Of Things Gone Astray

He wishes his mum would hurry up. She’s gone back in to the house because she forgot to bring –

What? What had she forgotten?

She forgot to bring something for the smiling lady that had visited last week. She promised to drop something off to her and she’s annoyed about it.

Jake’s mum is also annoyed that they have to go to the doctor’s at midday. When they’ve gone before it’s always been after school but she couldn’t get an appointment with the doctor because the doctor’s about to get married and go away, Jake thinks perhaps forever. He thinks that maybe if the doctor gets married and goes away forever he’ll be able to stop wearing his orthotics and his mum won’t be able to tell him off.

Jake has been waiting for a long time. He thinks perhaps seven hours. He wonders if his mum would notice if he snuck past her upstairs and put on his jandals.

When the ground moves, he isn’t scared. It does that a lot and all that happens is his cat will run all over the house really fast. Jake thinks that is pretty funny.

He doesn’t expect the house to fall down like it does.

Jake lay still on his bed for a while. He didn’t think he was right about it being that hot. He thought he was right about most things, but he didn’t think it had been hot that day.

He didn’t feel much like going downstairs. On this day two years ago his mum had made waffles with bacon and banana and syrup for breakfast, with a candle sticking out of one of the waffles.

Jake didn’t think there would be waffles this morning.

He didn’t think there would be waffles any morning.

Delia.

AFTER A WHILE DELIA GLANCED at her watch and swore. She’d been gone longer than she should have, naturally. Until a few years ago Delia had never been late, not once in her life, now it happened all the time. Not that there ever was anything in particular to be on time for now, but she didn’t like to be so long away.

As she walked down the street, however, her pace slackened. She couldn’t help it. She knew that once she got home, it was unlikely she’d get another chance to go out. There was always so much to do, incidental, unimportant things to do: cups of tea to make, lunch to prepare, washing to fold, all the things your average housewife usually had to do.

She could never go off for too long without worrying that something would go wrong, that her mother would need help and be alone, but being in the house sometimes became intolerable. Resolving that ten extra minutes now would help maintain her equilibrium for the rest of the day, she allowed her pace to slow to a light meander. As she walked, she convinced herself that her mother would probably not get out of bed until she was home in any case.

It was still early enough for the streets to be quiet; there were just a few joggers, the keys in their bum pockets jingling slightly as they ran, and some tired-looking besuited men who probably didn’t need to spend as much time at work as they thought.

Delia breathed deeply as she went, savouring the bright morning air. Again, she paid little attention to her specific route, veering down streets at random, looking at houses she didn’t know. She stopped to look at unusual trees and flowers in people’s gardens, and spent a while trying to get a reluctant cat to approach her.

The sky grew ever brighter, the day was warming, the clouds were moving on.

Delia reached a church she didn’t know and she suddenly felt disconcerted. She should be nearly home by now, there shouldn’t be any churches she didn’t know.

She looked around her. She’d been walking in the right direction, she was sure of it, but she suddenly realised that it wasn’t just the church – she hadn’t recognised anything in ages. She shook her head and pressed on. She must only be a couple of streets away; she’d find herself soon.

Mrs Featherby.

MRS FEATHERBY HAD BOILED THE kettle four times whilst waiting for the police constable to arrive. Although she told herself she wanted to be prepared, she also wanted to avoid being the spectacle she knew she’d become. The kitchen was out of sight of the absent wall.

People were beginning to walk along the footpath and, as she had expected, they were staring. Those walking in pairs stopped and muttered to each other. She saw a few take pictures. She wanted to move out of their sight permanently, to live out the rest of her life in the back of the house, but she was afraid of missing the policeman when he arrived. It wasn’t as if he would be able to ring the doorbell, after all. She pursed her lips and moved to the kitchen to boil the kettle once more.

When he did eventually arrive he stood on the footpath for what must have been a full two minutes, staring, saying nothing. He didn’t seem to notice Mrs Featherby at all until she stepped out into the garden and said, ‘Good morning, Constable.’

