by Matt Shaw
“You don’t have to hold my hand!” he barked from a few paces behind me. I slowed down to allow him the chance to catch up a little bit. I forget I have longer legs. Harder for him to catch up when I hit my stride. “I won’t run off,” he said.
“I don’t want you getting lost in the crowd,” I said, not letting go of his hand. Of all the days to come to the shopping mall, I think we’d chosen the busiest. God only knows what the queues are going to be like, inside the actual shops. I hate queues. Especially when I have Lewis with me - the ticking temper time-bomb. He gave another little struggle, against my grip, but I didn’t loosen it until we crossed into the first shoe shop. “Go and have a look around,” I told him. He didn’t need any more permission before he ran off towards the children’s shoes - against the far wall of the shop.
I left him to it for a while, so as not to cramp ‘his style’, and browsed the shoes in the men’s department. They all look the same....
Plain...
Simple...
Boring...
Safe...
The sort of shoe you’d choose to wear, I hazard a guess, if you were sat at a desk for the majority of your working day. They look the part but probably couldn’t take much wear and tear before they started to look as though they were ready to fall off your feet, in pieces. For the price, though, what did people expect.
Probably the cheapest shoes I’ve ever seen.
I remember why I’m in the store - looking for school shoes for Lewis. Cheap is good. It’s not like I’ll be getting my trainers from here, after all. Just need to convince him to like a pair in here, as opposed to one of the more expensive shops further into the mall... and I know the perfect way to convince him... I walked over to where he was looking at the trainers.
“You’re looking for shoes,” I reminded him.
“These are shoes!”
I frowned, “You know what I mean...” I pointed in the direction of the black shoes, a few shelves away from the trainers he was looking at.
“I don’t like them!” he said.
“No one likes school shoes,” I said. “You just need to choose a pair and then we can go... the sooner you choose them.... the sooner we get to the toy shop! Right?”
“I don’t want to choose a pair!”
“Grab any pair just to keep mum happy or you’ll have to come back with her and she’ll drag you around all of the stores to find a pair she likes... I mean, if you’d rather that and spend a whole day trying on different shoes... that’s cool...” I picked up a pair of the cheapest looking shoes... “Look, these are nice...”
“No, they’re not!”
“Well, no, they’re not... but we could buy them and then.... it’s done. No more shoe shopping! Straight to the toy shop!” after I’d chosen some trainers, that is. No need to tell him that yet. Just get this bit finished first. If he’s being difficult now, he’ll only get more troublesome when he realises we have other shops to visit before he gets to the shop he really wants to go to. “You don’t even have to try them on... what do you think?”
Lewis was on the verge, I’m sure, of saying ‘yes’ when the shop assistant approached - a larger girl who looked as though she really wanted to be somewhere else. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
I turned to Lewis, “What size are you?”
He simply shrugged, “I don’t know...”
“Can we get his feet measured?” I asked the assistant.
She rolled her eyes and disappeared to the far wall, where she collected the necessary equipment to measure Lewis’ feet - a piece of wood with a sliding scale on it.
“You said I don’t have to try anything on,” moaned Lewis.
“You don’t,” I said. “I just need to measure your feet and then we’re done. That’s it! Promise.”
Lewis gave me what he thought to be an Evil Look but I paid him no attention and he begrudgingly kicked his shoes off, before putting his left foot onto the contraption which was now on the floor in front of him - the large girl kneeling in front of him.
She slid the top bar down the bar until it touched the top of Lewis’ foot, “Size six...” Lewis stepped off and she beckoned him to put his right foot onto the board. Again, she slid the top bar down to the top of his foot, “Just over a six...”
“Okay,” I said, “let’s call it size six then.” I turned back to Lewis and held up the cheap shoe I found, “What do you think?”
“No more shoe shops?”
“For you,” I said. Not a lie. The other shoe shops will be for me. Lewis nodded towards the shoe - closest I’ll get to an approval, I handed it to the shop assistant who took it and disappeared out the back - no doubt to find the other shoe. I wonder, at that price, does it come with a box too?
Minutes later and we were at the till point - Lewis was chomping at the bit to get out of there but I told him to be patient. After all, wouldn’t take long to ring it through the till. This shop is all about selling the most amount of shoes in a day - this girl wouldn’t want to be stuck serving us. Especially as the shoes are not even ten pounds. She’ll want to be back on the shop floor trying to hit her target to avoid a ticking off at the end of the day.
Not even a tenner.
They won’t be comfortable.
What do I care?
I won’t be wearing them.
