Lost Lad

by Annable, Narvel

  "That's right, Jim. We've done our homework and, as Gary said earlier, the folk at Cressbrook Hall may have no responsibility at all."

  "Now I wonder, have you considered ... It is just possible that one of your mates could be guilty? Even you, Simeon!"

  "Pardon?"

  "Now don't take offence. You were all very young at the time and painful memories can get buried in the passage of time ..."

  "Mr Malpass!" interjected Simeon, restrained but bristling "Have you considered the folly of your theory? Here's me, now, on the radio! Would I be likely to do that if ..."

  "That is the very point of my theory, Simeon. If you have a guilty subconscious, a hidden memory, and I do stress if, then you will try to seek the truth - you can't leave it alone can you? A few minutes ago you said Brian has haunted you all these years. Well then, that points to a suppressed or possibly false memory. You may have a split-personality and this being a case of your good side returning to uncover the deeds of your bad side. I think you, and the other lads (men now) should submit to hypnotism. I'm only trying to be helpful, John."

  "Thanks, Jim. We'll take that on board, but other callers are waiting." Simeon groaned whist John Holmes continued - "Kathy Syson has a suggestion. Good morning, Kathy."

  "Don't panic, chaps! I'm not a hypnotist offering my services. I just wanted to tell you and everybody else that we have an annual school re-union in Heanor for former pupils of William Howitt Secondary Modern School in October. You'll be most welcome, Simeon, and, who knows - you may get the information you need."

  "Great stuff, Kathy. You've put the smile back on Simeon's face. Mary Taylor, I gather you have a theory to offer?"

  "Yes, John," spoke Mary in a rather thin and frail voice. "I was very young when this boy disappeared, but that's just it, he disappeared didn't he - into thin air? Well ... this is a bit far fetched, but, well ... He was one of twins wasn't he? Is it possible, just possible that some sort of conjuring trick was played on his friends? I mean, if Mr Hogg thinks back to the time, is he absolutely sure there were two twins in the first place?" At this stage all three men in the studio were wearing a pained look. "Is it possible, just possible, that the one brother somehow, in the first place, gave the impression to everybody that there were two - and all the time, in fact, there was just the one! Then it would seem like one had gone missing - wouldn't it. I mean ... "

  "No, Mary." said Simeon, sharply, determined to end the embarrassing misery. "Brian and Danny Forrester were two twins. They were not identical, in fact they were distinctly different in looks and personality."

  "Interesting stuff, Mary." said John hastily. "Thank you for that contribution. We move on."

  "Aye oop, Dobba!"

  Simeon froze. This was a familiar friendly cheerful voice, a voice he had not heard in 43 years. It was the first time in 43 years that anybody had called him Dobba. It was a special name, uttered only by a small select group of good people, bestowed upon him by a very special person. This name was magical. It had great power. It came with a change of life, it changed his life. He was reinvented by this name and Simeon Hogg, in the Radio Derby studio, became emotional during those seconds absorbing the full significance of this phone call. In a weak and unsteady response -

  "Danny. Is that you ... Danny?"

  "In person, Dobba! 'Ow are ya?"

  "Fine ... "

  "A just left me mobile noomber with the receptionist. Get in touch with us, won't ya, Dobba?"

  "Yes ... "

  "Hello, Danny," said John, coming to the rescue with cheery upbeat professionalism. "Just confirm to us all that you really did have a brother."

  "A did an all! 'E were a grand lad, our Brian. We still miss 'im don't we, Dobba? We 'ad some good times, didn't we, Dobba?"

  "We did, Danny, yes we did," was the shaky reply which very nearly broke.

  After picking up this obvious intensity of affection which still existed between the two former pals, John Holmes encouraged Simeon to nostalge about his Howitt days which were described as open, sunny, kind, loving, leafy green and hopeful: this in sharp contrast to the days of Mundy Street Boys School which were described as claustrophobic, hateful, cruel, ugly, dark and despairing.

  More calls came in with ever varied and exotic explanations for the sudden absence of Brian Forrester. One woman suggested that Brian, having fallen off his bike, wandered through the woods and came across the terrible Mandrake Tree which had a taste for adolescent flesh and left no trace of its victim. An authority on Druids and Satanism was certain that Brian, a concussed amnesiac unable to identify himself, was offered as a 'black rite' sacrifice at a nearby sacred grove in a ritual execution. One caller started with a plausible theory of Brian falling through a limestone hole (of which there are many in that area) but then pushed credibility beyond the limit with tales of his being taken prisoner by The Fairies of Caldon Low in their subterranean fairyland.

