Chapter 11
The radio was playing schmaltzy music to itself as Mab leaned on the kitchen worktop, trying to gather her thoughts.
She recognised an old song from one of her dad’s favourite films, but couldn’t quite place the title.
‘There may be trouble ahead… but while there’s moonlight and music and love and romance, let’s face the music and dance.
’ The words brought a lump to her throat his morning.
When would they all feel like dancing again?
Harry wandered into the kitchen, kissed Mab in an absentminded sort of way and went to switch on the kettle. ‘Hey, what’s up, pet? You look terrible.’
‘It’s George. He’s gone missing.’
‘Really? That’s bad, what can I do to help? Shall we go round to Nina’s? She’ll need us to go and look for the little guy, maybe?’
‘I’m waiting for Jess to call back. She was just about to check if he’s had any breakfast, for some reason.’
Mab’s phone buzzed insistently, dancing a little jig on the worktop as it played the opening bars of ‘Relight My Fire’, Jess’s personal ring tone, and she snatched it up.
‘Still no sign of him? Have you checked all his usual hiding places? Sweetie, there’s no need to shout, I know you’re not stupid!
But when did you see him last? And was he OK at bedtime?
’ There was a pause, and Mab began to bite her thumbnail.
‘So when did you notice he’d gone? Oh… erm, you’ve probably already done this one, but I’m just trying to think of everything.
Is George’s bike still in the shed? Jess? ’
Harry had been leaning as close to the mobile as possible. Now he said, ‘For pity’s sake, girl, what’s going on?’
‘I think she’s gone to look for the bike. She just dropped the phone…’
‘Has George done anything like this before?’
‘No, Jess says he normally likes to be as near to his bed as possible. He hates getting up in the morning and he loves coming back home at night. Something must have upset him.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t want to move here to the flat? It’ll be a big change for him, leaving his house, and Nina too? She must be one hell of a granny.’
‘Oh, I don’t think he knows about the move yet, Jess was going to be very careful how she told him.’
‘Yeah, but kids have a funny way of finding things out. They listen when you don’t expect them to. Mine were like that when their mum was ill.’
Harry’s eyes filled with sudden tears and Mab was about to hug him when she heard a faint squawking coming from her phone.
She pressed it to her ear. ‘His bike’s missing too?
Well, that’s it, you’ll have to tell the police now.
Oh, Nina’s already done it? They’ll be with you very soon then, I guess, but shall I come round too, love?
I’m sure he’s just gone off exploring somewhere, so if you’d rather I went and had a look around the river and the lake?
No, of course I don’t think he’s drowned, George can swim like a fish, can’t he?
He’ll just be having a bit of an adventure.
Look, Harry’s here too. We’ll go and see if we can see George anywhere while you deal with the police, but ring me whenever you get news, OK? Love you, Jess. Hang in there, honey.’
Mab disconnected, and looked helplessly at Harry.
‘Do you think the boys will come with me too? I need to do something for her, and I can’t think of anything else that’s useful.’
‘Of course, let’s get them up. I’ll ring Leo.’
In the end, all four brothers got dressed in a hurry, Leo having been summoned from his more luxurious bed. Apparently Sophie was less than pleased to be woken up, and had elected to have breakfast in their room, saying her shoes were not suitable for a morning hike. Mab didn’t comment.
‘Right, now that there are more of us, I think that the best thing will be if Leo, Harry and Josh go along the riverbank to the lake, because you all know the way there. Maybe Alex could stay at the flat, just in case George turns up here, and Den and I will go to the Spinney. George likes climbing trees, and he’s got a den in the wood,’ said Mab, suddenly visualising George sitting in a tree, laughing down at her.
She so wanted to experience the ache of love that Jess felt for her son, but all that she was getting was a feeling of irritation.
Was she so far from being a proper, motherly woman?
If that was the case, it was a good job someone else was going to have the job of bringing up Mab’s own baby.
This thought made her so sad that she could hardly breathe.
