Next morning, almost as soon as she was back from the school run, the shout of ‘Myra, it’s me!’ from the back door heralded the arrival of Viv. She came dashing in bursting for information. ‘I saw Graham in town the other afternoon coming out of a shop, I scarcely recognised him. What’s he been up to?’
Myra filled the kettle and with her back to Viv she said cautiously, ‘He gave us all a surprise. The boys were very impressed.’
‘Well, what has he had done?’
‘New clothes, a hair cut, the works. Oliver said now he finally does look the age he should. Which, I must admit, is true.’
‘You approve then?’
Myra leant against the sink and looked directly at Viv. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Is he pleased with the result?’
‘I do believe he is.’
The kettle boiled, she made the coffee for the two of them and handed a mug to Viv. ‘I was very surprised, believe me.’
‘Well, he certainly looked terrific. If I was twenty years younger, I’d quite fancy him myself.’
‘Viv! Honestly! Though if you must know, Piers said all the ladies would be after him.’
‘He’s not wrong. I would have been in yesterday to catch up with you, but Sally and Bill are having money troubles and I had to go see them. Bill’s been put on a four day week and it simply isn’t enough money when they’ve two children to feed and clothe. I don’t know, children seem to be so expensive to bring up nowadays, so demanding, I blame TV giving them all ideas. I gave them a bit of a helping hand but there’s a limit for me as a widow.’
‘Of course there is. Be careful Viv, you could live another twenty-five, thirty-five years and you’ll need your money.’
‘You sound like the Grim Reaper, Myra! But enough of me. What I want to know is if you fancy trying some of what Graham’s been up to?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, why not, maybe he’s telling you something. Maybe he’d like you to add a little sparkle like he’s done. Come on Myra, why ever not? Step right out of the box and do something spectacular so he gets a surprise when he comes home. Just like you had with him. What do you say? Haven’t you thought about that?’
Myra denied any such thoughts, but Viv had caught a glint in her eye.
‘I can tell you’ve been thinking about it. I mean, let’s be honest, how long have you had this checked skirt and bottle-green polo neck. They don’t even use that word now for green. Forest green, I reckon they’d call it. It’s the perfect excuse for a spot of shopping. Like Piers said, they’ll all be after him and he’s quite a catch in those new clothes. But I think you could give any woman a run for their money – if you just gave yourself a chance.’
After last night when she’d had that unexpected feeling of wanting Graham to sleep beside her Myra turned away blushing, She focussed instead on watching Little Pete scampering into his hutch out of the cold wind, just in case Viv read her mind.
‘I don’t mean you have to dress like a lady of the night or leap into bed with him tonight, you could just treat yourself a bit and see how it makes you feel.’ She grinned wickedly at Myra but Myra didn’t see her because she was still looking out at the garden.
‘Viv. Did you ever know Colin Bannister? From next door.’
‘Of course. Nice chap. Always very friendly unlike his dad, who can be a pig if he chooses. He’s had more than a few words with me about my boys playing football in the street when they were little. ‘How about them going to the park to play, there’s plenty of space there.’ I used to tell him they were too young to be playing in a park on their own. You should have heard him going on about lazy mothers. He was a nasty old man even then. She’s alright, Betty, I don’t know how she puts up with him. He keeps control of all the shopping, all the housekeeping money, and I bet in thirty years I’ve only seen them out together about five times and that was on the way to their dentist for check-ups. Colin was a nice lad but I don’t wonder he left home as soon as he could.’
‘Apparently Roland has disowned him for being gay.’
‘How do you know that?’ Viv was clearly surprised that Myra knew any gossip that she didn’t.
‘Betty told me when she came round with a train set the other day. She said it was their Col’s and he didn’t want it and we could have it for Oliver and Piers. Half an hour later Roland came round and took it back home.’
Viv laughed so loudly and so delightedly at the thought of him coming round to take it back that Myra thought she might do herself an injury. Finally she drew breath and managed to say, ‘Typical of him, absolutely typical. Oh dear! But be careful of him, Myra, he once was up in court for attacking a chap who cast aspersions on his virility, some road rage thing I think it was, but he got off on a technicality. It was so disappointing. All a long time before you moved in. Right, must go.’
