Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep.

by Sheryl Browne

  Mark could see why. ‘I adore coffee,’ he said softly. ‘Can’t get enough of the stuff.’

  ****

  ‘I haven’t read it,’ Donna announced, coming back into the kitchen after checking her son wasn’t home.

  Trying hard to look cool, as if a rabbit appearing from nowhere to park itself at his feet and make meal of his bootlace was nothing out of the ordinary, Mark glanced at her curiously.

  ‘The book,’ Donna clarified, plucking the rabbit up and peering worriedly through its ears.

  Mark’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘What, the one you renewed today? What was it?’ He decided on diplomacy, rather than embarrass her further. What was he doing here? Apart from Michelle, his sexual encounters with women amounted to not many lately, but he wasn’t convinced Donna was into casual sex.

  Was it some kind of ego-boosting exercise on her part maybe? In which case he’d be happy to oblige, but couldn’t help thinking it might not boost her ego very much. He’d thought his being here in situ might jog her memory, but she obviously didn’t remember him from the call out they’d had a while back, a domestic reported by the neighbours. He definitely remembered her though. Remembered very well the guy she’d been married to: a posh twat with a temper. A nasty bastard if ever Mark saw one. Nothing but cocky contempt in his eyes, for Donna or the law. For obvious reasons, Mark had taken an instant dislike to him, keeping the pompous prick in the dining room while a WPC waited in the kitchen with Donna for her sister to arrive. She hadn’t sustained physical injury. But she was shaken. And from what Mark had seen of her, her self-esteem had been badly bruised. Still was, obviously. So what was he doing here?

  He glanced at his watch. He probably shouldn’t be. Donna was clearly nervous and, though Karl was being safely looked after, he really ought to get back.

  Mark felt a fresh pang of guilt at the thought of his son. He should have mentioned Karl. But then, whenever he had in the past… Announcing he had a child with autism spectrum disorder tended to ensure there was never a second date. And God knew, Mark really would like a relationship that didn’t end before it started.

  He certainly liked Donna, liked her a lot. He’d been so tempted to kiss her when she’d stood up to face him outside that café. He’d certainly like to try his luck here and now, if only she’d stop kissing the rabbit. She hadn’t just brought him back for that though, surely? She was as shy as a mouse for a start. That was obvious a mile off. And, as well as being obviously fond of her buck-toothed little friend, she had a kid of her own and three-legged dog she would probably die for, which didn’t make her sexual predator material. Did she mean she wanted more when she’d said she didn’t want to rush into anything? Mark was less sure now. Maybe this was what she wanted. A no strings kind of thing. He really couldn’t tell if he was reading the signs right at all.

  ‘So?’ he ventured, as Donna gave her furry puffball another smooch before lowering it gently to the floor.

  ‘So, um…’ Donna straightened up, shrugged and smiled; and looked as if she was about to bolt for the nearest door.

  ‘Coffee,’ Mark reminded her gently, as the rabbit hopped under the table to chew on a carrot, clearly contented. Mark could see why.

  ‘Oh, yes. Sorry. Brain’s not working very well.’ Donna skidded over to the working surface. ‘Not working at all, actually,’ she said, peering into the coffee tin. ‘I’m out, sorry.’

  ‘No problem,’ Mark assured her. ‘Tea’s fine.’

  ‘Right. Good.’ Donna nodded, reaching for the tea caddy.

  ‘Is that where he lives?’ Mark asked in awkward silence that followed, bar the crunching of carrots.

  ‘Who?’ Donna glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oh, Findus. No, he lives in the utility, but his second name is Houdini.’

  ‘He doesn’t like solitary confinement,’ she clarified, in answer to Mark’s puzzled frown. ‘Escapes his cage whenever he can and hops upstairs. I found him in my bed yesterday. Didn’t I, naughty little Findus, hmm?’

  Clever little Findus, thought Mark, wondering whether he should work on the doe-eyes and maybe grow some fur.

  ‘Oh,’ said, Donna a second later. ‘I only have Earl Grey though. Will that do?’

  ‘That will do nicely.’

  ‘Good. Sorry.’

  ‘But what would be nicer is if you’d stop saying sorry.’

  ‘Right.’ Donna turned back to the kettle. ‘Sorry.’

