Mummyfesto, The

by Green, Linda

  ‘Back in a sec,’ I said to the others, following him out of the kitchen.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, as soon as we were out of earshot.

  ‘There’s a lot of stuff come out in the Cough Assist,’ he said. ‘It’s not looking too healthy.’

  I went through to Oscar’s bedroom. He was lying on the bed, Rob had lowered the upper half for him so his head was below his body, as we always did if he was a bit chesty. I sat down on the edge of the bed. Oscar looked tired. The usual cheeky grin was notably absent.

  ‘How are you feeling, love?’ I asked, stroking his brow.

  ‘The monster sucked a lot of yucky stuff out of me.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. Daddy told me. Did it feel a bit sore?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nodded. Oscar rarely complained or admitted that anything was sore.

  ‘At least we’ve got all the nasties out now. Hopefully you’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep. Daddy’ll give you some medicine and then he’ll put your mask on and sit with you until you drop off, OK?’

  Oscar nodded. I bent and kissed him on the forehead.

  ‘Night-night sweetie. Mummy and Daddy love you lots.’

  I went over to the Cough Assist machine and discreetly glanced at the contents in the bowl. I turned to look at Rob. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to.

  ‘We’ll take him to the doctor first thing in the morning’ I said quietly. Rob nodded. ‘Call me if you need anything, OK?’ Rob nodded again. I went back downstairs.

  ‘Everything OK?’ asked Jackie as I sat back at the table.

  ‘Yeah. Oscar’s just got a bit of a cold.’ They both looked at me, their faces immediately filling with a mixture of concern and sympathy. They knew the score. When Oscar had started school I’d had to send all his classmates’ parents a letter, explaining his condition and politely requesting that they keep their child off school if they had a cough or cold. I’d hated doing it. I hadn’t wanted Oscar to be different and for his condition to inconvenience other parents. But given the choice of that or Oscar facing a spell in hospital with a respiratory infection, I knew which I’d prefer.

  ‘Oh no, poor little thing,’ said Anna. ‘When did this start?’

  ‘Only today. It’s nothing serious at the moment. I’m going to take him to the doctor first thing in the morning, get them to check him over.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK to carry on?’ asked Jackie. ‘I mean, if you need to give Rob a hand.’

  ‘No, he’s fine thanks.’

  ‘If you need us to have Zach at all just let us know,’ said Jackie.

  ‘I will do. Thanks. Now someone tell me some brilliant news to take my mind off it.’

  ‘Well, as it happens,’ said Anna, ‘I might just be able to help you out there.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, watching the smile spread slowly over her face and suspecting she’d been keeping something to herself for a while.

  ‘I figured, why should we stop at Sir Patrick Stewart? I mean if celebrities are going to vote for us, it would be very good to know about it and be able to use it in our publicity. So, I emailed some people to see if they would be prepared to publicly endorse us. And, a few of them were.’

  ‘Like who?’ asked Jackie.

  ‘Oh, no one much. Just Davina McCall and Jamie Oliver.’

  ‘You’re having us on,’ I said.

  ‘Nope,’ she replied. ‘They’re following us on Twitter and they’ve even offered to come out on the campaign trail with our candidates in their constituencies.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Jackie pretended to fall off her chair. ‘That’s bloody brilliant. You’re wasted on us, Anna. You should be out there getting Obama reelected or something.’

  Anna smiled. I still couldn’t speak I was that choked, so I went over to her and gave her an enormous hug instead.

  ‘And you,’ I said, turning to Jackie, ‘can stop giving her fancy ideas.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Anna. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Unless they offer me a massive salary, of course.’

  ‘Here, have a Hob Nob,’ I said, passing her the plate. ‘It’s the best we can offer, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Fortunately,’ said Anna, taking one, ‘I’m rather partial to Hob Nobs.’

