The Mountain in My Shoe

by Louise Beech

  From,

  Mark

  32

  Bernadette

  ‘Perhaps you should try calling Richard again, at home,’ says Anne. Traffic swooshes past their still-parked car.

  Bernadette considers it, shrugs. ‘You must wonder what kind of woman I am to go into a dark pantry like that, just because he ordered me to. You must think me weak, stupid.’

  ‘I don’t think anything of the kind,’ says Anne. ‘We all do things others might say they wouldn’t. I think back to my first marriage and it’s like looking at another me. For love we’ll probably do just about anything.’

  ‘It wasn’t for love,’ says Bernadette, quietly. ‘It was because I was afraid. Not of him, but of being alone. I went into a dark place on my own because I don’t want to be alone – makes no sense. I wish I could be less cowardly.’

  ‘You’ve been brave tonight,’ says Anne, fastening her seatbelt again. She pauses, looks at Bernadette. ‘Where were you going to go tonight, if I hadn’t rung you?’

  Bernadette looks out across the fields, at the distant house lights. ‘I had no clear plan. I’d planned what I would take and what I’d say to Richard. Beyond that … maybe a hotel.’ She looks at Anne. ‘I’d never have gone far from Conor.’

  ‘If you’re stuck tonight, I have the spare room.’

  Bernadette nods, grateful. ‘Can I use your phone one more time?’

  Anne passes it over. She starts the car and pulls back onto the carriageway while Bernadette dials the Tower Rise number, once again reaching the answering machine. Still no Richard.

  What time is it now? Nine-forty. It’s like the effect of time passing slowly in a dark cupboard is reversed here and the night is slipping by too quickly. What will they do if it ends and they still don’t have Conor?

  As though reading her thoughts again, Anne asks, ‘Who the devil do you think this Andy is?’

  Bernadette knows she’s changing the subject from Richard to Conor to take her out of the black pantry.

  ‘He must be someone that could easily get Conor into a car,’ says Bernadette. ‘I know he’s young, and he can be too trusting at times, but there’s a steel in him too. He won’t do something unless he wants to.’

  ‘If it’s one of Frances’ … you know, clients … he must have some sort of link to them both. Or he’s using Conor to get something out of her?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Bernadette’s window mists with her breath. She wipes it and remembers a time on the bus when Conor wrote his name and hers in the window’s condensation.

  ‘If this Andy got any info about Conor from Frances then he could have used that,’ says Anne. ‘If he mentioned Muhammad Ali or something about drawing, Conor would have gone anywhere in the world with him.’

  ‘You don’t think…’ Bernadette can’t finish the sentence.

  ‘That he’d hurt him? No. We can’t think that. We mustn’t. We have to just think about finding him.’

  ‘But what are we doing?’ snaps Bernadette. ‘Just driving. We should be calling people. We should be doing more! Shouldn’t we?’

  ‘We are,’ insists Anne. ‘We’ve been where he was last seen and we spoke to the neighbour and to Andrew. We’re doing what we should be, Bernadette. At my house we’ll be where we need to be. We can continue ringing people from there and one of us can go out and physically look in the area. Okay?’

  ‘If only I had the Lifebook,’ says Bernadette.

  ‘What difference would it make?’ asks Anne. ‘You and I probably know the words in there by heart.’

  ‘But there might be a clue,’ says Bernadette. ‘Something we’ve overlooked.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ve overlooked anything. We’ve thought about nothing else for the last few hours.’

  ‘Last Saturday I hugged Conor so tight,’ she says to Anne. Had she somehow foreseen this night and hugged him for the first time because it might be the last?

  ‘He told me,’ says Anne.

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Yes. He was happy about it.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to,’ says Bernadette.

  She knows she overstepped BFL’s boundaries to hug Conor. Touch can only occur where necessary – picking up a fallen child, wiping a tear. Richard might say this was now her punishment – that God had taken Conor.

  ‘Those boundaries are there to protect,’ says Anne. ‘And they should be. But when you’ve been with your child for five years I think it’s safe to assume that you know him better than anyone. You know what might frighten or disturb him. You know his background.’

  ‘It was still selfish of me,’ says Bernadette. ‘I needed the hug. I didn’t think of him.’

  Anne shakes her head. ‘Of course you thought of him.’

  The boy occupies Bernadette’s thoughts a good deal of the day and most of the night, when she tries to imagine how it must have felt to have been abandoned so many times. She supposes that being in a dark pantry or abandoned fridge for a brief time would be nothing to a boy let down by adults, by his own family, over and over and over.

  Anne’s phone rings. She looks at Bernadette before answering. News? Face alight with surprise, she hands it to Bernadette and says, ‘It’s that Ruth woman again.’

  Bernadette takes the phone like it might detonate and cautiously says hello.

  ‘Has he come back yet?’

  ‘No,’ says Bernadette. ‘But I’m not sure what it has to do with you. You won’t even tell me who you are.’

  ‘Is he okay, do you think?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Bernadette isn’t angry. The poor woman sounds worried, but she’s no threat. ‘What’s your relationship to my husband, anyway?’