  Mark smiled. ‘Donna,’ he walked up behind her, placing a hand gently around her shoulder, ‘you have nothing to apologise —’

  ‘Crap!’ Mark stepped back again, fast, as Donna whirled around.

  But not fast enough.

  ‘Jesus… Ouch!’ He clutched his drenched jacket away from his midriff. ‘Christ, that is hot.’

  ‘OhmyGod! I am so sorry! You took me by surprise. I… Hell!’ Donna flew at him, dragged his jacket open, grappled with his shirt.

  ‘Ahem.’ Mark glanced down, as she fumbled with his buttons. Well, if she was a sexual predator, she wasn’t very good at it. ‘Donna?’ Despite his best attempts at hiding his amusement, Mark’s mouth twitched up at the corners.

  ‘Ooh, bloody things.’ Donna cursed, frustrated.

  Mark laughed then, out loud. He couldn’t help himself.

  Donna gawped at him. ‘You’re burned,’ she said, aghast. ‘Why are you laughing?’

  ‘Because you look as if you’re about to saw my buttons off with your teeth.’

  ‘I can’t get them undone,’ Donna said, obviously mortified as she fumbled some more.

  He caught her hands. ‘Donna, it was just a drop of tea. I’m not burned.’

  She glanced down. ‘Sorr…’

  ‘Shush,’ Mark said, easing her chin up. ‘Never apologise, Donna. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. Be confident. Believe in yourself. You’re a beautiful woman.’

  She blinked. Then blinked again. Then stood up on tiptoe and kissed his lips, a soft sweet kiss, which salved the scald under his shirt in an instant.

  Jesus, now that was an invitation he was definitely hard-pushed to refuse. He searched her eyes as she looked expectantly into his, then, hesitantly, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue gently probing, exploring.

  Sweet Jesus, she tasted fantastic. Donna’s tongue darted into his mouth. Boldly she thrust her tongue deeper and Mark suspected if she stopped now he might well die on the spot.

  Tentatively, he trailed one hand the length of her spine, then stopped, his heart pounding, his thoughts colliding. She’d pulled away, dropped her gaze. He sucked in a breath.

  ‘Donna, what is it?’ he asked, his throat tight. ‘What’s wrong?’ He lifted her chin to look into her eyes, and the ground beneath him shifted slightly off kilter. Jesus Christ, she had tears in her eyes.

  ‘Hey, hey, gorgeous, what is it?’ He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and pulled her hard to him, holding her, hoping to comfort her. What the hell had he done? He wrapped his arms tight around her.

  ‘I’m not gorgeous,’ Donna mumbled into his epaulette.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mark spoke gently, breathing deep the sweet scent of her.

  She pressed her face closer. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, grazing her thumb idly across his chest, which did nothing to dampen his arousal. ‘I mean… I’m just not sure…’

  ‘Not sure what?’ Mark eased back. Panic setting in, he tried to ease her chin back up.

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  ‘Donna? Do you want me to go?’

  ‘No!’ She snapped her head up, looking as bewildered as he felt. ‘I don’t want you to go. It’s just… I’m not sure I’m doing this right.’

  ‘What?’ Mark laughed. Her gaze hit the floor again. Wrong reaction, Mark. ‘Donna, you’re crackers. Crackers and utterly gorgeous.’ He cocked his head to one side to try and catch her eyes. ‘You don’t need to read your how-to guide. Whatever you’re doing, you are most definitely doing i
t right for me. And if you don’t believe me, I can give you hard evidence, trust me.’

  ‘It’s not a how-to guide. It’s a… sort of hint.’ She laughed. Thank God.

  ‘That’s better. Now, shall we take a step back, do you think?’

  Donna blinked at him — and stepped back.

  Mark scrunched his eyes closed, then peered at her through one eye. ‘No, Donna. I didn’t mean…’ He trailed off. If he wasn’t careful he was going leave her with less confidence than she’d had when he’d arrived. Sexual predator? She was about as capable of molesting him as her three-legged dog was.

  He took her hand, glanced down at it, trailed a thumb over it. ‘Donna, don’t get me wrong here, but are you sure you didn’t mean this isn’t right?

  Donna chewed on her lip. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled apologetically, again.

  ‘No apologies required,’ he reminded her. ‘Come on,’ he folded her into his arms. ‘You know that saying worth waiting for?’

