Novel Chapter 30

 

Chapter 30.

Searching

Back to the following Sunday afternoon Mr. Murdoch and Patrick walked up Rose Hill, which was new to Patrick; Murdoch probably knew every step, and when he came to a slight gap, he went through it and Patrick followed. After a few tries when Murdoch thought it was the place, Patrick said 'Where is he supposed to be?'

Soon they came to the tree, the tree where Finbar had seen the etching and they stopped.

'This is it' he said.

They looked toward the tree and Murdoch took a step forward.

'Finbar' he called.

It seemed to echo.

Silence.

'You said you knew.' said Patrick.

'I only guessed, I don't know for sure.'

Murdoch went further and Patrick followed him.

'That tree' said Murdoch, 'is big enough . . . ' he searched 'ah yes.'

He went to the tree.

The circumflex.

He poked his head in – dark.

'We were in here – we squeezed in and Finbar was, well er . . he was amazed.'

'And you thought that was enough.'

'Hey!! You two!!' A voice called, as if from nowhere.

A cop.

A cop again 'Hey?'

They turned around.

'That's Patrick – my husband – and Mr. Murdoch.' said Carmel.

There were three policemen behind her.

'Murdoch: Douglas Murdoch.' said the man with that name.

He shook hands with one of the cops.

'Oh? Yes sir' said the cop, recognising him.

'No sign of him' said Patrick.

Carmel kissed him on the cheek.

'Doug was wrong.' he said.

After an exhaustive search the police retreated to their vehicles. When they met Tommy Bull at his house in Sherborne Road, they started by asking him what happened to Finbar.

'He got out of the car and ran off – I couldn't catch him.'

'What about his bag?'

'What?' said Tommy.

'His bag was left at the bottom of Rose Hill. His father found his harmonica some way up the hill – what do you say to that?'

'I couldn't catch him so when I got back to the car' he stammered 'I left the bag for him – case he came back – I don't know about his harmonica.'

'Why did he get out of your car?'

'I don't know. He said he wanted to piss.'

'Piss?' said the cop. 'Did he ask you to stop?'

No answer from Tommy.

'So he could urinate?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know.' said Tommy.

'You don't know.'

'No.'

'There was talk of you – being fond of small boys?'

'What do you mean?' said Tommy.

'You had a reputation of sexually abusing little boys.'

'Where'd you get that from?'

'We have records.' said the cop.

'I was told that would be wiped after five years.'

'No not five years, when you are eighteen.'

'I'll be eighteen next month' said Tommy.

'If you are exonerated after this it may well be wiped, as you put it, but at the moment we have a missing boy and we want to find him.'

'I called after him, he didn't answer or stop and . . well I drove home.'

'That child was left in your charge.'

The police took Tommy to Edward Road Police Station where he was interrogated again and they detained him.

On Monday morning Patrick didn't go to work and neither did Carmel.

Patrick was in the garden when a photographer and a reporter from from The Birmingham Mail, came down the lane.

'Mr. Callaghan?' said the reporter.

'Yes' said Patrick.

'I know this might be a bad time' the reporter said 'but I wonder if you would answer a few questions.'

'What questions?' said Patrick.

'About your boy – Funbar.'

'What? His name is not Funbar! What's the matter with you?'

'Sorry, we thought it might help find him if you . . if we made it public. Do you have a recent photograph?'

Just then a reporter from The Evening Despatch, came with another photographer in tow.

'What is this?' said Patrick.

'We want to help you find your kid' said the Despatch reporter.

And so it went.

The Sunday Mercury, The Birmingham Post and other outer Birmingham press arrived that day.

And so it goes.

Tommy Bull was remanded in custody and soon the whole shooting match was in the newspapers.

People organised themselves and ascended The Lickey Hills to look for Finbar. It wasn't organised and the police, eventually disbanded the search and sent everybody home. They left a few officers at the scene and appealed for people who knew the geography of The Lickey Hills to come forward; the Lickies.

Carmel and Patrick were beside themselves with worry, and Partick couldn't help think about what Finbar had said about Tommy when he was a child.

Patrick found what number Tommy lived at in Sherborne Road and went there to see the parents. When he got there he found a policeman outside and was sent packing.

At his wits end Patrick told Carmel he was going to The Lickey Hills. He wanted to try and trace Finbar's steps from where the bag was found and the harmonica; which was dented near the button; Carmel said she wanted to go too. They knew people were up there searching for the boy but to no avail, so maybe they should go themselves.

When they were nearly ready to go there was a knock at their door; a young girl waiting in the garden; Sofia Taboné.

'Hello' said Patrick.

'Hello' said Sofia 'I'm Sofia Taboné, I know Finbar and I read that he was missing.'

'Yes' said Carmel 'we were thinking of going to the Lickies to try and trace his steps – would you like to come in?'

Sofia started to move.

'Or sit out there?' said Patrick pointing at a green Lloyd Loom chair near the bay window.

'I'll get you some tea; do you like tea?' he said.

'Yes' said Sofia 'yes please.'

She joined Carmel who sat on another chair. Patrick went inside and put the kettle on.

'I know who you are.' said Carmel 'Finbar mentioned you.'

'Did he?' said Sofia, quite surprisingly 'I haven't seen him for years – I didn't even know where he lived till now.'

'Did you see it in the paper?'

'Yes.' said Sofia 'I saw the photo.'

'That was his school photo – the police asked us for it.'

'I saw him on his bike - loads of times. I saw him, but he never stopped. He would look over and I'd wave – but he never stopped.'

'He's a shy boy, in some respects – but not in others.'

It was a cool August morning as a train rattled by on its way to Moor Street Station. Sofia looked up at it 'we're used to the train too' she said.

'Where do you live?'

'Brighton Road – by the bridge. The same trains pass both of us every day. I pass here too on my way to school.'

Patrick came out carrying a tray with, three cups and saucers, milk and sugar and a tea strainer. He put it down on a little table and went back inside to wait for the kettle to boil.

'We don't have the fire lit' she said 'so he has to wait for the gas.'

'Would you like some biscuits' said Carmel.

'No thanks' said Sofia.

Carmel went into the house.

Sofia waited, looking around. She knew she hardly knew Finbar apart from waving at him and didn't quite figure out why she came. Carmel came back out with some biscuits.

'I used to see Finbar at the Saturday Matinee for kids, and various other places over the years.'

Sofia was a beautiful sixteen year old Sicilian girl with a British accent. There were slight traces of her Sicilian accent mixed in with a bit of Brummie and she had a slight tendency to pronounce the tee letter as a 'd' – she went on 'I didn't know he was in the scouts.'

Patrick came out with the pot of tea.

Chapter 31

Henry.