She twinkled her fingers at Myra, dumped her mug in the sink and left, leaving behind her usual trail of destruction, but somehow today Myra didn’t mind. She didn’t even pause to wipe off the dried coffee rings on the table, but sat down to finish her coffee and thought about following Graham’s lead.
Better not. He’d spent enough money for two; four fancy shirts, two very expensive suits, new socks and underpants, new pyjamas to say nothing of the trendy haircut. No, two of them spending money needlessly would be extravagance taken to the extreme. He did look younger though.
She went in the sitting room to look at their wedding photo in the silver frame her mother had bought for her, about the only decent gesture she’d ever made. In the light of the big bay window he did look quite stunning in that picture. She didn’t look bad herself, she supposed. But that was then. She remembered that even on her wedding day she wished it had been John she was marrying. But Graham had to do, he enabled her to escape her barren, miserable existence with her mother. Myra had always felt her mother had never really wanted a child – and then when her father died young and left her with Myra to raise on her own, she’d just felt in the way. She’d never had enough money to break out and live away from home, bound in by a school with hopelessly low expectations, followed by a rotten job with low pay, sick to death of her mother’s grumbling. Marrying Graham seemed like entering paradise even if he wasn’t her real love. Even if it hadn’t been a grand passion, they’d always got along. They had the prospect of children to look forward to, and before that she discovered that sex suited her very nicely, Graham was good at it and she got pregnant so easily she could have had a houseful of children she thought. No problem.
That was when the tears began. They ran silently, steadily down her cheeks dripping on to her polo neck. Not tears of regret for the babies she never held, but regret that she was such a fool as to reject Graham. There was every chance she could have had all the babies in the world if she’d been prepared to try again but she’d deliberately turned her back on that glorious opportunity.
All these wasted bare years, locked away in her grief, shutting everyone out, excluding friendship, hating the human race, loathing physical contact with people, scornful of every decent motive, even barely tolerating Viv who was kindness itself and full of goodness towards her. Was Viv right? Was Graham more interesting to other women now? She had to admit he was. And he was working in an office full of smart well-groomed, good-looking up-to-the minute women who cared not one jot whether a man was married or not. Any man was fair game to some of them, she imagined.
Like that consultant had said to her, she had the children she wanted now, not in the way she would have liked, but she had got them. She rubbed her cheeks vigorously to dry the tears. For the first time in months she got out her make-up bag and stood in front of the hall mirror to apply it. She took one appraising look at her reflection in the hall mirror and seeing the improvement in her appearance gave her enough resolve to put her coat on and head out of the door with her handbag in less than five minutes of making her decision.
She went home in a taxi. It was half past five and soon time for Graham to be home. She’d rung Viv earlier and asked her to collect Piers and make sure Oliver went to her house when he got home from school. With an afternoon all to herself, she had done what she should have done years ago: thrust herself into the twenty-first century. She stacked all her purchases in her bedroom then rang Viv. The phone was still ringing when she heard Viv at the back door.
She burst into the kitchen and Myra knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. Viv looked distraught.
‘Myra! It’s Oliver! He hasn’t come home.’
Myra’s heart thudded. ‘But is it his late night? No, it isn’t, is it?
‘If he misses the school coach how does he get home?’
‘He never has before now. Where’s Piers, doesn’t he know?’
‘He’s come over with me but he’s absolutely terrified, and he’s shut up like a clam.’
Myra went into the hall. ‘Piers! Come here, please.’
There came the slow dragging of footsteps into the hall and there he stood, his face streaked with tears.
‘Where is Oliver? Do you know?’
Piers shook his head.
‘Has he said anything to you about staying at school for something special?’
Piers shook his head.
‘Let’s see. It’s half past five so he’s almost an hour late. The coach will have broken down, that’ll be it. Or maybe there’s a crash on the by-pass. We mustn’t panic.’
But Myra was panicking. Before she could think what to do next Graham walked through the door and Myra expelled the breath she’d been holding. Graham would know what to do.
He was instantly on the telephone to the school and surprisingly someone answered his call. Myra stood behind him hands twisting and turning in her fright. She learned nothing from the one side of the conversation she could hear.
