by Rey S Morfin
‘I’m sure she’s fine, Rey,’ I told him, making rare eye contact with him.
‘You didn’t hear her mum… you didn’t hear Joyce. I think it’s worse than you think.’
‘Well, we’re almost there. Let’s not worry too much until we assess the situation for ourselves, yeah?’
He nodded an aggressive and likely self-reassuring nod, and we continued the journey in a worried silence.
The bus wound through the local roads, often having to stop to make way for oncoming traffic. It was a journey that took far longer than it should have. We travelled down the main road to Redbury, passing, first, the turning that would have taken us to Laura’s family home.
Around a slight bend, we could see the old bumpy street that led up to the local church, which, from what I could make out at this distance, looked as decrepit as it always had. I had rarely entered, my family being one of the few who had not pretended to entertain the old Christian traditions. Other families had, but I didn’t know of any who took it particularly seriously.
The allotments followed. I’d spent a great deal of time on those helping out my mum on her home-grown (allotment-grown) produce. She rarely ate anything she hadn’t grown herself. ‘Farm-to-table-to-toilet’, my father had called it. I missed my Dad. Being back here, in Redbury, made me remember that. Not that it was rare that I thought about it. I wondered: was the funeral the last time I’d been home?
In my younger days, after “helping out” on the allotment (which mostly involved making things worse, but I appreciated the efforts my parents went to to make me a part of it), my Mum had taken me over the road to the old playground. It had seemed like a whole kingdom to me back then, but looking at it now, I recognised it only as a swing set and climbing-frame-slash-slide… thing.
The bus finally stopped in the centre of town, outside the pub. I was one of the few people in town who spent very little time in there. Of course, that was where the big trouble had begun. I shook my head, cast it out of my mind.
We alighted the bus and made the ten minute walk through the town to the family home of Laura and Joyce Kamryn.
The front door opened to reveal a distraught woman who looked twice her age. Mascara stained her cheeks from tears since dried, and her greying hair was sprouting wildly from her head. It was at this moment that I realised that Rey’s concerns were not unfounded. But, at this time, I had to be strong for Laura’s mother, so I couldn’t let this get to me just yet.
‘Hi, Joyce,’ I ventured, and I embraced my best friend’s mother. This was not the woman I remembered. The Ms Kamryn I remembered was a lively woman, frivolous with exclamation and always immaculately presented, whereas the woman I was hugging was in some deep kind of trouble.
I looked around to Rey, who was standing on the front porch - motionless. Fucking useless man. He smiled a fake smile at me in response, before awkwardly greeting the mother of his fiancee. The hug between Rey and Laura’s mother did not last nearly as long. Ms Kamryn summoned us both inside silently - still yet to say a word to either of us.
We sat in the living room. I joined Ms Kamryn on the sofa, arm around her. Light streaked in through spotless blinds, illuminating the side of the room where Rey sat alone on an armchair. Dotted around the room were photographs of Laura (the only child) and a few of Laura’s mother herself. The photographs of Mr Kamryn had been removed many years ago. I had been there as it happened, comforting my best friend throughout her parents’ separation.
Nobody could say they hadn’t seen it coming (even I, just fourteen at the time, had seen all the signs). Laura had perhaps been the only person who was oblivious to it. Either this had been due to the naivety of the young, or Laura was trying to fool even herself. I had sat with her on the same sofa, comforting her then as I did her mother now. It was not long after this that he had- well… no need to think about that right now.
‘It’ll be ok, we’ll find her,’ I offered, and found that suddenly even I doubted the sentiment behind those words. Ms Kamryn grimaced in response, before changing the subject.
‘Would anyone like some tea?’
Both Rey and I hesitated, but I (as was becoming the trend, fucking hell, Rey) was first to speak.
‘Why don’t we make it, Ms Kamryn?’
‘Since when did you call me ‘Ms Kamryn’? It’s Joyce, please, Anna. Don’t start calling me something else just because…’ Joyce trailed off, and her head sunk to her hands.