Lewis is really going to suffer when he’s wearing them all day at school.
Did I really just snigger at the thought of that?!
Cash handed over.
Shoes boxed and bagged.
Receipt and change passed back.
Job done. Job done and that bargain shopping meant I had sixty-three pounds left to spend on my pair of trainers. Well, I did tell mum I wasn’t going to get a cheap pair...
As I left the shop, I felt an unexpected pang of guilt shoot through me. She had given me seventy pounds to spend on a pair of trainers, a pair of shoes for Lewis and a drink and cake each from the mall’s cafe. I decided we didn’t need the drink and cake and.... well... she never specified how much I was to spend on each pair of shoes. I’m sure Lewis’ shoes won’t be that bad... He might just have to break them in for a month or two.
Maybe three.
4.
Mum was looking at the shoes Lewis and I chose, for him to wear to school, in the security office. Her eyes were watery, as though she’d been crying before she got there. Two of the security guards had left the office to look around and close various bits of the shopping mall - leaving the quieter of the guards with us.
“Have you ever had abductions from this shopping mall?” she asked the security guard, finally breaking the awkward silence.
“He’s new,” I told her.
She flashed me a look as if to say ‘be quiet’ - like she wanted the guard to answer for himself.
Taking note of the look mum flashed me, he answered, “Your son’s right. I’m new here... but I understand that children go missing quite a lot but they tend to show up...” He smiled at mum, a smile of reassurance.
She didn’t smile back.
“So where is he then?” she asked. The security officer didn’t answer so mum turned to me, “Well? Where is he? Where’s my son? Where’s your brother?”
I looked to the floor, I couldn’t take looking her in the eyes which flashed from worry to anger to disappointment. Worried about Lewis. Angry at me for losing him. Disappointed in me for not being a better brother. A better son. A reliable son. Is this really in her eyes or am I just making it all up.
“Well?” she wanted an answer.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been looking for him. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“And what have you done?” she asked the guard. The guard, like me, struggled to look mum in the eye.
“We’ve been making announcements...”
“He’s eight years old. Do you really think he’s been listening out for your announcements or do you think he’s been lost in his own world
of worry?”
Mum had a point. Would I have heard announcements being made for me if I were his age and lost? The security guard didn’t answer.
“Have the police been called?” she continued.
I didn’t answer. I learnt my lesson from the earlier look she shot me.
“No,” said the guard.
“And why not? Don’t you think it would be a smart move?”
“My colleagues said they wouldn’t come.... it’s not been long enough...”
“He’s eight years old and he’s by himself! How long is ‘long enough’ exactly?”
“Mum, he’s new...” I was starting to feel sorry for the security guard. I understood mum was worrying and upset but, this bloke really wasn’t the one to answer her questions. The other security guard should have stuck around to answer the queries. He’s had more dealing with me today, and knows more about other cases of missing children. He should have sent the newer guard around with the other man... it was almost as though he wanted to get away from the questions.
“Then who’s in charge?” she asked. “I want to speak to the person in charge! Where’s the management?”
The security guard took his window of opportunity to escape, “I’ll find him....” He stood up and left me with my mum.
No sooner had the door closed, mum broke down into floods of tears. I crossed the room and put my arm around her. I knew it wouldn’t make anything better. I knew it wouldn’t fix anything. I just hoped.... I just hoped it’d offer her some sort of comfort.
She pushed me away, “How could you let him run off? You knew what he was like... you know... how could you?” The tears are still flowing but she’s angry again. Her emotions bouncing all over the place.
“I didn’t mean to! I turned my back for a split second... a second,” I said - not quite shouting but not exactly speaking softly either. I knew I had done wrong. I knew I had caused this but I felt enough guilt as it was. I didn’t need her shouting at me. No matter how much I deserved it.
“What happened? Why did he run off?” she asked - calming ever so slightly.
I’m still not sure he did run off.
Had he run off - surely he would have surfaced by now... probably with a new toy, bought with his pocket money...
If he had run off....
.... he would have heard the announcements...
It’s been in my mind since he’s been missing but....
...what if....
...what if he didn’t run.
What if he was snatched?
I’ve been wanting to ignore it but... where is he?
He should have appeared by now.
What if he was snatched?!
How do we get him back?
How do we find him?!
What if we don’t find him?
What if he’s gone now?
“Please, tell me, what happened,” she repeated.
I can’t tell mum what I’m thinking.
Chances are, she could well be thinking it herself but... she doesn’t need me saying it too.
Saying it out loud...
It makes it all the more real.
