Anselo’s expression almost made Patrick reconsider. He looks happier than I’ve seen him in months, thought Patrick. And I’m about to dump a big steaming pile of guilt on him. But I can’t leave it unsaid. It’ll only fester and grow and poison the atmosphere, like black mould behind a damp wall.
‘Can I have a word?’ Patrick said to Anselo in the hallway. He pointed. ‘Upstairs?’
‘Sure.’ Anselo frowned, faintly puzzled.
Patrick shut the door to his bedroom and decided there was no point in softening the blow. It would hit hard, no matter how gentle the lead-in.
‘Charlotte went back to work one night,’ he said, ‘and heard you at it in my office.’
When Anselo blanched and began to shake his head, Patrick said, ‘Come on. Who else has a key? You want me to believe Ludmila the cleaner’s running a knocking shop from the premises?’
‘Shit.’ Anselo sank down on the bed and put his hands over his mouth.
He didn’t look happy any more, thought Patrick, and cursed Anselo’s stupidity, and his own inability to leave it alone.
‘This a regular thing?’ Patrick said.
‘No! God, no! It was just the once, I swear!’
Patrick had a sudden urge to clip the younger man about the ear. ‘Why?’
‘Why else?’ Anselo said bitterly. ‘I wanted to feel like more of a man.’
‘You moron,’ said Patrick.
‘Yeah,’ said Anselo. ‘I know.’
‘Please don’t tell me I’d find her face familiar,’ said Patrick.
‘No,’ said Anselo. ‘She was a stranger.’
‘Were you careful?’
Anselo pursed his mouth. ‘Mostly.’
‘Jesus,’ said Patrick. ‘You’re a fucking moron.’
‘I know!’ Anselo got off the bed and paced to the window. ‘I get it!’
Patrick stared at his cousin for a long minute.
‘You’ll have to tell her,’ he said.
Anselo whipped around. ‘No!’
‘Anse, you have to,’ said Patrick. ‘You can’t keep this from her. Secrets and guilt will do your head in, later if not sooner. If you really want to make a fresh start, it’s got to be a clean one.’
‘I can’t,’ Anselo said, breathless with panic. ‘That’d be the end of us.’
Patrick moved up to his younger cousin and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘You don’t know that,’ he said. ‘But look, I won’t push it. It’s your call.’
He gave Anselo’s shoulder a squeeze. If we were Italian, Patrick thought, we’d be hugging. We’d probably be wearing lilac pants and all.
‘And as far as I’m concerned,’ Patrick said, ‘this conversation ends here. I won’t ever bring it up again, with anyone. I promise.’
Anselo’s nod was subdued but grateful. ‘Thanks.’
‘Come on.’ Patrick gave his shoulder a final squeeze. ‘Let’s go downstairs. Make the most of our last couple of days before the cold flannel of reality slaps us in the boat race once again.’
In the kitchen, Charlotte, assisted by Benedict, was tidying away mid-morning dishes. Chad was attempting to wipe a squirming Rosie’s face, and Michelle was telling Harry that if he didn’t hurry and finish his biscuit, they would leave for the playground without him. Darrell was on the floor with Cosmo, entertaining him with a rattle. Gulliver was showing Aishe a video on his computer. Flea the dog was under the table, tongue lolling damply.
Charlotte glanced up as Patrick and Anselo entered. Patrick met her eye and saw doubt flicker on her face. He winked, and she gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. Then she frowned.
‘Where’s Tom?’ she said. ‘Is he not with you?’
Patrick’s stomach did an uneasy flip. ‘No, he isn’t. Last time I saw him, we were watching cartoons after breakfast.’
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing.
‘When did any of us last see him?’ said Benedict.
Darrell stood up, Cosmo in her arms. ‘I saw him in the garden about half an hour ago,’ she said. ‘He was playing with sticks under the loggia. I’m sorry, I saw Charlotte with the other children on the lawn. I assumed she knew he was there.’
‘No, he must have gone out on his own,’ said Charlotte, ‘when everyone was to-ing and fro-ing after breakfast.’ Her hand flew to her heart. ‘Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! I thought he’d gone with you!’
‘Let’s not panic,’ said Patrick, sounding calmer than he felt. ‘You know what Tom’s like. He’s probably still there.’
But he didn’t walk — he ran to the loggia, followed closely by Benedict, Anselo and Charlotte. Under the loggia, they found sticks arranged like a railway track, but no Tom.
‘Shit,’ said Patrick. ‘All right, now I am going to fucking panic.’
‘We’ll split up,’ said Anselo. ‘You take that end of the garden,’ he said to Benedict, ‘we’ll cover this side. Charlotte, you go back and get the others to comb the villa. He may well be playing away quietly inside. We’ll meet you back in the kitchen.’
As Charlotte dashed off, Benedict said, ‘Don’t worry. The villa is completely secure. I know because if it weren’t, our bloody dog would already have found a way out.’
‘Tom’s a bit smaller than Flea,’ said Patrick. ‘But I won’t think about that. Come on. Let’s go searching.’