  The last call was a welcome contrast.

  "Now here's something exciting. We have Simon on the line who claims he knows exactly where Brian Forrester is. Good morning, Simon."

  "Allo!"

  'Another kook,' Gary Mackenzie silently mouthed to John Holmes, but for Simeon, here again was a familiar voice, a funny little voice, light high and camp.

  "A just wanted ta tell ya, Simeon, that ya old friend is all right. Is 'appy an well. A get regular messages from 'im - is OK, don't ya worry."

  "Simon! It's been a long time, but I seem to recognise your voice. I think we've met?"

  "We 'ave met. A met you an ya mates in Water-cum-Jolly Dale in 1960. Am still lookin' after t' 'Ardmans at Cressbrook 'All."

  "Are you the butler we've been hearing about, Simon?"

  "I am, Mr 'Omes. Ave bin 'ere 51 years an seen Mr Charles grow up ta be a fine gentleman and a brilliant writer. 'E's inta mystery an folklore ya know."

  "I know indeed, Simon. Charles Hardman has been my guest on several occasions. An interesting speaker, but do tell us, where is Simeon's long lost friend?"

  "Is a long way off - in a different place, a very strange place, Mr 'Omes."

  "Listeners may not know this .. " explained Simeon, " .. but Simon Tonks is a clairvoyant and is able to communicate with the dead. Put us out of our misery, Simon, and tell us what happened to Brian Forrester on that infamous Sunday, July 24th in 1960."

  "Yes, tell us, Simon," added Gary. "This could save us all a whole lot of time and trouble!"

  Simon's initial chirpy exuberance was slightly tempered by a touch of sarcasm in his next offering -

  "Do a detect a bit o' wot we call up 'ere, 'extraction of the urine'? Scepticism is not condoocive to arriving at the truth, gentlemen. Ooo said oat about 'im bein' dead? I do get messages from t' spirit world, but also, like anybody else, a get messages from the living - and Brian Forrester is living. In spite of ya attitude - 'ere it is. Your friend was abdooked by aliens from outer space! Flying saucers often coom to Derbyshire. Most of them are seen over Kinder Scout 'cus the attracted by ancient sites - the follow 'ley lines'."

  At this point, Gary waved a circling finger at the side of his head and mouthed - 'Crazy! They're all kooky and crazy!' Simon Tonks carried on -

  "It'd be when 'e were goin' down t' big 'ill. 'E were taken. 'E dunt talk about it mooch, but is very 'appy an sez e wants ya ta leave 'im well alone an not disturb 'im, but sends ya all is good wishes. Is got a new life. Is 'appy - leave 'im be."

  As John Holmes was thanking Simon and all the others who took part in the interview, Simeon was thoughtful, cogitating and mulling over the insistence and significance of Simon's last words -

  'Leave well alone. Leave him be'?

  Chapter 28

  The Other Twin

  It had been arranged that Danny Forrester would come to Bog Hole at three o'clock that Monday afternoon of April 28th 2003. Gary had remained in Derby checking out a few interesting spots. Simeon, taking advantage of the sunshine, was sitting outside with Aunty Joyce and a gaggle of
relatives, happily soaking up all the fuss of a Hogg who, unusually had -

  "Bin on t' wireless! Arr Simeon, on t' wireless! Now then!"

  The chatter descended into myriad inanities such as Aggie Oaks's inflated prices, the cheeky youth in the next row, Mrs Grocock's shame and her dirty windows. Simeon tuned them out and began to think about the twin who did not disappear, the twin, soon to arrive in Horsley Woodhouse - his old friend Danny Forrester. Like himself, nearly half a century earlier, a once fifteen year old Danny was now approaching the age of 60. What would he be like? In voice and disposition, unchanged; it was the young Danny he heard through the headphones at Radio Derby. It was the same youthful Danny he remembered, cheerful, bouncy, open, candid, honest and sincere. Quite simply Danny Forrester was one of the best, the nicest person he had ever known.

