Ten Missing Children

by Antony J Woodward

  She was a psychic, just unfortunately not a very good one. She likened herself to ‘Nancy Drew’ but she wasn’t all that much of a detective. Like a bumbling sidekick in a comedy show, the real brains behind the scenes was her ghostly spirit guide Paul. Paul was an African-American boy who endured her aloof and zany personality. He was handsome. He usually manifested in some sort of hooded top and loose jean combo. They looked like a clash of cultures, the ghetto and the pagan.

  “Hey Terry…” he greeted warmly.

  “How have you been? It’s been forever!” She hurried into the room and threw herself around him. She always smelt of toffee popcorn and incense. A strange combination for sure.

  Not long enough, he thought. “I’ve been around, you’re looking well!” he gushed.

  “Oh thank you, it’s the top secret casework, keeping me young,” she tapped her nose with one finger and winked. “Say…? Are you working on the children cases?” She hovered over the board.

  “Sorry…” Paul sighed.

  “Want some help? Team up like the old times…?” she spun on the spot. For a fifty year old woman she was surprisingly limber. Terry knew, from a painful experience, she was pretty good at Twister. After being the embarrassment of Bridget’s party, Terry had deliberately never invited her into his life again. Playing Twister with the kids was sweet, it was even funny. Playing Twister in a dress with no knickers on however, that wasn’t funny. Not many saw the funny side of fifty year old vagina. Terry included.

  “I’m cool. I’ve got it…” Terry declined warmly.

  Her psychic abilities were shocking, while she was quite capable of channelling the dead spirits she had a great problem with translating them. She would often go on wild tangents with the information and it would end up that Paul would have to manipulate her behind the scenes to get to the end result. She barely channelled Paul, and he was her spirit guide.

  She wrongly believed that Paul’s name was Paulo and he was a dead Mexican Cartel member, returned from the grave to atone for his sins and to be guided to the light by her. It was a good job that Paul was pretty understanding and forgiving.

  Terry didn’t have a spirit guide himself, or if he did they’d never shown themselves. He’d met a few psychic individuals who didn’t have a spirit guide either, he guessed that maybe some psychics needed them. Nancy was definitely one of them.

  “Oh god… It’s terrible, I’ll have to pray tonight. Pray you find some enlightenment on this terrible, terrible quest…” she was back to scanning the board.

  “We need to go!” Paul shouted in her ear. She didn’t flinch, but slowly her face turned to Terry. “I just felt something…” she gasped.

  “No, you felt Paul telling you to go,” Terry insisted.

  “No, no… Anyway, it’s Paulo. God you don’t listen to me… wait… oh shoot, it’s gone…” she sighed dramatically. “I’ve lost it, I’m sorry,” she shrugged in disappointment.

  Terry resisted the urge to argue that she never had it in the first place.

  “Well, suppose me and Paulo better crack on. I’m helping the police with … Wait, nearly got me! I can’t tell you, it’s secret…” she laughed to herself before winking exaggeratedly.

  “See you later,” he smiled and waved as she hurried out of the room.

  “Again, I’m sorry…” Paul urged as he followed her.

  Terry smiled and shook his head.

  ---------------------------------------

  Florence Peters and her partner Tobias Monstreuax were quite the exceptional couple. She was in her late twenties and had fashioned herself in the style of a pin up. She had dolled herself up, even if the effect wasn’t wholly convincing. Beneath the gaudy red dress with white polka dots and the turned up brunette hair, she was crumbling away. The matte layer of makeup didn’t hide the sorrow deep in her soul. Tobias was French and the only person Terry had ever seen wear a beret. Thankfully Tobias had not committed fully to the cliché and had opted for a sensible turtleneck jumper and blue jeans instead of a striped shirt. He did however look very French and his accent still writhed against the Manchurian one creeping in.

