Humber Boy B (10 page)

“Your mam is supposed to look after me today. It’s been arranged. Mum gave her some brass for summat to eat for lunch.”

Adam made a noise in his throat that was halfway between a chuckle and a roar. “Forget that, lad. Our mam’s already drank your lunch money,” he said, now making small circles on Noah’s scooter.

Noah felt his insides going watery, he didn’t like the way Adam was looking at him and he didn’t know what to do. Should he knock and wait for Yvette to answer? Or call his dad at the garage, ask him? Yes, that seemed like a better plan, though his dad would probably say that he should just wait in the house until he finished work.

“Ben, can you tell your brother to give us the scooter back? I’m going home.”

Noah watched anxiously as Ben approached his brother, there was a tussle with the handlebars and then Adam turned, rode directly at Noah who froze, thinking Adam was going to scoot straight into him and send him flying. Instead, Adam pulled up short, yanked the scooter onto its tail and said, “Ay up, lad. Cool scooter.”

Noah took the handle, feeling relieved to have his scooter but also wondering why his mum had done this to him, why she hadn’t found a proper babysitter. He started to scoot away but Adam grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Home.” Noah looked at Ben for help. “Mam will be back soon.”

It was a lie, her train didn’t get back at Paragon station until this evening. And Dad would be back then too, but that still meant he had the whole day alone. He felt himself shaking, close to tears.

“You can go home,” Adam said with a shrug, “if you want. But we’re going down road to the shops. I’ll get you summat, if you like?”

“What?” Noah asked, suspiciously.

“Whatever goodies you like. Chocolate. What do you like best, Mars, Crunchie?”

“I like Rolos.”

“Fine.” Adam showed Noah a pound coin he’d got. “Come on, then.”

It was almost eleven o’clock and Noah’s stomach was rumbling. If Adam was telling the truth there’d be no lunch from Yvette and his mum was miles away in London.

The three boys walked to the small stretch of shops nearest their estate that included their own personal Mecca, the Patel’s corner shop that sold 5p sweets along the counter. Mrs Patel never said anything, even though she must notice that they never bought much but always seemed to be sucking blackjacks or jelly dummies when they left. She wore an exotic wrap of a dress and had a red spot in the middle of her forehead. She never looked directly at them, always just a little to the side, and Noah’s mum said she was a workhorse. “In that shop all hours, poor thing, when her husband is God knows where.” If Mr Patel was anywhere in the vicinity, the boys never chanced it, but today as usual it was just Mrs Patel, standing over her till as the bell above the door announced their arrival.

Adam strode up to the counter and started picking up different chocolate bars, then putting them back, as if he couldn’t decide. Noah stood next to Ben, both of them itching to put a few of the chewy cola bottles into their pockets, when Noah felt something, a pressure, being slid into his pocket. It felt heavy, like a large rock, weighing him down. “Now leave!” Adam hissed into his ear, as he handed Mrs Patel a packet of Rolos and pound coin. “Just this, please.”

The bell rang loudly as Noah left, feeling the bulge in his pocket and feeling certain Mrs Patel knew, even if she didn’t say.

Adam ran from the shop, grabbed Noah by the elbow and together they scarpered, Ben running behind and yelling, “What’s up? Why’re we running?”

Once they had left the estate and arrived at a grassy bank on the edge of Hessle Road, Noah slowed, feeling the item in his pocket banging into his leg. He reached to see what it was, but Adam took it from him and held it into the air like a trophy. It was a globe-shaped bottle of something peach-coloured.

Adam gave Noah the tube of Rolos.

“Okay, lads. Let’s get us party started!”

The drink tasted like bubble bath, the fruity stuff his mum liked, that he bought her at Christmas and Mother’s Day. But after a few mouthfuls Noah felt warm in his tummy, and his head felt swimmy like when he’d stayed up too late watching TV and was so tired he should be in bed but instead he fought it. Adam was lying on his back, telling them funny stories about other kids at his school, and Noah now knew that his mum was definitely wrong. Anyone who supported Hull Rovers had to be alright, and Adam was cool and funny and peach schnapps was fan-bloody-tastic.

