Tom’s first reaction had been to feel happy and relieved for Ellie, and then he’d wanted to hide the article and photograph of the beautiful bride in a long, sleeveless, white dress from Anne, but he hadn’t. No more secrets, he’d thought, remembering their promise to each other, and that morning he’d held his breath as Anne read the piece.
‘Well,’ she’d said, ‘Ellie has found her own man to be happy with now.’
And Tom had taken a huge sigh of relief and gratitude. There were many things he marvelled at about his wife, and her ability to forgive was high up there on his list. He’d pulled her onto his knee and kissed her neck, inhaling her fresh natural smell. ‘She can’t be as happy as I am now, Anne,’ he’d said. ‘It would be impossible for anyone to be as happy as me – because they haven’t got you!’
Lying next to the buggy and thinking of Anne, Tom felt himself dozing off to sleep in the warmth of the sun, but the noise of a dog barking loudly jerked him awake. He sat upright instantly and realised with horror that the buggy was gone. He jumped to his feet with panic racing through his whole body and looked wildly around the park towards the swings, his mind filled with the grotesque fear that someone had taken his Emily. Oh, God, where is she? he cried aloud.
His heart pounded against his chest wall and bile rose into the back of his throat as he saw a man pushing Emily’s buggy towards the old toilet block. Tom ran as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming and shouting until the air left his lungs and he caught up with them.
‘You bastard,’ Tom yelled and pulled the handle of the buggy from the man.
Tom panted, taking huge breaths of air into his lungs and, with sweat running from his forehead and a stomach heaving with dread, he dropped to his knees to look at Emily. His daughter hadn’t even stirred; she was untouched, unharmed and still fast asleep. The rush of relief brought tears to his eyes and he wiped them away with the back of his sweaty hand. Slowly and menacingly he looked up at the man.
‘I…I haven’t touched her,’ the man whimpered.
Tom guessed the large man was in his early fifties. He was wearing an old brown duffle coat and scruffy trousers. With pale, sickly skin and large, flabby jowls Tom noticed his furtive piggy eyes look wildly left to right around the park, and then take a step back, as though he was getting ready to run.
Tom glared at him with hatred, realising what he’d been going to do to his little girl, and something inside him snapped. The old memories of Steve, the rank stench of whisky and his rough gnarled hand covering his mouth, flooded into Tom’s mind and he was filled with loathing for these men. He raised his fist and punched him as hard as he could on the jaw. The man cried out and sank to his knees in the grass.
With the commotion, Emily woke and began to cry and then Tom heard the other mothers shouting and screaming as they ran towards him.
Tom rubbed the stinging knuckles of his hand and turned to the approaching women. ‘I’d fallen asleep and h…he was pushing her buggy towards the men’s toilet block,’ he gabbled.
As the women reached them, all hell broke loose as they screamed abuse at the man lying on the grass nursing his jaw. One of them called the police from her mobile and the youngest of the mothers lifted a black knee-high boot and kicked the man in the groin. She bellowed, ‘Scum bag – you’re the scum of the bloody earth!’
As the man writhed and groaned in pain Tom couldn’t stop himself grinning with satisfaction.
Another mother shouted, ‘We mustn’t let the dirty creep run away before the police get here,’ and pushed her empty buggy over the man’s leg, holding it steady.
Knowing she was right and they’d have to hold him there, Tom placed his trainer roughly over the man’s hand. I don’t want to break any bones, he thought, although he probably deserves it, but decided to exert just enough pressure so the man couldn’t move. ‘Oh, he’s not going anywhere,’ Tom stated firmly. ‘There’s no way he’s getting away with what he intended to do.’
Tom took some deep breaths and looked at his red, grazed knuckles; he’d never in his life hit anyone before, but the fear of being attacked had been the furthest thing in his mind. His only rational thought had been to protect Emily.