I nodded to Rey to join me in the kitchen. He went straight to start boiling the kettle, not realising that I had suggested this so we could speak privately.
‘What’s going on with you?’ I enquired.
‘What do you mean? I’m fine.’
‘For a start, you shouldn’t be fine - your fiancee is, apparently, actually missing. For a… second, you need to be doing more to comfort Joyce. It shouldn’t be me doing it. You’re family now.’
Rey looked down to his feet - was he ashamed or upset?
‘I’m sorry. I’m not good at this sorta thing.’
‘Well, get good! This is your fiancée’s mother. Sort it out!’
‘Ok, ok. I’m on it.’ Rey took a loud breath, and rested his forehead on the cupboard in front of him, seeming to be mentally and emotionally preparing himself.
We finished making the tea and Rey carried it carefully back to the living room, where Joyce was sat staring at the dust made visible by the streams of light from the windows. I made a point to remain silent, to let Rey speak, as I handed out the cups. Before Rey could do so, Joyce stood up, with purpose, and left the room. I could hear the sound of the stairs creaking underfoot.
Rey and I traded an expression of confusion and paused momentarily before following Joyce to the upper floor of the house, finding her standing motionless in the doorway to a bedroom. I recognised it as Laura’s childhood room - it hadn’t changed a bit. The walls were still lined with the yellow floral print which Laura had liked so much (and I had consistently tried to talk the girl out of, but that wasn’t important right now). The large double bed was still in the same place as it had been since I was thirteen years old, and I was sure that if we looked underneath, we would still find the red wine stain from the glass I had clumsily spilt, that Laura had moved the bed to cover up. There was even the ‘Sex and the City’ box set still in prime position on the chest of drawers, which I was surprised Laura hadn’t taken with her when she moved out.
‘You ok, Joyce?’ Finally Rey had opened his mouth, and it jolted Laura’s mother out of the daze she was in.
‘Yes. Yes. I’m ok.’ Joyce paused for a moment. ‘Would you two like to stay here tonight? I don’t suppose I have to worry about you two sharing a bed, do I.’
I thanked my friend’s mother and accepted on behalf of both myself and Rey, although he gave me a look that suggested that he had rather I hadn’t. I led Joyce back downstairs and the three of us worked on dinner in quiet reflection, other than the occasional ‘excuse me, can I just…’ which stemmed from the kitchen being too small to properly allow three people to cook at once.
The silence continued well into dinner, and any attempt at conversation was met with few words from either Laura’s fiancee or mother. Joyce was barely eating, only nibbling on the food we’d cooked together. Eventually, she put down her cutlery mid-meal, and began to speak, her voice shaky.
‘I knew something was up,’ she said, lump in her throat, ‘She was acting all strange. She’d been her usual self at first. But then… we had a fight. And she was out all day… And I…’
Rey and I shared a look. What was going on here?
‘And she was in such a daze. It was like she was high or something, but I know she’d never do that.’
I shared another look with Rey, this one completely different in nature.
‘It was just like…’
It looked as though Laura’s mother couldn’t bring herself to say what she really thought. She choked on the tears which had begun to flow, and she
fled the table, leaving a barely-touched plate behind her.
Knowing that Rey did not have the requisite skill set to handle this situation, I followed Joyce up the stairs to her room, and knocked.
‘It’s ok!’ Joyce called out, ‘Just had a bad moment!’ Her voice seemed eerily cheerful.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, dear! Very sure!’ Joyce called out, again cheerful in tone.
‘Ok. Just so you know, I’m sure Laura is fine! You know what she’s like, she’s probably out there somewhere without a phone charger or something. She can get a bit… preoccupied with other things.’
Joyce called through the door once again. ‘Exactly, Anna, exactly. I’m sure it’s all fine.’
I wasn’t satisfied with this interaction, but there was little else I could do at that moment.
