Chapter 46
CLARK
Florence looked divine in her pink tracksuit with her long caramel hair curled and splayed across her shoulders.
As I unzipped her tracksuit top, I caught sight of her pink, lacy bra, and I felt a rush of arousal.
Our last day hadn’t gone to plan but now everything was coming together.
I would get to spend my last few hours alive making love to Florence and sipping champagne.
The knocking at the door has come at the worst time. This wasn’t part of my plan.
Florence was right. It could be Pearl.
We charge downstairs. I am hoping whoever it is will go quickly so I can return to undressing Florence.
‘Jane?’ Florence gasps.
We both stare at Jane, her hair plastered to her face, rainwater making frantic little rivers down her face and her coat hanging open as if she’s not even thought about doing it up. She’s shivering and she keeps glancing over her shoulder.
‘Jack has run away,’ she sobs as we bundle her inside.
Once inside my hallway, Florence hugs Jane.
I run to get a clean towel and a blanket for Jane as she is soaking wet. Florence ushers her to the sofa. ‘Tell us everything.’
I race back. We help Jane out of her wet coat and wrap her in a warm blanket.
‘It’s Dan’s birthday,’ she croaks. ‘Jack is always a bit strange on his dad’s birthday.’
Florence nods. ‘I am too so I can relate.’
‘He was cross. Last night he kept asking if he could talk to me and I was too busy with the podcast. This morning the hospital called to say Mum wasn’t very well, so I wasn’t great.’
An uncomfortable feeling passes through me.
I remember Jack asking me to talk last night at the barbecue, but I had got distracted by Bread and Margo turning up.
I’d promised Jack that I would chat, but he needed to give me five minutes.
I never spoke to him again. Guilt gnaws away at me.
Why didn’t I talk to him? For goodness’ sake.
He’s not quite forgiven me for the football match.
‘He must have sneaked out before the storm. On his bed I found this note.’
I take it and read Jack’s handwriting.
Dear Mum, I have decided to run away. It’s Dad’s birthday, and I feel like you have forgotten about him.
‘I’ve been waiting for him to come home,’ sobs Jane.
I hand the note to Florence. She reads it and looks at me. ‘Let’s go and find him, Clark.’
‘Yes. Jane – go home and phone the police.’
She gets to her feet. ‘The storm is bad. I hope he’s all right.’
Florence puts her arms around Jane. ‘We will get Jack back.’
She looks at me. ‘Come on, Clark.’
The weather outside is like something out of a film; the rain is not falling from the sky, it’s hurtling and pelting the ground. A loud roar of thunder makes us all yelp. I feel like the sound is travelling through my body.
Jane races across the road to go back to her house and I unlock my car, Florence immediately jumping into the passenger seat. As I start the engine, the wind gives my car a furious shove.
‘Let’s think where an eleven-year-old lad would go if he were running away?’ Florence says as I reverse onto the street.
Lightning forks across the sky, which makes us gasp.
‘Somewhere safe and dry I hope,’ I pray as I swing the car out of the cul-de-sac.
‘It was weird reading his letter,’ says Florence. ‘It was everything I’ve been thinking about my dad.’
I reach out and squeeze her hand. ‘I know.’
‘Where would he be?’ Florence asks as we speed through the housing estate.
‘Maybe he’s gone to a mate’s house?’
My windscreen wipers are struggling against the rain. I pray we find him soon.
‘Clark,’ gasps Florence. ‘Stop the car.’
‘What?’
She winds down her window. ‘Excuse me.’
A man who looks sodden and annoyed with his broken-down car looks at us both. His dark hair is plastered against his face, and his T-shirt looks more like it’s a wet suit. ‘Have you seen a young lad by any chance? He’s run away. Eleven years old.’
The man wipes away raindrops from his face. I hold my breath and pray he’s not going to angrily shout at us about how he’s more concerned with pushing his broken-down car in a violent storm than keeping a lookout for runaways.
‘There was a boy who ran past me when I pulled up.’
‘Oh, really?’ Florence leans closer out of the window as it’s hard to hear him in the torrential rain.
‘He stopped to tell me there was smoke coming out of my bonnet.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘As if I didn’t know that.’
‘That’s Jack,’ I say.
‘He said he was off to the river and I told him a storm was coming…’
The river? Oh, God.
Before the man has a chance to say another word, I hit the accelerator, and we speed away.
Florence’s head flicks to me. ‘The river?’ Her voice is tinged with panic. ‘We must hurry, Clark.’
The wind is so strong that it keeps pushing the car towards the kerb.
I’m probably breaking the speed limit, but I don’t care. Jack is in danger.
I swing the car into the car park, and we jump out. Pulling down our hoods, we hurry into sheets of stinging rain. The wind howls around us, and I can feel myself being carried away from the path at one point.
‘Jack!’ we both shout into the storm as we trek along the winding path. The roar of the river water rings in our ears. Lightning flashes like a torch and lights up the swollen river beside the path and the trees swaying in the gale.
I am thinking the worst. The river has swept Jack away.
My heart is about to shatter into tiny pieces. No one could survive these conditions being so close to the water’s edge.
My body is gripped with panic. At the back of my throat, I can taste sickness. ‘Jack!’ I shout until my throat burns.
‘This is dangerous.’
‘Where is he?’ I start to sob. ‘Jack, Jack, Jack.’
‘Please be okay, Jack,’ I say. ‘You’re my little mate.’
‘Jack?’
To my horror, a gust of wind knocks Florence over. She loses balance and is dangerously close to falling in. I grab her just in time. She buries her head in my coat. ‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know, Florence.’ My voice is croaky. Tears are blurring my eyes.