by Caron Allan
It was good to be out on a ‘mystery tour’. In fact we just went shopping, had a nice lunch in a pizza restaurant (Paddy now loves pizza, but Billy still pretty much only loves ice cream and tomatoes, together if it can be managed). After lunch, we went to the cinema to see the latest Disney screen epic. The kids loved it – well, let’s be honest, we all loved it! So another fun day, after the brief moment of panic.
Tuesday 21 October – 8.15pm
But once he was asleep last night, I snuck downstairs to the kitchen to make myself a hot drink.
And I took my phone out of the drawer, and as I waited for the kettle to boil, I swiped the screen and saw I had three new voicemail messages. All from an unknown caller. I only listened to the first one. I was the same as before. An unbroken, implacable silence.
All my fears came flooding back. I turned off all the lights, and went around the house in the dark checking the doors and windows were closed and locked. I checked the alarm system was on. And I stood there in the dark looking out the windows, hugging my hot chocolate, and afraid to look away. For three hours I patrolled the house as my loved ones slept, and finally I fell asleep on one of the sofas, and woke what felt like minutes later, to find Matt watching me, and I was still holding my phone in my left hand.
“What are we going to do?” I asked. And I know I sounded desperate.
“We’ve got to go away,” he said. “What about popping up to Scotland for a week to stay with Jess and Murdo?”
I shook my head. “She’s been there, she knows it, she’d expect me to run to them.”
He shook his head impatiently.
“Well, what do you suggest?”
“What about the south coast? Or Cornwall? I know it’s not exactly the time of year for the beach but there would be other things to do.”
“You could tell the police.” He said.
“What? How can I?” I said, and even I thought I sounded slightly hysterical. “If I do that, everything will come out.”
“Not necessarily …” he said. But I didn’t want to listen, I had made up my mind. Normally I pride myself on being both sensible and listening to the opinions of others. But not this time. Not in this situation. For a moment we just glared at each other, but then he just shrugged and said, “Cornwall it is,” and he went off to browse the internet or somewhere nice to stay.
Later – 10.30pm
All booked! We’re leaving first thing in the morning. Somewhere on the Devon border in the end – not such a long drive for the children. Lill and Sid are staying behind; I don’t think they are in any danger, and it will be nice for them to have a few days’ peace and quiet, though I’ve told them about twenty times to be really careful and to double check all the locks and not open the door to any strangers etc. I think they will be quite glad to get rid of me for a few days.
We are going away for a just over a week – coming back next Thursday. That means Mavis and Henrietta can still take the kiddies trick-or-treating.
Must finish there. Packing still to do. Toodle-pip.
Friday 24 October – 8.45pm
It’s lovely here. We’ve got an ultra-modern apartment overlooking the beach. As soon as we arrived – after a mercifully uneventful journey – the children – and Matt! – were clamouring to go down to the beach, and so we did. Surprisingly mild and pleasant considering the time of year, and fairly busy. Had only been in Devon an hour before we purchased two buckets, two spades and a packet of paper flags! Bliss!
Spent four hours paddling and making sandcastles, egg and chips for tea and another little walk on the prom before taking the children back for bed. Billy had to be carried back, she was so tired, and she was asleep before she was even undressed.
Matt and I sat out on the little veranda. It was almost like our honeymoon, only if anything, this was a little bit nicer! Very romantic. We didn’t talk much, especially not about recent events. Matt told me some of the things he remembered form his childhood hols. It sounds as though he had the perfect childhood. Lovely!
I don’t have many memories like that from when I was a child. Mother was always off meeting some new chap, and I was usually parked on some relative or other. I had an aunt I adored, so visits to her were wonderful, but I also had an aunt and a grandmother I hated, and who hated me just as passionately, so visits to them – which somehow seemed to be more frequent – tended towards the nightmarish.
Of course, I did get taken on holiday sometimes by my mother and her man-of-the-moment, but usually that involved sitting in a bar or by a pool with a fizzy drink and sunburn, feeling bored and like I was just a nuisance.
At least Billy and Paddy and Thomas will never have those kind of memories of their childhood. In fact I’m hoping that soon Billy and Paddy won’t remember anything but the time they’ve spent with us. I don’t want residual memories of their life in Vauxhall to haunt them.
Matt wouldn’t let me bring my phone. Feel a bit lost without it. I have to use his phone to contact Sid and Lill to let them know we’re okay and to check they are okay too. Having been reassured nothing odd is going on there, I am finally beginning to relax and just enjoy being away.
Sunday 26 October – 8.15pm
Spent the last two days building sandcastles and ‘paddling’ ie rolling up trouser-legs and screaming when the merest drop of seawater touched my big toe – it’s freezing! I’ve lost track of how many times the children’s trousers have been rolled and re-rolled and still got wet – in the end we took them off and they are both running around just in their jumpers and knickers. I am a bit envious, though it’s a bit too cool for me. But they are having a wonderful time! And us too, obviously! I know all parents say this, but they have a seemingly endless amount of energy, and chase each other around, giggling and splashing and toppling over. It’s been a magical couple of days.