  There is a short pause. Bernadette holds her breath.

  ‘Can we meet?’ asks Ruth finally.

  ‘You want to meet?’ Bernadette can’t conceal her surprise.

  Anne looks wide-eyed at Bernadette, and then nods firmly.

  ‘I might be able to help you find Richard,’ says Ruth. ‘But not over the phone.’

  ‘Why would you help me?’ Bernadette is suspicious now.

  ‘I think you deserve it.’

  ‘I deserve it?’

  ‘Look,’ says Ruth, ‘I know where you live. I could come over later if Richard still isn’t back. We can talk. I’ll explain. What do you think?’

  Bernadette isn’t sure what she thinks. This woman knows Richard and knows where she lives. But if she can help find him then Bernadette can concentrate on Conor.

  ‘I’m not at home right now,’ she says. ‘I’ve something more urgent to do. But I may call you if Richard still hasn’t turned up later.’

  Ruth doesn’t speak. Eventually she says quietly, ‘Ring me if you need me then,’ and hangs up.

  ‘She wants to come to the flat,’ says Bernadette.

  ‘Goodness,’ says Anne. ‘Do you think she—‘

  ‘Is his mistress?’ Bernadette has considered it, and now it seems likely. ‘Maybe. But I’ll think about all that later. Let’s concentrate on Conor.’

  Like two sparkling skipping ropes, the lights of the Humber Bridge twinkle ahead. They’re not far from Anne’s now. Maybe fifteen minutes. Bernadette feels guilty that she’s looking forward to a cup of tea and the warm fire. How can she when Conor won’t be there to enjoy it? He always scoops extra sugar into his and asks Anne for a biscuit. She says no if he hasn’t had his dinner yet, and yes if he has. Such simple rules make childhood feel safe.

  Bernadette remembers such guidelines: no dessert if you don’t eat all your greens, bed early if you haven’t done your homework, ten minutes less playing out time if you come home late. Bernadette might have hidden soggy broccoli in her pocket so she’d get Angel Delight, and rushed her maths so she could stay up, but she never came in late. Not once.

  Now everyone is late. Conor and Richard and Bernadette herself. She is late to her own life.

  ‘Won’t it be wonderful if he’s just there,’ says Anne. ‘We walk into my li
ving room and Conor is with Yvonne.’

  ‘God, if only,’ says Bernadette.

  The phone rings again and the women glance at one another.

  ‘You’d better answer,’ says Anne. ‘I shouldn’t really keep picking it up while I’m driving.’

  It’s PC French. She explains calmly that it’s good they’re on their way back to Hull because the police had a call from a Mrs Macarthur – Sophie’s mum – twenty minutes ago. Apparently, at approximately nine-fifteen, she received a phone call in which no one spoke. Sure it must be Conor, she dialled 1471 and got a local number, which she gave them. PC French says that whoever called was in a phone box on the Marina, by the Minerva pub. Police are on their way to investigate.

  ‘We’ll go straight there,’ says Bernadette. ‘We’re five minutes away.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s best you go back to Mrs Williams’ house and wait there for our news,’ says PC French. ‘It could be a false trail, and we don’t know what to expect yet.’

  ‘Surely you don’t expect us to just sit at Anne’s house?’

  ‘For now, it might be best.’

  When she’s hung up, Bernadette looks at Anne. ‘Sophie’s mum had a random call where the person didn’t speak. It had to have been Conor! It came from the Marina and PC French is heading there now. But she said we should just go to yours.’

  ‘We can’t,’ says Anne, adamant. ‘And that’s that. He’s my boy, and we’re going wherever he might be.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agrees Bernadette.

  As they speed along the final stretch of dual carriageway, and the lights on the river bounce in anticipation, Bernadette remembers how she told Conor the pretty leaf ditty that came to her that autumn evening at the window. The leaves are leaving. He chanted it then while kicking crunchy leaves in the street. He ran and jumped into the golden piles and sang it out loud. The leaves are leaving.

  Hopefully, they will say it together again soon. They will sing it with abandon and she’ll let him have his favourite fruit pastels even if he doesn’t eat Anne’s broccoli and no one is going to deduct ten minutes playing time because he came home late.

  33

  The Book

  New Placement Assessment Form – Conor Jordan (D.O.B. 10/11/2001)

  Foster Carer – Anne Williams (D.O.B. 18/05/1954)

  1. Details of social services department or agency.

  Hull Social Services Department, Hull, East Yorkshire.

  2. Basic details of proposed foster carer.

  Language – English

  Religion – Church of England

  Ethnic Descent – White British

  Occupation – Retired (ex dinner lady)

  Health – Non-smoker

  Permanent UK home – Yes

  Compulsory Checks – All up-to-date

  3. Recent photograph.

  Attached.

  4. Outline of children in household.

  Children, two daughters: are grown and have left home. Grandchildren (three granddaughters) occasionally visit.

