by Pam Smy
‘Have you actually been out, going from house to house, looking like that?’ Jeff’s eyes swept with disdain over Grace’s clothes, and he tutted, shaking his head.
‘I can’t believe I took you and that brat of yours in. Biggest mistake of my life.’ Then he turned and stomped into the kitchen, making a bacon butty and complaining about the lack of a ‘proper’ tea. When he had eaten he sloped off to watch telly in bed.
I deserve better, thought Grace.
Wherever you are, Billy, I hope you are safe and are sleeping well . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Billy awoke with a start.
He lay there in the dark, his ears straining to pick up the sound of whatever had woken him. There it was. The shriek of a girl outside. Jumping up, Billy reached for the torch and without turning it on, he tried to see what was happening in the graveyard. It wasn’t just one girl. It was five or six older kids dressed up in Halloween costumes, some of them carrying torches. One boy was lighting up the inside of a carved pumpkin head and was chasing the others between the gravestones with it. The others laughed and yelped and lunged about, pretending to be disgusted and frightened of the head. Billy watched as they dropped the pumpkin to the ground and kicked it about between them, bits of it scattering as it disintegrated beneath their feet. When there was nothing left they leant against gravestones and laughed as they shone torches under their faces, jesting in over-loud voices that echoed around the quiet of the graveyard. Before long they made their way over to the trees by the pillbox.
Please don’t let them be heading here! thought Billy, holding his breath. Don’t let them find me!
He couldn’t bear the thought of even more people knowing he was there. Two was already too many in his opinion, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to go home. It was too soon. And he was afraid of the ridicule if they found him. The trouble they would surely make. They wouldn’t keep his secret. He was sure of it.
But they all crashed past his hideaway, heading through the gaps in the trees to the field beyond. Except one.
The last boy drew level with the pillbox and hesitated, looking back over his shoulder to the graveyard.
Billy could hardly breathe.
‘Hey, Em. Wait up!’ the boy called.
Billy exhaled. He was okay. It wasn’t about him.
One girl peeled off from the group and headed back to where the boy was waiting.
‘What? What is it? The others are going, you know.’
The two were standing so near to the pillbox that Billy could almost reach out and touch them. He could see their breath.
‘I just thought that we don’t need to hang out with all of them, you know.’
‘Nah, Josh. I’m good, thanks. Let’s catch up with the others. I’m cold.’
‘I’ll warm you up. Come here! I like it more when it’s just us. You know what I mean?’
‘No, Josh. I don’t. I mean, we’re friends, yeah? But . . .’
‘But, Em, I really like you. You know I do.’
‘I like you too, just not . . . um . . . like that,’ the girl replied.
‘You don’t get it, Em. I really, really like you.’
Billy watched as the boy reached out and took the girl’s arm.
She took a step back.
‘No, Josh! I’m not interested. We’re just friends. Come on, let’s go.’
‘Why don’t you listen to me, Em? I really like you! We’d be good together! Come on!’
‘Come on, what, Josh? I said “No!” Let go of my arm! You’re hurting me! Just get off, Josh!’
Oh no! He’s one of them. Like Jeff. A bully who can’t take the word ‘no’.
Billy shifted to look out from the other window. The group of friends were distant at the edge of the field. He needed to do something.
‘I just want to show you how crazy I am about you. I really want you, Em. You make me want to—’
‘No, Josh! Get off!’
Billy watched the boy lunge at the girl, pressing her against a tree trunk, his face against hers, his hands roaming.
Before he had time to think, Billy darted through the ivy and out into the night air. In two strides he was behind them. He shone the torch beam directly into Josh’s face and roared, ‘Didn’t you hear what she said? She said NO!’
The girl screamed, struggled free, gave Josh a hearty shove and staggered back into the field, shouting for her friends and stumbling away through the undergrowth as fast as she could. Josh had tripped and lay looking up, dazzled by the torch beam. Mouth agape. Terrified.