  ‘Uh, huh.’

  ‘Well, I am.’

  She looked up at him, a smile on her face and the light back in her eyes. ‘You’re lovely,’ she said.

  ‘I know. And modest.’ Mark laughed, then, ignoring his phone beeping in his pocket, he brushed her beautiful lips with his — and couldn’t help feeling he might have found a little bit of heaven.

  Chapter Three

  Dammit, he should have known it was going to be one of those days with Karl when he’d practically had to wrestle him away from the cooker this morning, Karl’s latest obsession being fire, which meant he was going through a pyromania phase when most kids would be getting into football.

  Agitated, Mark flicked his siren again, frightening shoppers out of harm’s way, and then humped the patrol car up on the kerb. ‘Sorry about this, Phil.’ He raked his hand through his hair and turned to his partner, who had offered to help Mark search the area for his now missing son. ‘I had no idea Jody would…’

  ‘Stop apologising and get going.’ Phil shoved the passenger door wide, ready to climb out. ‘He can’t be far away. We’ll find him.’

  ‘Thanks, Phil. I owe you.’ Mark nodded his appreciation and climbed out of the driver’s side, panic knotting his stomach.

  ‘You do the top end. I’ll take the bottom. We’ll cross over and come back down the opposite side.’ Phil gestured Mark on, then headed for the lower end of the High Street.

  Mark didn’t need telling. He ran, fast, his heartbeat escalating to a steady thud as he went from shop to shop.

  ‘We’re looking for a small boy,’ he shouted across to the owner of one of several gift-shops, all with the same glitter of memorabilia that would attract Karl like a moth. ‘Aged six. About so high.’ Mark indicated with his hand. ‘Dark-haired. Wearing jeans, red tee-shirt, and a white hoodie.’

  Also recognisable by the hand-flapping and spinning he’ll be doing if he’s stressed, Mark didn’t get the chance to add before the owner shook his head.

  This was hopeless. Mark pushed his cap back, frustrated, as he came out empty-handed. With the annual jazz festival on, Upton was chock-a-block with sightseers. What if Karl had headed for the river? Dread sliced through Mark’s chest. Water might not be Karl’s current fascination, but it had been a while back, running taps and flushing loos wherever he went. Might he have been attracted by the spectacle of boats bobbing at the water’s edge? Crammed in at the water’s edge, more like, at this time of year. Mark tried to quell a sudden queasiness. Narrow-boats mostly, shoulder-to-shoulder. Tons of heavy, bone-crushing metal.

  Christ, he needed to call it in, radio for help. Mark swallowed hard, total panic gripping him now, as he turned in the direction of the river, then fleeting relief as he caught sight of Karl’s carer.

  ‘Mark!’ Jody waved frantically, pushing towards him through a throng of onlookers.

  Mark caught her by the shoulders as she reached him. ‘Anything?’ he asked, scanning her face, hoping against hope that Karl might be with her, behind her. Anywhere, for pity’s sake.

  She shook her head. ‘No. I… I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t…’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, what were you thinking!?’ Mark struggled to hold on to his temper. ‘He can’t stand crowds, Jody. You know that! The slightest thing sets him off.’

  ‘I know. I do know.’ Jody pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her hand trembling as she pulled it away. ‘I needed to pick up a prescription for my mum on the way to the respite centre, and Karl seemed okay. I’d promised him a new toy, and we have brought him here before, so I…’

  ‘Out of season, Jody, when the shops are empty and the crowds are gone.’ And that was bad enough. Mark recalled with crystal-clear clarity how Karl had bolted as they’d tried to cross the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car.

  Mark dragged a hand over his neck. He was tense, every muscle in his body taut with frustration and anger, but this wasn’t Jody’s fault. Karl was as unpredictable as he was predictable. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his. Christ, even the boy’s mother hadn’t been able to cope with the day-to-day stress of caring for Karl. How was Jody supposed to cope day-in-day-out if Emma had finally admitted she couldn’t be what Karl needed and quietly disappeared from his life?

  She wouldn’t be back either. She wrote occasionally. Called… less occasionally, now she’d met someone else. No, Emma wouldn’t be back in Karl’s life. Mark had faced that fact head on. He needed to face a more fundamental fact now. As much as he wanted to, and even with a sergeant understanding enough to cut him some slack, he couldn’t cope.