  And yet Simeon, the sensible mature man, knew, only too well, the basis of this idealised perception. Danny Forrester was seen through a window of time long past. Danny, essentially a good person, had been there for him at William Howitt Secondary Modern School, giving respect and friendship at a crucial moment of his life. What if that friendship had been tested by continuation beyond 1960? What if the friendship had been tested by the inevitable divergence of two different personal paths: divergence of temperament or sexuality? What if the friendship had been put to the test of a crisis - a friend in need? Simeon Hogg swept away these dark thoughts. He would rely on instinct. Danny Forrester had sounded just the same, he sounded fantastic ... A car drew up.

  A car? Danny Forrester was getting out of a car! Not just any car. It was big and brand new. That was not right. Danny should have arrived on a rickety old push-bike. Until that moment, Simeon had been fearful of what he would see. Forty three years: Danny would be 58! How could Danny be 58? That was not right either. Danny would always be 15. He must stay in that time-warp - forever, just like in the treasured school photograph when he stood next to Miss McLening sporting his Double Diamond tray. Danny must stay frozen forever in that single moment of time just before Easter 1960. Simeon feared what he would see emerging from that car. Reality had forced itself into his mind. Danny Forrester might look old, he might be grey - like Simeon who, as Gary put it, regularly 'hit the ink bottle'. Danny Forrester might be bald and bent - but it was observed with sheer joy and relief that Danny Forrester was none of these things. Simeon recalled a scruffy, skinny Danny, ever wearing a big cheeky grin on his (if not handsome) pleasant and good-looking face. The man who alighted from that car wore the same big cheeky grin on a face which was hardly touched by the passage of time. The skinny frame had gone: gone, but it had not been replaced by fat or the disfiguring beer belly so typical of working class culture. The body which confidently walked tall towards the awe-struck man standing outside number four Bog Hole, was an improvement on the scrawny Danny of 1960. This was a fit man, well made and well proportioned.

  They embraced. It was the first time that had ever happened. Heanor boys never embraced, it would have violated an unwritten and unspoken code. It was also within the perimeters of that same working class code that Danny would simply call out to the assembled Hoggs -

  "Are ya all right then!"

  He was acknowledged by a collective response of nods and smiles and a "Huh!" from Uncle Wilfred. Much to Simeon's relief, individual introductions were unnecessary. They walked towards the rec' away from the many curious eyes piercing their backs - not least the boring bullet eyes of Aunty Nelly.

  They settled on a seat with a magnificent view of many miles out to a Derbyshire expanse of far hills and shades of green they both knew and loved as boys. And now they were boys. Danny Forrester and Simeon Hogg clung to their special place in that wonderful time-warp of 1960. They spoke of their mutual friends, the fun they had, the laughs, the time they were kicked out of the Belper Baths by the grouchy attendant for disobedience after warnings, incidents with Mrs Buxcey - lots of hilarious stories about Mrs Buxcey.

  "We were so innocent."

  "We were that, Dobba!"

  Simeon suddenly felt contempt for the evil speculations and unwanted assumptions of Gary Mackenzie and Detective Sergeant John Winter.

  The reminiscences continued. During these exchanges there was tacit agreement that the realities of 2003 should not intrude. On the one side there was marriage, children, much loved grandchildren and the successful career of a skilled plumber in constant demand. On the other side there was the unspoken significance of no marriage, no children and the mystery of decades in a distant foreign land many miles from the culture and compass of Horsley Woodhouse and Heanor.

  The old repertoire of funnies were re-visited and re-rehearsed - Long John Silver, Omo washing powder and such juvenile bonding devices as -

  "What's they know about rabbits?"

  "Enough ta put they in a 'utch!"

  Eventually the laughter and happy banter subsided and the conversation took a more serious turn.

  "Did ya know we lost Titch, Dobba?"

  "Dead!"

  "Arr. It'd be ... what, 'bout ten year back."

  "Rex?"

  "Champion! A long distance lorry driver. Never changes. Still full of it. Barrel o' laughs. Grand chap. Good mate."

  "Scott?"

  "Done well, Dobba! Got 'is own buildin' business. Two great strappin' lads 'elpin' im. The all live in a big 'ouse."