‘She didn’t make you do anything!’ Billy shouted, towering over the boy, his rage pulsing through him as he watched Josh trying to scrabble away from him. ‘You chose to do this! You’re scum!’
Billy was screaming. His voice cracking.
‘She said NO!’
Billy could hear shouts coming from across the field as the group of friends ran towards them. Josh struggled to his feet and staggered off to meet them.
Billy clicked off his torch and stepped back behind the trees, watching the drama unfold as Josh reached the group. Their torches weakly scanned the treeline but Billy could tell they were too scared to step nearer or to seek him out.
Billy watched, his chest heaving, his heart thumping, as the group turned and ran.
And he was alone again.
Shaking and full of rage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1st November, 24 Brownsfield Close, 8.45 a.m.
Sergeant Chorley drained her mug of tea and placed it carefully on the coaster by the armchair. Once again her eyes swiftly scanned the sitting room. The dark wood sideboard with a set of encyclopaedias and an empty glass vase. Grace and Jeff stared out from a photograph in a silver frame. The TV remote controls were lined up neatly within reach of the armchair. Everything was spotless. Not a speck of dust or a fingerprint smear anywhere. Nor any sign that Billy lived there at all, she noted. Her eyes rested back on the couple on the sofa. Grace sat, knees together, on the edge of her seat – twisting a tissue round and round in her hands. Next to her Jeff leant forward, his face full of concern as he answered Chorley’s questions.
‘So, as Billy hasn’t been seen since school on the thirtieth and this seems to be completely out of character, we’re taking his disappearance very seriously and we’re doing everything we can to find him quickly.’
‘You’re right. It is out of character,’ agreed Jeff. ‘He’s such a good kid. Never given us any trouble, has he, love? That’s why we’re both so, so worried and appreciate anything you can do to get him back home to us.’
‘Maybe I can pop these mugs back in the kitchen and then have a look at Billy’s room. Is that okay?’ Chorley looked at Grace as she asked the question, but Jeff replied.
‘Of course. His room’s upstairs. Second on the left.’
‘Perhaps, Mr Lansdale, you could find me a recent photo of Billy that we could use to circulate to the team and the press? It’ll be good to have more than one on our files.’
Turning back from leaving the mugs in the sink of the immaculate kitchen (no evidence of Billy in there either: no school timetable on the fridge, no trainers by the back door. Does he even exist, this boy?).
She braced herself for the mess of a teenager’s bedroom.
But Billy’s room was like nothing she had ever seen before.
No teenager she knew was this tidy. Not only were there no stray socks or scattered schoolbooks but the duvet was stretched out on the bed without a crease. The pillow was gone but a pair of neatly folded pyjamas sat where it would have been. The desk by the window was clear except for an orderly pile of school exercise books and a calculator. She opened a few drawers to see carefully folded clothes and lined up shoes and trainers in the bottom of a cupboard. On the windowsill was a photo of his mother, taken some years ago, her hair catching the light as it was caught by the breeze at some seaside town, eyes twinklin
g as she smiled into the camera. The bookcase was neatly organized with all the books arranged by series or size, carefully set out to sit in orderly lines on the shelves. They were all a neat 8cm from the shelf edge, except one series . . .
Chorley reached for the Harry Potters that were sticking out from the rest of the row. Sliding them forward she saw a set of thin A6 notebooks hidden at the back of the shelf. She reached for a couple and saw that they were labelled with the date and year in small, neat, careful handwriting on each cover. She flicked to a random page and read the tiny writing. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She turned to another page and then another and another, skimming the content. She reached for two more of the books. More of the same. What should she do? She should ask permission to take them. Get them properly signed out and bagged as evidence. But she couldn’t risk exposing what she had found. Hearing footsteps on the stairs she knew she had to make a decision quickly. Follow procedure? Or put them back?
The footsteps were closer.
She hurriedly grabbed the diaries and stuffed them into her jacket pocket, sliding the Harry Potters back into place.