‘Well?’
‘As far as the school is concerned all the coaches are back at the garage, the last one has just reported in. Piers, did Oliver have money on him? His spending money for instance?’
Piers shrugged and looked anywhere but at Graham.
‘You remember how I told you only a few weeks ago that I was adamant about speaking the truth. Telling fibs is not right whatever the circumstances and we need to have some idea of what might be in Oliver’s mind. Now I’m going to ask you again. Do you know if Oliver had money on him? So he could get on public transport if he needed to?’
They could see from Piers’ face that he was making up his mind. ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell.’
‘Oliver’s safety might be involved here.’
Piers studied the carpet closely. ‘He . . . we have money hidden away just in case.’
‘Do you know where?’
Piers nodded.
‘Show me.’
Piers reluctantly trailed upstairs, going more and more slowly the nearer to the top he got. ‘I’m not supposed to say, we agreed.’
‘Today you have to. For Oliver’s sake.’
Piers pointed to the top shelf of the wardrobe. ‘I haven’t told you have I?’
Graham ignored him. He found the pair of socks, squeezed them and heard the rustle of paper money. Inside was fifteen pounds.
‘How much did you expect I would find?’
‘We had forty five pounds in there on Saturday. He’ll kill me if he thinks I’ve told.’
‘He won’t, because I shan’t let him. So he actually has thirty pounds on him.’
Piers looked thoroughly unhappy.
‘So has he said to you where he’s going? Delphine’s? His Grandma Stewart? Grandma Butler?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know why he’s gone?’
‘He said something about a school letter, and he was angry and he wouldn’t tell me more. He wanted me to go with him but I daren’t, but now I wish I had.’ He looked pleadingly at Myra and she put an arm round his shoulders.
‘Never mind, Graham will sort it, you’ll see.’
Viv was standing to one side almost writhing with the anxiety of it all. ‘It’s most likely a storm in a teacup you know, it can happen.’ She said this with far less confidence than she truly felt.
‘He always comes straight home. Always. If there’s something from the shops he needs he comes home first, leaves his schoolbag and tells me before he goes out again. Without fail.’ Myra said.
Graham rubbed his face with both hands as though it helped to clear his head. ‘We’ll give him another half an hour and then I’ll ring the police.’
‘I’ll go home. If you need me to have Piers I will, while you . . . whatever. Shall I take him home anyway and give him his supper? I’ve enough for two.’
‘Piers?’ Graham looked at him.
‘Yes.’ He looked relieved to have somewhere to go to avoid any more of Graham and Myra’s questions.
Piers was glad Orlando, Viv’s friendly cat, rushed over to him as soon as he arrived. He played with a furry mouse on the end of a piece of elastic and a ping pong ball till the supper was ready, all the time worrying about Oliver. He so wished Oliver hadn’t done what he said he would do.
Gobbling his supper down, comfortably seated in Viv’s sitting room watching TV, with a tray on a little table in front of him he felt safe.
‘Poor Oliver, I wonder what he’s having for his supper?’ Viv pondered between forkfuls of mashed potato.
‘He’ll be all right.’
‘You sound very sure. Delphine will have a nice surprise won’t she?’
Piers didn’t even answer.
‘He hasn’t gone there then.’
‘No.’
‘Grandma Stewart?’
‘No.’
‘Grandma Butler?’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t say even if you knew he had would you?’
‘It’s the brotherhood.’
‘The brotherhood? What’s that? The English Mafia?’
Piers laughed for the first time since he realised Oliver really had gone and done it, lived up to his threats, and by doing so, put everything at risk. ‘No. It’s our pact, the two Butler brothers’ pact to be loyal.’
‘Ah! Loyal to whom?’
‘To each other of course.’
‘Sometimes where safety is concerned . . . for the other person’s safety in the pact, you have to say what you know.’
Piers thought about this but decided to stay silent. She wasn’t going to dig any of Oliver’s plan out of him no matter what, even if she fell out with him forever.