  Karl was growing up, getting bigger, stronger, becoming more demanding. Mark needed to get more help, rather than insist on keeping Karl home and entrusting his day-care to Jody.

  ‘We’ll find him.’ Mark sucked in a breath, gave Jody what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then scanned the street behind her.

  Jody nodded and wiped at a tear on her cheek.

  ‘This toy,’ Mark tempered his tone, knowing he was the cause of her tears and not liking himself for it, ‘what was it going to be?’

  ‘Just another model car to add to his collection.’

  Figures, thought Mark, squinting as he noticed a rocking horse outside a second-hand shop, which would definitely indicate toyshop. An old-fashioned, glorious grey speckled affair on rockers. Similar to the horse depicted in Karl’s Sugar Takes Flight bedtime story, which he insisted on hearing over and over each night.

  ‘Was he using his own money?’

  ‘Yes, his piggy bank…’

  ‘In which case, I have an idea where he might be.’ Mark scrambled around Jody so fast he almost fell over her. Please, God, let him be there.

  Trying to slow his rapid breathing, Mark opened the shop door calmly. He didn’t want to scare Karl. Karl couldn’t relate to emotion on any level, but Mark knew that his son could see anger in his eyes. And he was bloody angry.

  The bell tinkled overhead. The soft murmur of voices slowed and, somehow, Mark could sense his son’s nearness. He glanced at the shopkeeper. ‘There wouldn’t be a young boy?’

  ‘We wondered whose he was.’ She nodded, indicating a room beyond the shop-fronting area they were in. An Aladdin’s cave, stuffed full of toys and magical to a child’s eyes. ‘We were just about to call the police.’

  ‘Mine. My son,’ said Mark, his throat tight as he watched Karl wander through from the back room, his clear blue eyes wide with wonder, before they alighted on Mark. Then, they grew disconcerted, as if Karl knew he was in trouble, and Mark couldn’t bear that. He knew he should talk to him. Try to instil in him through firm repetition, that he should not do this sort of stuff. Instead, he walked over to Karl and bent down to hug him so tight, he could feel his son’s heartbeat next to his own.

  ‘Hiya, mate. Did you get your model car?’ he asked throatily, knowing Karl wouldn’t, couldn’t hug him back. Trying hard not to mind, Mark stood to ruffle Karl’s hair. His fringe was tickling his eyelashes aga
in, he noticed.

  Time for a trim, he guessed, recalling how, with his long dark eyelashes, Karl had often been mistaken for a girl as a baby. How his wife had joked he’d grow up to be a heartbreaker. Mark’s heart seemed to have broken, that was for sure.

  Karl shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, in that gruff, grainy voice that drew people’s stares. Mark didn’t care. At least Karl was speaking. He was two when he’d stopped, and Mark’s life changed forever

  But now, with speech therapy and hard work, Karl at least had some vocabulary.

  ‘Dog,’ Karl went on bluntly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he took hold of Mark’s hand.

  ‘Dog?’ Mark furrowed his brow in turn. ‘Okay, so show me,’ he said, knowing Karl would drag him there anyway to show him what he wanted.

  Karl paused outside a glass display case. ‘Dog,’ he repeated, pointing a finger at a ceramic creature with huge, beguiling eyes.

  Mark crouched down to Karl’s level. He placed an arm around his son, his own eyes full of wonder now. ‘That’s right, Karl. Dog,’ he said, looking from the dog to his son’s face, carefully gauging his reactions. ‘And this one…’ he pointed to another dog, similarly hand-crafted, but a different breed, ‘… what’s that Karl?’

  Karl pointed at the original. ‘Dog,’ he repeated, resolute.

  ‘Right.’ Mark smiled. It was too much to hope that Karl might be able to hang something that was a different shape and colour on the same family tree, but one miracle was enough. Karl was here, in one piece, in a shop, with people. No sign of claustrophobia. No rocking, hand-flapping or temper tantrum in sight. And he was communicating. Rudimentary it might be, but he was exchanging dialogue. As miracles went, this one was more than enough.

  ‘So, shall we buy the dog, Karl? Forget about the car for today, maybe?’

  Mark held his breath and waited. Karl needed routine. Knowing what was going to happen next kept him on track. Buying a model car while out shopping was the ‘right’ way to do it in Karl’s mind.