  Danny Forrester spoke of his own life style, a large part of which was the social round of public houses in Heanor. He enjoyed a drink - in fact he enjoyed several drinks and Simeon considered the early significance of the Double Diamond tray. As various amusing Heanorian anecdotes were trotted out, a comment from Gary was recalled to the effect that, perhaps it was really Simeon Hogg who was the real 'lost lad'. He had now moved on. He had moved so very far away from that Heanorian world of which he had once inhabited. It became clear that there were big differences between the two men who once shared a boyhood friendship. Notwithstanding, Simeon harboured a huge affection for the man at his side. Danny Forrester was so real and so genuine. Danny Forrester was such a total contrast to the artificial and affected parade of ponces he had stomached on and off over the past forty years.

  Very gently, Simeon steered the conversation away from Danny's favourite pub to the conundrum of July 24th 1960.

  "You must have entertained a few ideas of your own, Danny?"

  "I expect we all thought it was that bloke 'Ardman, Dobba. Then there were t'other two. It didn't say much in t' papers but, well, there were plenty a gossip going round 'eana at that time."

  "You mean the butler and the gardener?"

  "A do, Dobba. A rate couple o' funny buggers! Well we met t' butler in that deep valley dint we? Talk about queer! Bloody 'ell!

  "Not exactly the sort to be moving in your circles, Danny," laughed Simeon. "But I'm inclined to think that type is fairly tame ... "

  "Ooo arr, Dobba. Ya right. They'd be gentle. The might 'av a go, but arr Brian ... well 'e'd see 'em off. 'E would ... "

  Danny became pensive and stared out over to Crich. Simeon reminded him that he and Brian were twins -

  " ... So did you have any special communication. Have you any instinctive feelings about what might have happened?"

  "A know what ya mean, Dobba, but we were never able to read each other's mind or oat like that. No. But ... well ... "

  "Go on."

  "It's really joost a feelin'. Av always felt that ... What's 'is name, the son?"

  "Charles Hardman."

  "That's 'im! Writes them spooky books, ya can buy 'em at Shipley Park. Now 'e was about twelve at the time - joost lost 'is mam - well ya never know do ya? It might 'av turned 'im a bit funny. It might be imagination but ... sometimes it's as if arr Brian's tryin' ta tell me summat, Dobba."

  "Possibly, but it could also be your own good sense putting together a theory. I really must try to speak to Charles Hardman - in spite of what that awful woman said. You remember Detective Inspector Derek Russell, the one who was so good to us,
well, he tells me that old Hardman never let his son out of his sight for years. Took him out of a posh school and brought in private tutors until he went away to university."

  "Could 'av bin protectin' im, Dobba!"

  "From the law - possibly. I notice Tonks (the butler) joined the growing chorus of appeals for me to stop investigating. I must speak to him as well. Do you know, Danny, I'm starting to think we could get somewhere with this. We may yet get to the truth, old friend!"

  "'Ope so, Dobba, but mind ya self. Be careful - ya never know."

  Chapter 29

  Ghosts

  Gary Mackenzie makes friends very quickly. He made a new one in Derby who gave him a glowing report about a well known large gay sauna bath at Darlaston near Birmingham.

  "It sounds just great! Swimming pool, jacuzzis, steam rooms, gym, cinema, restaurant ... How about spending the day there?"

  But Simeon had already made his plans for this day, Tuesday, April 29th. From Danny Forrester he had discovered the location of Scott North's current building site, not far away, within an easy cycle ride. Seeing Gary's face fall, Simeon decided to be generous.

  "Take the car, but make sure it's parked up safe."

  "No problem, it has a 'secure car park' - guarded even!"

  "It had better be."

  Never once having been allowed to touch the precious vintage Cadillac, Gary was profuse with further assurances, giving many thanks and made a quick exit with the car keys whilst the going was good.

  The high pressure persisted and warm comforting early afternoon sunshine encouraged the cyclist to push himself eastwards out of Horsley Woodhouse, through Smalley, along the Heanor road to a high point just past Holly Mount Farm where an expensive looking new house was under construction and not far short of completion. Simeon dismounted and approached with caution and some emotion. After 43 years he would, once again, behold the one and only - Scott North. At first he was galvanised by the sight of the two 'strapping lads' Danny had mentioned, both on ladders and both very busy. One of them noted the somewhat unusual arrival of a man on a bike. Responding to an enquiry, he told the visitor that he'd find 'the boss' within. Simeon wandered through a couple of empty rooms before finding the third man looking thoughtfully at a door which was giving trouble.