Den seemed disconcerted to be chosen as the one to go with Mab, but rallied and raised his eyebrows at her. ‘See, lads. I’ve still got it. She just wants to get me alone.’
At this, Leo shot his older brother a look of disgust, and clattered down the stairs, yelling, ‘Come on then, or he’ll be home again having his breakfast before we track him down.’
Mab and Den half walked and half ran towards the Spinney.
Mab decided she couldn’t keep this up for more than five minutes; her chest was much too well-developed for jogging and everything bounced painfully as she trotted along.
Den was grinning again as he observed this phenomenon but was silent until they reached the road signposted ‘To the station’.
‘I thought we were going into the deep dark forest?’ he said.
‘Not a forest, just a little wood behind the station. It was Stan’s favourite place too, when he was George’s age. The trees are old and twisty, and they’re really easy to climb. There’s a rope swing, and a fantastic den made out of an old wartime dugout and lots of interwoven branches.’
‘Talking of Fantastic Den, what about me? Why did you pick me to come with you? I thought you were angry with me?’
‘Likewise. You didn’t seem very impressed with me either.’
‘You’ve got to admit, you did give me a lot to think about, not to mention the problem of the… erm… long-term effects your wonderful body had on me. It was a difficult night.’
‘Den! There’s a little boy missing. Don’t you think of anything but sex? And I’ve told you about my… erm… problem too, aren’t you bothered at all?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I am worried about young George. He’s a cool kid. The jury’s still out about you, love.’
They reached the edge of the Spinney, skirting the station car park to find the entrance. This was well-hidden, and Den certainly wouldn’t have noticed the way in if Mab hadn’t suddenly ducked down and half crawled through a tunnel of dense undergrowth.
‘Oooh, good. We’re off into the bushes again…’ he said, following her lead.
‘For goodness’ sake. Can’t we just concentrate on finding George?’ Mab snapped.
‘Come on, love, calm down. Lads are always going off on missions of their own. He’ll be fine.’
‘This boy doesn’t do adventures. He stays at home and plays with his Lego, or when he’s allowed, he plays on his Lego computer game for a change, or he draws. This isn’t like George at all. I’m really worried, Den… Ouch!’
This last exclamation came as Mab, still crawling and looking over her shoulder at Den at the same time, banged her head hard on a bike tyre. They both stopped and tried to stand upright in the tiny enclosed clearing.
‘Is it…?’ Den said, not sure what answer he was hoping for.
‘Yes, it’s George’s bike, and it’s locked up, so he must have planned to hide it here.’ She sat down suddenly on the grass and put her face in her hands.
‘Maybe he’s still around somewhere. Shall we shout?’
Mab tried hard to imagine what George would do next, after carefully making sure that his bike was safe. She really had no idea. They called until they were hoarse, but there was no sound apart from the nearby hum and rattle of an incoming train. Mab was the one to give up first.
‘Oh, Den, where is he? I need to ring Jess, and then we’ll carry on searching, but why would he leave his bike here?’
Den appeared to be deep in thought as Mab made the call. Another train caused the ground beneath their feet to vibrate. As Mab ended the call to an obviously distraught Jess, and made to set off again, he said, ‘Mab – you know you told me that George was slightly autistic?’
‘Yes, quite a lot, not slightly, I reckon, why?’
‘Well, I’ve got a mate at home who has a son with the same problem, and he’s absolutely amazing with timetables.’
Mab made a face that clearly said, ‘…and your point is?’
Den continued, ‘So, Kyle – that’s the son’s name – knows about every bus and train that comes anywhere their house.
They live on the coast, and he knows the routes and times for the local ferries off by heart too.
When the family go on holiday, he’s always in charge of planning the itinerary. He’s much better at it than his dad.’
‘Den, we need to get back to Jess as soon as we can. Could you just cut to the chase… please?’
‘All I’m saying is, we’re right next to the station. Is there anywhere that George might have wanted to visit?’
Mab grabbed Den’s hand and began to drag him towards the station.