“Hey, Noah,” said Adam, finishing off the fruit-shaped bottle and tossing it into the undergrowth where a woman was watching her dog take a shit. She gave them a dirty look and yanked the dog onwards, not bothering to clean up after it. If she wondered why they weren’t in school, she said nothing.

“Let’s go see a film,” said Adam, excited to have had an idea and fuelled by the cheap alcohol to a spike of happiness.

“How?” said Noah, huffily. “We’ve got no brass.”

“Ah!” Adam jumped up, wobbling on one foot before righting himself, looking in his red sports strip like a rugby player ready to run for the ball. “But I know a secret way in.”

22

Now

FACEBOOK: FIND HUMBER BOY B

Noah’s mum:
I went to the doctors today and she gave me some more tablets to help the stress and the not sleeping and that. It’s horrible to think Noah’s killer is out there, and I don’t even know what he looks like now. When he was a boy I welcomed him into my home, made him sandwiches, gave him juice, let him come into the house to play with Noah. Both boys liked Lego and I used to keep a box in the sitting room. It’s still there, I can’t bring myself to part with it.

Humber Boy B played in my house, with my son, and now I could pass him in the street and not know. I’m feeling my search for him is useless, that I’ll never be able to change the fact that he’s free. And that’s as painful as losing Noah all over again.

Dave:
We can’t give up, love. Someone somewhere knows where he is.

Noah’s mum:
The reporter from
The Sun
keeps calling, and I’m thinking this may be our best hope. The paper is read by millions, and it only takes one person to recognise him. I just want to be clear, this isn’t a witch-hunt. I just want some answers. My son died, don’t I at least deserve that?

Silent Friend:
You deserve much more than that. And he can’t hide forever.

23

Cate

“Mum, I want to go see
Frozen 2
with Chloe this afternoon. It’s just opened, and they’ve got a 4D premiere, with real snow. Well, not real snow but you know what I mean. Dad said he’d pick me up after lunch.”

Cate hesitated. Amelia had stayed with her dad on Friday night, as usual, and returned home last night. Sunday was supposed to be her day.

“Oh, well… Would I like the film?”

“It’s only just out, so no-one’s seen it yet, but you know how amazing the first
Frozen
was.”

“Vaguely.”

“You do, Mum! You know the song,” Amelia broke off speaking to sing the chorus of Let It Go until Cate was singing along with her. “It’s about two sisters, Elsa and Anna, but they have to be apart because one has got this secret, this bad thing that if she tells anyone they’ll just… well, I don’t know what, because when she does tell it’s actually okay. But it’s sad, because the sisters can’t play together, but then one sister decides to sort it out. Anyway, I don’t know what happens in
Frozen 2
but it’s got to be brilliant. Please say I can go?”

Cate smiled at her daughter, whose face was twisted in earnest concentration as she tried to remember the details of the film. “Okay, I like the sound of that. I’ll come too. We can sing that song again in the car.”

Now Amelia looked panicked, a frown formed between her eyebrows, marking her perfect face with worry. “Sally’s going to be there, Mum.”

“Oh.” Being civil with Tim’s second wife was one thing, sharing popcorn with her was quite another. Much as Cate liked the sound of two sisters sorting out their differences, she’d have to take a rain check. “Sounds like I’ll have to skip on it then, even though I’d enjoy the snow.”

Amelia’s face showed her emotions swing from relief to concern. “But what about me? Please, Mum. Can I go?”

Cate gave in, keeping Amelia at home would be selfish. “Okay, sweetheart. Call your dad and say yes.”

As Amelia rushed to the phone, excited and happy, Cate thought of what she would do with her Sunday now. Something had changed for her, spending the last few days immersed in Ben’s casefile, she had an urge to shake free of its weight, to do something daring. And that’s exactly what she was expecting Ben to do, she was asking him to live again, to work, to find some pleasure in life. Yet she was trapped, as trapped by her divorce as she had been when Tim first left. And Amelia, who had once been all hers, was breaking away, making choices about how to spend her time. Cate needed to take a risk. And she had an idea in mind.

She felt in her bag for her phone, and scrolled down her emails. Dare she reply to Olivier? His email had remained unanswered for three days. She sent one line into the ether:
I’m free to meet up today, if your offer still stands?