At one point Paddy and Matt went off together to do ‘man-stuff’, in other words peeking into rock-pools, and Billy and I sat on the sand and gloated over our shell collection, making pictures in the sand with them. Then we swapped children. I haven’t felt this relaxed for twenty years.
We found a place where there were some deck-chairs and some trampolines, so Matt and I seized the opportunity to sit down and watch the children bouncing about like mad and laughing so much they could hardly stand. Considering how timid they were just a few months ago, they are bold enough to have a go at anything now. They seem so free now.
We were all in bed again by eight o’clock, totally exhausted. Matt is already snoring, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. That’s why I’m cutting it short tonight.
Monday 27 October – 10.15am
Sent a postcard home – I let Paddy and Billy sign it from all of us and add some little kisses at the bottom, Sid and Lill will love that!
We’re going to try a little boat trip this afternoon – not sure how the little people will cope, but hopefully it will be fine.
Tuesday 28 October – 7.30pm
Paddy has just been begging us for another boat trip – yesterday’s was such a success. They were both (and I was too, though I hid it pretty well) a bit scare when we first got into the boat – in fact Matt had to carry them both on as they found the wobbly gangplank a bit too scary to walk across.
But once we were settled and starting to go out to sea a little bit, they began to really get into the swing of things. Even Billy, normally such a fraidy-cat, was standing up next to me, arms in the air, head back, eyes tight shut, flying. (A bit like Titanic but without the sexy overtones or tragic and wet ending). Although, she would only do it if one of us held on to her.
Not quite so taken with the winkles though – they were both nearly sick when they tried half of one. Ditto mushy peas. Chips still a firm favourite, of course.
I do hope Margaret is all right – I feel a bit guilty having all this fun when she has just lost her son and his girlfriend slash life-partner. I’ll phone her early next week just to make sure she’s okay and coping and keeping
her spirits up and everything.
I wonder if Stephen’s had any more orders? If only I had my phone. Oh well, only another two days and we’ll be home, though I wouldn’t mind staying here for another fifty years or so.
Later – 9.20pm
I do hope Monica’s finally got the hint and left me alone this week. Am a bit concerned we might go home and find loads of missed calls when I am finally allowed to dig my phone out of the drawer. Matt did suggest changing my number. That’s what I shall do if she’s still bugging me.
Thursday 30 October – 11.45pm
In a way it’s quite nice to be home. The children were overjoyed to see Sid and Lill again – we all were – and they seem to have missed us.
I suspect, though, that they’ve also been dreading our coming home and finding out what mischief they’ve been up to whilst we’ve been gone. Because - who did we find there when we got home this afternoon but Matt’s Bloody Sister! Well may she look embarrassed when we walked into the kitchen to find her ensconced there with a cup of coffee, thumbing through this week’s copy of Me, Me, Me! And then in the den, her fifteen-year-old was slumped in front of some reality TV show in a semi-comatose state.
Lill quickly dragged me off-stage into the garden-room to whisper loudly, “I’m really, really sorry, it was only s’posed to be for a day or two till she got on her feet.”
Judging by the size of Leanne’s arse, she never gets on her feet!
Yes, she has finally left her husband and has decided to find a job and a small house somewhere in the immediate vicinity. What joy! So far, no luck on either front. But then, as Lill reluctantly admitted, she’s not been outside the house since Saturday morning.
OMG!
Felt my poor unborn child do a huge kick when I first clapped my eyes on her. It’s like one of those terrible omens.
I’ve told Lill that I don’t mind (liar!) Leanne staying here for a short (define short?) while, but that I’m not keen for her and her stroppy off-spring to remain under our roof for the long term.
“Of course not,” Lill said, “I quite understand. And I do appreciate it, I really do.”
Thing is, I’m sure that’s what she said about the cat, and also about Matt … (although admittedly both of those worked out better than I expected.)
Henrietta popped in mid-evening, just to check it was all still okay for her and Mavis to take the children out tomorrow night. I wonder if they’re supposed to dress up? Will check in the morning, then if necessary will have a few hours to try to cobble something together. They are picking the children up at about half past four as it’ll be dark by then, and then they will bring them back about six to six-thirty, along with their ill-gotten gains. (Hope there’re some sherbet fountains or something like that, I might be able to nick a few), in time for a bath and hot milk and bed. Am reluctantly getting caught up in the moment - it sounds like it might be fun, after all.
I caved into the urge to check my phone, even though I’d already made up my mind to leave it at least until the morning. First I had to charge it up sufficiently to get the display to come on.
I wish I hadn’t.
Twenty-two altogether, nine missed calls and thirteen voicemail messages of absolutely nothing.
I was almost sick. I’m angry with myself for being so upset and frightened. For all she knows, I have already changed to a new number and am not even aware that she – who else could it be? – has been ringing me etc.
And obviously, if I had changed my phone number, as Matt had suggested, none of these calls would have found me, none of them would have the power to hurt me, I would be blissfully unaware of her spite. So why oh why oh why do I let them do this to me? I have finally run out of patience with this situation, I am sick of being afraid of her. So I’m not going to take this anymore, tomorrow I’m going to change my number and put her out of my mind and my life one and for all.