A cheer rang up as the crowd around them had gathered and grown. One of the mothers picked Emily out of her buggy to soothe her and then handed her over to Tom. He cradled Emily to him, trying to shake from his mind the thoughts of what might have happened to her, and buried his face in her sweet innocence.
Murmuring softly, he cursed himself, ‘How could I have fallen asleep? I should have been awake to protect you from cretins like that.’
A woman behind him exclaimed loudly, ‘It’s not your fault. We should be able to let our children play in the park without threats from evil animals like him.’
Just as Tom was going to answer he heard the siren, and within minutes two PCs had listened to their accounts, picked the man up from the grass and bundled him into the back of their police car. The crowd gradually dispersed, muttering comments which Tom thought sounded as if a sense of justice had prevailed and then, along with the other mothers, he gave his statement to the policewoman.
A woman reporter from the Evening Chronicle suddenly emerged and Tom felt his cheeks blush as the other mothers all professed him to be a hero, who had tackled the man to the ground and made sure he was arrested. Tom grinned as he left the park in a taxi with Emily and arrived home just before Anne.
It must have looked a strange sight, he told Anne later, to see a man standing with his foot over another man, pinning him to the ground while holding his baby in his arms.
Anne shuddered and cradled Emily even closer to her. Their daughter was bathed and in her pyjamas, but instead of putting her to sleep in her cot straight away, Anne sat with Emily in her arms. ‘I can’t believe it happened in our little park,’ she murmured, not wanting to wake Emily. ‘I hope he goes to prison for what he’s done, or could have done!’
Tom had spent an hour reassuring and supporting Anne, as when she’d heard the story she had become very upset as to what might have happened. After bathing his knuckles with an antiseptic solution Anne checked Emily over and over again, even though Tom insisted that she slept throughout the whole event.
‘If that dog hadn’t barked,’ she said, catching a sob in her throat, ‘well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about…’
‘I know,’ Tom frowned. The same thoughts had constantly repeated themselves in his mind ever since it had happened, and at times he felt physically sick, imagining his daughter being abducted, or worse still, being subjected to horrific abuse. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for dozing off to sleep. Never - ever!’
Anne clasped his arm firmly. ‘Don’t, Tom. It wasn’t your fault. I could have done exactly the same thing.’
Tom looked down at his feet. Although he thanked her and appreciated her kindness, Tom vowed that in the future he would never take his eyes off his daughter when they were outside again.
The newspaper ran the story the following morning and Tom was known locally as the parks have a go hero. Anne read the piece aloud while they ate breakfast together, with Emily in her high chair throwing cereal around. The police had made a statement to make the public aware of a potential group of predators circulating in the area, and how everyone with small children should be on their guard; schools and nurseries had been informed.
Anne read the last sentence twice, “The bravery and courage of Mr Tom Shepherd in stopping this man before he could do any harm to another child has been welcomed by the community”.
‘But it wasn’t just me!’ Tom cried. ‘It was the other mothers in the park too; it was a joint effort.’
Anne cooed, ‘But you were the one who floored him, Tom. You’re our own have a go hero, and both me and Emily are very proud of you.’
Remembering the incident, Tom slowly shook his head. ‘You know, Anne, I still can’t believe I hit someone,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Suddenly I w
asn’t afraid anymore and just wanted to lash out at him.’
‘Well,’ Anne soothed, ‘that’s what being a parent is all about. The most important thing in your mind was to protect Emily at all costs, and this obviously overrode the fear you’ve built up in your mind over the years.’
As Emily flicked a spoonful of cereal in his direction, narrowly missing his shoulder, Tom sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. He sipped his coffee and worked the words courage and bravery around in his mind. These were not words that he’d ever associated with himself, but after yesterday’s events he felt like Bruce Willis or Tom Cruise trying to shield the area from a dangerous predator.
While Anne simpered and fawned over his bravery for attacking the man, Tom folded his hands behind his head and smiled. At last, he thought, I feel like a real man.
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All I Want For Christmas Page 21