  5. State what type of care is being offered.

  Long-term fostering is being offered. Anne Williams is an experienced foster carer, having previously looked after seven children long term, over the last fifteen years. She is looking to foster just one child with greater needs.

  6. Type of child or children that will be suitable to foster.

  Age range – no specification

  Gender – no specification

  Carer is capable of looking after a child from a different ethnic or religious background. She will consider children with severe learning difficulties or who have severe physical disabilities. Carer will accept children who may have been physically abused or neglected. She especially wants to look after a child who is unlikely to make relationships easily. We feel she will be ideal for Conor Jordan.

  7. Describe foster carer’s family.

  Proposed foster carer has a secure home, and enjoys great relationships with her grown-up children (two daughters) and grandchildren (three granddaughters). She has been a foster carer for fifteen years, and cared for a wide variety of children. She was widowed some years ago. Anne enjoys a warm relationship with her neighbour’s children and is liked in the area. She was a popular dinner lady for twenty years.

  8. Details of home.

  The home is a well-maintained and safe three-bedroom semi-detached house. Child will enjoy an enclosed garden and his/her own bedroom. This privacy and independence, and the attention of one person, will be ideal for Conor Jordan.

  9. Details of other adult members who are part of household.

  There is only Anne in her home – daughters and grandchildren occasionally stay over.

  10. Proposed school

  The school Conor currently attends is close enough to the residence for him to continue to attending.

  10. Family lifestyle

  Anne enjoys a simple life – likes walking, crocheting, cooking, and the theatre.

  1st July 2007

  Dear Conor,

  Welcome to my home, Conor. I’m blessed and also very excited to be writing for the first time in your Lifebook and I hope we’re going to become good friends. When you arrived this week, you looked as though you were quite exhausted. Like you had travelled for a long, long time. You stood in my kitchen with one case and a plastic bag with Muhammad Ali DVDs in it and you didn’t move. You didn’t want me to come too close, and I understand that. You didn’t look me in the eye, and I understand that too. Lack of trust is visible in every movement and in your quiet voice, and I understand. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this home a good one and there is nothing you will do or say here that means I’ll send you away. I imagine I seem old to you. I don’t have all the gadgets here that I know kids like but there’s Lego and I’ve been told I’m a great cook. Kids seem to eat all my cakes! I read that drawing is your passion and so I put lots of paper and packs of pens in your room, but so far you haven’t touched any of them. You don’t eat cake either. So I know how sad you are. But I’m patient. I was good at helping my mum knit when I was small because I’d hold the wool for her for hours and I like things that take a long time. You have to wait when you bake and if you get impatient and open the oven door too early on a cake it sinks. So I’m not going to try and open any doors too early. I understand you need patience and so I’ll sit and watch your Muhammad Ali fights with you, even though boxing makes me cringe a little. And I’ll wait until you talk to me.

  Love,

  Anne

  Befriend for Life,

  234–5 James Street, Hull

  15th August 2007

  Dear Tracy,

  We are pleased to inform you that a suitable volunteer has been found for Conor Jordan. Bernadette Shaw can begin seeing him as soon as is suitable for you and Conor’s current carer, Anne Williams, whom we have also contacted. Please find enclosed some forms to complete regarding funding and a profile of said volunteer, Ms Shaw. Please don’t hesitate to contact me should you require more information.

  Yours sincerely, Carole Johnson

  Name – Bernadette Kathleen Shaw

  Date of Birth – 01/08/1980 (aged 27)

  Address – Flat 4, Tower Rise, Foreshore, Hessle.

  Email – N/A

  Mobile – N/A

  Home Number – 01482 334321 (Only call during the day, weekdays)

  Police checked – YES

  Background – Married, non-smoker, housewife, no children.

  Qualifications (where relevant) – Diploma in Health and Social Care

  Experience – N/A

  Reason for Volunteering – ‘I watched a BBC documentary about children who are in care and I felt compelled to look into how I might do some sort of voluntary work with them. I found the Befriend for Life website and decided they were what I was looking for. I contacted them and went through all the necessary checks, and did the intensive ten-week training course. Emotionally and age-wise I’m ready for whatever cha
llenge awaits me. I’ve been unable to have children and feel I have a lot to give to a child who might need a good friend. When asked what “kind” of child I would like I didn’t want to state a preference, since I didn’t want to be prejudiced against one. I asked that Carol and the team decide which child seemed right for me. An experienced BFL volunteer came and talked to us during our training course. She said the team were very instinctive in matching a volunteer with a child, and that she had enjoyed a long relationship with hers as a result. So I was happy to let them decide. I am looking forward to meeting Conor. I have read his file. In truth, it made me cry. I really hope that I can make a difference to his life.’ – Bernadette Shaw

  34

  Conor

  It’s totally freezing. Why does it get this cold near water? Once, when me and Anne went for a walk in Bridlington it had been dead hot all day but as soon as the sun went it was like winter. I reckon family are like the sun and when they leave you get so cold your teeth chatter. When I say stuff like that out loud adults hug me or go Awww, you’re so sweet.