‘My God, Den, why didn’t I think of that before? Brighton! He’ll have gone to see his dad. Jess was only saying last week that George had been asking why his dad hadn’t been in touch lately. I’ll just ring Jess again and see if she thinks it’s possible, if he had money, and stuff.’
Mab carried on pulling Den back through the bushes as she found Jess’s number. After a moment or two talking to her friend, Mab ended the call and stopped so suddenly that Den cannoned into the back of her, needing to wrap his arms around Mab to stop himself from crashing to the ground.
‘Mab, you nearly had me over then, it’s great that you want to be so close to me, but…’
‘Shut up, Den, this is serious.’
‘So, does Jess think I’m right? Might George have gone to Brighton?’
‘She thinks it’s all too likely; she’s just found out that her credit card’s missing and the police are putting a trace on it, but that’s not the worst bit.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No. The thing is, George’s dad isn’t in Brighton at the moment.
He’s at a festival in the Cotswolds, and so is his flatmate.
Jess had a call from Marcus a couple of days ago.
Apparently he wanted to borrow some cash for his ticket.
She refused, so he said he’d have to sell one of his guitars, because he really needed to be at this particular gig.
So there won’t be anyone at Marcus’s flat, if that’s where George is heading. And then what will he do?’
As they entered the station building at a gallop, Mab remembered why this place always made her angry.
It was the man behind the grille. He only looked about thirty, but he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
As Mab approached him, he flinched. His pale blue eyes met hers reluctantly as she said, ‘Excuse me, can you remember seeing a young boy today? Eight years old, probably wearing a hoodie and jeans? Spikes of blond hair? Cross-looking?’
The man rubbed his ear, and smiled nervously. He mumbled something unintelligible and moved a few papers around on his desk.
‘What?’ said Mab.
The man repeated the sentence, this time with a nervous cough.
‘Look, I can’t actually hear a thing you’re saying. Can you speak up, please?’
He wriggled uncomfortably. His mouth was so small that it was little wonder that no sounds emerged; he reminded Mab of the Wide-Mouthed Frog joke, where the punch line has the frog pretending not to be wide-mouthed at all. Another mumble was directed downwards. Mab lost her temper.
‘Do you understand what I’m saying? A young boy is lost. Have you seen him?’
There was a discreet cough behind Mab and she turned round to find two police officers looking concerned. The elder one stepped forward.
‘It’s all right, madam, I’m DI Smethurst. We’ll take over the investigations now. I assume you’re Ms Millington? Your friend Ms Pipes contacted us a few moments ago. She wondered if you would already be here.’
‘Well, I hope you have better luck than I did with this… this…’
‘Come on, Mab, we’ll go back and see Jess.
We need to let the others know what’s happening too, there’s no point in them wandering about by the lake if George is on his way to Brighton.
’ Den put an arm around Mab and guided her gently past the queue of people that had built up behind her at the ticket desk, and headed towards the exit, earning himself a grateful look from the officers.
DI Smethurst smiled reassuringly and called after them, ‘Try not to worry, Ms Millington; the young bugger probably just fancied a day out and a stick of rock. He won’t have meant to worry you all.
We’ll have him back with his mother before she’s had time to miss him. ’
‘Huh,’ muttered Mab, ‘they have obviously not met George. Should we just get on a train to Brighton, Den?’
Den stood still and thought for a moment. ‘Do you know, Mab, I reckon we should. Do you know George well enough to persuade him to come home?’
‘I’m his godmother, and his mum’s best friend, so I ought to be able to say “Yes” to that question. The trouble is, I don’t know much about kids.’
‘I don’t either, but I used to be one, so I guess we’ll be OK. Come on, if I had to pick someone to whisk off to Brighton for a dirty weekend, you’d be right at the top of the list, pregnant or not. Let’s go. We’ll ring the rest of them when we’re on our way.’
Mab smiled up at him. It was such a relief to be with someone who knew at least part of her story. ‘Come on then, Den, bagsy the window seat.’