‘Got what you need, Sergeant? Have you found anything useful?’
Jeff stood in the doorway smiling. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Chorley smiled steadily. ‘No. Not as helpful as I’d hoped it would be,’ she lied.
‘Only I’ve got you his last school photo here,’ he said.
‘Ah, great!’ Chorley forced a bright smile. ‘I’ll take that back to the station with me now.’
She edged past Jeff on to the landing and thanked him for his help.
As Grace showed her out Chorley hesitated.
‘I think you’re right that he’s run away and that does sound so out of character for Billy. We’ve raised a missing person report, so we’ll be dealing with Billy as a high-priority case. It might help if you could send him a message yourself. Do you think you could make a public appeal? It’ll spread awareness among the local community and hopefully mean we can get him home to you very soon.’
Grace nodded.
‘Of course. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.’
Just then the doorbell rang. Grace opened the door.
‘Hello, love. It’s me, Lorraine, from number fifty-five? We met yesterday when you were asking about your boy. I thought I’d just pop by and see how you’re doing?’ The woman looked at the three faces standing awkwardly in the hall. ‘Ah! You must be Dad. Hello!’ Lorraine reached in and gave Jeff’s hand a vigorous shake. ‘Any news?’
‘N . . . N . . . No. N . . . N . . . Not yet,’ Grace stammered, ‘but this is Sergeant Chorley and the police are looking for Billy . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Ah! Good! I was going to talk to one of your lot out in the street. Me and the other neighbours have got together a little search party –’ she glanced at Grace – ‘to help look for that handsome boy of yours—’
‘That’s so kind,’ Jeff interrupted, his smile a little tight, ‘but I’m sure he’ll be home soon. There’s no need to go to all this trouble. I’m sure the sergeant here will find him in no time.’
‘We’ll be doing all we can,’ said Chorley, her voice steady and her smile firm, ‘but I think a search party is an excellent idea. Our resources are tight and we’d appreciate any local help, Lorraine.’
Lorraine turned to Jeff. ‘I’m sure you’ll help us look, won’t you, Dad?’
There was the slightest hesitation before Jeff replied. ‘Of course. I’ll do anything to get our boy home.’
‘Well, that’s good. He’ll soon be back, I’m sure. In the meantime I made you this for your tea tonight.’ Lorraine handed over a glass dish with a tea towel over the top. ‘It’s a lamb casserole. I thought your mind would be on other things . . .’
‘That’s very kind, thank you,’ said Grace as Jeff reached forward and took the dish.
Lorraine looked from Jeff to Chorley and then to Grace again. ‘Okay, love. I’ll be in touch.’ And she turned back down the garden path.
‘I’ll be off too,’ said Chorley. ‘I’ll call you later about the appeal.’
She could feel Jeff staring at her as she walked down the path and got back into her car.
Chorley waited until the couple had closed the front door and took the set of little notebooks out of her pocket and put them on the passenger seat.
‘Oh, Billy,’ she said out loud, ‘whatever have you been through?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Billy felt as though he had hardly slept at all. Once he had stopped shaking after the Josh and Em thing, a wave of tiredness swept over him, but even after tucking himself down deeply into his sleeping bag, he couldn’t drift off. He kept listening out for sounds outside the pillbox. Straining to hear anything beyond the rustling of the trees. What he had seen and heard rushed through his mind – the girl awkwardly trying to get out of the situation, embarrassed, pulling her arm away. ‘You make me . . .’ Josh had said, but she hadn’t at all, had she? Surely a ‘no’ is a ‘no’? thought Billy. How much clearer did she need to be? He played it over and over in his mind. It had all happened so quickly. Then the boy cowering at his feet, afraid. Is that what it felt like to be Jeff? To see someone frightened of you. Billy had felt angry and . . . powerful, and that had left him feeling confused. Where had that anger, that strength come from? Was he a bully too?
