The Child’s Secret

‘Asked for a wish,’ she corrected. ‘I think it does feel pain, you know.’

Sam considered telling her that the Wishing Tree was only a figment of his own imagination and that it was no more aware of their secret desires than the pink paper she had used to scribble her wish on. But one look at her told him that she needed something to believe in and so instead, he found himself saying, ‘I don’t think it feels its own pain, Jasmine, but there are times when I think it feels ours.’

Jasmine looked thoughtful for a moment as she glanced from Sam to the tree. ‘Maybe we should leave it in peace then,’ she said, and Sam didn’t argue.

Rather than welcome arms, Jasmine’s classmates greeted her with scowls as if disappointed that the drama had been drawn to a close without an exciting climax.

‘I wanted to see the scuba divers going into the lake,’ Matthew muttered as the teaching assistants gathered everyone into line for the final trek to the school bus.

Miss Jenkins was bringing up the rear and only when she’d finished counting her charges for the third time was she satisfied. ‘Sorry, I’m not going to have a chance to ask you about your sketches now,’ she told Sam. ‘We’re late getting back as it is.’

‘I could always drop them off at school for you,’ he offered.

She tilted her head and snared him with her smiling eyes. ‘I do have a life outside school, you know.’

Anna Jenkins was ten years his junior and although he could remember being thirty, he had nothing in common with the man he had been back then and for the life of him couldn’t see what this young woman saw in him, assuming she was interested at all. The answer to that question came soon enough when she added, ‘You have my number, Mr McIntyre. Why don’t you invite me out some place where I can call you Sam and you can call me Anna?’

The flush rising in his cheeks was obscured by his beard, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if Anna could feel the heat of his embarrassment. His eyes darted from left to right until he found his means of escape. Gesturing towards the fully loaded bus, he said, ‘I think your group’s about to lose their teacher if you don’t hurry up.’

Anna was forced to leave without receiving her answer and voiced her regret at not casting her own wish into the Wishing Tree.

3 (#u3feeeabe-02da-51b9-b190-4f140f1f7f09)

Sam’s flat: Wednesday 7 October 2015

‘It seems like Jasmine made quite an impression on you,’ Harper said.

The detective had remained standing in the middle of the room, his feet wide apart and hands shoved in his trouser pockets as he looked at Sam with his head cocked to one side. He couldn’t yet appreciate the effect Jasmine had had on Sam – and why would he? Sam had been deliberately vague about that first meeting, skimming over the details of the Wishing Tree story, playing down Jasmine’s earlier disappearance and only briefly mentioning that she had made a wish. But he wasn’t the only one who knew more than he was letting on. Sam couldn’t yet tell how much Harper had been told and so, for the moment at least, he would have to be cautious about volunteering any information that might only add more substance to the detective’s potted theories. It wouldn’t bring the little girl home to her mum any sooner.

‘She was just a lost little girl,’ he offered.

‘Until you found her.’

An image came to mind of Jasmine standing amongst her classmates beneath the Allerton Oak. She had looked so insubstantial that Sam had thought that if he blinked she might have disappeared completely. ‘She must have run away again,’ he said with unshakeable conviction.

‘Why do you say that?’

Sam blinked, and this time Jasmine did disappear. ‘Because the alternative is unthinkable.’

Harper stared at the polished floor and battled with his own thoughts. ‘I hope you’re right, Mr McIntyre, but in my line of business the unthinkable happens more often than you’d imagine.’

Sam was starting to cool down after his run and his sweat-sodden T-shirt felt ice cold against his skin but when he shuddered, it had nothing to do with the temperature. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak. ‘Can I get a drink of water?’ he asked, already getting up from the dining table.

Harper stopped him. ‘We’ll sort that,’ he said and nodded towards the uniformed policeman who had been standing guard by the one and only means of escape.

‘Thanks,’ Sam said, not quite sure why he should be grateful for the offer of a glass of water in his own home. What was quite clear, however, was that the police were making their presence felt that little bit more.

As he waited for his drink, Sam played nervously with the green square of origami paper. If he weren’t careful he would start folding it into the shape of a crane, so he pushed it out of reach and clasped his hands together …

‘Now,’ Harper continued, ‘tell me why one little girl amongst an entire class should catch your eye.’

Sam refused to be goaded. ‘Shouldn’t you be out searching for her rather than wasting time with me, for pity’s sake?’ he asked.

Harper didn’t appear fazed by Sam’s reaction and took a step towards the bookshelves, which held little more than a thin scattering of books and journals. He briefly scanned the titles, which were exclusively related to gardening and horticulture, then his eyes settled on a shoebox that had been decorated in brightly coloured paper squares.

