29

I gave Mum a peck on the cheek, a hug, and said, ‘I’m going to get my son.’

I couldn’t face her if she was showing any negativity, so I walked out of the front door without looking back. By the time I reached the end of the street Jim had arrived in his big black car.

I got in and looked at him.

‘Fucking idiot,’ I said.

‘Well-meaning fucking idiot,’ he corrected me.

‘Why would you even think … and why would you …?’ The questions crowded my mind and I couldn’t articulate what bothered me most about his ‘confession’.

‘Andy, let’s do that later, eh? We have a wee boy to find.’

‘Drive then,’ I replied.

We drove in silence for a few minutes and the route brought us down Holmston Road, with the town cemetery on our left and the ranks of mature broad-leafed trees that bordered the River Ayr on the right. I remembered happier times and walks down by the river. Skimming stones on a small beach just beyond the foot bridge with the red handrails.

‘So Hunter’s got it in for you, then,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

‘Mad fucker.’ I paused. Ground my teeth. ‘What the hell did I ever do to him?’

‘You got the girl. You got the happy ever after.’

‘Yeah,’ I gave a snort. ‘Look how that turned out.’

‘He was always a bit jealous of you,’ Jim said, his eyes on the road, but his mind clearly back in the past. ‘I remember one time, you must have been in third year at school, playing against Belmont Academy. You skinned Hunter. Made him look like he had wooden feet. His eyes? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’

‘So, he hates me cos I made an arse of him on the pitch?’

‘He’s a nut-job. Whenever do folk like that need a reason to do anything?’

‘Wait till I get my hands on him…’

‘I understand the impulse, brother, but if you get yourself locked up for ripping into him, how does that help the boys? No mum and then no dad?

‘Down there,’ I cocked my head to indicate the river. ‘Do you think he’d take Ryan and his net down the river?’

‘Worth a look.’ Jim indicated and pulled in at the side of the road, parking under the tall wall of the cemetery.

 

We crossed the road and half-walked, half-ran across the bridge and then made our way down to our left and a small pebble beach. There was no one there except a bald guy and his yellow Labrador.

‘Bob,’ he shouted, threw a stick downstream and the dog was off after the missile like his life depended on it.

‘Seen a man with a wee boy?’ Jim asked.

‘Sorry, mate. Haven’t seen anyone,’ he replied.

I looked around the beach. Noted empty cans of beer, the tinfoil of a disposable charcoal barbecue and an empty clear plastic pack that had once held burgers.

‘Might have cleaned up after themselves,’ the bald guy said when he saw where I was looking.

Nodding, I walked away. I was too disappointed to make conversation. Then called myself an idiot. What did I expect? To find Ryan that easily?

Back on the path, returning to the car, I asked Jim.

‘Where would someone go with a kid, who had no idea about kids?’

Jim looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly tea time. He’ll be looking to feed the wee man.’

‘Fast food, eh? He doesn’t have a car,’ I said thinking out loud. ‘That suggests Burger King on the High Street. Right next door to the Early Learning Centre’

‘Shit,’ said Jim. ‘I didn’t think to check in there.’

‘Let’s go,’ I said, picking up my pace.

 

The burger bar was a bust. We walked the length of the place three times studying all the kids, almost got ourselves into a fight in the process when the father of what turned out to be a wee girl took exception to our presence.

The manager had to intervene to calm things down.

‘We’re looking for my son,’ I said. ‘He’s two and he’s with a tall, skinny bloke.’

A look of recognition on the manager’s face. ‘We had the police in earlier showing the photo of a wee lad.’ Pause. ‘That’s your son?’

I could only nod, my ability to speak temporarily on hold as disappointment took over. ‘Sorry, sir.’ He made a face of pity and I wanted to punch it out of him. ‘No one recognised the boy.’

Jim tugged at my arm. ‘Let’s go, Andy. ‘He’s not here.’

 

Outside, I leaned against the window.

Fuck.

Where were they?

I closed my eyes in prayer and felt the heat of the early evening sun on my face.

‘It’s turned out a nice day,’ said Jim.

I looked at him.

‘Where might a wee boy with a fishing net want to go on a lovely summer’s evening like this?’ he asked pointedly.

And we were off at a run to the car again.

 

At the beach, Jim parked up at the harbour end and we walked down to the water’s edge. We turned and faced the wide curve of Ayr bay. The tide was out so we set out across the wet, sticky sand.

‘We should split up,’ said Jim as he looked to his left and the low grey wall that ran along the beach. Groups of people were clustered along its length, families taking advantage of the break in the weather, no doubt trying to get their kids into nature and away from TVs. ‘You walk along the water. I’ll take the wall.’

‘’Kay,’ I said and strode off, studying every child I saw.

‘Look for a net,’ Jim shouted after me. ‘And a red bucket.’

As I walked and searched I was encircled by good cheer at the simple things in life. Sunshine, sand and salt water lapping at my feet. All around me children of various ages, smiling parents and dogs. Laughter and barking. Screeches of joy. The high call of gulls.

And it all reached my senses through the filter of my fear. My heart was a cold zone. The only thing that would reach it, my son safe and sound in my arms.

I saw a small boy at the water’s edge. He was jumping each lazy wave and celebrating safe landing at the other side as if he was an Olympic winner. His parents celebrated with him and I wanted to shout at them: how can you be happy at this moment?

Three kids in a group were clustered around a jellyfish. The creature was about the size of a large pizza and they were daring each other to poke at it with sticks.

A black-and-white collie, his head low to the ground, sprinted past after a ball. Just beyond, a small boy on his own.

With a lurch, I recognised the blond tuft of hair and his wide-footed stance. I ran over, grabbed him, he turned, a cry coming out of his mouth.

‘Sorry, son,’ I managed to say, when I saw it isn’t Ryan. The boy wailed, frightened. I heard a stampede behind me and two people I assumed to be his parents reached us. They both looked like they were in their late teens. The mother was red-faced with indignation and the father all beard and bristle.

‘What the hell are you playing at, mate?’ The father demanded.

‘I’m so sorry, wee pal,’ I said. The boy was in his mother’s arms, head on her shoulder. ‘So sorry.’ I reached out to try and touch him, but the mother twisted him away from my reach.

‘What’s your deal, pal?’ asked the father.

I looked at them, thinking that should be me. Protecting my son. I opened my mouth to explain. Closed it again. I didn’t want their pity. Or their judgement. Face burning, I turned from them, I mumbled another apology and strode away.

‘I’m phoning the polis, you freak,’ shouted the father.

I turned to him and held my hands out in a placatory motion. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m so sorry. I thought he was…’ I turned away again. I didn’t want them to understand. I didn’t want them to do anything but leave me alone.

I kept walking. Kicked at the surf. Skirted a couple of giant jellyfish.

Ryan, where are you? I stood still and, hand up to my forehead, scanned the length of the shoreline. Nothing I could see gave me hope.

Over to my left Jim was walking on top of the wall. Good idea, I thought. That would give him scope to check beachside and those people who hadn’t ventured onto the sand.

Beyond him I could see the four white towers of Ayr Pavilion. There was a kid’s soft-play area there. Pirate Pete’s. It would be worth checking if our beach search proved unsuccessful.

Jim had paused in his walk and was looking down at me at the water’s edge as if wondering what I was doing. I waved him on and continued walking.

More jellyfish.

More dogs.

More kids.

No Ryan.