She supposed constable was still the correct term to use, although, in all honesty, he didn’t look much like her idea of a constable. He was of an age at which, according to Mrs Featherby’s ideas, a policeman ought to be married, but he was not wearing a ring. He seemed to be suffering from hay fever or a severe head cold, but he was neglecting to use a handkerchief. He arrived with a sandwich in one hand and continually took bites from it as he talked, inconsistently remembering to swallow.

He introduced himself as PC Grigson, gave a hearty sniff, whistled towards the general vicinity of Mrs Featherby’s house and said, ‘Not sure what I’m going to be able to do for you, love; it’s a builder you’re going to need.’

Mrs Featherby felt her brow furrow involuntarily at being called ‘love’, but she decided not to comment.

‘Obviously I shall need a builder to fix it, young man. You are here to tell me how it happened. You are here to find out who is responsible and see that the person, or persons, are brought to justice.’

‘Right,’ said Grigson, running a wrist under his streaming nose. ‘So you think we should be looking for a perpetrator?’

‘Naturally I think you should be looking for a perpetrator. There has been a theft. Someone has stolen the front wall of my house. I wish to see that person found and held to account.’

‘Only thing is, pet, I just don’t see how someone can have stolen a whole wall of a house.’

‘No, Constable, I’m sure you do not. No more do I. But I believe part of your job consists of investigating how mysterious occurrences have, in fact, occurred. You must find it out.’

‘Right,’ he sniffed again. ‘Sure. Tell you what, I’m going to give you the name of a builder. He’s my ex-wife’s cousin, as a matter of fact, but he is actually pretty good anyway, and quite reliable, did my bathroom a few months back, and if I give him a call to let him know you’re in need, he’ll bump you up the list.’ He paused and glanced at the gaping hole in the side of the house. ‘And I’ll have a look through recent records, see if any similar, ah, thefts have occurred in the area.’

‘So what am I to do?’

‘Oh, you know. Let us know if you think of any other information. If you remember seeing anyone suspicious hanging around, or if you see someone in the future.’

Mrs Featherby didn’t quite know how to point out that none of this was in any way useful to her or other potential victims. She elected not to offer PC Grigson a cup of tea.

The copper gave a final sniff, said a non-committal goodbye, and headed back to his car. Mrs Featherby stood alone in her fractured home, vainly attempting to disregard the whispers and stares of her passing neighbours.

Robert.

WHEN HE CAME DOWN TO the kitchen, Robert found Bonny sitting at the table, studiously drawing on one of the bamboo place mats.

‘Dad,’ said Bonny, fixing Robert with a serious gaze. ‘Can I do something different with my cereal today?’

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Well, instead of having just one kind of cereal, can I have cornflakes and coco pops mixed all together?’

‘That is an excellent idea, Bonny. I’m going to do the same. Would you like a banana sliced on top of yours?’

‘Um, not so much. Can I have a banana just on its own?’

Mara walked into the kitchen as they were eating. She had dressed, but not yet done anything with her hair, which stood out from her head in a wild mane of tawny brown. Robert stood and walked over to her. He twisted his hands into the mass of hair and kissed her.

‘Nice of you to wait till you’d showered before doing that, my love,’ she said.

‘Anything for you.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ said Mara, concentrating harder than was strictly necessary on the cup of coffee she was pouring. ‘I’ve been asked to go in to see Bonny’s teacher this afternoon. Can you come?’

‘Do they need both of us?’

‘No, they didn’t say that, it’s just that I’m nervous and I’d rather not go alone. It’s the first time I’ve been called in to see a teacher and I don’t know what they want. I’m worried I won’t act like enough of a grown up.’

‘If it were next week I probably could. I’ve a lot on at the moment. A few people are away at a conference, you know, and we’ve taken on a couple of important new clients. You’ll be fine. They’re used to dealing with children, after all. Or can you move the meeting?’

‘Next week something else will come up and you still won’t be able to go.’

‘You can’t be sure of that.’

‘I am 87 per cent sure of that … 87 and a half. There is always something that needs to be done, and it always needs to be done by you because you’re a big girly swot who can’t delegate.’ She rubbed her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘I can go alone. It’s probably no big deal.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, whatever; your job can’t be arranged to suit your convenience. Mine can.’

Robert kissed her.

‘Don’t think I don’t envy you that, by the way.’

‘Oh, you’ve no idea,’ said Mara, speaking right into his ear, all low and suggestive. ‘I can work naked if I want.’

‘Bloody hell, Mara,’ Robert muttered back. ‘And with that image I have to leave. To go to my office. The land where nakedness is a crime. Why didn’t I become a website designer? You lot have it so damn sweet.’

‘Please. You couldn’t handle it. And you’ve terrible taste.’

‘Ooh, right in the feelings.’

Mara gave a bloodthirsty chuckle and ruffled Robert’s hair as she walked past him to the cereal.

Robert grabbed his bag from the lounge and headed for the front door.

‘Babe,’ Mara called from behind him. Robert turned to see her standing in the hall holding her shirt open.

‘Mum, can I have a juice?’ Bonny called from the kitchen. Mara poked her tongue out and turned to go back to their daughter.

‘Bloody hell,’ Robert said again as he turned and stepped out into the world.

Jake.

JAKE TRIED HIS HARDEST NOT to expect waffles when he walked into the kitchen, and it was a good thing he did. His dad was eating cereal standing up, staring into the small, overgrown garden. Jake chewed his lip and crossed to the cupboard to look for bread. There were only two pieces left and one of them was an end. He sighed and immediately regretted it. He hated it when people sighed. His dad never sighed, although you’d think he had plenty of reason to. Jake put the bread in the toaster.

‘Good morning,’ his dad said while Jake was spreading peanut butter on his toast. Jake wondered if it had taken him that long to notice him, or just that long to remember to say hello.

‘Hi,’ Jake replied.

‘Your teacher says you’re doing well at school. I called her last night to ask how things were going, how you were settling in.’

Jake had trouble remembering what it had been like talking to his dad before, but he was pretty sure they’d never had conversations like this. Had they talked about TV? Did they tell each other jokes?

‘I guess so,’ he said. ‘I have a spelling test today.’

‘Good,’ said his dad. ‘That’s good.’

Jake tried to think of something sensible to say. ‘How’s your work?’ he settled on with a tiny grimace.

‘Oh, fine. It’s fine. I should get started for the day, actually.’

Jake watched his dad walk out of the kitchen and head slowly to his office. He wondered if he should have had some kind of funny story from school. He couldn’t remember if anything funny had happened there recently.

He sat at the table and finished his toast. His dad had forgotten what day it was. He’d forgotten there was something to celebrate. Jake decided not to mind. He decided to try his hardest not to mind. He washed his dishes and went to his room to get his school bag.

Cassie.

CASSIE DIDN’T NOTICE AT FIRST when her phone started to ring. She didn’t hear it. At least, she heard it but it felt remote, even though it was in her pocket and vibrating as well as ringing; it wasn’t connected to her. It wasn’t until she saw someone staring at her that she realised she was supposed to do something about it. That it was hers.

She pulled out the phone, suddenly thinking that maybe it was Floss, that soon they would be laughing over whatever mix up it was that had meant they weren’t yet together.

The photo on the display wasn’t Floss.

Cassie stood still and gazed at the phone as it went silent and the picture that stared at her from the screen, her mother, disappeared. Disappointment started at the nape of her neck and trickled slowly down her spine, seeping into her through her skin. She breathed deeply for a moment, blinking hard, and called her mother back.

‘Well, well?’ her mother asked on answering. ‘Did she arrive OK? Are you bringing her here? I thought you were bringing her here. I thought you’d be here a couple of hours ago.’

‘Um, she’s not here yet,’ said Cassie, chewing her lip.

‘What? Why not?’

‘I don’t know. I guess something went wrong. She was delayed, maybe.’

‘The flight was delayed?’

‘No, the flight arrived. She wasn’t on it.’

‘Where are you?’

‘At the airport still. I’m waiting.’

‘For what? Planes from Argentina don’t arrive every five minutes, Cass. You’d best come home and find out what’s happened.’

‘Brazil.’

‘What? Yes. What? Come home, love, I’ve a roast in the oven.’

‘I’m going to wait a while, Mum. See if I can find out anything here.’

Cassie’s mum was still talking, but a large German tour group was walking past, their voices raised in excitement, and Cassie couldn’t hear her anymore. She hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

The crowd surged around her, pushing at her, catching her hair in the zips of their bags, but she did not move.

She didn’t realise it, but she had not moved in five hours.

Delia.

DELIA’S SHOULDER WAS ACHING FROM carrying her bag. Why had she even brought it? It felt like she’d packed for a weekend away, instead of a light stroll and a read. She’d been walking for over an hour and she had no idea where she was. She couldn’t figure out how she could have got lost. She never did pay much attention to where she was going, but then she’d never really needed to. She always found her way.

She pulled out her phone, feeling stupid for needing it, and brought up her little blue dot. There she was, standing on a street. She could see the street she wanted; it was much further away than she’d realised. She’d bypassed her neighbourhood completely and veered off wildly to the north. She checked which direction she needed to walk in and set off purposefully down the road.

It was five minutes before she realised she’d gone in the wrong direction. She checked the map, and tried again.

She could see clearly where she needed to go, but every time she looked up and started moving, she lost sight of it. She tried holding her phone in front of her face, but even then it didn’t seem to relate. No matter what she tried she ended up walking further away.

Delia decided to find the nearest bus stop and get home from there. After giving up on her phone, she walked, even more purposefully, for another ten minutes. The street she was on was tiny and winding. She stopped for a moment, wondering if it was best to go back the way she’d come or continue on in the same direction. She couldn’t remember seeing a bus stop recently so there had to be one coming up.

She kept walking. The area was small and residential and void of transport links. Each winding road, flanked by brick houses, led to another, more winding road, flanked by more brick houses.

The sun had returned in full force and Delia’s back was itchy with sweat.

After a further twenty-five minutes, Delia heard what she was certain was a lorry. It didn’t sound far away; it was somewhere ahead of her. She picked up the pace, her eyes set forwards, weary and desperate, and the street soon broke out into a small row of shops with, oh joy, a bus stop.

After a few minutes, a bus pulled up and a weary Delia hopped onto it. A whimper rose up within her, but she remembered she was in public for long enough to quell it. She flung herself into a seat and closed her eyes. She had no idea how she’d managed to go so far astray. She leant forward with her head in her hands as the bus trundled her towards home.

Robert.

ROBERT FOUGHT HIS WAY THROUGH the crowd of commuters to exit the tube station. He climbed the escalators with more of a wince than usual, regretting the morning’s ill-advised run. He should do that more often, he thought. Or never again. As always, he got out a stop early to get a bit of air before being confined at his desk all day. As he walked, his mind was still at home with Mara and Bonny. He knew the day would be long, he knew he’d be tired and moody by the end of it, he wished he could have just called in sick. He hadn’t faked a sick day since he was fifteen though; he’d almost forgotten how to do it. He sighed as he turned onto his street, thinking about what he and Mara could be doing if he didn’t have a responsible job.

He’d gone two blocks too far before he noticed he’d passed his building. He turned back, still smirking, and walked three blocks too far in the other direction. He stopped and tried to concentrate. He walked directly and purposely to the position of his office. He didn’t get there. He paused and looked around. This time he’d made it to roughly the right position on the road, but for some reason he wasn’t at his building. In fact, he couldn’t see his building at all.

Suddenly he chuckled. He was clearly on the wrong street. He retraced his steps back a couple of blocks. He was sure he was on the right track now. He turned down the street he’d turned down every weekday morning and quite a few Saturdays for the last six and a half years. How had he got this wrong? He strode on.

He stopped. He’d gone too far again. No, he hadn’t, he’d not gone far enough.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all.

He was in the right place, he was in the exact spot, but there was no work. His work wasn’t there.

The entire building was gone, vanished as if it had never been there at all.