  Their flat was modest, sparse and somewhat pretentious. On the walls were pictures of ballet dancers. The rooms were decorated with an eclectic mix of neon shades and contrasted with darker and decidedly less fun furniture.

  It felt like an artist’s haven that was trying too hard. Like it was trying to be edgy.

  Terry shut off the train of thought, he was here to cast a psychic eye over the events that culminated in little Benjamin Peter being abducted in the middle of the night. He was definitely not here to critique their home décor.

  He took a seat opposite the couple and immediately sensed they had a turbulent relationship. The word just popped into his mind like a bubble bursting. They didn’t touch, they seemed at odds with one another.

  “Would you like a drink?” Tobias offered suddenly aware neither he nor his partner had offered.

  “I’m good thank you,”

  “Look are you here to go over the details again?” Florence was aggressive and he understood where she was coming from. It must be painful to be repeatedly trawling over the same day over and over again. It must replay in a constant loop in her mind, he thought to himself. He suspected she would lay awake at night and replay the events over in her mind, looking for some clue or some reason behind it. It was a folly but understandable.

  “Not quite, I’m not going to ask you to recap the events. I have all that on file. As I said, I just want to have a look around. Maybe I’ll see something that the police investigation missed…”

  “But you’re working with the police?”

  “Yes, I’m a consultant. I go over things-”

  “-They can’t find a lead can they,” she sounded angrier than before. It wasn’t a rage aimed at anyone but frustration itself.

  Terry lowered his head and declined to answer. He couldn’t officially answer that question.

  “I promise I’ll keep this as painless as I can,”

  -----------------------------------------------------

  Terry rested his head back on the bath and took a deep breath. He could hear two different movies being played simultaneously. Barbie was on some magical adventure to his right, to his left some unknown anime characters were duelling. He couldn’t hear either movie clearly enough to follow the plots but he had caught the odd snippet and so had the general gist. He swirled the mouthful of wine around his mouth and swallowed it.

  The bathroom needed redecorating, his mind came to settle on that thought. He glanced around the teal paint and furnishings, but what colour to paint it? Maybe just freshen it up instead? He reckoned there was still half a tin in the garage from last time…

  That would be easy. He scanned the black mildew in the grout, that was a job that desperately needed doing. A white suite only seemed to compound the mould problem, it looked grubby.

  “Terry?” a little voice appeared at the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I watch a different movie?” It was Christine.

  “No, you’re halfway through that movie. Either watch the rest of it or turn it off and get into bed…” Kids, they really thought they could dupe you. She had hoped Terry would agree to the changing of movie and then stay up past her bedtime because the movie hadn’t finished. Little did Christine understand that Terry wasn’t born yesterday.

  “Ok…” she replied with disappointed defeat.

  He heard her little feet stomp back into her room and then the sound of the movie playing again.

  He inhaled, the hot bath was positively blissful. It had been a long day, a very long day.

  “Terry?” came a further interruption.

  “Yeah?”

  “Would it be ok if I got a drink?” It was now Bridget.

  Terry’s eyes rolled. His other step-daughter was equally as transparent.

  “Of?” He offered knowing full what the answer was going to be.


  “…A pepsi…?”

  “No, your dad has only got two left…” he answered.

  “Ok…” and then she was gone.

  Terry sighed. He’d long forgotten what it felt like to take a bath without a single disturbance. He thought of the motherhood memes on social media, they were quite right.

  He took a swig of wine and deposited the glass on the bathroom floor. He untied the hair tie upon his head. His hair flopped down and splashed in the water. Terry took a moment to indulge himself in something he took great enjoyment from doing. He pinched his nose and slipped under the water. He felt the air bubbles pour out of his ears tickling him in that most curious of ways. He remained there, under the water, for a minute. The warmth of the water cocooning him always relaxed him. There was just something to just laying completely still with all the senses distorted by the water surrounding him.

  Eventually he surfaced and came back to the living.

