Break the Child: Chapter Twenty-One: Mr Plod and Peter Rabbit

Chapter Twenty-One: Mr Plod and Peter Rabbit

Dad got up this morning and Mum wasn’t in bed beside him. He listened to see if she was in the bathroom chucking up, but she wasn’t, so he got in a panic and came running downstairs. The fridge door was wide open, and Mum had spilled the milk all over the kitchen floor. The big mixing bowl was on the counter and had some flour in it, but that’s all, just flour and the rest of it was all over the kitchen. All the kitchen drawers and cupboards were open and when he went into the lounge, she’d opened all of the drawers in there, too. There were two eggs in the what-not drawer and one of them was broken, there was eggy goo all over the remote controls and everything.  Dad said his blood ran cold when he saw that the front door was wide open.

 Just to be sure, he checked the house, the conservatory, the garage, and the garden. Sometimes she likes to sit in the garden early in the morning to hear the birds singing, but he knew in his heart that she’d gone out. Afterwards, I heard him telling Linda that mum sleeps naked and he hoped that she’d put some clothes on, first. I hoped so too, I’d just die if she went out starkers, but that wasn’t the worst thing of all. The very worst thing of all was he looked out of the front door and saw that Mum’s car had gone. He told Linda that he never thought he’d see the day when he was praying that we’d been burgled, but that’s what he hoped for.

My dad prayed to God, and all of the angels, and I expect some saints too, that we’d been burgled. Like, I know where he was coming from with Mum in the car and everything, but just imagine his upper-higher reaches of desperation to actually and really truly want to be burgled. Some burglars do drugs and stuff and they only do the burgling to get their fixes, so you’ve got to feel a bit sorry for them `cause it’s not like they want to do the burgling, I expect they’d rather be doctors.

And it can’t be nice being a burglar `cause they might have to go into some really dirty houses when it’s not their fault. And when they have to hit people over the head with bars and stuff—which is why Dad was crazy actually praying to the saints for us to be burgled—they probably feel awfully bad about it afterwards and want to take the old ladies some grapes in hospital—but they can’t on account of the fixes.

Dad took Mum’s car keys off her weeks ago and he thought they’d be okay put away in the desk drawer. This morning she went through the drawers looking for them. I was terrified and told Dad that I wasn’t going to school until I knew that Mum was safe, and he couldn’t make me. I wouldn’t be better off there, at all. He didn’t even try very hard even though I’ve already had one unexplained absence this month. He just said to stay in the house in case she came home, and then, he took his own car and went to search for her. Linda and Helen both had to come out of work to help with the search and everyone was worried.

Dad was only gone ten minutes when he came back to ring the police. He said that it couldn’t wait and that searching for her was useless because she could be anywhere. He’d been to the paper shop and the co-op where she used to work, that’s when Helen told her boss she was leaving and he could dock her or sack her or kiss her arse, but she was helping to look for my mum and she put her blue tabard over the till and ran out. When dad explained about the dementia and the fact that Mum was driving a car, the police said that they’d send someone out right away.

A policeman turned up in five minutes and interviewed Dad and Linda and me. Dad got all stressy and shouted at them to get out and find her, and I had to make tea. I was making stupid tea while my Mum, who half the time can’t even make tea herself, was driving a car. Anything could have happened to her.  Dad was supposed to be at work today and tomorrow and then he was finishing forever, but he rang up and told them that he wouldn’t be back. They were dead good about it, apparently.

            The police told him to, ‘sit tight.’ And he got really annoyed with them. They told him off. ‘You’ll only hamper our investigation if you don’t do as we ask, sir. Dad picked up a cup and threw it against the wall. I screamed. It was like when you see a wife-beater on the telly. They throw something at the wall, and then they throw people at the wall, and then they start hitting people. I was worried that the police would think that Dad hits Mum and me. I was crying, and so was Linda and my dad was yelling all the time and pacing up and down the room. He wanted to go out and look for her, but the policeman said that he was in no condition to drive.

            ‘No, officer,’ my dad said, all red in the face and angry, ‘my wife is in no condition to drive. Please find her. For God’s sake let her be all right.’ And then he slumped into his chair as though he only had enough anger to throw cups and there was nothing left inside to throw people.