Thirty minutes later, they were back in the kitchen. Charlotte and Benedict’s grim faces told Patrick that they’d had no luck either. Patrick breathed hard, summoning every ounce of effort and will to help him keep it together.
‘Where the fuck can he be?’ he said. ‘Jesus, he couldn’t have climbed the gate to the fucking boat dock, could he?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Benedict. ‘I checked. The footholds only go halfway up. There’s no way a child of Tom’s size could climb over.’
Darrell, Cosmo in her arms, said, ‘Look I know this is probably not the ideal suggestion, but did you ask Ned?’
Patrick felt a cold clutch of dread. ‘We didn’t see Ned at all. Did you?’ he asked Benedict. Benedict shook his head.
‘That’s strange,’ Darrell frowned. ‘He was in the garden this morning, and he usually works until at least lunchtime.’
All the breath left Patrick’s body. ‘Fuck,’ he managed to say. ‘Oh, fuck. He’s taken him.’
‘No!’ said Charlotte. ‘No, he would never do that!’
‘Charlotte, he fucking threatened me last night!’ Patrick saw her flinch at his sudden shout. ‘He said: “I hope you fucking lose someone you love so you know what it’s like.” He said that!’
‘He did,’ said Benedict. ‘I heard him.’
‘Me, too,’ said Chad.
‘He’s taken him,’ said Patrick in helpless despair. ‘He’s taken Tom.’
‘Well, if he has,’ said Charlotte, setting her jaw, ‘then there’s only one place they can be. We’ll need water,’ she told them. ‘And sturdy shoes.’
‘Seriously … I am going to have … a fucking heart attack.’
Patrick stopped and leaned against a tree. Sweat had already soaked his shirt, and was trickling from his forehead into his eyes. His lungs and legs were burning as if a mediaeval torturer had been inserting hot coals into his person.
‘Don’t go too far off the path,’ said Charlotte. ‘There are poisonous snakes in the rocks.’
‘Death by snake bite,’ said Patrick, between laboured breaths, ‘would mean I didn’t have to climb yet more fucking hill.’
He gazed resentfully at Charlotte, Benedict and Anselo. None of the three young people seemed to have even raised a sweat.
‘Why isn’t there a fucking cable car?’ he said to Charlotte. ‘Or at the very least a bloke renting out pack mules?’
‘I think the people who live up here like being remote,’ she said. ‘It is beautiful. So peaceful.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Patrick. ‘I’m deafened by the blood pounding in my ears.’
He saw Benedict and Anselo exchange a quick grin, and pride spurred him on.
‘Right.’ Patrick moved away from the tree. ‘How much further? On second thoughts, don’t tell me. I’ll only make it if I can convince myself it’s just around the next bend.’
Many bends later, Patrick slumped against the stone wall of Ned’s house.
‘After I’ve killed you for taking my son, Ned Marsh,’ he said, ‘I’ll revive you and kill you again for that fucking hike.’
Anselo thumped hard on the front door, and then rattled the handle. ‘It’s locked.’
Charlotte peered in through the tiny kitchen window. ‘I can’t see anyone inside.’ She banged on the window. ‘Ned!’ she shouted, and banged again. ‘Ned!’
‘Is that the only room?’ Benedict cupped his hands to the glass, so he could see more clearly.
‘No, there’s a bedroom at the side,’ said Charlotte.
Patrick saw her throw him a swift glance and then blush. He chose to pretend he hadn’t seen. Charlotte and Ned Marsh, he thought. That’s about as likely as Charlotte and—
Yeah, all right, he thought. Fair point, fate. How you do toy with us, you complete and utter sod.
Anselo came back from round the side of the house. ‘It’s hard to see, but there was no trace of movement, no sound. I’m pretty certain there’s no one home.’
‘Fucking hell,’ said Patrick, and looked at Charlotte. ‘Any other ideas?’
‘None,’ said Charlotte miserably. ‘All I can suggest is that we ask around the village. And then, I suppose, ring the police?’
‘Right.’ Patrick took a long drink from his bottle of water. ‘Let’s get back down as quick as we can. I’ll console myself with the fact that it’ll be at least twenty times quicker than coming up.’
When the path reached the houses, Anselo’s mobile beeped. ‘Finally,’ he said. ‘Service!’
He checked the text and gave a grunt of surprise. ‘Hell!’ he said. ‘He’s there! Tom’s there — at the villa! He’s fine!’
Charlotte and Benedict both gasped. The relief hit Patrick like a train. His legs buckled, and he had to sit down on the path.
‘Oh, thank fuck,’ he breathed out, holding his head in his hands.
Anselo bent and gave Patrick’s shoulder a quick, reassuring shake. ‘He’s fine. Don’t you worry.’
‘Where the hell was he?’ said Patrick wearily. ‘How could we all miss him?’
Anselo shook his head. ‘Darrell didn’t say.’ He offered Patrick a hand to pull him up. ‘Let’s go find out.’