‘Look,’ Sam said, ‘I want to help. If Jasmine’s missing, then I’ll do anything I can. When was she last seen? Where was she?’

When Harper turned back to Sam, he was smiling – although perhaps smirking might have been a better description. ‘And there I was thinking I was the one asking the questions.’

Sam offered up his hands in supplication. ‘Fine, ask away.’

Harper moved closer to Sam and rested his hands on the back of a dining chair but didn’t take a seat. ‘What I’d really like to know, Mr McIntyre, is how you became so deeply involved in her life so quickly? And, perhaps more importantly, why?’

From the kitchen, Sam could hear the other policeman talking to the dog, offering to refill his water bowl while Sam was left waiting. His lips were painfully parched and if Harper wanted answers, he needed that drink. Not that Sam had any idea how to answer the detective’s question. Why had he become so involved? Would Jasmine be missing now if he’d had the good sense to stay away? He refused to let his gaze be drawn to the bookshelf and the shoebox which contained a growing collection of origami cranes; paper birds of varying colours and sizes. Some were pink …

4 (#ulink_3b0a998a-30f0-50b2-9b5b-039fdfc87887)

Thursday 23 April 2015

The spring day was still clinging to the sunshine when Sam set off for home, although he had somehow managed to take the shadow of the Allerton Oak with him. He liked his job and, within certain boundaries, he enjoyed being around people. Up until today he had thought that the limited contact had come without risk, but when the girl had gone missing, when he had raced through the park with his heart pounding with terror, he had realized he wasn’t as insulated as he had thought. He was starting to think that the cutbacks at work that pulled him away from his ranger duties were a blessing in disguise. Planting, sowing, pruning … these were far safer activities, where the only casualties would be seedlings lost to the frost. Perhaps he should speak to Jack about giving up the tours so he could put all his energies into the job he was actually being paid to do.

Calderstones Park was close enough to walk the short distance home and he strolled up the hill with his head down and his hands in his pockets. When he stepped onto the drive, he found Selina busily dusting the windowsills. The wiry and wily octogenarian was barely five foot tall and with the sills almost at head height, cleaning them was a difficult and somewhat pointless task. She pretended not to hear the heavy clomp of his work boots on the block paving and gave a start when Sam tickled her waist.

Swiping him with her duster, she cried, ‘Sam, you gave me a fright!’

‘What are you doing, Selina? I told you I’d wash the windows at the weekend.’

She twisted the duster in her fingers, which were swollen with arthritis. ‘Oh, I can’t sit inside on such a lovely day,’ she said, ‘and I can’t sit in the garden doing nothing. You don’t exactly leave me much to do, but staying busy is what keeps me alive.’

‘That and the whisky,’ he said smiling.

She swiped him again. ‘I’ve told you, it’s medicinal.’

Sam laughed. ‘Anyone who’s reached the ripe old age of … What is it now? Sixty?’ he asked, deliberately knocking quarter of a century off his landlady’s age. ‘You deserve at least one vice, Selina.’

‘For that compliment, I’ll have to invite you to dinner. I’ve made a lovely cottage pie and it’ll go to waste if you don’t help me eat it.’

Sam had moved into his lodgings soon after arriving in Liverpool and the setup had suited him perfectly. Selina was a widow and had converted her oversized house into two separate apartments many years ago. She lived on the ground floor while renting out the upper level. There was a basement that could easily be converted if she wanted another lodger but Sam’s rent was sufficient to plug the gap in her income and they were comfortable in each other’s company. They liked their own space while knowing there was another living being close by. Over time, they had let their lives overlap far more than either intended, although they respected each other’s privacy. Selina wouldn’t push her offer for dinner or be offended by Sam’s refusal, which he gave rather reluctantly.

‘I’m sorry, Selina, can I give you a rain check? It’s been a tough day and I want to go for a run. I need to clear my head.’

‘I understand,’ she said with a nod. ‘I’d go with you if these hips didn’t keep seizing up on me. I’ll put some dinner on a plate for you and you can heat it up when you get back.’

‘Thank you, you’re a sweetheart.’

The old lady tried not to let the worry show on her face when she said, ‘And don’t stay out too long. You don’t want to wear yourself out or you’ll be needing a hip replacement before I do.’

‘I won’t go too far,’ Sam said but it was at best a half-truth. He would probably be out for a good hour at least and still it wouldn’t be long enough. He had spent years trying to outrun himself and tonight he would fail once again.