Rey and I trudged around the house doing odd jobs in a stunned silence. It was only now that I’d had time enough to myself to process the events of the past few hours. The stupor, I guessed, was only natural for people in our situation. With chances that Laura was in serious trouble increasing every minute that she was away, we found ourselves more and more having to confront the reality of the situation - a reality that I was not sure I, let alone Rey, was stable enough to handle.
Eventually, we grew tired, and seemingly at the same time, decided to go to bed. I would follow up with Joyce in the morning.
As I entered the bedroom, I found Rey perched on the side of the bed, having snuck up the stairs ahead of me. We made eye contact.
‘So I guess one of us should sleep on the floor,’ I suggested.
‘Yeah… I think that’d be a good idea. I can-’
‘I’ll go on the floor,’ I insisted.
Rey seemed almost offended. ‘No! No… I can’t let you do that.’
‘Oh, why not?’
‘Because…’ he trailed off.
‘I’m fine on the floor,’ I insisted again.
‘But it’s not very gentlemanly of me…’
‘Oh, don’t be such a sexist. I’m a big strong girl, I’ll manage.’ To avoid any more arguing, I dramatically grabbed a pillow from the bed and laid down on the floor, facing away from him.
Finding the carpet surprisingly comfortable, I began to get my head around the events of that day. I’d gone from believing Rey’s worry completely unfounded to believing that, even for Laura, something may be amiss here. I decided, in the morning, to investigate.
That night, for the first time in many years, I dreamt of Laura’s father.
3
The Cat, The Father, and That Which Lurks in the Forest
It had been a couple of years since I last stepped foot in this town. That visit - my first - had been fleeting, only visiting Laura’s mother, her aunt, and, very briefly, her father, who lived on the very outskirts of town. This meant that I had only a vague sense of the town’s layout, and very little knowledge of the places or people in it.
I stared out of Laura’s childhood bedroom’s window. Being positioned at the front of the house, it offered a vantage point on to the main road into town. This road, at some point unknown to me, became Redbury High Street, and then, at some other unknown point, become just another B road once again. This was one of only perhaps three roads in town which weren’t dead end streets, and as such it played host to the majority of the minimal traffic which came through Redbury.
Few cars passed at this time of night, and in the deafening silence of the small town, they could be heard long before they were seen. I turned around to face the room. Anna snored softly from her position on the bedroom floor, and I crept quietly towards the door to ensure that I didn’t wake her. Anna, at least, didn’t seem to have had trouble getting to sleep that night.
I slipped out of the front door of the house into the darkness, heading down the main road into the centre of town. Only three minutes later, I passed a Post Office / corner shop combination and a pub. The shop was small, about the size of my Brixton flat, and could not have stored a particularly wide variety of goods at any one time. As long as they had sliced bread and baked beans, however, that was good enough for me.
The pub, on the other hand, stood like a monument. Bunting hung from the windows, well-maintained rhododendron bushes proudly lined the perimeter of the building, and fairy lights adorned a seemingly freshly-printed sign for ‘The Black Horse’.
Other than these two landmarks, the town didn’t seem to have any other points of interest - or at least there was nothing immediately discoverable in the nearby area.
At a loss for my next move, I sat down on the bench outside the closed shop, and attempted to battle the oncoming wave of fatigue. This exhaustion was only natural after having been awake for so long, I reasoned.
My train of thought slowly came to a halt and my eyelids became increasingly heavy.
I forced my eyelids back open again and again, waiting for the sun to rise and the people to stir, so that I could begin to look for Laura.
‘Are you ok, young man?’
An elderly woman stared into my face, hand on my shoulder, silhouetted by the morning sun.
‘Yes… I just-’
‘You fell asleep, young man.’
‘Yeah, it happens at my age too,’ I blurted, still groggy.
‘What?’
‘Falling asleep. It’s not just old people that do it. Not that you’re old, I just mean… falling asleep, we all do it. Makes us human.’
With that, she turned and began to hobble away.
I called after her. ‘’Scuse me. Is this… is this the centre of town?’
The woman looked at me with a blank expression on her wrinkled face.