They had ice cream to finish, strawberry with bits of real strawberry in it. He loved it. There’d be no more of this if Uncle Graham and Myra took a dislike to him over him keeping quiet about Oliver. He wished he’d agreed to go with him, but he couldn’t go with him because of her cats and his asthma. He could just about cope with Orlando, but any more than that and he started to wheeze. Just thinking of it, he felt that familiar pressure in his chest, the mounting feeling of not being able to stop the panic. He felt in his pocket for his inhaler and it wasn’t there. ‘I’ll have to go home . . . it’s my asthma.’
Viv having no experience of it immediately set off towards the door. ‘Come on then, I’ll see you over the road.’
Piers, torn between avoiding Myra and Uncle Graham and needing his inhaler, dragged along behind her. Viv took him in by the back door calling out ‘Piers needs his inhaler.’
Myra didn’t think anything else could go wrong. Piers had only had one mild episode of his asthma since he’d come to live with them and it had frightened her to death. She was already scared beyond endurance and now this. ‘It’s on the end of your bed, it must have fallen out of your pocket before school.’ She saw his chest noticably heaving and added, ‘I’ll get it, you sit down.’
She raced back downstairs and handed it to him. She put a cold wet piece of kitchen roll on his forehead and kept him still while he used the inhaler. Immediately his breathing began to flow more easily. Once his chest had stopped straining, Viv winked at Myra and nodded her head towards the hall.
Mystified, Myra followed her and shut the kitchen door behind her.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sure he knows where Oliver has gone but he’s determined not to let on. I’ve asked him and tried the usual possibilities, but he refused to answer. Something about being loyal to Oliver. The Brotherhood he called it.’
‘I’ll Brotherhood him. Just you wait and see.’
‘Careful, Myra, remember his asthma. And it’s terribly important to boys to be loyal, especially when they’ve only got each other.’
‘If he knows, he should tell. I thought he and I were being honest with each other.’
Myra marched back towards the kitchen determined to get the truth out of Piers. Forgetting her new role of being an understanding parent, forgetting what the head teacher had said about gentleness, she stormed immediately into action.
‘Now see here young man, you know where Oliver has gone don’t you? I can see from your face you do, now tell me and Uncle Graham where he is.’
Piers’ lips clamped together and he avoided her eyes.
‘Right. In that case Uncle Graham will ring the police and they can ask you where he is. And believe me they’ll get it out of you.’
‘Myra! Myra!’
‘Don’t Myra me, Graham. We’ve no alternative.’
Viv had never seen Myra so angry, she was alarming to an adult never mind a boy of ten. The grim aspect of her face, the twisted lips reminded her of the old Myra before the boys came. ‘Myra, you’ll make things worse.’
‘They couldn’t be worse and I don’t know what you’re still doing here, just leave this to me and Graham.’ Her temper was getting the better of her and she began to shake, from head to foot. When Viv stayed rooted to the spot she grew angrier still. ‘Go on, get out and don’t come here ever again. We can sort it ourselves we don’t need you or any other of our neighbours poking their noses in!’
Graham was speechless, he was already having the gravest difficulty in keeping control of himself and this was making it harder still. How could she speak like this to the only person in the road who bothered about her? He mouthed ‘sorry’ to Viv and nodded his head towards the back door. Viv left on the brink of tears.
Once she’d gone Myra broke down. ‘I can’t bear it, not knowing. It’s nothing we’ve done is it? It isn’t. I’ve tried so hard. I really have.’
Graham put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Whatever it is, he must have a serious reason – he’s not a fool. A letter from school you say, Piers?’
He got a nod in reply because Piers was using his inhaler again. When Piers had calmed down some more Graham said very, very gently, ‘I think in the circumstances, Oliver is in need of help. Tell us where he’s gone, that’s if you know. We want him back home so we know he’s safe, not to get him into trouble.’
‘Cousin Susan’s,’ Piers spluttered, then burst into tears frightened by his disloyalty.
Graham was on the phone in a moment, but got no reply. ‘Maybe she’s bringing him home right now.’
‘Have you got her mobile number?’
‘No, I’ve never had a need to. I’ll keep trying.’
It must have been the longest half an hour in the history of the world. The three of them sat in the kitchen not daring to catch anyone’s eye, not wanting to speak, and unable to draw strength from each other because all three were so distraught. Finally, when the journey from Susan’s to their house would easily have been accomplished, Graham spoke. ‘We’ll go to Susan’s in the car. That’s what we’ll do. Perhaps her phone is out of order.’