  As his ears cleared of water and his hearing returned, the anime moving was ramping up the action. Barbie was having a quiet moment it seemed.

  “Hey,” Matt appeared in the door. His face lit up and he smiled warmly.

  Terry hadn’t expected him home, so he was a little surprised. He must have come in while Terry was having his little plunge.

  “Hey,” he greeted warmly.

  “I’ll be in in a minute,” he promised. Terry took the moment to apply some shampoo to his hair. By the time Matt had visited both girls, got changed into his casual gear and nipped for a second glass for the wine, Terry had washed his hair and even applied conditioner to it. He was sat letting it cure upon his head when Matt returned.

  “Sexy,” he remarked jokingly. Terry’s long hair was fashioned into a creamy dollop upon his crown. It wasn’t going to win a fashion award at any rate.

  Terry ignored it and filled both glasses with wine.

  “Good day?” Matt enquired.

  “Disappointing…” Terry shrugged in response.

  Matt took a gulp of wine and then proceeded to tug his T-shirt off.

  “Move over,” he urged as he tugged out of his bottoms.

  The romantic movies always made a shared bath look so incredibly dreamy, so sensual and so romantic. In reality they were clumsy, awkward and incredibly non-sexy. Yet Terry slid forwards, sliding up towards the taps.

  Matt’s added weight made the water rise a considerable distance.

  “Hmm… hey baby,” he whispered. Before Terry knew it there was a strong pair of arms encircling him. Two large thighs slid either side of him, barely squeezing in.

  “Hey…” Terry whispered. He kissed Matt’s hand. Yes it was an awkward experience but a shared bath did have some positive qualities.

  Matt’s hands lifted up and dug into Terry’s scalp, his fingers slipping in and beginning to massage his scalp. It made Terry moan a little, he must have been a cat in a previous life because he had such a weakness for a good massage.

  “You looked good on TV,” Terry whispered. He thought of the news bulletin he’d caught earlier. His handsome husband standing in front of the camera with the perfect blend of confidence and humbleness. Terry had felt moved when Matt finished his conference with the resolute promise, “I promise you both as a detective, and as a father, I will find this perpetrator,”

  “They hated the fact I referred to myself as a father,” Matt confessed.

  Terry was practically purring as Matt continued to caress his scalp.

  “I thought it made you sound relatable,” Terry answered.

  “Well they weren’t keen…”

  Matt’s hands slipped down to Terry’s shoulders. “Hmm… Your tense,”

  “It’s been a long day…”

  “How did you get on?”

  “No joy. There was nothing in Benjamin’s room and nothing in Zachs…”

  Zachary’s family had taken up majority of his afternoon and turned up nothing.

  He’d arrived a little after lunch and they’d been welcoming. They owned a large detached house complete with tudor-esque décor. It was a nice house, a quaint country abode. Quintessentially English, even down the to the tat on the shelves.

  The most remarkable thing about the house was the Great Dane that lived there. A giant grey monstrosity by the name of Trevor.

  “Ooh, he’s usually apprehensive of strangers,” Mrs Winters had cooed as the giant dog leapt onto Terry’s lap. It could’ve been the funniest psychic reading of his life if the subject wasn’t so sombre. Eventually the overbearing Dane had to be locked in the kitchen.

  It was a significant detail that the Great Dane had been undergoing knee surgery the night Zachary Winters was abducted. It was noted, highlighted several times even, that the abductor knew the dog was out of the house. This made it incredibly premeditated. Unfortunately the police hadn’t managed to follow this detail to anything significant.

  When Terry had sat in the little boy’s room, trying to pick up some small psychic link, anything to give them all a lead, a gang of spirits had descended.

  Suddenly the small room was filled with grandmothers, aunts and a few remote cousins to the family. He’d brought down his wall and they’d taken advantage. Like a rowdy party they all competed with each other, desperate to connect with the living relatives who were sat nervously in the lounge. Eventually Terry had to silence them all, telling them he was here on police business and wasn’t going to be relaying messages.

