some ways its worse, because you haven’t a clue what’s happened to your son. How awful is that?’

  ‘Pretty awful,’ she frowned, and went full up. ‘To be brutally honest, these last few months have been sheer hell. You can’t begin to understand.’

  ‘No, that’s true. I can only imagine what you’re going through.’

  ‘Yes, well now you know the strength of my feelings. I’m determined to find him, and won’t give up until we do.’

  ‘Good for you - I admire your courage and tenacity. You must love him very much. As we did our own daughter.’

  ‘Love, Alan. Love isn’t a strong enough word. Yes I do love him, my little baby boy. It’s funny I’d stopped thinking of him as a little boy until he went missing. I thought he was all grown up, but really he was anything but. And now I’d go to the ends of the earth for him – and beyond if need be.’

  ‘That’s how I was over our daughter. She meant everything to us – and when her life was cruelly taken from us, it was the most traumatic experience of my life. You never expect your own child to die in front of you, and when it happens you wonder if you’ll ever get over it. Even now, never a day goes by when I don’t think about her. And the memories I have of her from the moment she was born, and the joy of watching her grow up. To lose her like that was devastating. I try to imagine how she’d be had she lived. What she might have achieved, the boy she’d have married, and so on. It keeps going round and round in my head. Did you ever go through anything like that?’

  ‘All the time, but he’s out there somewhere and alive, whereas you only have the finality of death, and of knowing what happened to her.’

  ‘I’m aching for her, Maria - so much, like part of me is dead without her.’ His head was down, staring at the carpet. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed back the tears that were threatening to come.

  ‘If there’s such a thing as life after death, I’m sure she’d be looking down on you now.’

  ‘But what good’s that to me?’

  ‘None at all, but it’s nice to imagine its true – and you never know.’

  ‘Still, we have the memories, the pictures and the videos. No one can take that away from us.’

  ‘Are you painting at the moment?’ Maria asked, wanting to change the subject.

  ‘I am. As always. It’s how I get through the day. The fact I love doing it anyway, is an added bonus. Why don’t you come round? I’ll show you what I’m painting right now and let you look at a few more pictures.’

  ‘Really – what now?’

  He nodded.

  ‘That’s nice of you, Alan.’

  ‘All right, come on – what are we waiting for?’

  ‘Oh right, lead the way.’

  She got up and followed him into the hall. Then outside she locked the front door behind her. It would be interesting to see some more of his work.

  ‘Please come in,’ he stood back so she could go into the house. ‘Don’t mind the clutter in my studio - Debra says I’m the world’s untidiest man, and I guess from what you see here, that’s right. It’s just that I get carried away with my work.’

  He led her through the house to the conservatory, where he had a makeshift studio with an easel. Paint brushes and pallets of p
aint were strewn about the floor. A canvas of a half-finished portrait of a German Shepherd dog, stood on the easel – obviously his current work in progress.

  ‘That’s really good.’

  ‘Wait until you see some more of the finished ones.’ He walked across to the other side of the conservatory. There were quite a few unframed pictures stacked upright. He carefully selected a number of canvases, allowing Maria to see each one in turn.

  They were mainly individual or family portraits, one of which Maria recognised as a younger Alan and Debra with their daughter. And pointing to it she said, ‘Alan. You’re a wonderful painter, very talented indeed. These painting are so life like - they’re incredible. Who taught you to paint like this?’

  ‘As a matter of fact nobody did. I took Art at school to ‘A’ level standard, but when I left school I went to work as a mechanic, and later was a coach and lorry driver. Painting was just a hobby I did in my spare time, which developed further after our daughter died. I used it as therapy at first, but it soon spiralled out of control so that now I’m able to make a reasonable living from it.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. I wish I had a talent like that.’

  ‘Well, it’s not all plain sailing. It’s damned hard work, I can tell you. Sometimes I spend weeks and weeks getting a picture just right.’

  ‘Do people sit for you or what?’

  ‘Yes, but mainly I do paintings from photographs – in the case of my daughter, that’s obvious now.’ A look of despair came over his face as he continued. ‘But I’d give it up tomorrow if I could have her back.’

  ‘I know you would. Hopefully Tim’s disappearance won’t end that way. I was wondering if you’d do something for me, Alan.’