‘One of us will have to stay here in case someone brings him home.’
‘Good thinking, Myra. Piers and I will go. Bring your inhaler Piers, just in case. I’ve got my mobile so if in the meantime he comes back home ring me, Myra. Don’t bother about food for me, I don’t feel like any.’
‘Neither do I. Just go. Please.’
Myra paced the house from room to room, especially Oliver’s, hoping against hope that something might occur to her and she’d realise why he’d gone. Even if he’d told Piers he was going to Susan’s, they had no way of knowing if he’d made it there.
The silly boy. A letter from school! Had he done something very wrong, opened the letter and then not dared to let Graham know, neither what he’d done or the fact he’d opened a letter addressed to his uncle? Whatever it was, he couldn’t possibly have done something so bad that they wouldn’t want him any more. He was a very dear boy, she could admit to herself, and Graham said very gifted.
Finally, with no word from Graham for over an hour, she huddled in a chair in the sitting room wishing she could do something, anything to help. It must have been exhaustion or shock that caused her to eventually fall fast asleep, a deeper sleep than she ever had even at night in bed. So when the telephone rang she jerked awake and leapt to her feet all in the same moment.
The phone, where was the phone? If only Graham hadn’t bought this new cordless phone then at least she would have known where it was. Then she remembered it had been in her hand when she sat down. Here it was! Down the side of the chair cushion. ‘Yes?’
‘Susan’s just got back from work.’
‘And . . .?’
‘She’s not seen him.’
‘Oh God! No.’
‘She stayed on late at the office, for a leaving party. So we don’t know if he’s been here or not. We’re coming home, Piers is exhausted. We’d better keep the line clear in case Oliver rings and when I get back, if we haven’t heard from him then I really will ring the police. Sit tight, Myra, we’ll get things sorted somehow.’
‘We’re fast losing time when we should be acting.’
‘I know. I know. We’ll be about twenty minutes.’
Myra checked her watch, it was only seven o’clock. Seven o’clock? She thought it must be at least ten or even eleven. So they hadn’t lost as much time as she thought. But where was Oliver? He must have been devastated when Susan didn’t come home. Good thing Susan hadn’t taken the boys on if this was what she did, out drinking on a work night. They were best where they were, with her and Graham.
She’d make a cup of tea in case Oliver came home and needed a hot drink. Or for Graham when he came back. The phone went again. It was Graham calling from outside the police station.
‘Have you heard anything?’
‘No. Not a word.’
‘I’m going in then, they’ll want to speak to Piers anyway so they can do that at the same time. Don’t worry too much, Myra, it could all be something very simple that we haven’t thought of. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
A whole hour and a half later the two of them arrived home, by which time Myra was out of her mind.
‘Well?’
‘I’ve told them all I can. I happened to have those photos we took last time we went kite flying, they were still in the car, so I’ve left a good one of him and in the morning if there’s no news they’ll circulate it. They took it very calmly which was annoying. They didn’t seem to realise that he is not a boy who normally goes exactly where he pleases without telling us. I think good parents must be thin on the ground.’
Piers had seated himself on a chair and looked completely drained.
‘I think, Piers, a mug of hot chocolate would be a good idea, do you?’
He nodded.
‘With a chocolate biscuit?’
Another nod.
‘I’m asking you one more time, do you have even the smallest possible suspicion where else he might have gone?’
A shake of his head.
‘Better have your hot chocolate and then be off to bed.’ Graham sat back in the chair and almost overbalanced in it. He grabbed the edge of the table to save himself and was forced to laugh because he spotted a hint of a smile on Piers’ face. ‘We’ll find him, son, he’s a sensible chap, he won’t have done anything completely silly. Did he tell you about the letter? What was in it?’
‘Something to do with money and it wasn’t him and he didn’t want you to know.’
‘I see. You drink up and then off to bed.’
Piers was too tired to cry but he wanted to. ‘When he comes back, will we have to go?’
Myra swung round shouting vehemently, ‘No, you will not have to go. This is where you live and where you’re staying. Right?’