  They were disappointed, naturally, but they were agreeable. He asked them all if they had any details regarding Zach’s abduction. Nobody did. It seemed the spirit world was as equally in the dark as the living.

  He’d finished the cup of tea and left the Winters’ house with nothing to show.

  “Nothing at all?” Matt pushed.

  Terry relayed the day’s events, when Matt sighed in disappointment Terry was in agreement.

  “So tomorrow I’ll go see the Jones family and the Kettle family,” Terry sighed. Hopefully tomorrow would be a more rewarding day.

  “Thank you…”

  “For what?” Terry turned, well as best as he could in the cramped quarters of the bathtub.

  “For doing this…”

  Terry didn’t have a response, he didn’t know what to say. Of course he was going to do it, not only was there a strange weirdo out there kidnapping children but he was going to do it for Matt. He was his husband, that meant he had to support him.

  “I hope tomorrow you find something…” Matt’s lips touched Terry’s shoulder.

  “DAD??!!”

  Both Terry and Matt sighed.

  “What?” Matt hollered.

  “Can I have a packet of crisps?” It was Christine.

  “Did she eat her tea?” Matt asked in a low voice.

  Terry nodded.

  “Yeah,” he hollered.

  “Thank you,” her voice was at the door. A few seconds more and she’d have walked in. Both men wondered if that was the plan, she was something of a nosey child. She didn’t understand privacy in the slightest.

  “Ask your sister!” Terry shouted.

  “Kids…” Matt laughed softly. He tugged Terry backwards and the pair of them laid down.

  They had a quiet moment, saying nothing. They were just content to lay there in each others arms, having a private moment with an anime film as an inappropriate soundtrack.

  “…We should do this more often,” Matt sighed sleepily.

  Terry halted the response that came to his lips. He stopped himself from saying “You need to be home more…” because it would sound like a dig, and he didn’t mean it.

  Instead he agreed.

  “DAD??!!” This call was from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Which one?” Matt shouted. It was his equivalent of a ‘dad joke’. He liked to throw that in from time to time and it usually had the exact slightly confused response he wanted. Terry had been adamant from the start that he was to be called Terry by the kids, Dad felt inappropriate
. It also was pretty confusing to have two “Dads”. Society needed to come up with new labels for same-gender families.

  Christine audibly groaned. She may have only been five but she had already perfected the groan. That groan that kids have when their parents crack an unfunny joke, she had perfected it down to a T.

  There was a moment of quiet and then suddenly Christine’s head popped around the door.

  “You Dad,” she shook her head glaring at Matt. The fact her two fathers were naked in the bath didn’t faze her in the slightest. She didn’t even acknowledge it. If anything she looked put out that she had been forced to come all the way up the stairs.

  “What dear child?” Matt teased.

  “Lee is at the door,” she announced. Then she swiftly spun on the spot and padded off back to her room.

  “Oh god…” Matt groaned, “Now what?”

  Terry giggled. “Be nice,”

  With a played out protest he climbed out of the bath and left Terry to wash out the conditioner. Once upon a time Terry would’ve probably watched Matt dry his naked body, perhaps marvel at the voyeuristic eroticism to it but those days had long gone. He’d spent nearly half a decade looking at it, it had lost most of its mystery. He knew every inch intimately, for better for worse.

  Matt disappeared downstairs in his jogging pants.

  Terry rinsed his hair and then took a moment to just reflect on how perfectly domestic his life was. He had never realised this was exactly what he wanted. He’d not been a promiscuous gay, but he’d never exactly believed he would ever settle down either. Perhaps Terry just thought it would happen for everybody else and not him.

  He was wrong and he was happy to admit that.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  Mrs Jones ushered him inside but there was no Mr Jones to greet. As Terry was led towards a dining room, Mrs Jones explained her husband was away on a business trip.