Friday 31 October – 11.10pm
What a fucking nightmare! I can’t decide if I’m furiously, furiously angry, or if I’m desperately, desperately frightened. Probably I’m both.
Mavis and Henrietta came to collect the little ones for their evening of fun at half past four on the dot.
Paddy was dressed as a cowboy with dinosaur persuasions – green claw hands, and an intermittent growl - and Billy went as a fairy slash ballerina in a cute little baby-pink tutu borrowed from Sara – Millie has outgrown it (unfortunately she’s quite the little dumpling). Lill and I made the wings and the wand this afternoon. Billy was so excited. In fact, we were too!
I asked Sara if she was taking her kids out but it turned out she was taking them to her mother’s, and they were all staying overnight.
Anyway …
So the children looked gorgeous and I took a quick few pics just before they went out.
By six o’clock I was eagerly awaiting their home-coming, excited to hear how it went.
By a quarter past, with no sign, I was a bit edgy, a bit put-out.
Just before half past six, Henrietta, sobbing, along with Stephen and Madison, pounded on the door.
I feel sick just remembering. As soon as I saw them there, I knew something bad had happened. In my mind I saw an accident and their little bodies broken. It was worse than that.
The old biddies had got talking to a friend they met in the lane. They didn’t notice that Billy and Paddy weren’t there – that they were gone.
They looked around, checking back down the part of the lane they had already covered, asked a couple of people they saw – no one had noticed anything. The lanes were empty. No sign of two small children in the dark.
At first Henrietta and Mavis were too scared to come and tell us, so they kept trying to find the children, and they enlisted a few friends to help them comb the village, but then Madison and Stephen together had managed to persuade them to come back and let us know what had happened.
While Henrietta was telling us this, and sobbing as she did so, Matt was swearing and pulling on his trainers, Lill was trying not to cry, and Sid was on the phone trying to get through to the police. And I – I was just numb, sitting on the bottom stair, just staring at Henrietta. It couldn’t be true?
She kept saying she was sorry as we made our way back down the lane to where she and Mavis had last seen them. As we reached the spot, a couple of other people were coming just coming out of a garden gate.
“Anything?” Henrietta called out, almost falling into Mavis’s arms but reaching out to the other people.
“Nothing,” they said, shaking their heads.
Mavis tsked and said, “naughty little buggers,”
I just managed to stop Matt from losing his temper completely – not that I was far behind – but it wouldn’t help matters if he punched an eighty-year-old. I was fighting back tears to hear someone I thought of as a friend talking about my children like that.
But I just said, “where have you already checked?” She waved her hand about her vaguely and said, “that way and over there, and your end. Pretty much everywhere.”
“If you’d looked everywhere,” I growled, “you would have found them.”
“Well really, there’s no need …”
“There’s every need,” I said, “have there been any cars through the village? Any cars or people you didn’t recognise?”
“There was a white Renault Clio parked down the hill a bit, maybe half an hour ago,” a woman I didn’t know said. At that moment, a few houses away, a firework went off and made me half jump out of my skin; I tasted blood and knew I’d bitten my lip in shock. Of course. It was only a few days from Guy Fawkes’ Night and there were always a few idiots with more money than sense letting off a stray rocket or something.
I shivered. I had to find them. We – we had to find them. They’d be cold and scared by now. More than that I refused to even think about.
Matt and I headed off down the hill at a run, even though we could see at that distance there were no cars, white or otherwise, parked
down there now. Mavis called something after us but I couldn’t hear what it was and I ignored her, still furious. That woman was no longer my friend.
The hill was one of those long, meandering ones. I had a vague recollection of an old, overgrown children’s play area near the bottom of the hill. Hardly anybody goes there any more as the equipment is largely broken and rusted, the site is up for redevelopment. The older kids go there to hang out sometimes and smoke cigarettes without their parents finding out. But I clutched at Matt’s arm,
“The playground.” I panted. Somehow I knew that was the place. Mercifully he didn’t ask me for an explanation, he just gave me a look and raced off ahead, leaving me to lumber along as quickly as I could. Now it seemed all those hot chocolates with all the trimmings were finally taking their toll on my fitness.
I was almost at the gate, he was already inside and running across the grass, I could hear voices, children’s and his. I was gasping “ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” as I was running, and as I pushed through the gate I managed to claw back sufficient air to call out, “have you got them? Are they okay?”
He yelled back a simple, “yes!” and at the same time I heard both the children break into overwrought sobs. The sudden deafening sound was more reassuring than anything I could have expected at that moment. I reasoned, if they can make that much noise, they must be okay. I blundered forward in the dark guided by the noise and bumped into all three of them.
For a few frantic moments we simply hugged the children and each other and reassured ourselves everyone was safe.
Then, “what happened?” Matt was asking.
“That lady brung us here.” Paddy said. His grammar is still a little lacking in the finer points, but I suppose he is only four-and-three-quarters.