And then there was the other doubt in his mind. Could any of the group have actually seen him? Would they know he was just a kid himself and that he was hiding here in the graveyard?
Billy was peeing into a pile of leaves in the corner of the graveyard when the old man arrived. As before Billy hadn’t heard a footstep and jumped out of his skin when a voice behind him said, ‘Yep, cold enough out here today,’ nodding towards the steam rising from the leaves. ‘I’ve brought you some breakfast, lad, when you’re ready.’
Embarrassed, Billy shuffled over to the bench where the man was unpacking the contents of a bag. Unwrapping a package he passed Billy a warm bacon sandwich.
‘You look rough this morning, lad. Too cold to sleep, were you? Or were you disturbed by the trouble?’
‘How did you know there was trouble?’
‘I’m guessing you didn’t scatter these bits of pumpkin all over the place yourself?’
Billy explained about the group of friends. About their messing around and about Josh trying to force himself on Em.
‘Ah. A bad ’un. You did the right thing, lad. It’s a sad thing that there’s them that’ll crash through the world thinking they can just take what they want whenever they want it. And you stopped him. You should be proud. A boy like that needs to learn that you can’t force respect or affection from someone. If he carries on like that, he’ll never know how good it feels to have someone you care about gaze up at you with the love that comes from care and attention. Quiet love, my Edith used to call it.’
‘Is Edith your wife?’
‘Was. She passed on a few years back. You should’ve seen her. Radiant, she was. Even when her hair was streaked through with grey my heart’d jump to see those blue eyes smile up at me. Tho’ it was harder to get a smile from her after we lost our boy.’
‘Lost him? What do you mean?’ Billy asked.
The old man looked across at Billy.
‘He did what you’ve done, lad.
He ran away.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
1st November, 24 Brownsfield Close, 10.30 a.m.
Jeff shrugged into his high-vis jacket.
‘That bloody boy of yours is just attention-seeking, that’s all. All this fuss with police and now neighbours crawling around at all hours.’
‘They’re only trying to help,’ protested Grace.
‘What? What did you say? I tell you we don’t need help!’ Jeff’s voice was rising. ‘It’s a family matter and we don’t need busybodies poking their noses into our business. And you don’t need to go round door to door trying
to get sympathy either.’
‘I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m looking for Billy!’
On the other side of the wall Suzie paused as she packed her papers into her bag for the first meeting of the day. She could hear Jeff’s voice getting louder and louder. She thought back to how many times she had heard this through the wall in the short time she had lived in Brownsfield Close and she remembered the concealed bruise on Grace’s cheek. She could guess how it would end this time. She had heard that through the wall too. But Grace had never said anything to her and Suzie had never actually seen anything. How could she be sure what was happening? Jeff had seemed so nice when she had met him – not at all what she had expected.
Then she thought about Grace, trembling on her doorstep with bare feet, and about Billy being out there somewhere. Alone. Frightened.
Suzie picked up her phone and tapped a message to say she would be working from home that day. Then she slid her laptop out of her bag and typed ‘domestic abuse’ into the search bar. She began to read.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘What? And he never came home again?’ Billy asked. ‘He left and you NEVER saw him again?’
The old man shook his head.
‘But why?’ asked Billy suspiciously, thinking of Jeff. ‘Why would he want to leave you?’
‘Ah. It’s sad, it is,’ the old man shook his head. ‘My Edith so wanted a nipper. We tried for years but with no luck. Edith was already greying when she eventually got pregnant. It was a shock, I can tell you! Well, we were old and old-fashioned and my Edith, she’d been brought up strict and in the church and was set in her ways. She never meant anything by it but times had moved on from when we was young. I think she would have kept him by her all his life if she could – over-protective I suppose you’d call it now. Once he was old enough he was off, he didn’t want to be tied to her apron strings. He wanted to work and travel he said, not to stay on at school, studying. And then one day we got up and he was gone. He’d just packed his bags, written us a hasty note to say he loved us, and gone. And that was that. We’d lost him.’