Piers, startled by her loud voice, knocked his mug over and the chocolate spread all across the table. This was the final straw. He fled upstairs, his hysterical sobs ricocheting off the walls. Graham leapt up to go after him but Myra put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘You drink your tea, and eat that ham roll I’ve just made for you. I’ll see to him.’
Every shred of mothering instinct that Myra had came to the fore for the next half an hour. She didn’t know she had it in her. He even allowed her to undress him and go with him to the bathroom for clean pyjamas. She reassured him time and again that he was safe where he was and finally she appeared to have convinced him. ‘I shan’t ask you again, this is the last time, do you really not know where he went?’
‘He said he would go to Cousin Susan’s and sleep in that box room. I didn’t want to go. The cats and that, you know.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t go, you’re a bit young for gallivanting. Now you try to sleep, Uncle Graham will sort it all out. He’s clever is Uncle Graham, you see. Goodnight, Piers, thanks for being such a good boy.’
She stood at the door and switched off the light. ‘Perhaps you’d like the night light on on the landing?’
‘Yes, please. Sorry about the mess in the kitchen.’
‘That’s nothing, it won’t take a minute to clear up.’
Myra sat on the top step worried sick. She’d put on a calm front for Piers’ sake but under it all she was terrified something appalling would have happened to Oliver. She’d visions of his broken body being found in a ditch somewhere, of him drawing his last breath with no one to care. Of being caught up in one of those dreadful situations you saw on TV or read about in the papers; evil twisted minds that preyed on young children. She had to race for the lavatory where she fetched up nothing but bile as it was so long since she’d eaten. Her stomach in torment with fear she staggered down the stairs to Graham.
His hands were locked together resting on the table and she grabbed them with both her own. ‘Graham, what are we going to do?’
‘You’re staying here and I’m going to visit the two late-night cafes I can think of. I’ll take a photo, see if anyone recognises him or he might even be there when I go in. It’s probably pointless I know but . . .’
‘Of course, if he has money he’ll want to keep warm and get something to eat. If only Susan had just gone straight home from the office.’
‘Well, she didn’t, she wasn’t to know, we can’t blame her. I’m off. Don’t put the bolts on the front door will you by mistake?’ He released his hands and went without another word.
To the world Graham appeared worried but positive, however, inside himself he was sick beyond endurance. The ham roll Myra had made him he’d wrapped in a piece of kitchen roll and dumped in the bin, which fortunately was almost full so he could push it down where a casual observer wouldn’t notice it. Just thinking of Oliver without support out in this cold dark night feeling abandoned and afraid crucified him.
Like in a film where the hero can always find a parking space right outside his target building, Graham pulled in outside the first of the cafes he intended to visit and sat for a moment thinking how he would approach this terrible situation.
The cafe was well lit with ranks of fluroescent tubes so every person sitting in there was visible. No dark corners for hiding one’s identity should one wish to. Taking the plunge Graham whipped out of his car and into the cafe and went to the counter.
‘Cup o’ tea, mister? Full English? Coffee with hot milk? No?’
Graham showed him the photo. ‘Has this boy been in here tonight?’
‘Run away ’as ’e?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I’ve been here since tea, not seen him. There was a young lad in here but he had black hair in a pony tail so it wasn’t him. Sorry.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
He couldn’t allow himself to be disappointed, common sense told him he wouldn’t find him the first place he tried, but he was, nevertheless. He walked to the other late-night cafe round the corner, down the alley and across the road. This was pokier, less well lit and definitely scruffier. Surely to goodness he wasn’t in here?
He was right. Oliver was nowhere to be seen, for which he was glad, as the clientele, sparse though it was, looked like the kind that would have no sympathy for a boy his age, rather the opposite. As a last resort he showed the photo of Oliver to the man behind the counter. ‘No mate, not been in here, not tonight. Not ever.’
As he walked back he heard footsteps and swung about to see who was following him but whoever it was must have slipped into a doorway because there was no one visible. He checked he’d locked the car and went to walk along the river where once in the past he’d seen homeless people sleeping the night away. He slowed his pace as he passed but there was no heap of person on a seat that looked remotely like a boy of twelve with blond curly hair.
