Ben (12 page)

Dad and Danny arrived back twenty minutes later. Dad wasn’t worried, but he wasn’t happy either.

‘I’m going to wring Stephen’s neck,’ he said. ‘He can’t just take Ben off gallivanting whenever he feels like it.’ Dad said he’d drive to my apartment and if no one was there, onto the hotel, the only places the pair could be.

Ten minutes later, Dad pulled up outside my little flat. We all had keys for it and, as he turned the key in the lock, he let out a sigh of relief. He could hear the shower. They were there.

Dad poured a glass of water and made himself comfortable on the small sofa. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and Stephen stepped out.

Just Stephen.

‘All right, Dad? Have you come for a shower as well?’

‘No, I haven’t. Where’s Ben?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is Ben with you?’

‘No. Why?’

‘You didn’t bring him here on your bike?’

When he had processed the question, Stephen was offended at the idea. ‘Of course I didn’t, Dad. He hasn’t got a helmet. I never would.’

Dad’s mind was jelly as the horror set in. He started shaking. Stephen picked up on it a few seconds later. Mum and I were still in the dark.

‘Get dressed. Let’s go.’

As they ran out to the Land Rover Stephen said, ‘I left Ben playing by the door, Dad. I swear I did.’

Dad said nothing. He knew it was true but he didn’t want to believe him. If his son hadn’t whisked Ben off, then what the hell had happened to him? Toddlers don’t just disappear. He felt sick.

Mum crumpled when she saw Dad and Stephen return alone. One minute she was holding a knife and plate. The next they were both on the floor.

‘No, no, you must have him, Stephen, you have to have him.’

But she knew from her son’s face he was telling the truth. It could only mean one thing.

‘Ben’s still out there.’

A state of frenzy descended on the caravan. Somehow they held themselves together enough to plan. Dad and Danny would return to the farmhouse in the Land Rover. Mum and Stephen would take his motorbike to the police station in Kos Town. It was six o’clock in the evening. Ben had been missing for three and a half hours.

Dad and Danny were silent as they drove to Iraklis. As they pulled up Dad said, more to himself than his son, ‘Ben must have wandered down the lane. Someone must have found him. They’ll be trying to return him home.’

That was the thought that kept him sane: Ben had toddled further than Mum imagined possible and then a neighbour on the main road or a passing car had come to his rescue. They’d probably be attempting to locate his parents right now.

Danny said, ‘Shouldn’t we tell Kerry?’

Dad agonised over that. ‘What’s the point of worrying your sister? Ben will be safe and sound before she finishes her shift.’

I think he truly believed that.

They reached the farmhouse and began to go over the same ground they’d already scoured, just in case Ben had found his way back. If anything, it was even quieter so the faintest noise would be heard. But the light was fading. They didn’t have torches. Dad was furious with himself.

Meanwhile, Mum had reached the police station. For Stephen’s sake she managed to hold herself together. Her son seeing her in distress wouldn’t help anyone. Mum’s mood worsened in trying to make herself understood. Even though the duty officer spoke English, it was a slow, painful process. When Mum finally got him to understand, his first response was, ‘The baby is with the mother.’

They always called him ‘the baby’.

‘No, his mum’s at work.’

‘Then his father has him.’

‘No, his dad’s in England. Look, he was in my care and now I can’t find him.’

The policeman wasn’t convinced. It was the height of the tourist season. He probably saw more than his fair share of excitable British women. He told Mum to go home, look again. Like Ben was a toy fallen down the back of the sofa.

Mum was losing it. ‘He’s not there. We’ve searched and searched and searched.’

Finally the officer asked the all-important question.

‘When did the baby go missing?’

‘I’m not sure. About half past two.’

He did the maths. In a second, the case had gone from a probable drunken tourist leaving her baby in a bar to a serious case of
a missing child. Suddenly it was action stations. Two officers were despatched to follow Mum to the farmhouse.

It was six thirty. Ben had been missing for four hours.

Having the police on site was a comfort. It was also an admission that something was wrong. Very wrong. Still no one was admitting to themselves or each other what it could be.

Dad was relieved when he saw the patrol car following the motorbike up the dust track to the farmhouse. His faith was tempered when he realised they’d arrived without food, drink or even torches. It was seven o’clock. In an hour it would be dark.

The police began by going over the same ground that everyone had already checked several times. Their next move was to call Michaelis. He was the owner; he should be there. Dad couldn’t see the point but it would at least be good to have a Greek and English speaker on their side. Already, he was beginning to feel the police had their own agenda. At the very least, they weren’t listening to anything he had to say.

After Dad recounted the events of the day – again – one of the police said to Stephen, ‘So you took the baby on your motorbike.’ Fact, not question. Stephen denied it, of course, and Dad told them to leave him alone. They did – for now.

The farmhouse felt like the middle of nowhere, although there were one or two secluded homes dotted around. Across from where the lane joined the driveway stood the strange-looking villa. It wasn’t just high, it seemed to have been built back to front. You had to go round the rear to enter – as the police discovered when they decided to pay a call.

An old lady Dad had seen once or twice answered. She confirmed that she had been in all day and had, crucially, seen Stephen leave on his motorbike.

‘Was the baby with him?’

‘No, the baby was playing. Over there.’ She pointed to the back of the farmhouse. To exactly where Ben was last heard.

The search continued down the lane to where the new house was being built to replace a ramshackle square building that stood nearby. It was little more than a room, and clearly no one was at home so Dad and the police split up to investigate the various outbuildings and hen houses.

With the light fading and desperation growing, Dad saw one of the policemen call his partner over. They were crowding around a yard bin when Dad arrived behind them. Was he imagining it or didn’t they want him to see what they’d found?

