HOURS STARING at his piano before he could think clearly enough to do anything. He would have to call her. He didn’t want to worry her, but he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t deal with it alone. He went to the phone in the kitchen.
The phone rang five times and her voice came on: ‘Hi hi, Katy here, I’m obviously busy. Leave a message if you want.’
He hung up and immediately dialled again. On his fourth attempt it was answered by a gruff-sounding male.
‘’Lo?’
‘Hello. May I speak with Katharine?’
‘Um, yeah, all right. Who’s it?’
‘It’s her father.’
‘Oh, right! Hiya Marcus, it’s Jasper.’
He’d forgotten there was a new boy. ‘Oh. Hello Jasper.’ There was a brief pause.
‘I’ll get Kate, then, yeah?
‘Thank you.’
He waited, listening to his daughter and her lover exchange the phone.
‘Dad? What’s up?’
‘They’re gone. My keys. Gone.’
‘You can’t find your keys? Do you need to go out somewhere? I’m sure it’ll be OK; you’ve a quiet neighbourhood. Ask your neighbour, that lovely woman with all the hair, to keep an eye out.’
‘No, no. Not the house keys. The other keys. My keys. My piano keys.’
There was a pause.
‘Dad? Dad, are you all right?’
‘Of course I’m not all right. I need to play. I need to play my piano and my piano keys are gone.’
There was a long pause on the phone. He stood still and waited for her to talk.
‘Dad,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t, I mean, they can’t be.’
‘How am I supposed to play?’
‘How can they just be missing?’
‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘Just are.’
‘OK.’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’ll be fine, Dad. I’m coming over. We’ll sort this out.’
‘Right.’ He hung up and walked back towards the music room. He stood in the door. Couldn’t bear to go further. Two or three more steps and he’d be able to see it. He didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t see it. Not again. Not alone. He would wait.
‘MUM!’ DELIA CALLED AS SHE staggered in through the front door after a twenty-five-minute bus ride. ‘I’m sorry! Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine, of course, Dee, darling, but where have you been?’ Delia’s mum wheeled herself through from the living room, appearing to be more curious than worried or distressed.
‘Sorry. I suppose I got lost. Are you hungry?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve had a banana, but it’s not quite, you know … It’s not like you to get lost, Dee. I don’t think you ever have before.’
Delia followed her mother into the kitchen and began making them both breakfast.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what happened. It’s a lovely day out there now, though. Maybe we should go for a walk later. We could have a picnic.’
‘Oh. Perhaps. It’s just, well, I’ve gotten to a rather exciting point in the Willow Tree Sampler and I want to keep going.’
‘We could bring that with us, though, Mum.’ Delia tried not to sound as if she was pleading. ‘You could work on it in the park.’
‘Oh no. No, the wind could pick up and wreak havoc with the cotton. It’s far too risky. Let’s have a nice day indoors. You can read or play on your computer and I’ll work on the sampler and we can have cups of tea whenever we want.’
JAKE STOOD ALONE IN THE corridor, frowning at the wall. He had been lying all day. He’d lied to his class. His teacher had asked him if it was a special day for him, using that extra-chirpy voice she had sometimes, as if she was winking with her entire head, and he’d lied and said no. He’d said there must be a mistake on the register.
He didn’t know why he’d lied. It was a special day for him. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to be sung to, but he’d lied and said no, and no one had sung.
There was a clip clopping of shoes behind him and Jake turned around.
‘Mr Baxter, school finished fifteen minutes ago. I’m sure someone’s waiting outside to collect you.’
She wasn’t Jake’s teacher so he didn’t know her name. He thought she maybe taught in the room next to his or the one next to that. She was looking at him the way adults always did: as though unsure of how to talk to him, as though they didn’t know if he could hear their words, and they wanted to make extra sure he understood what they were saying. They looked in his eyes a lot, all the adults.
She was wrong, there would be no one to collect him. Of course there wouldn’t; Jake had been walking to school by himself for ages. Ever since they’d moved here and school had been close enough to walk to. If someone had been collecting him, it would have to be his dad, and if his dad was collecting him, he’d be late or he’d forget. Jake didn’t know if his dad would have been late if he’d had to pick him up in the old days, but he knew he’d be late now.
Jake said nothing and walked slowly towards the doors.
It was usually only a ten-minute walk to Jake’s house, but Jake stretched it out to almost twenty.
He could tell his dad was in his office, but he didn’t go in. Instead he went to the kitchen. He opened the cupboards and looked inside. Then he looked in the fridge. There were no special foods. There was no cake. There was no fizzy drink. There were no lollies.
It was Jake’s birthday and no one knew.
Jake wondered if it would be better if he didn’t know himself. Part of him wanted to never have another birthday at all.
Jake’s last birthday had been the worst day ever. The second-worst day ever. No one had known how to celebrate it. No one had really wanted to celebrate it anyway. Jake hadn’t. Last year he’d felt as if he’d never wanted to celebrate anything ever again. His mum had always made amazing food. Jake hadn’t wanted anyone trying to make food as good as his mum’s food.
This year, though, he wanted something to happen.