He walked round the town peering in shop doorways and down alleyways, anywhere that Oliver might have found refuge, but there was no sign of him. He could walk about all night and not find him it was all futile, but at least he’d tried.
It was hours later when he finally came back home having run out of places to try. He softly bolted the front door, went into the kitchen and drank a whole glass of water, thought about food but changed his mind, knowing he’d never keep it down; turned off the lights and went up to the bathroom. There was some comfort to be had going through his nightly routine but all of it was tainted by his crushing anxiety.
He didn’t even switch his bedroom light on because Myra had switched on the night light on the landing for Piers who didn’t like the dark.
He put on his new pyjamas and climbed into bed, exhausted. This was what worry did—
‘No luck then?’
His scalp prickled with the shock. It was Myra in his bed.
‘Myra?’
‘Who did you expect? I couldn’t bear to sleep on my own. Oh Graham what are we going to do?’ She felt round for his hand and gripped it tightly. ‘I’m at my wits end, what if he gets spirited away by . . . well you know men with designs on young children. It’s too terrible to contemplate. What if . . . he’s already . . . dead? Tell me, what are we going to do?’
‘We could talk all night and not find an answer. Come daylight we’ll contact the police again. Maybe they’ll have some idea where he is, they must have had countless boys who’ve done this before, he’s not the first.’
‘I don’t suppose he is, but this one is ours, Graham.’
He knew better than to comment on her remark but in his heart a small part of him rejoiced, hardly daring to believe how much she had changed.
‘Let’s try to get some sleep shall we?’
‘Sleep? I can’t sleep. I shall stay awake all night in case the phone rings. Were the cafes busy?’
‘Oh! Yes. Very busy. I never thought . . .’
‘What?’
‘I should’ve left a phone number with the cafe people then they could have phoned me if he came in.’
‘What time do they open in the morning?’
‘The better one opens at six.’
‘Set the alarm then and you could ring at six.’
‘I will.’
‘We shan’t sleep, but just in case.’
‘Right.’ So he altered it to six instead of seven, turned on his side and found Myra had tucked in behind him. Was this the beginning of what had been? Turning to him in her desperate anxiety? If Oliver had disappeared six weeks ago she would have been glad and sent Piers after him. It had taken the two of them, Oliver and Piers, to bring out the love in her. They had succeeded where his meekness had miserably failed. He found her hand and tucked it under his arm and she snuggled closer.
They woke instantly at the sound of the doorbell ringing furiously. Graham snatched up his dressing gown and fled downstairs. Myra leaned over the banister hardly daring to listen.
Graham almost had heart failure because all he could see in the beam of the outside light were two police officers and no Oliver.
‘Mr Butler! I can see you’re worried, but don’t be. We’ve found him you’ll be pleased to hear. He’s sitting in the car scared to death about coming in. He wants to know if you still want him.’
‘My God! Of course we do. Bring him in.’
‘Oliver!’ Myra shouted from upstairs. She ran to get her dressing gown and was down in the hall before Oliver got out of the police car. ‘Oliver! Hurry up!’
He was enveloped in her arms and squeezed so hard he could scarcely breath. ‘Oh! Oliver I’ve been so worried, you foolish boy, it doesn’t matter what’s happened we just want you home.’ She ran her fingers through his curls and kissed him hard, several times. ‘Come in. You need a shower and a hot drink. Have you had anything to eat?’
Oliver nodded, speechless with exhaustion and worry. He couldn’t believe the reception he’d got, fearing the anger and bitterness he always faced with Myra and here she was cuddling him. Better get her to let go or the police would be thinking he was a little kid. Which he wasn’t, except right at this moment it felt good to have her cuddling and kissing him.
He could hear the police talking to Uncle Graham and guessed they were telling him how they found him. Sod that man behind the counter in that dirty cafe for phoning the police, the only reason he liked it was because it was warm and dark enough that he wouldn’t be easily recognised. But the talk the police gave him had made him decide he’d never run away again, and that was for certain.
Showered and sitting downstairs in the kitchen in fresh pyjamas, eating a massive ham roll which he didn’t want, and drinking Myra’s speciality hot chocolate with plenty of sugar he had to explain himself. Uncle Graham had asked him and he knew he needed to tell them everything for his own sake, too.
