Lottie Project (24 page)

He said that once he catches the varmint responsible he will have him publicly flogged and if he has harmed the baby then he will hang by the neck until he is dead.

Oh my Lord, I am so scared. If only I hadn’t stormed off like that. If only I had kept a watch on the perambulator all the time! If only, if only, if only!

SICKNESS

‘THEY’LL FIND HIM,’
Jo kept saying. ‘He’ll be in the park. Or nearby. They’ll find him when it’s light. He’ll have just fallen asleep now, Mark, that’s all.’

‘The helicopter hasn’t tracked him down. And we’ve looked everywhere. All over the park,’ said Mark, hugging Birdie to his chest. ‘We called and called. They’re still there now, calling. If he was asleep he’d wake up and hear. He could be in the pond – they’re going to dredge it. He could be lying in a ditch somewhere—’

‘Don’t think like that, Sir. There’s no reason to think the worst,’ said the policewoman. ‘I’ve been with parents so many times, and they’ve been going through agonies like this but it’s always turned out well in the end—’

‘That’s right, Mark. We’ve got to be positive,’ said Jo, putting her arm round him. She held her other arm out to me. ‘Come here, Charlie.’ But I couldn’t go. I felt too ashamed. Police came, police went. The phone rang but it was Mark’s ex-wife, ringing from an all-night motorway café. She was on her way here with her
new
man, desperate to know if there was any further news. The policewoman made more tea, endless cups, although no-one took more than a few sips of each fresh brew. Someone switched on the radio at six and tuned it into the local station.

‘
A five-year-old boy is missing from his home in Newcombe Way
,’ said a voice. ‘
Little Robin West is small and slight, dark hair, dark eyes, believed to be wearing nightclothes and a grey sweater
 . . .’

It made it all so horribly real hearing Robin’s name on the radio. Everyone’s head jerked at the sound.

More news bulletins kept tuning into my head. Imaginary ones with terrible news. I put my hands over my ears, but I couldn’t block out the sound of my own thoughts.

Then the police radio crackled again, and the policewoman answered it.

‘You’re sure? He’s OK?’

We all stared, hardly daring to hope.

‘Robin?’ said Mark, springing up.

‘Yes, I think it is!’ said the policewoman. ‘Small boy, dark hair, found at the railway station. He’d crawled behind a whole pile of parcels awaiting delivery, so no-one spotted him at first.’

‘He’s all right?’ said Mark, tears pouring down his face.

‘I think so, Sir – but freezing cold, so they’re taking him straight to the hospital. We’ll take you there right away.’

‘We have to go too,’ said Jo, pulling me up.

I didn’t dare believe it until we got to the hospital. I kept thinking it would be some other little boy – it couldn’t be Robin because I was so sure he was lost for ever now, and that it was all my fault, and that I would hate myself for the rest of my life.

Jo knew, and held my hand very tight all the way there, and when Mark ran forward at the hospital Jo elbowed our way through too.

‘She has to see him, just for a few seconds,’ she said when nurses tried to catch hold of us.

There was something so commanding in her voice that they let us through. There were more nurses at a bed, a doctor with a stethoscope, a policeman, all circling a narrow bed containing a small tinfoil parcel like a chicken ready to be roasted for Sunday dinner. A flushed face peered out of one end, a smaller bird than a chicken. A Robin. ‘Oh, Robin!’ I whispered. ‘It really is you!’ He didn’t hear me. He was too busy blinking up at Mark.

‘Daddy!’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are
you
doing here, you silly sausage?’ said Mark, and he bent and kissed the tiny bit of Robin that was exposed. ‘Oh, Robin, you’ve led us a merry dance! What did you run away for? We’ve been so scared.’

‘I was scared too. I wanted Mummy—’

‘Mummy’s coming. She’ll be here soon. And you can see her for as long as you like. But Robin, you do know we
both
love you and want you. You’re the most important little guy in my life. I was so frightened when I found your bed empty.’

‘I had a nasty dream and I wanted Mummy so I got Birdie and we thought we’d go and see her.’

‘In Manchester? But Robin, how could you possibly think you could walk to Manchester?’ said Mark.

‘You get the train. You took me once. We went through the park to the station so that’s what we did, Birdie and me, but when we went past the pond the ducks woke up and quacked at us and scared us and then . . . and then . . .’ Robin burst into tears.

‘You dropped Birdie – but look, Robin, look!’ said Mark, producing Birdie, who flew down onto Robin’s chest, one wing touching his cheek. ‘Birdie’s got more sense than you, Robin. He flew home to Daddy.’

I wanted to talk to Robin myself, to tell him how sorry I was.

‘Not now,’ said Jo, pulling me away. ‘He just needs Mark. And we don’t want to be here when his mother comes. We’ll go home.’

It seemed extraordinary to be back at our flat, having breakfast at the usual time. Whole weeks seemed to have gone by since yesterday.

‘You ought really to go back to bed,’ said Jo. ‘You look exhausted.’

I was far too wound up to sleep. ‘I still can’t believe he’s safe!’ I said.

‘I said he would be!’ said Jo, hugging me.

‘Don’t, Jo. You’ve been so nice to me. When I was so wicked.’

‘But you didn’t mean it.’

‘I should still be terribly punished.’

‘Well, what do you want me to do? Whip you? Shut you up in a cupboard for a week? Shave all your lovely long hair off and paint you purple?’

‘I mean it, Jo. I feel . . . bad. Robin
will
be all right now, won’t he?’

‘Yes, of course. Once they’ve got him all warmed up and checked over then I’m sure he’ll be able to go home.’

‘And can we go round and see him straight away?’

‘Well, not if his mother’s there too. I don’t want to look as if I’m butting in. And maybe this might bring them back together again as a family . . .’

I didn’t dare ask her if she’d mind terribly.

Jo went off to the supermarket to explain why she was so late – and I went to school.

Lisa and Angela came charging up to me the minute I set foot in the classroom.

‘Hey, Charlie! Did you hear on the radio? That little boy who went missing, Robin. Isn’t he the one your mum looks after?’

So I had to say yes, and then when I told them we’d been with Robin’s dad half the night and that I’d actually seen Robin in the hospital they asked me dozens of questions, and practically all the class
gathered
round wanting to hear. So I had to turn it into a proper story and spin it out a bit while they all gasped and exclaimed. They didn’t even quieten down when Miss Beckworth swept into the room and told everyone to go to their seats.

‘Miss Beckworth, Charlie’s practically headline news, she helped find that little boy. Tell Miss Beckworth, Charlie!’

So I told the story all over again, though I was starting to tire of the whole tale. It didn’t seem right that even Miss Beckworth seemed mildly impressed. But then she asked the one question I was dreading. Trust her.