He wasn’t psycho enough to throw people, or hit anyone, and I was glad. I thought they might arrest him when he was all shouty and then I’d have no parents at all.

Sometime after ten o’clock the policeman’s walkie-talkie crackled, and he said his numbers into it. They said something back, but he had an earpiece in, so we couldn’t hear what they said. He got this weird look on his face and I thought, oh God, no, something bad’s happened. Dad didn’t even notice because he had his head in his hands and the last time the policeman’s radio crackled, we got all tense and half-excited, but it was only some kids throwing stuffs off the multi-storey car park.

            When the policeman came back, he told us that they’d found her and that she was okay. Dad just kept saying, ‘Oh, thank God. Oh, thank God.’ The policeman said that he’d take him to her.

            ‘I’m coming too,’ I said. Dad didn’t even answer me. Linda said that she’d wait at home and run a bath for her coming in. I wondered why Linda thought she’d need a bath, maybe people with dementia often get dirty, what with them going back to their childhood. I didn’t think it was that important to get her clean. I thought it was more important to know if she had any clothes on, but I didn’t dare ask.

            On the way, the policeman told us what had happened. She was at my old junior school. She’d gone to pick me up, apparently. I haven’t been at that school for over three years. Mrs Leth, my old Headmistress, tried to talk to Mum but she got all crazy when Mrs Leth told her that I wasn’t there. I think Mum thought that the little me had been kidnapped. She ran into the classroom and frightened all the children. She grabbed one by the arm and kept screaming at her. ‘Where’s Katie? Where’s Katie Bell.’ She put bruises on the little girl’s arms and the policeman told Dad that there might be repercussions in the form of assault charges against a minor. Mum wouldn’t leave, so Mrs Leth had cleared all of the children out of the classroom and had called the police.

            He said that Mum had been very lucky because there had also been another complaint. A member of the public had taken Mum’s registration number and had called in to say that she’d failed to stop at a Zebra crossing and had nearly run over a teenage boy. We were nearly there then, he said that Mum was in a distressed state but was otherwise unharmed. I was scared to see what we’d find. When we pulled into the road, Mum’s car was right in the middle of the street. Not parked up, just left in the road so that other cars couldn’t get past it. As we drove up, a policeman was just getting in to move it out of the way. Seeing the car all abandoned, scared me even more, Mum must have been really wacked-out to leave it like that.

            Mrs Leth met us in Reception, not reception class where the littlest ones are, the reception desk at the entrance.  ‘Oh, Mister Bell, I’m glad you’re here.  I’ll take you to her. This way please.’

            She opened the door to the classroom and two police officers were in there with mum, a man and a lady—I thought oh, oh, they must be doing good cop-bad cop—they weren’t talking to her or anything, just standing in front of the door in case she tried to get out, I suppose. They looked embarrassed when dad walked in and turned their faces away from Mum.

            She was just in a nightie and knickers. She didn’t have a coat on or a dressing gown, she was even in her bare feet. She was sitting on a beanbag in the quiet corner and she had all these kid’s books out all around her where she’d pulled them from the shelves. She was turning the pages of one of them, not reading it, just looking at the pictures and moving her lips because she was muttering to herself, and she was sitting cross-legged, and you could see all her knickers. The police lady coughed and said that she had tried to cover her with a blanket, but she’d refused. I’ve never seen my mum sit like that before and with the police watching, and Mrs Leth, it was really embarrassing.

She had a piece of hair in one hand and she kept twisting it around her finger, like I do, sometimes. I won’t do it anymore because it looks really childish.

            She looked up at us and smiled. It was a really big smile, like she was pleased to see us. ‘Look Katie,’ she said, as though nothing had happened, ‘do you remember this one?  It’s Peter Rabbit.’

            Dad went up to her and put his coat around her shoulders. ‘Come on Darling, I’m taking you home now.’

            She didn’t shout or anything, she just said, ‘All right, dear, I’ve got a nice bit of gammon for tea.’ She smiled and said goodbye on the way out as though she’d been invited, but I don’t think she recognised Mrs’ Leth, or even that the police officers were there because of her.

‘Have you had a good day dear?’ she asked, as dad led her to her car.