Darrell opened the front door. Her expression had a hint of wariness about it, and she held up her hand to halt Patrick as soon as he entered the hall.
‘Ned is in the kitchen,’ she said, ‘and before you say anything, no, he did not take Tom. But Tom was with him. They were in the—’
‘I don’t give a shit.’ Patrick pushed past her, fury surging up in him like magma.
Sitting around the kitchen table were Gulliver, Chad and Aishe. Ned was in a chair on the side opposite the door, and when he saw Patrick stride in, he got to his feet immediately.
Michelle stood in his way, and Patrick was so blinded by the red mist of rage that he very nearly shoved her aside. But then he saw who was in her arms.
‘Jesus! Tom!’
Patrick took his son from Michelle and hugged him tightly to his chest. He could feel tears welling, and to hide them, he buried his face in his son’s dark-red mop of hair.
‘God, I thought I’d lost you,’ he murmured, as he breathed in his son’s precious smell.
‘I would nivver have ta’en him,’ he heard Ned say. ‘He’s tha child, for God’s sake.’
Rage took hold of Patrick’s guts and wrenched them. Only Tom’s presence in his arms prevented him from attempting to wreak bodily harm of the most grievous kind on Ned.
I wouldn’t win a fight with him, thought Patrick. But I’d give him something to be fucking sorry about.
‘But you did take him, didn’t you?’ he said fiercely.
‘No!’ Ned protested. ‘I were in t’ shed and t’ little lad come in! I were tidying up, makin’ a pile of rubbish, old twine and pots and that, and he started t’ help me!’
‘We checked the fucking shed! It was locked!’
‘Door were closed because I had to get t’ shelf above it,’ said Ned. ‘When it’s closed, it’s locked. I heard someone thump on t’ door, but I were up ladder and I had my hands full. When I opened it and looked out, there were no one there. So I went back t’ what I were doing.’
‘Ned brought Tom back about twenty minutes after you left,’ said Darrell. ‘I texted Anselo.’
‘No service in the trees,’ said Anselo, putting an arm around her shoulder. ‘You would have missed us by five minutes max.’
Patrick felt the fury begin to drain from him, but its residue still had some power.
‘If you did anything to him,’ he said to Ned, ‘anything, I will fucking hunt you down and dismember you with a blunt chainsaw.’
Ned met Patrick’s eye, and then dropped his gaze to Tom. To Patrick’s fury, Ned gave his son an affectionate smile.
‘He’s a grand little lad,’ said Ned. ‘Very thoughtful, very orderly. Tha were a great help t’ me, weren’t thee, Tom?’
Tom stared at him with his wide, serious eyes, and then turned to his father.
‘Tom help Ned,’ he said.
Patrick almost dropped him. When he got his breath back, he said, ‘What? Tom! What did you say?’
‘Tom help Ned,’ his son repeated. ‘Tom make piles. Tom get string. Tom carry pots.’
Even with a hand clapped to his mouth, Patrick could not stop the escape of a small inarticulate noise.
‘He’s been telling us all about it ever since he came in with Ned,’ said Darrell.
Darrell was smiling and her eyes, Patrick noticed, when he could drag his own from his son, were moist.
‘Yeah,’ said Gulliver. ‘I tried to get him to stop referring to himself in the third person. But, hey, if he wants to do the “Hulk smash” thing, who am I to rustle his jimmies?’
‘Rustle his jimmies?’ said Benedict. ‘And you’re giving advice on modes of speech?’
As the last of the anger and adrenaline finally left him, Patrick had no choice but to collapse into the nearest chair. He looked across at Ned, who was still standing, still on alert.
‘How’d you do it?’ Patrick said to him. ‘What did you do? We’ve tried fucking everything.’
‘I didn’t do nowt!’ said Ned. ‘I spoke t’ him, and he spoke back.’ He shrugged. ‘Happen ’twere just his time? He were finally ready.’
Patrick turned and grinned at his son, who was sitting facing him on his lap, horsey-style.
‘Frankly,’ said Patrick, ‘I do not fucking care. Whatever caused it, it’s a beautiful thing.’
And he kissed his son on the cheek and hugged him tight.
‘Dad smell.’ Tom’s voice was muffled by his father’s chest.
Patrick laughed. ‘Yeah, Dad reeks like a costermonger’s left gumboot, and he is completely bloody cream crackered.’
‘I see that Harry and Rosie are in the living room watching The Powerpuff Girls,’ said Charlotte. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined them.’
‘As long as you don’t teach Rosie any more swear words,’ said Michelle. ‘The ones she has already are freaking fruity-fresh enough, thank you.’
‘Mitch, you don’t know that Patrick taught her those,’ said Chad.
‘Of course he fucking did,’ said Aishe. ‘Tom’ll be swearing like he has Tourette’s in no time.’
From under the table came a bark.
‘Even Flea agrees with me,’ said Aishe, ‘and he has no brain. I’d better give him some exercise before he eats this table.’ She glanced around at the group. ‘Who’s up for a walk?’