  ‘Right then,’ I said. ‘So when can we break this news to the world?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if you like,’ said Anna. ‘I suggest we just post it on Twitter. Hopefully they’ll both retweet it and within a few hours half the world will know.’

  ‘Do you think running the country will be as easy as this?’ asked Jackie.

  ‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘But I’m not sure it will be any harder than running our own lives.’

  Unfortunately, Oscar didn’t have a good night’s sleep. Neither did Rob or I, come to that. We took turns to do the Cough Assist machine and sit up with him, operating on a one hour on, one hour off basis, which in hindsight was probably stupid as it meant we were both knackered the next morning.

  I finally got him back to sleep just after seven in the morning. It reminded me of those groggy newborn days when I only ever seemed to get to sleep just as everyone else was getting up.

  When I was sure he was sound asleep, I crept out of Oscar’s room. Zach was just getting up, although he too looked as if he hadn’t had much sleep.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ I said, ruffling his hair. ‘Did the machine wake you up in the night?’

  Zach nodded. He didn’t complain though. ‘Is Oscar poorly?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s got a cold and a bit of a cough, love.’

  ‘Will he have to go to hospital?’ He clearly remembered what had happened last time. Even though he’d only been four at the time.

  I took him by the hand and sat down on his bed next to him. ‘We don’t know yet, love. I’m going to take him to the doctor this morning. Hopefully, he’ll get over it in a few days. Let’s hope so, eh?’

  Zach nodded. ‘Are we still going to do Lollipop Party things today?’ I’d said we would go over to Huddersfield to do some campaigning. Zach had really been looking forward to it.

  ‘Not today, I’m afraid. Maybe later in the week.’

  Zach nodded in a rather resigned way, as if he knew that was unlikely to happen. ‘But if you don’t do campaigning, you might not win the election.’

  I smiled at him. Not wanting to admit he had a point.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘We’ve got plenty of other people to help out. Oscar’s the most important thing, right now. Let’s get him better first. There’s still a month to the election. We’ve got plenty of time to win some votes.’

  ‘If you win, Mummy, and if you get to run the country, are you still going to be here in the mornings or if Oscar needs you in the night?’

  I pulled him closer to me. ‘Of course I will, sweetie. You and Oscar are the most important things in the world to me. You know that, don’t you?’

  Zach nodded.

  ‘Now, let’s creep downstairs and make marmalade on toast.’

  Zach managed a smile. ‘Can we still have marmalade on toast when you’re Prime Minister?’ he asked.

  ‘I should think so.’

  ‘Good. Because I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly the way it is. Except I want Oscar to get better.’

  I smiled and hugged him to me. Loving the smell of strawberry shampoo on his hair.

  20

  JACKIE

  As soon as I saw the front door wide open, I knew. I pulled up sharply, took my seat belt off and looked up and down the street. There were no flashes of pink this time, no little old lady shuffling along in her slippers. She was nowhere to be seen.

  I sighed, cursing the fact that I had Alice with me. That there was no way I was going to be able to hide this from her. I turned around to Alice, trying hard to keep my voice measured and calm, although I wasn’t feeling that way inside.

  ‘Now,’ I said. ‘It looks as if Grandma might have gone for a little wander. She doe
s this sometimes and she usually finds her way back just fine.’

  ‘Why has she left the door open?’ asked Alice, her voice full of the sense of panic I had tried to disguise in mine.

  ‘You know how forgetful she is, love. She might even have gone back inside and left it open. Let’s go in and have a look first, shall we?’

  Alice nodded. Although she didn’t seem at all sure about it. I took her hand and hurried into the house. We went to each room in turn, calling out as we did so. I even checked the bathroom and bedroom in case she’d got confused again about what time of day it was. The house was empty. It was more than empty. It was deserted. Bereft even. Because its owner had gone AWOL and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Alice gripped my hand tightly. I could see the set of her jaw. She was trying very hard not to cry.

  ‘What we’re going to do,’ I said, ‘is call Daddy and ask him to come and take you back home while I look for Grandma.’

