Page 68 of Jenny James Is Not a Disaster
I let myself out, apologizing to Frank as I shut him in the house, and run over to Joy. I bang on the door, hard, and Luke opens up. He is obviously just in from the rain himself, his hair soaked and the shoulders of his T-shirt drenched. He has a towel around his neck and smiles when he sees me.
“Come in!” he says brightly. “I was just putting the kettle on.”
Betty appears at his ankles, but I am too upset to engage as I step inside.
“Charlie’s been gone for the whole day,” I say, too tense to sit down. “He left Rebecca’s house on a bike about two hours ago, and at most it’s twenty minutes away. And we had a row. And I was angry, and he was angry, and I’ve spent all day doing stupid things and assuming I’d see him later and sort it out... and now I don’t know where he is! Can you help me? I don’t want to upset Mum, or especially Dad...”
He takes hold of my shoulders and gently pushes me down onto the sofa before taking his spot opposite me. “Yes, of course I can help. But you need to calm down a bit first. You might have had a row, but that doesn’t mean anything bad’s happened. What was it about?”
“Um... a lot of things, I think. But on the surface him wanting to go and live with his dad for a year instead of going to uni.”
“He wants to defer and go next year? Or is it a complete change of heart?”
“Next year, he said. But—”
“But you’re freaking out worrying that everything that can possibly go wrong will go wrong, and that his whole life will be ruined? And that maybe, even just a teeny bit, he might end up preferring his dad to you?”
I stare at him with a mix of annoyance and frustration. I want to say rude words to him, but essentially he’s right. The “preferring his dad to you” bit hadn’t even really registered before now, and it is only a tiny bit of it, but it is there.
“All of that, probably. And I didn’t react well—I reacted like my parents, all those years ago. I know how well that ended...”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? He’s probably just sulking somewhere, trying to punish you. Is there anywhere you think he’d go?”
I chew my lip, and give it some thought, and eventually have a small light-bulb moment.
“The caravan!” I say, immediately standing up again. “He’s been cleaning it out, and that’d be the perfect place to sulk... I did it myself many times...”
I jump down all of the steps and run as fast as I can toward the caravan’s hidden spot in the back field. The trees and bushes are thick back here, dripping with accumulated rain, and I stand on tiptoe to try to see through one of the windows. I clamber up the steps and crank the door open. Inside, I see some signs of teenage habitation—a discarded packet of crisps, a half-empty bottle of water, yet more abandoned earphones.
I shout Charlie’s name, even though I can tell the place is empty. A quick check in the tiny bedroom confirms it. By this time, Luke has caught up with me, and I look at him in despair as he comes in from the rain.
“He’s not here!” I semi-wail. “And he’s not answering his phone, and... oh God, what if he’s hurt, Luke? What if something’s happened to him?”
“We’re not there yet,” he replies firmly. “And you mentioned his phone. Can you track it?”
Of course, I think, fumbling my own phone out of the zip-up pocket on the front of my coat. Why didn’t I think of that?Probably because I’m a complete bloody idiot, I decide, as I scoot through the log-ins and security checks and finally reach a screen that shows me a map. Charlie only agreed to sign up to it when he once left his phone in the amusement arcade and I had to buy him a new one. I was furious at the time, told him off for being irresponsible, but now I’m so pleased he was. I stare at the screen, and the little flashing beacon that tells me where the phone is—or, I notice, where its last known location was. What does that mean?
I look it up, and see that it sometimes means the battery is dead. Even better. My son is missing, out in the wilds, with no way of getting help.
“Where does it say he is?” asks Luke, peering in to see. “It looks like it’s somewhere near here...”
He enlarges the map, and I see that he is right. I visualize the real-life version of what I’m looking at, and that’s when I realize that what I’d been feeling up until now was nothing. Now I am experiencing true panic.
“This says it’s by the gate down to the coastal path,” I murmur. “The shortcut that leads down to the cove...” I meet Luke’s eyes, and I can tell from his expression that I don’t need to say anything more. He clearly perfectly recalls what I said about it when we walked there: that it could be dangerous, that there arecurrents, that in harsh weather the rocks are treacherous. That you shouldn’t ever swim there alone...
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” he says, before I can speak. “Now, we’re going to go back to Joy and get those headlamps of ours, and we’re going to go and check, okay? Charlie isn’t an idiot, you have to remind yourself of that.”
I nod, but I’m not sure I believe him. I mean, look at his genetics. He’s related to me after all.
I follow Luke back to the motorhome while he grabs his coat, the headlamps, and a large handheld flashlight. Betty escapes from the van as he tries to close the door, running ahead of us, her small brown form soon disappearing into the murky evening sky.
“She’ll be fine,” he says as we set off, me worriedly calling Betty’s name. “I’ve walked down to the cove with her every morning—she knows the way, and she might even help us.”
I nod, and we set off toward the path.
I want to run, but Luke lays a calming hand on my arm, shakes his head, and adds: “It won’t do Charlie any good if you get hurt, will it?”
He is right, of course, but it is so hard to slow my pace—especially when we reach the gate and I see an unfamiliar bike propped up against it. Ethan’s bike, I have to presume.
