Pulse(58)

Into this intense scene of acute maternal hysteria walked Oliver.

He came through the open front door, down the hall and into the kitchen holding a white plastic shopping bag.

At first I thought it was Toby, assuming that he’d put his school uniform back on to show the police, but then I saw the bag.

‘Mum,’ Oliver said with a slightly worried tone while looking around at the four police uniforms crowded into the kitchen, ‘what’s going on?’

My first emotion was one of relief but this very quickly turned to anger.

‘Where have you been?’ I shouted at him.

‘Looking for my bike,’ he said rather tearfully.

‘What?’ I screamed.

‘I’ve been looking for my bike,’ he repeated. ‘Someone took it while I was in the shop.’

Grant came into the kitchen clutching the photo and instantly grasped the situation.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ he asked loudly, turning to Oliver.

The poor young boy was now in floods of tears.

‘I’ve been looking for my bike,’ he said once more between sobs. ‘It’s been stolen.’

‘What do you mean, stolen?’

Gradually, over the next half-hour, the full story came out.

Oliver had cycled straight to the shop and had gone in, leaning his bike against the wall outside. He had bought the items but, when he came out, the bike was gone.

‘I was only in there a couple of minutes,’ he said miserably. ‘I thought someone was playing a trick on me. So I looked to see if it’d been moved. But I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I thought Jamie Williams must have taken it.’

‘Jamie Williams?’ asked one of the policemen.

‘From school,’ Oliver said. ‘I thought I saw him on my way to the shop, near the phone box. He lives at that farm up the hill on Gretton Road.’

‘But why would he take your bike?’ another of the policemen asked.

‘Because he doesn’t like me. And he’s always nicking my stuff at school – pens, sports kit, stuff like that. Anyway, I walked all the way up to the farm to see if he had it.’

‘Why didn’t you come back here first?’ I asked angrily. ‘We were desperately worried.’

‘I was afraid,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be cross that I’d lost my bike.’

He might have been right.

‘So did Jamie Williams have your bicycle?’ the policeman asked him.

‘No. At least, he says he hasn’t. So I had to walk home.’

‘Perhaps we’ll go and have a word with young Mr Williams. What’s the name of the farm?’

‘Stoop Farm,’ Grant said. ‘On the right, about a mile out of the village.’

‘Right,’ said the policeman. ‘We’ll leave you in peace now. I am pleased that the young man is back home safe and sound. We will go and see the Williams boy to check on the bicycle, and let you know.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m very grateful. And I’m sorry I was so emotional earlier.’

‘That’s all right, Mrs Rankin. As long as the boy is unhurt. That’s what really matters.’

Nevertheless, I was embarrassed that I’d shouted at them, so I let Grant show them out.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Oliver said, coming over and giving me a big hug.

‘It’s all right, darling,’ I said, hugging him back and stroking his hair. ‘As the policeman said, you being back home unhurt is the most important thing. And you’re too big for that bike anyway.’

‘It’s too late for me to go to football practice,’ Toby announced loudly. ‘So can we have the crisps now?’

Crisis over. Proper priorities had been restored.

The policeman came back while I was preparing the scrambled eggs.

‘No luck, I’m afraid,’ he said when I opened the front door. ‘I’m satisfied that the Williams boy knows nothing about your son’s bicycle.’

‘So who did take it?’ I asked.

‘Sorry,’ he said, holding his hands open, palms uppermost. ‘I went and asked the lady who runs the village shop but she had no idea either. She’s agreed to keep an eye out for it. In the meantime, I’ll make out a stolen-property report so you can claim on your household insurance.’

‘Won’t you go and look for it?’ I asked.

‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he said, not sounding it. ‘We don’t have the manpower. We would definitely search for your child but not for his bike. But the details will remain on file in case it’s found and handed in.’

I suppose I couldn’t blame him. The police could hardly go door-to-door asking about a child’s mountain bike, even in our small village.

Life in the Rankin household returned to what might be considered as normal for a Monday night but there were clearly underlying tensions.

Grant was never normally at his best on Mondays when the whole week of work seemed to stretch ahead of him interminably. It wasn’t that he hated his job, just that it was mundane and predictable compared to his years in the military, and I knew that he sometimes hankered after the excitement and adrenalin generated by being in mortal danger.

Oliver spent the evening very morose, apologising at least every ten minutes for causing such distress to his mother. And he wasn’t helped by Toby, who gave him no quarter, constantly accusing his brother of ruining his life as he was certain that, having missed the team practice, he would surely be dropped for the next match.