‘The shop is just there.’ She pointed. I assumed this was a ‘yes’.
‘Ok, cheers. Have a good one.’
Taking full advantage of the only local business that was open at this time in the morning, I entered the corner shop. Bells rang to signal that a customer had arrived. Perhaps this was a rare occasion - something to be celebrated. He is risen, your messiah, ready to indulge in the purchase of canned and dried goods.
A young man, about my age, was stacking cigarette boxes in the shelves behind the counter.
‘Hey,’ I ventured.
The shop assistant turned to face me, and his expression turned to that of shock. His cheeks turned a paler shade of white. He remained silent.
‘Hey, yeah, I know, I’m not from round here,’ I offered, forcing my expression from sombre to cheerful. Still he remained quiet, eyes piercing into me.
I browsed in a hurry, picking up a packet of crisps and a cold pastry to go - forsaking the balanced diet that I so often forsook. All the while, eyes followed me around the store. I began towards the cashier with my goods, keen to exit his field of vision, when something caught my eye.
Mounted on the wall by the second - unoccupied - counter for all things Post Office was a large brown cork board, which seemed to serve as the town’s noticeboard. The board was not, from the looks of it, often used. Alongside an ad for a personal trainer and the menu from the local chippy was a picture of a young boy.
The child was maybe seven, eight years old, with tidy brown hair and a messy school shirt. He looked into the camera with a smile in his eyes. Above him were the words “MISSING: LOOKING FOR INFORMATION”. Immediately I stepped towards the noticeboard for a closer look, thinking only of Laura.
The existence of this notice was surely not a coincidence.
In smaller print below the picture, there was more information offered. The boy’s name was Peter Samson. He wasn’t from the area, but had gone missing nearby after his mother lost sight of him. Looking at the date at the end of the notice, my heart dropped - it was labelled as being posted in January, a whole nine months earlier.
‘Did they find him?’ I asked the stunned cashier.
He remained silent, but his stare softened, his mouth twisted into a grimace, and he shook his head.
I placed my purchas
es on the counter. The shopkeeper moved his lips as if to speak, but only a croak came out. He shook his head and coughed, and punched the prices into the till.
‘That’s £2.09, please,’ he announced.
‘Oh, right, really?’ I fumbled around my wallet for change smaller than the twenty that I had begun thrusting towards him. Sadly, I was not in luck. I presented the £20 note. ‘I’m afraid I only got this.’
The man sighed, and began counting out the change - slowly, as if to make this process as painful as possible for all parties involved.
‘Sorry, thanks, sorry,’ I mumbled as he placed the change in my palm, and hurried out of the store. I was back in the bustling town centre, population: two pigeons.
To my right, I recognised the bus stop that Anna and I had alighted at the previous evening. I pressed on in this direction, which was South - judging by the sun rising to my left. After only two minutes, I found myself at the other end of the town, with only empty fields in front of me. A main road wound its way through the hedges, with no pavement to make use of.
I turned to look at the valley to the East. Thousands upon thousands of trees lined the view in front of me, with leaves turning all kinds of reds and oranges and yellows. This wasn’t the kind of view you often experienced in the city. There, even if you were to find a high vantage point, the pollution in the air would cast a grey haze over the landscape.
Another local passed me, giving me another overly-friendly greeting. I was beginning to realise that this wasn’t going to be a rare occurrence. The man didn’t give the view a second look - or even a first. This was his every day.
The bottom of the valley must have been under a kilometre in front of me - maybe less. I couldn’t quite pin down its location due to the density of the treeline, but I could get a general idea because the treetops began to rise more steeply on the other side. At the bottom, supposedly, was a river which was frequented by freshwater fisherman. For anyone who wasn’t interested in hunting their own food, however, there was little reason to head in this direction. The hills over on the eastern bank of the valley grew to greater heights than that of the Redbury’s side. This meant that the sun dawned very slightly later in Redbury than other nearby towns, which was a notable enough a fact to feature on the town’s two-paragraph Wikipedia entry.