Zac put his phone on his pillow and tucked the note he’d written to his parents under it then dropped his house keys in the middle of the duvet. He took one last look at his room before he tiptoed out. He stopped on the landing and listened. He could hear the ticking sound the old timbers made as they cooled down from the heat of the day and the soft noise of one of his parents snoring. He crept down the stairs and across the living room to the kitchen. Oscar’s eyes snapped open but Zac was focussed on his plan. As quietly as possible he opened the fridge and took out a packet of ham and some mini pork pies and a bottle of mineral water which he shoved in his bag. Then he went to the cupboards and dropped a couple of tins of baked beans in too. He checked the tins didn’t need an opener but the tuna he pinched next, did. He rummaged in a drawer for one. Then he saw Oscar looking at him from his basket, his head cocked and his tail thumping softly. Zac went over and rubbed the dog’s ears.

‘Stay,’ he commanded the dog.

Oscar’s head dropped onto the side of his bed and his tail stilled.

‘Good dog,’ said Zac. Earlier he’d considered taking Oscar with him but had decided against it. It would be hard enough surviving in London without the responsibility of a dog too.

Finally he raided the fruit bowl for some bananas before he headed to the front door which he eased open.

Outside, the night was refreshingly cool after the warmth of the day and the sky was dark apart from the pinpricks of light from the stars. Gently, Zac eased the door shut behind him and then slung his rucksack onto his shoulder. He jumped across the path onto the grass; he didn’t want the sound of his trainers crunching over the gravel to disturb his parents. He checked his watch and then slid his other arm into the strap on his rucksack to put it on properly. He had just enough time to get to the station to catch the last train. He hurried over the front lawn and then jogged down the hill towards the railway, hanging onto his backpack straps to stop it thumping uncomfortably against his spine. He checked his watch again when he got to Megan’s house. Plenty of time. He dropped his pace down a gear or two and walked the rest of the way to the station. He glanced through the automatic doors at the departures and arrivals display board. No! The last train was cancelled due to a signal failure down the line. Bollocks!

Zac slumped against the wall of the station. Now what? He couldn’t go home – he had no way of getting in. He’d have to wait till the morning and catch the first train. But by then it would be light and there’d be more people about and he was more likely to be recognised on CCTV, and there be more chance of getting nicked travelling without a ticket. And furthermore, there was a chance – admittedly a slim one – that his parents might find his note before he caught the train. This was a disaster.

A sudden hot gust of wind came out of nowhere and whipped up the dust and a few scraps of litter. It swirled around before subsiding. Then came a distant rumble of thunder and another gust. As Zac leaned against the wall of the station and tried to work out his best course of action, the gusts began to morph together into a breeze, a breeze which strengthened and chilled by the minute. Zac looked at the sky and saw the stars begin to be extinguished as the clouds gathered; there was a storm coming. How long it would take to develop properly and how bad it might be were questions Zac couldn’t even begin to answer but he was pretty sure that, at some time during the night, it was going to pour down.

Zac walked away from the station – he had to find somewhere to spend the night. He needed to get undercover or risk getting soaked through. As if to emphasise things there was another flickering flash over near the horizon and then a while later a low grumbling rumble. To his left was the building site. Surely there had to be a way in and once there he would be able to find no end of places to hunker down, out of the storm. He walked along the perimeter fence, glancing up at it, trying to judge if he could scale it, but it didn’t look that strong and he didn’t want to bring it down and risk not only a fall but also make it obvious that someone had broken in. He grabbed the fence and shook it to gauge its strength. The section in his left hand sagged and moved away from the section in his right. The breeze block into which the fence uprights were inserted was cracked right through, allowing the panels to move. Zac gave the breeze block a hefty shove with his foot and the uprights parted company further. There was now a definite gap. Zac hunkered down and looked at it and decided he ought to be able to squeeze through it. Maybe there was a God.

*

Alfie was woken by the storm. He didn’t mind thunder; Megan had once told him it was the people who lived on the stars playing bowls across the sky and he quite liked that idea. When they’d lived in London they’d once gone to a bowling alley and he remembered the rumble of the balls as they’d rolled towards the pins and the crashes and bangs of the falling skittles. And the fun they’d had, and the burgers they’d eaten. Yes, bowling was good. He felt wide awake as he sat in his bed and pulled his curtains back so that he could see the flashes of lightning better, although the sky was quite light so it wasn’t as spectacular as some storms he’d seen. He pressed his nose against the pane to see better and spotted his digger in the middle of the lawn. And then the rain started.

No! Dougie shouldn’t get wet, Mummy said so. Mummy said his paint would go funny and peel off.

Alfie clambered out of bed and went downstairs. What with the dawn light coming through the windows and the occasional flashes he could see his way quite well. When he got to the kitchen he dragged a chair across the back door, clambered on it and used both hands to turn the big old key in the door. Then he jiggled the bolt under the lock till it slid back. Climbing off the chair again he pushed it backwards before he turned the handle and opened the door.

With the door open a waft of cool air rushed into the house along with the rushing, hissing sound of the downpour. Alfie stood in the doorway watching the curtains of raindrops as they got swished around by the swirling breeze. He wasn’t so sure about rescuing Dougie now – he was going to get cold and wet. As he lingered on the threshold he noticed the rain start to ease off slightly. Maybe he’d wait another minute or two. He pottered back into the kitchen, found his wellies in the utility room and stuffed his feet into them. He returned to the doorway. The rain was definitely lighter. He sat on a chair, stuck his thumb in his mouth and, with the door open, watched the storm ease off. Slowly the torrent of falling water moderated and the cacophony of the storm lessened to be replaced by the sound of a blackbird singing its heart out. Suddenly sunshine burst out from behind the cloud, casting long shadows across the garden and lighting up all the raindrops.