Pushing past, Dad watched, heart in his mouth, as the first officer lifted a black sack from the bin. It was still light enough for him make out the dark red liquid seeping through the bottom of the sack. There was only one thing it could be.

Dad spun round, partly to catch his breath, mainly to ensure Mum was nowhere near. He could not allow her to see this. Turning back, he forced himself to watch. As the second officer stood back, the first held the bulging sack at arm’s length then dropped it unceremoniously to the ground and tentatively kicked at the flap to hook it open. He got it first time. The sack peeled back – and an eye stared out.

Dad’s body reacted first and he felt the bile rising in his throat as he dropped to his knees. Tears, screams, words would follow in
seconds. Then suddenly the officer’s shouts of concern turned to laughter. Dad concentrated, and just made out one word.

‘Goat.’

The eye belonged to an animal. What it was doing in a sack in a bin would have to wait. All that mattered was the simple, brilliant fact that it did not belong to Ben.

By now, Mum and Dad were beginning to concede that Ben could have reached the row of houses right at the bottom of the lane. Even though the police agreed, they refused to knock on anyone’s doors – and they wouldn’t let Mum and Dad either. They said it was an invasion of homeowners’ privacy calling so late at night.

It was nine o’clock, barely dinner time for Greek people, and Ben had been missing for six and a half hours.

According to Mum and Dad, the police seemed surprised that Ben hadn’t been found. They acted as though it was just a matter of time before he appeared. Nearly three hours after they’d arrived, they were none the wiser and a lot more anxious. As a result, they started going over questions they’d already asked.

‘Where is the father?’

Mum told them again about Simon. Greek families tend to place the male at the heart of the family. Both men pulled a face at this. A man’s place was with his family.

‘Where is the mother?’

‘She is at work.’

‘Why isn’t she here looking for the baby?’

Mum explained how they thought they were protecting me. It would be awful to be told your son was missing one minute, then
have him returned unscathed the next. That’s genuinely what she thought would happen. The policeman shook his head. ‘No. She must be here.’

So that’s when they’d come for me.

I didn’t have a clue about any of this as I rushed over to Mum on the steps outside the hotel. Disturbed by the noise, Manos appeared in the lobby – he wasn’t normally there so late – and spoke to the officers in Greek. A few minutes later, Martin and Peter arrived. They’d left a waiter tending the bar.

‘Kerry, what’s going on?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Something about Ben.’ Mum was making no sense. Luckily Manos had got more from the policemen. He explained that Ben had gone missing from the farmhouse. That the family were up there searching for him. And that they had no supplies and, crucially, no torches.

Martin spoke to Manos, then knelt next to me and Mum.

‘Kerry, go with the police. We’ll follow with torches and food and water for your family.’

I nodded. That was all I could manage. I wasn’t panicked, I was in a daze. The words ‘Ben’s missing’ refused to filter through to my brain. I was hugging my mum and telling her everything would be all right because I believed it. Nothing had happened to my son. Nothing ever would. How could it?

Mum was still sobbing as I slid in next to her in the back of the white Citroën police car. The policemen were silent and stayed that way until we pulled up at the farmhouse. I’d never been there before. The car’s headlights illuminated a low-rise building that
had seen better days. A few seconds later, the figures of my father and brothers appeared in the glare.

It was half past ten. Ben had been missing for eight hours.

Even when Dad explained the events of the day to me, I didn’t crumble. I knew they would have looked after Ben as well as I would have. Nothing bad could have happened to him. He’d walked down the lane and some kind old local had taken him in from the scorching heat. He was probably tired and hungry so they gave him a bite to eat and bed to lie down on. They probably had a good look around the area and saw no one. They didn’t want to disturb Ben so they planned to take him to the police station first thing.

A few minutes after I arrived, Martin and Peter pulled up on Martin’s scooter. They’d brought as much as they could carry: food, drink, blankets and torches. They’d even packed a first-aid kit, in case Ben had fallen down somewhere.

We all split up and covered the ground that everyone had been over. Using one of the torches I surveyed the landscape. It just looked empty. It was the worst place in the world to play hide-and-seek. There was nowhere to go. Which made me think,
How can you lose a child up here?

I took one look at my mother and knew I could never say that. She was still inconsolable. I think that was one of the reasons I was still being strong. She needed an arm around the shoulder, not hurtful accusations. That wouldn’t help anyone, and it certainly wouldn’t help find Ben.

The odd flashes of the other torch beams criss-crossing elsewhere in the darkness gave the whole site an eerie feel. We were
all calling out for Ben, waiting to hear his cry or those words, ‘Mummy!’ or ‘Nana!’ Deep down, though, I didn’t want him to be there. That would have meant he’d been injured and alone and scared for the best part of nine hours. No, I preferred the theory that he’d wandered off and had been rescued by a confused but kindly passer-by. The morning would reveal all. I was absolutely convinced of it.

I think the police clung to the same idea. Close to midnight, after a fruitless two hours with flashlights, they said they needed me to come to the police station. They also wanted a picture of Ben and a copy of his passport. Dad said he would drive me to the caravan and pick them up, then take me to Kos Town. Even though I knew in my heart that Ben wasn’t up there any more, it felt like a betrayal leaving – like I was walking away from him, especially when the others stayed. But the police were insistent.

It was half past twelve. Ben had been missing for ten hours.

On any other night I would have looked with envy at the bright lights of the bars in Kos Town and the revellers laughing and drinking outside. Not this night. My mind was still in Iraklis, as good as blank. I didn’t notice Dad weaving around the partygoers who had staggered into the road or the din of the mashed music booming from each venue we passed. I didn’t even realise we’d stopped until Dad said, ‘Kerry, we’re here.’