Amelia was singing as she slipped on her coat, Tim was outside in the car, where he tended to wait these days now that he had so little to say to Cate that couldn’t be communicated via text message. Cate waved her daughter off and forced herself to get a glass of water, all stalling tactics, before she finally returned to her phone to see if Olivier had replied.

Olivier:
That took you a while to think about! So is this a work meeting? Or pleasure?

Cate hesitated before responding, she had to push from her mind Tim’s steely face as he had driven their daughter away, the pain this doomed marriage had caused her. Fun, that was what she needed and Amelia’s talk of the snow in the 4D screening had given her an idea, but she wasn’t sure that Olivier would be up for it.

Cate:
That depends. Can you ski?

Olivier:
In September? Are we catching a plane?

It wasn’t Cate’s first visit to the Ipswich ski slope, Amelia had her last birthday party here and had a great afternoon ringoing down the slope. She hadn’t joined in herself, too busy setting out cake and sandwiches in the picnic area. But now she wanted to try.

“What is this?” Olivier asked, looking at the inflated plastic tube as if had landed from outer space. “Plastic hoops belong in swimming pools, not on a ski slope!” He placed the ring on the fake snow and then sat on it, it sagged beneath him, making him looking ridiculous. Cate laughed so hard she had to catch her breath. His beige jeans were too smart, his long sleeved shirt too fitted for the trip, but she enjoyed this spectacle, and his awkwardness as they queued with a line of youngsters waiting to whizz down the slope in a wet, slippery heap. Maybe the French didn’t do ‘casual’.

Olivier was first to ringo down the hill, much to the disgust of the serious skiers who were presumably practising ahead of their winter holiday. These skiers ploughed their way across the path of the children and people just having fun. At the bottom he stood, brushed the faux-snow from his thighs and shouted up to her, “Go on, Cate! I will catch you!”

She sat on the bouncy tyre, feeling how little control she had over its movements, how quickly it would slide once she pushed off from the flat section at the top. But this had been her idea, and Olivier was waiting.

She closed her eyes as the tyre slipped over the edge, then screamed as she gave in to fun, bumping down the snowy slope at a speed that took her breath and left her laughing hysterically in a heap at the foot of the hill, looking up at Olivier.

“Okay, Cate, so I have done as you ask and made a fool of myself along with a million school kids. Now can we get a drink?”

The ski lodge was three months ahead of itself with black and silver Christmas tinsel twisted around the dark wood railings that segregated the coffee drinkers from those eating lunch, but all the tables were the same fake mahogany, the wood all painted black around the windows which were covered with black slatted blinds.

“We can pretend we’re in the French Alps,” Cate said, knowing that beyond the windows was the car park and the other side was the docks. But with the dim lighting they could be anywhere, if not for Michael Bublé being piped from the speakers and the crowd being obviously British from their Hollister hoodies, ruddy faces and copious drinking of cappuccinos.

“I just have to drive two hours to ski from Luxembourg. The Vosges Mountains are beautiful and the restaurants, I promise, absolutely nothing like this.”

“Snob,” Cate teased, then drank her sparkling water quickly, thirsty from the physical exercise. “I know this isn’t exactly Switzerland but what I like about it is that it doesn’t feel like Ipswich. I could be miles away.”

Olivier watched her keenly. “Indeed, travel of any kind can be good for the soul.” He reached and touched her hand. “Thank you, Cate. This trip has been good for mine.”

This time when she arrived home to an empty house, Cate didn’t feel sad, she was too elated. She ran a deep bath, adding oils that would soothe her aching muscles. Before she stepped into the steamy water she poured herself a glass of wine and found the paperback novel she had bought in the summer but never got around to reading. It was a light romance, and she simply hadn’t been in the mood before.

She settled in the water, sipped her drink and opened the book. And not once did she think about work.

24

Ben

Who will find me first?

This is my waking thought.

Which I suppose is progress, because on other mornings I’ve woken up thinking I’m late, that any minute a prison officer will fling open my cell door and haul me from bed, shout at me that breakfast is being dished up and do I think this is a bloody hotel? Or, on bad mornings, I’ve woken in a cold sweat thinking it’s shower day.