  ‘But I want to stay and help find Grandma.’

  ‘I know, love. But I’m going to have to walk quite a long way and I’m going to have to go fast. And I’m sure Daddy will find something much more fun to do with you.’

  ‘But Daddy’s working.’

  We’d left Paul marking and doing some lesson plans. I was conscious that with all the campaigning, this was the first chance he’d had to do a full day’s work in the holidays. And it was going out of the window.

  ‘I know, love. But he won’t mind stopping to look after you.’ I stopped short of saying, ‘because it’s an emergency’. Alice was looking worried enough as it was.

  ‘Hi, love,’ I said when Paul answered. ‘Would you mind coming over to get Alice. I just need to go and find Mum.’

  Paul saw straight through the bright and breezy voice I’d put on. ‘I’ll be straight there,’ he said.

  ‘Right,’ I said to Alice. ‘While we’re waiting for Daddy we’ll go and ask a couple of neighbours. They might have seen Grandma, you see. They might know which direction she went.’

  I tried Pauline across the road first. She came to the door, looked at my face and looked down at Alice.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘I just wondered if you’d seen Mum at all today,’ I said, a forced smile on my face.

  ‘No, sorry, love. I’ve been out back all morning doing garden. Was door open?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Bill at Number Thirty-two? He usually cleans his car on a Friday. He might have seen her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘Let me know if I can help at all, won’t you, love?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’s probably on her way back now.’ I said it more for Alice’s benefit than anything. Pauline smiled as if she understood that.

  Bill hadn’t seen Mum. Although he admitted he might not have noticed her, he’d been that intent on getting a nice shine on his bonnet. We tried a few more doors with no luck. I felt the urge to start screaming. Or to swear out loud at the very least. We walked up and down the street for a bit. I tried to turn it into a game, pretending Grandma was playing hide-and-seek. I wasn’t sure Alice bought it but at least it kept her occupied. We went as far as the corner shop and back again. Twice. Until finally Paul arrived.

  Alice started crying the second he did so. ‘I don’t want to go home. I want to help find Grandma.’

  Paul glanced at me and appeared to sense that I was not in a fit state to deal with it. ‘I know, love, but Mummy’ll find her quicker on her own. Anyway, I’m taking you to Upsy Daisy’s. How about that?’

  Alice hovered for a moment between tears and excitement. Fortunately, the latter won out.

  ‘Is there owt I can do to help?’ Paul asked, as Alice bounced into his car.

  I shook my head. ‘Just keep her occupied. I’ll call you as soon as I find her.’

  Paul nodded and squeezed my hand. ‘Love you,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just looking at the roses somewhere.’

  I nodded and watched as they drove off. As soon as they disappeared around the corner I started running, wishing for the 931st time in my life that I’d put some sensible shoes on. I went down every terraced street in turn, asking anyone I saw on the way. None of them had seen anything. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  I rang social services, although I wasn’t quite sure what I expected them to do about it. They told me that a carer had been that morning. That they’d dressed Mum and that she’d appeared to be fine. The carer had left shortly before 9.30. I looked at my watch. It was 11.30 now. She could be anywhere.

  I jumped into my car and started driving. I had no idea where I was going, it was simply a matter of trying to cover every square inch of road. I went as slowly as I could, looking both sides and checking in my mirrors. Every time I saw a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye I slowed down or stopped. Every time it was some little girl skipping along the street or splashing in the puddles in her pink wellies.

  I arrived back outside Mum’s house. I went in again and had another look in case she’d come back while I’d been driving around. I checked in the bowl by the front door. Her keys were still in there. But I looked in every room again anyway, in case I’d missed anything first time around. I looked under the bed, in the wardrobe, in the cupboard under the stairs. Stupid places I hadn’t looked when Alice was with me because I hadn’t wanted to worry her. She wasn’t there. The house reeked of that fact. I sat down heavily at the foot of the stairs. I knew what I had to do next. I called the hospital.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘My elderly mother’s gone missing. She has Alzheimer’s. She might not even remember her own name. I’m trying to check if anyone of her description has been brought in.’

