all too familiar routine: a couple of beers at lunchtime, maybe a couple of glasses of wine in the evening. And yes… he’d noticed the old jeans and T-shirts were a little bit tighter these days.
He wanted to tell her that her gym routine had obviously worked a treat and maybe he could join her one day, but she had disappeared over the other side of the office talking to one of the girls.
As instructed, he meandered into Kate Wilkinson’s huge and rather impressive office. He stole a quick look at her personal effects. Those could tell an on-the-ball policeman an awful lot about someone.
Pictures of Tom.
Only Tom. Pictures when he was a baby and the more familiar-looking pictures as a teenager, the teenager Ashley knew and loved. And a recent picture, in the middle of her desk, maybe only a year or two old of Tom on a beach somewhere. Somewhere hot by the looks of it. Maybe Thailand, New Zealand, somewhere like that.
He picked it up. That grin, that devil-may-care attitude. The sun will still shine tomorrow. Kate caught him unawares, placed a cup in front of him.
“Eighteen months ago, Ash. The last photograph of him I have, the same one Northumbria police got.” She sighed, walked around the desk and sat down. Took a long drink from her cup, shook her head.”Not that they ever seemed interested.”
Ashley looked away from the photograph and into the sea-green, hypnotic eyes of Kate Wilkinson. They were just how he remembered.
“No offence to you, Ash, but I never even received the courtesy of one lousy phone call. It was me that did all the running, me that kept ringing HQ at Ponteland. And all I got was that it was being investigated, we’re doing our best, Mrs Wilkinson, or a sympathetic female civilian explaining the statistics of missing persons, how they’d sometimes turn up at the family home years later as if nothing had happened.”
She continued.
“Once I even marched right in there, demanded to see the man at the top. I was crying, in a right state. He’d been missing a fortnight. I was frantic with worry.”
“A fortnight isn’t long, Kate, you can’t blame them.”
“You’re right, Ash. A fortnight isn’t long for a son not to call his mother but as much as Tom was unreliable and took off every now and again on a whim, he would religiously call me wherever he was in the world… every few days. Call it Mother’s intuition if you like, I knew something was wrong. I wanted to get a hold of those policemen and shake some sense into them. I must have rung his mobile phone two or three hundred times.”
Ashley wanted to say he understood. He stayed silent.
“I had a call from him, said he was going up to Holy Island.”
“Holy Island?”
“Yeah, up near Berwick, you know it?”
Ash nodded.
“He’d just packed the latest job in. They’d kept it open for him while he’d been on his latest venture but felt he wanted to move on.” She smiled at Ashley, took another sip from the cup. “I don’t need to tell you what he’s like, Ashley, you know him better than most. I remember it well because he called from a payphone, said his mobile didn’t receive on the island.”
Kate Wilkinson’s hands were trembling now. The tears were clearly visible in those beautiful green eyes that Ashley couldn’t break away from. He wanted to reach across the desk and comfort her, he wanted to say something profound, and something that reassured her that her son was alive and well.
“He said he wanted a few days away, somewhere quiet, somewhere to chill out. He told me not to worry. Not to worry, Ash. Can you believe it? He’d booked into a small inn, ‘The Ship’ on the island.”
A slight smile, another gulp at the coffee, then a sigh.
“Said he’d met a nice girl, Clara, he said she was called, though I’m not too sure. I might be wrong. That’s where she was from, Holy Island.”
Ashley reached in his pocket, pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“Guess I’d better get some
He wanted to tell her that her gym routine had obviously worked a treat and maybe he could join her one day, but she had disappeared over the other side of the office talking to one of the girls.
As instructed, he meandered into Kate Wilkinson’s huge and rather impressive office. He stole a quick look at her personal effects. Those could tell an on-the-ball policeman an awful lot about someone.
Pictures of Tom.
Only Tom. Pictures when he was a baby and the more familiar-looking pictures as a teenager, the teenager Ashley knew and loved. And a recent picture, in the middle of her desk, maybe only a year or two old of Tom on a beach somewhere. Somewhere hot by the looks of it. Maybe Thailand, New Zealand, somewhere like that.
He picked it up. That grin, that devil-may-care attitude. The sun will still shine tomorrow. Kate caught him unawares, placed a cup in front of him.
“Eighteen months ago, Ash. The last photograph of him I have, the same one Northumbria police got.” She sighed, walked around the desk and sat down. Took a long drink from her cup, shook her head.”Not that they ever seemed interested.”
Ashley looked away from the photograph and into the sea-green, hypnotic eyes of Kate Wilkinson. They were just how he remembered.
“No offence to you, Ash, but I never even received the courtesy of one lousy phone call. It was me that did all the running, me that kept ringing HQ at Ponteland. And all I got was that it was being investigated, we’re doing our best, Mrs Wilkinson, or a sympathetic female civilian explaining the statistics of missing persons, how they’d sometimes turn up at the family home years later as if nothing had happened.”
She continued.
“Once I even marched right in there, demanded to see the man at the top. I was crying, in a right state. He’d been missing a fortnight. I was frantic with worry.”
“A fortnight isn’t long, Kate, you can’t blame them.”
“You’re right, Ash. A fortnight isn’t long for a son not to call his mother but as much as Tom was unreliable and took off every now and again on a whim, he would religiously call me wherever he was in the world… every few days. Call it Mother’s intuition if you like, I knew something was wrong. I wanted to get a hold of those policemen and shake some sense into them. I must have rung his mobile phone two or three hundred times.”
Ashley wanted to say he understood. He stayed silent.
“I had a call from him, said he was going up to Holy Island.”
“Holy Island?”
“Yeah, up near Berwick, you know it?”
Ash nodded.
“He’d just packed the latest job in. They’d kept it open for him while he’d been on his latest venture but felt he wanted to move on.” She smiled at Ashley, took another sip from the cup. “I don’t need to tell you what he’s like, Ashley, you know him better than most. I remember it well because he called from a payphone, said his mobile didn’t receive on the island.”
Kate Wilkinson’s hands were trembling now. The tears were clearly visible in those beautiful green eyes that Ashley couldn’t break away from. He wanted to reach across the desk and comfort her, he wanted to say something profound, and something that reassured her that her son was alive and well.
“He said he wanted a few days away, somewhere quiet, somewhere to chill out. He told me not to worry. Not to worry, Ash. Can you believe it? He’d booked into a small inn, ‘The Ship’ on the island.”
A slight smile, another gulp at the coffee, then a sigh.
“Said he’d met a nice girl, Clara, he said she was called, though I’m not too sure. I might be wrong. That’s where she was from, Holy Island.”
Ashley reached in his pocket, pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“Guess I’d better get some
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