“Did you see him speaking to anyone... at any stage?” she asked. “What happened... what made him go?!” her voice was getting more frantic.
“It was after we got the school shoes...” I mumbled - I already know she’s going to be even angrier with me when I tell him I didn’t take him directly to the toy store, as I had promised him. I knew it would only wind him up. Maybe, deep down, I wanted to upset him. Not sure.
I never wanted him to run off, though.
* * * * *
“You’re going the wrong way!” Lewis protested after we left the shoe shop, having just purchased the cheapest pair of shoes I’d ever seen.
“I just need to get some trainers,” I said in a very matter of fact tone - more or less dragging him by his spare hand. His other hand clutching onto the bag of shoes.
“What? You said there’d be no more shoe shops...”
“No, I said you wouldn’t need to try any on....” I replied although, technically, he was right of course.
“What about the toy shop?”
Lewis and that damned toy shop. I know, though, he’ll be itching to get home after going to the store. Itching to get home to play with whatever tat he’s got his heart set on this time - whether it’s the latest action figure, a new piece of lego or this water-pistol he keeps seeing advertised on the television. Although, why he’d want that I don’t understand... surely to get the most from a water-pistol, you need friends to play with and he rarely leaves the house - let alone ventures off with like-minded pals.
“We’ll get to the toy shop, I just need to get myself some trainers first and then we have the rest of the afternoon....” not that there’s much of the afternoon left. Maybe it would be easier to keep the money and come back tomorrow, without Lewis. Mind you, mum would probably insist on me taking him again - just so she can have a bit more time to herself. No. I’ll get it done now. It won’t kill him to wait a while longer.
“We could go to my shop first and then go to your shop....” he continued.
Nice try.
“We’ve already been to one of your shops,” I said, “it’s my turn now.” A cruel way of looking at it but fair is fair, after all.
“Mum said you had to take me to the toy shop!”
“Mum told me to get you out of her hair because you were doing her head in,” I corrected him. “Just like you’re doing my head in now.... now shut up - we’re going to get the trainers and then I’m taking you to your fucking toy shop!” I shouldn’t have sworn... hopefully he didn’t hear....
“I’ll tell mum you swore.”
He heard.
“And I’ll beat your head in,” I said. The threat of violence from an older brother was normally enough to quieten any threat of snitching to the parents. I noticed my shoelace was undone and stopped - momentarily letting go of his hand so I could tie it back up.
When I had completed the knot, I glanced over to Lewis who had gone quiet. He was stood next to me staring at a clown who was making a sad face back at him.
I hate clowns.
Always have.
I place the blame with Stephen King.
Still, it was nice to see Lewis quiet. He didn’t know what to make of the clown who was starting to rub his eyes, as though he were pretending to cry. He suddenly stopped with both of his hands covering his face...
“BOO!” the clown suddenly shouted as he took his hands away to reveal the most manic smile I’ve ever seen. Was this supposed to make Lewis smile or scare the shit out of him? Lewis didn’t bat an eye-lid and slowly the clown’s smile turned back into a sad face. Seconds later the clown, dressed in a yellow and red outfit with a massive red and white spotted bow-tie and overly large red shoes, mimed having an idea.... as though a lightbulb went off in his head. He raised a finger, “Ah HA!” Lewis just kept on looking at him - mesmerized by the sheer craziness. The clown reached into a pocket, on the side of his pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief.... a handkerchief which appeared to be attached to numerous other handkerchiefs.... the more he pulled, the more came from his pocket.
By now a crowd had gathered to watch the clown trying to entertain Lewis. Some of the other children were laughing and enjoying the antics but Lewis just kept looking at him as though he were not from this planet. Who knows - maybe he is right. Maybe they aren’t. Would certainly explain the general creepiness about them.
Finally the handkerchiefs ran out and the clown dropped them to the floor, smiling his manic smile once more. He fished back in his pocket and pulled out a red balloon. I already know what’s coming. Sure enough, the clown started to blow into the deflated balloon - slowly inflating it. As soon as it had enough air in, the clown tied a knot in the balloon’s neck.... fishing back in his pocket he pulled out a piece of string and effortlessly managed to get that around the balloon too... I have to confess, I was exp
ecting a balloon animal not ‘just a balloon’.... a balloon with the word ‘smile’ written across it in thick black, gothic-style writing.
“If you flash me a smile, you can keep this,” the clown whispered, as he leaned in close to Lewis. Was it a whisper? Sounded more like a growl. Was the clown annoyed that Lewis, the one kid he wanted to please, was the one child who didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts?