It was dark. It was cold and a bitter wind was blowing outside. Winter had come early.
The young boy was sitting on the floor of the living room in front of the wood-burning fire. His legs were tucked up to his chest and he was engrossed in the first Harry Potter book. He’d never read it before, though he’d seen the film. Every time he turned a page he looked up at the couple on the sofa. He hated them.
The old-fashioned clock on the cluttered mantelpiece chimed eight o’clock. He didn’t need telling what that meant. It was bedtime. He closed his book and stood up. The golden Labrador curled up beside him copied his actions.
‘You can read for one hour more then you must turn out your light,’ Marika said, looking up from her magazine.
‘Ok,’ he replied.
‘Kiss for me and your dad?’ she asked, putting the magazine down and holding out her arms.
He took a deep breath. Reluctantly, he went over to Marika, leaned down and allowed her to hug and kiss him on the cheek. Her touch felt cold and his whole bodied stiffened. Her lips were coarse against his soft skin.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, smiling that ugly smile. Her thin lips spread across her face and she showed her crooked teeth. It made him shudder to look at her.
In the armchair, Martin was doing a crossword. He put it down and pulled him into an embrace, squeezing him tight. He kissed the boy on the forehead, his bushy blond moustache tickling him.
‘Sleep well and have pleasant dreams,’ he said in broken English.
The little boy gave a smile and quickly left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Usually he waited in the hallway, his ear pressed against the door, to see if they were talking about him; not that he could understand when they spoke in their own language. Tonight, however, he had things to do.
On the way to the stairs, he stopped and turned to go into the kitchen. The dog followed. In there, Marika had left her bag when she returned home from work. Carefully, and as quietly as possible, he opened it, removed her purse and took out a fifty krona note. He stuffed it into his pocket and replaced the purse. He stood in the silence and listened. All he could hear was his own heart pounding in his chest and Woody breathing loudly with his tongue hanging out. He was about to leave the kitchen when he remembered Martin had been shopping today. From the pantry, he grabbed a tin of tuna and a can of dog food before hurrying out of the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time. His faithful companion ran after him.
In his cool bedroom, he closed the door and dropped to his knees to look under the bed. He pulled out a backpack. He stored the tins of food inside. He didn’t want to make the bag too heavy, but he needed there to be enough provisions as he didn’t know how long he would be on the road for. He found an envelope in the front pocket of the bag and placed the fifty krona note in it. He took a deep breath and found he was shaking. His mum and dad, his real mum and dad, had always told him stealing was bad, but it was all he could think of if he was going to make it home.
‘We’ve started now, Woody,’ he said as he jumped on the bed with the dog and cuddled up to him. ‘We’ll keep saving more food and I’ll wait until I have enough money. I just need to try and see Marika use her card at the cash point so I can find out her number, then I can take her card and we can leave.’ He smiled warming at the dog who licked his cheek as if sharing in the conspiracy to run away.
Carl Meagan had put his plan into action when he read a story in an English newspaper at a shop in town. His parents were still looking for him. They’d suffered setbacks and had experienced heartache, but they were never going to give up. He tore the story out of the paper, put it in his pocket, and took it home with him where he read it every night and hid it under his pillow before going to sleep.
His plan was simple. If his parents couldn’t find him, then he’d find them. He just needed to make sure he and Woody had enough food and money to survive the journey home as he had no idea how long it would take.
By the dim light of his bedside table, Carl snuggled down under the duvet. He read the article again. His eyes teared up as he looked at the photo of an unhappy-looking Sally and Philip with his dog in between them. He couldn’t wait to get back home, to see his mum and dad, and for the two Woodys to meet.
‘Look, Woody,’ he said to his dog. ‘This is your brother. We’re going to see him soon. It’s going to be a long journey, and it might be scary, but it will be worth it. We’re all going to be so happy.’
Woody whined and licked his face before curling up next to him. Carl turned out the light and lay down.
Carl fell asleep with a smile on his face as he pictured the reunion. The last few years had been a nightmare, but it would soon be over. His mum and dad were going to be so proud when they found out what he’d gone through to get back home. They were all going to be so happy.