Pulse(57)

‘Oliver!’ I shouted as I ran. ‘Oliver!’

I was now in full panic mode and I could feel myself shaking with fear.

I looked over every garden fence and wall between the village shop and our house but there was no sign of Oliver or his bike.

When I arrived back, Toby was standing at the open front door.

‘Is he back?’ I shouted at him.

I could see fear in his face as he shook his head.

I was beginning to go into meltdown; I could feel the tingling in my fingers.

I rushed past Toby and grabbed the house phone, my fingers seemingly huge on the buttons as I dialled Grant’s mobile number. He answered at the second ring.

‘Oliver’s been abducted,’ I shouted down the phone at him.

‘What?’

‘Oliver’s been abducted,’ I repeated breathlessly. ‘He went to the shop for some crisps and he’s disappeared.’

‘How long ago?’ Grant asked.

‘Twenty, twenty-five minutes. I ran to the shop. Mrs Atherton says he was there but left ages ago. He never came home. Oh my God. Where is he?’

I was crying uncontrollably.

‘Calm down, darling,’ Grant said. ‘He’s probably stopped off at a friend’s house.’

‘Why would he?’ I screamed. ‘He knew we were waiting for him. I’m telling you, he’s been snatched.’ I was sobbing. ‘I’m calling the police.’

I hung up and immediately dialled 999.

‘Emergency, which service?’ asked the operator.

‘Police,’ I shouted down the line. ‘My son’s been abducted.’

I had to give the Gloucestershire Police some credit.

The first squad car arrived with blue flashing lights and a blaring siren in only five minutes. It contained two uniformed police officers and I ran down the drive to meet them.

‘We were already in Bishop’s Cleeve,’ one of them said. ‘Diverted from another job. Shall we go inside? To take down the details.’

‘Inside?’ I screamed. ‘He’s not inside. We need to find him.’

‘Mrs Rankin,’ said the policeman, ‘we understand how you must be feeling but we have to get the details correct.’

Understand? Neither policeman looked old enough to be out of school, let alone be parents. How could they possibly understand how I was feeling?

One of them took me by the elbow and guided me into the house and then through into the kitchen. We sat down at the table.

‘Now,’ the policeman said, extracting a notebook and pen from his stab-proof-vest pocket, ‘how old, exactly, is Oliver?’

‘He was fourteen last September,’ I said. He looked up at me sharply as if he’d been expecting him to be younger, then he wrote it down in a notebook. ‘And what does he look like?’

‘Like that,’ I said, pointing at Toby, who was standing by the door into the hall, still in his football kit. ‘They’re identical twins.’

‘And how long has he been missing?’

‘He went to the village shop on his bike to buy some bread and crisps but he didn’t come back. I’ve searched for him but . . .’ I broke off, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears.

‘And when was this?’

‘About half an hour ago.’

‘Half an hour?’ He didn’t quite sound incredulous, but close. ‘Do you not think he may just be taking his time?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ve searched everywhere between here and the shop. And I told him to come straight back.’

‘And does he always do what you tell him?’

I could tell from his tone that he was rather sceptical.

‘Well, no, not always, but he would have done this time. He knew his brother was waiting for him.’

The doorbell rang and I jumped up but it was only two more uniformed policemen, one of them a woman, who joined their colleagues in the kitchen. Child abduction was obviously taken very seriously.

‘What was he wearing?’ asked the same policeman as before.

‘His school uniform,’ I said. ‘White shirt, dark grey trousers, navy pullover, with his school crest over the heart. Toby, go and get yours to show them.’

Toby disappeared, presumably up to his room to fetch his uniform.

‘Jacket and tie?’ asked the policeman.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Just a pullover these days.’

‘Any coat?’

I thought back. ‘No. He was only going to be gone a few minutes.’

‘Type of bike?’

‘Raleigh. Kid’s mountain bike. In blue. Toby’s is red.’

Grant arrived, throwing open the front door with a crash and rushing into the kitchen. I stood up and hugged him. He pulled away from me and turned to the four police officers.

‘Why aren’t you out searching for my son?’ he demanded.

‘All in good time, sir,’ replied one of them. ‘We need to get all the details first and a photograph. Do you have one we could show to our officers?’

‘We have one upstairs that was taken at school,’ Grant said. ‘I’ll fetch it.’

I was getting even more agitated.

‘We must go and look for him,’ I shouted at the police. ‘Why are we all stuck in here when he’s out there somewhere?’ I was openly sobbing and losing control. ‘My poor baby.’