‘The school trip to London, the one we all had to take £20 in for? The last day for the money was Friday. Everyone except one boy who’d been off ill had paid, but on Monday he brought his money and the history teacher, Mr Blacker, put the money in his desk till he had time to see to it. At lunchtime I realised I’d left a book behind and went back to the classroom to get it. That was all I did, picked up the textbook off the teacher’s desk where he’d put it for safekeeping, and as I left the classroom the Hicks twins came in, I don’t know what for because I didn’t stay to find out. Next thing I hear, the money is missing from Mr Blacker’s desk. The twins said they’d seen me in there near his desk when they went in to pick up a pile of exercise books for Mr Blacker. So he sent for me. The rest you know.’
‘No, we don’t. Piers said you’d been given a letter from school.’
‘That was on Tuesday because they said they needed to investigate who’d taken the money, and wanted to talk to you.’
Myra gasped. ‘But there could have been dozens of boys who’d gone in there. You weren’t the only one to know it was there. Why pick on you?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘I did not take the money. Honestly, Uncle Graham.’
‘You know that, I know that and so does Myra, but why didn’t you come home and give me the letter? Then I could have gone to school and sorted it out.’
Oliver didn’t answer for a moment, because he didn’t know it. ‘I panicked. Dad would have known I hadn’t taken the money but you don’t know me.’
‘I see what you mean. You’ve heard me say about telling the truth whatever the consequences . . .’
‘I have but I didn’t know if you would know I was telling the truth. So I went. I thought if I disappeared they couldn’t accuse me of it. Which now I see is daft. I even saw you, looking for me and that only made me feel worse. But you know I didn’t need the money because Piers and I had plenty with what we brought with us and the spending money you gave us. And I wouldn’t steal, anyway.’
‘I don’t understand why you’ve been saving all your pocket money. You mustn’t be cross with Piers, but he showed us where you’ve been keeping it.’
While frantically trying to think of a convincing reason, Oliver took a long drink of his hot chocolate. ‘Don’t know.’
Graham tapped the hand that held the mug. ‘I think you do. I think it was your insurance in case things didn’t work out here.’
Oliver’s pale exhausted face flushed suddenly.
Myra realised that Graham was absolutely right and she felt ashamed of herself. Oliver’s fear of the consequences of this false accusation was entirely down to her. She knew Piers was very anxious about living with her and Graham but she had never given a thought to Oliver feeling the same but not giving off signals like Piers had. Children, she saw now had deeper worries than she had ever imagined.
‘Can I be honest?’ When Oliver nodded she carried on. ‘I am ashamed to admit it but you know I had my doubts about taking on you two boys. Too much work, too much trouble, too disturbing to my routine and worst of all I didn’t know how to speak to boys. And I might not have learnt how to speak to boys properly yet – but I realise I was wrong about everything else. Honestly, I want you to stay with us, more than I can say. You really must believe that. Graham will get this school matter sorted and then we can begin to think about Christmas and your grandparents coming and presents and things. So don’t you be concerned about anything, with Uncle Graham batting on your side nothing will go wrong, will it Graham?’
Graham, not quite himself after their traumatic night, wasn’t up to the plate with his reactions. Could she really be saying those words out loud to Oliver? And could he possibly be this invincible person Myra was suggesting? Batting on the side of the boys . . . and her? Well, if she believed in him, he’d better not let them down.
‘Of course we’ll sort it out. There isn’t much left of the night but we’ll sleep for a while and then we’ll go to school in my car and get this whole matter settled. I could ask to keep you at home the rest of the day while they get to the bottom of it, or you could stay if you feel that’s what you want to do.’
How clever of Graham to give Oliver options so he could decide for himself what was best thought Myra. There was far more to Graham than she had imagined all these years. No that wasn’t accurate – there was far more to him than she would permit him to be. What on earth had been the matter with her? Why hadn’t she realised sooner and asked for help. Instead she’d locked herself away with only tea cosies for company. Her skin prickled at her foolishness. A new idea had come into her mind the other day. She might not have had any creative spark for years – but she did have once, and it might just have been waiting for someone like Oliver to reignite it.