Robert turned around slowly, twice. There was the travel agent he’d booked his and Mara’s last holiday in. There was the French restaurant that used to be really great but had then changed hands and gone sharply downhill. There was the hotel that seemed a bit rugged but that Robert had once seen a quite famous actor he could never remember the name of leaving. There was the new building that housed three identical nondescript businesses with shiny receptions and ambiguous names. Robert’s building should have been next to the hotel, but it wasn’t.

Robert stood staring at the lack of his work for ten minutes, with no idea what to do. His body was frozen while his mind tried and failed to comprehend the vanishing of the building that should have been right in front of him.

Marcus.

HE SPENT TWO HOURS STARING at his piano before he could think clearly enough to do anything. He would have to call her. He didn’t want to worry her, but he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t deal with it alone. He went to the phone in the kitchen.

The phone rang five times and her voice came on: ‘Hi hi, Katy here, I’m obviously busy. Leave a message if you want.’

He hung up and immediately dialled again. On his fourth attempt it was answered by a gruff-sounding male.

‘’Lo?’

‘Hello. May I speak with Katharine?’

‘Um, yeah, all right. Who’s it?’

‘It’s her father.’

‘Oh, right! Hiya Marcus, it’s Jasper.’

He’d forgotten there was a new boy. ‘Oh. Hello Jasper.’ There was a brief pause.

‘I’ll get Kate, then, yeah?

‘Thank you.’

He waited, listening to his daughter and her lover exchange the phone.

‘Dad? What’s up?’

‘They’re gone. My keys. Gone.’

‘You can’t find your keys? Do you need to go out somewhere? I’m sure it’ll be OK; you’ve a quiet neighbourhood. Ask your neighbour, that lovely woman with all the hair, to keep an eye out.’

‘No, no. Not the house keys. The other keys. My keys. My piano keys.’

There was a pause.

‘Dad? Dad, are you all right?’

‘Of course I’m not all right. I need to play. I need to play my piano and my piano keys are gone.’

There was a long pause on the phone. He stood still and waited for her to talk.

‘Dad,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t, I mean, they can’t be.’

‘How am I supposed to play?’

‘How can they just be missing?’

‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘Just are.’

‘OK.’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’ll be fine, Dad. I’m coming over. We’ll sort this out.’

‘Right.’ He hung up and walked back towards the music room. He stood in the door. Couldn’t bear to go further. Two or three more steps and he’d be able to see it. He didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t see it. Not again. Not alone. He would wait.

Delia.

‘MUM!’ DELIA CALLED AS SHE staggered in through the front door after a twenty-five-minute bus ride. ‘I’m sorry! Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine, of course, Dee, darling, but where have you been?’ Delia’s mum wheeled herself through from the living room, appearing to be more curious than worried or distressed.

‘Sorry. I suppose I got lost. Are you hungry?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve had a banana, but it’s not quite, you know … It’s not like you to get lost, Dee. I don’t think you ever have before.’

Delia followed her mother into the kitchen and began making them both breakfast.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what happened. It’s a lovely day out there now, though. Maybe we should go for a walk later. We could have a picnic.’

‘Oh. Perhaps. It’s just, well, I’ve gotten to a rather exciting point in the Willow Tree Sampler and I want to keep going.’

‘We could bring that with us, though, Mum.’ Delia tried not to sound as if she was pleading. ‘You could work on it in the park.’

‘Oh no. No, the wind could pick up and wreak havoc with the cotton. It’s far too risky. Let’s have a nice day indoors. You can read or play on your computer and I’ll work on the sampler and we can have cups of tea whenever we want.’

Jake.

JAKE STOOD ALONE IN THE corridor, frowning at the wall. He had been lying all day. He’d lied to his class. His teacher had asked him if it was a special day for him, using that extra-chirpy voice she had sometimes, as if she was winking with her entire head, and he’d lied and said no. He’d said there must be a mistake on the register.

He didn’t know why he’d lied. It was a special day for him. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to be sung to, but he’d lied and said no, and no one had sung.