Friend Request(69)

We walk over to the little kiosk and order two coffees. I don’t take my eyes off Henry as he runs around in the sand, every now and then falling to the ground. I realise Dylan is standing at the top of the climbing frame ‘shooting’ him.

‘Did you hear what happened in the playground at pickup today? With Angela Dickson?’

‘Who?’ I say. Because I’m not often at the school gate when everyone else is, I’m hazy on who’s who.

‘You know, Angela Dickson, the —’ she lowers her voice ‘— fat one. With all those kids.’

‘Oh yes, I know.’ I’m distracted by not being able to see Henry, but then he emerges from behind the toddler slide where he’s been hiding from enemy fire and I relax, keeping my eyes on him. ‘I saw her having a row with the teacher as we were leaving today.’

‘Not just a row,’ says Olivia. ‘She punched Mrs Smithson!’

‘Punched her?’ I spin and face her. ‘Oh my God! Did you actually see it?’

‘Yes, I was still there talking to Mrs Hopkins.’ Olivia is one of those parents who always has some pressing issue she needs to discuss with the teacher. I’m friends with her on Facebook, and every week she’s airing some gripe with the school on there – sending home reading books that are not challenging enough for her genius child, that sort of thing. ‘She actually punched her in the face.’

‘Did they call the police?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘I saw Mr Knowles coming over.’ Mr Knowles is one of the only male teachers at the school. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t fancy his chances against Angela Dickson.’

My eyes flick back to the climbing frame, but Henry and Dylan are not there. I look behind me, over towards the fort, but there’s no sign of them. It’s a big park with lots of equipment. They could be anywhere.

‘Can you see the boys?’ I ask Olivia.

‘Oh, they’ll be around somewhere. Let’s go and sit on that bench, you can see pretty much the whole park from there.’

We walk over to the picnic bench and she sits down. I put my coffee on the table and scan the park anxiously. Olivia is still prattling on about the big school-gate news.

‘I can’t see them,’ I interrupt her.

Olivia looks around casually, sipping her coffee.

‘They’re probably in the fort. Relax, Louise, they’ll be here somewhere. Look, there they are.’

Dylan is running around and around a tree, making machine-gun noises, but I can’t see Henry. My breath catches in my throat, but I try to stay calm. He’s probably in the tree. That’s where I’ve found him before, climbing so high I had to press my lips together hard to stop myself from shouting at him to come down. I walk over, trying not to run, forcing myself to breathe evenly. The closer I get the less it looks as if there is anyone in the tree. In the summer it’s easy to hide in there, but at this time of year it’s leafless and bare, and before I reach it I can see that the branches are not hiding him. Henry is nowhere to be seen.

‘Dylan,’ I say, too loudly. ‘Where’s Henry?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘But you were with him just now, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. But then he started talking to that lady.’

Oh God. It’s like a blow to the head. For a moment I think I’m going to pass out, but I gather myself, forcing my mouth into the right shapes to form words.

‘What lady? Where?’ I kneel down in front of him, taking hold of his arms.

‘Don’t know. Over there.’ Dylan points in the direction of the fort, shakes my arms off and starts running round the tree again.

I start to run, my breath coming in gasps, calling his name. I get to the fort and bend down to peer in through the door. Two small girls with a doll in a pram regard me suspiciously. They are the only children in there. I turn and gaze frantically around the park.

‘Henry!’ I shout. I run the length of the park, looking behind every piece of play equipment, calling for him, louder and louder. Other mothers start to look around, wondering whether they ought to help me. There’s always someone in here calling for their child, but there’s a note of genuine desperation in my voice that is clearly worrying them. Olivia gets up and calls Dylan over, presumably to grill him further on where he saw Henry last.

I am on the verge of getting my phone out to call the police, all thoughts of my own safety, or reputation, entirely forgotten, when I see him. He’s right at the far end of the park, standing with his back to me looking out over the gate that opens into the wider park. I come to a stop and emit something between a sob and a choke. Thank God. I carry on walking over to him, slowly now.

‘Henry,’ I call and he turns, smiling. ‘Where were you?’ I try to keep my voice light. ‘I couldn’t find you.’

‘In the park,’ he says.

‘Dylan said you were talking to a lady.’

‘Yes. She liked trains. She was asking me all about Thomas.’

My heart rate slows. Maybe she was just a mother, or a granny who’d brought her grandchildren to the park.

‘Where is she?’

‘She said she had to go. I was just waving to her.’ I look across the park. In the distance I can see a figure in a dark coat walking towards the main exit.