  I gave her name and description, right down to the hole in the left arm of her pink cardigan. The receptionist was very helpful. She went through her list on the computer; she even rang through to A & E to double-check. Nothing.

  ‘Have you reported her missing to the police?’ she asked.

  I felt stupid. I should have done it right away. Well, as soon as Alice had gone, anyway. But I’d been so sure I’d find her. So positive she’d wander around the corner any moment.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to bother them.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time you should.’

  I thanked her and put the phone down. She was right, of course. I couldn’t spend the entire day going up and down the same streets. She wasn’t here. I didn’t know where she was and I certainly didn’t know if she’d be able to find her way home.

  I dialled the general number for reporting crimes in Halifax: it felt less extreme than calling 999. I still didn’t want to accept that it was an emergency. Wanted to believe that I’d be apologising for bothering them in a minute when she appeared at the window.

  The man who answered went through a whole load of questions with me. He seemed to be taking it pretty seriously. Which, far from making me feel better, actually made me more concerned.

  He told me Mum’s details would go out to all officers immediately. That he’d send a patrol car round within the next fifteen minutes.

  ‘Fuck,’ I said as I put the phone down. And for the first time that day, I started to cry.

  They sent a PC and a WPC, who was one of those sympathetic liaison officer types. I showed them through to the front room and offered them a cup of tea. I talked incoherently at them. All the usual things you do in a crisis.

  ‘Can you think of any places she might have gone?’ the female officer asked. ‘Favourite spots, friends’ houses, a park?’

  I shook my head. ‘She really doesn’t go far afield. She used to go to Ackroyd Park and Shroggs Park when we were younger, but we haven’t been for years.’

  ‘What about family?’ asked the WPC.

  ‘She’s a widow. The only brother she’s still got alive is in Scarborough. And me
and my husband. That’s it.’

  The male officer spoke for the first time. ‘I think in the circumstances it would be sensible to put this out to the media. Local radio, evening rag, local TV, that sort of thing.’ I shut my eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

  ‘Hopefully it will all be sorted within the hour,’ said the WPC. ‘But the media can be very important in this type of case. Thousands of extra pairs of eyes, you see.’

  I nodded. I didn’t see how I could say no. Even though I knew the media would probably twig who I was and it would end up as headline news by teatime. The male officer got up and left the room. A couple of seconds later I heard him talking on his radio in the hallway. The WPC came and sat next to me on the sofa.

  ‘Do you have a recent photograph?’ she asked. I thought for a moment then pointed to the small framed photograph of Mum on her seventieth birthday on the mantelpiece.

  ‘You can have that one. It’s a couple of years ago, but it’s probably the best we’ve got.’

  She nodded, took the photo out of the frame and went out to give it to her colleague.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘If it’s OK with you, PC Sullivan is going to wait here in case your mum comes home, while someone shoots over to copy that photo and get it out to the media. In the meantime I’m going to go for a drive around in the patrol car. Would you like to stay here or come with me?’

  I opted to go with her. I thought she’d be better company for a start. And I knew I’d feel better actually doing something rather than sitting around waiting. I got in the police car. Pauline across the road was looking out. I gave her a little wave, trying to pretend that everything was fine, or at least let her know that no news was good news.

  The policewoman’s name, which I’d forgotten when she’d first introduced herself, was WPC King, but she said to call her Jenny. She was probably ten years younger than me, but for some reason seemed a hell of a lot more sensible and grownup at that moment.

  ‘We’ll do all the local streets first,’ she said, ‘then fan outwards from there. We’ll probably find her sitting on a park bench somewhere, having lost complete track of time, really we will.’ She gave me a reassuring smile. I didn’t like to tell her that Mum had no idea what century it was, let alone what time it was.