Alfie scrambled off the chair and went to the door. Everything sparkled, including his digger. He went outside to collect it.

‘Silly, Dougie,’ said Alfie. ‘You’re not allowed out in the rain, Mummy said. You’re not like the big diggers.’ He picked up the heavy Tonka toy and carried it back into the house where he put it by the Aga. ‘You can dry out here,’ said Alfie to his toy.

He gazed at the open door and at the early morning light. He knew it was early – too early to go and wake Bex, and Lewis wouldn’t want to play. He could go into the sitting room and watch the TV or... or he could go and see the real diggers. No one would know.

Alfie went to the door and out into the garden then he walked around the front of the house. He tried to open the gate but it was bolted fast, so he squeezed between the bars. The main road was completely empty – not a soul around. Further up the high street a cat trotted across the tarmac but that was the sole sign of life. Alfie hitched up his pyjama trousers and set off up the road.

He was tired when he got to the building site and his feet hurt. One of his wellies was rubbing a blister on his heel and he was cold too; his pyjamas were only made of thin cotton. He walked past the station and over to the building site where he hung onto the fence and gazed at the diggers. There were only a couple that he could see and they weren’t doing anything. His little excursion, which had seemed a good idea, was turning into a rubbish outing. He wanted to be back home but the only way was to walk and his foot was really sore and he was cold, and miserable and hungry. A tear trickled down his face.

*

Olivia had been lying in bed, wide awake since the storm had struck, worrying about their future, about selling the house, about Zac, about the state of the world, about everything and anything and she’d seen the dawn break and the sun rise and, although it was far too early to be up and about on a Sunday, her hand ached and she wanted a painkiller. On top of that, she also wanted a wee and a cup of tea. Beside her Nigel was snoring as if he didn’t have a care in the world. How could he, she wondered, given that many of her worries were as a direct result of what he’d done? She sighed. Blame and recrimination weren’t going to help.

She slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs. As she reached the ground floor, Oscar got out of his bed, shook himself vigorously and trotted over to her, his claws click-clacking on the floorboards. She patted him and he accompanied her to the kitchen where she fed him a couple of gravy bones while she made her tea. She picked up her mug and carried it back to her room, Oscar following her.

‘Do you want to see Zac?’ she asked the dog as they got to the landing. ‘Go on then.’ She opened the door to her son’s room. The curtains were drawn back and the room was tidy. Really? Zac? This wasn’t like him.

Then she saw the bed was empty. There was a note on the pillow.

The hand holding her mug slackened and tea dribbled, unnoticed, onto the carpet as Olivia made her way into the room and picked up the note. Shakily she put her mug down on the bedside table, sank onto the bed and began to read.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I’ve decided that the only way to make up for all the shit I’ve caused you is to go away. Please don’t look for me, you’ll be better off without me. I’ve left my mobile so you can’t contact me and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be fine where I am going.

Not worry? She was beside herself already. And, that phrase ‘better off without me’... he wasn’t... he couldn’t be planning...? Dear God, no. She read on.

I know you know about the drugs but you need to know that it was me that stole the ring as well as money from your purse. It wasn’t Amy.

I’ll be alright and one day I’ll make it up to you both.

No, that didn’t sound like he was thinking about suicide. But even so...

I love you and I am so sorry for being a disappointment.

Zac

xxx

Tears rolled down Olivia’s face and her hands shook as she lowered the sheet of paper onto her lap. Unsteadily, she got up and went to her own bedroom.

‘Nigel.’ Nothing. ‘Nigel!’ She pummelled his shoulder

There was a grunt and a snort and he rolled over.

‘Wha...’ Blearily he opened an eye. ‘What time is it?’

‘Seven o’clock. Zac’s gone.’

‘Seven? What?’ Nigel still sounded dopey.

‘Zac’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘Gone. Run away.’

‘You’re kidding.’ He was wide awake now.

‘Jesus, Nigel, would I joke about something like that?’ She thrust the note under her husband’s nose. He took it, sat up and read it.

‘Drugs?’ He looked horrified.

Olivia nodded.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because Zac told me he was going to stop. I knew you’d be angry and would yell at him but if he’d really did stop there was no need for the row.’

Nigel’s hand clenched, crumpling the note. ‘I had a right to know. I am his father,’ he shouted.

‘I think I had a right to know about your gambling but you didn’t tell me about that till you were so far in a corner you had no way out,’ Olivia shouted back.

Nigel stared at her. ‘Has he stopped – the drugs, I mean?’ He sounded sulky.

‘Yes. It was one of the reasons I got him Oscar, so he had something to focus on, something to do. It made him get out in the fresh air, do some exercise, stop him lying around in his room smoking weed or snorting ketamine or whatever his substance of choice was.’

Nigel shook his head. ‘And you’re sure he’s gone? Sure he’s really left?’

‘Nigel, you’ve read the note. Do you think he’d have written that if he was going to play hide and seek?’ Worry was making her snappy and shrill. ‘I’m going to phone the police.’

‘Now?’

‘No, in a couple of days. Of course now.’

‘Yes.’ Nigel looked at his wife. ‘Where do you think he’s gone?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

Olivia walked around the bed to the telephone on the table by her side. She picked it up and dialled 101. ‘I’d like to report a missing person...’