The Value of Life

  Chapter 2: The Martins

  Janet Martin usually got home about six, but today she'd had a particularly fussy customer who though her highlights were not light enough, and had forced Janet to redo them. By the time she got home, tired and wet, it was six thirty five. She opened the front door and stepped into the hall.

  "Daniel?" she called as she shook off her coat and hung it on the crowded hooks on the wall. She called again and listened, no TV, no music. Maybe he was sleeping. She wandered into the kitchen, shook the kettle and flicked it on, then went into the living room.

  She spent the next ten minutes padding around between the kitchen, the bathroom and living room, calling twice more and checking his bedroom before murmuring something about not playing out and killing him. At five past seven Michael Martin came in through the front door carrying a soaked and dripping school bag in one extended hand.

  "Daniel," he called angrily, "you left ya' schoolbag by the gate an' its bloody soaked."

  Janet hurried from the living room,

  "What?" she said.

  "I found 'is schoolbag by the gate," he said, "Look, it's ruined,"

  He opened it and pulled out a soaking book. "We can't afford another one." He dropped the soaking bag by the door.

  "What?" he said as his wife covered her mouth with her hands.

  "He's not in, I thought he was out playing with his mates," she looked again at the bag on the floor, "I'll call Justin's Mum," she said and headed for the phone.

  "I'm getting sommin' to eat, I'm starved. I'm sure he'll turn up when he's hungry." Mr Martin said and strode to the kitchen, "You wanna tea?" he called over his shoulder.

  After several phone calls Janet entered the kitchen where her husband was sat at the cramped table with a loaf of bread, the margarine and an open packet of ham, his cup of tea half way to his mouth as he looked up.

  "Nobody's seen him and Justin says he left Dan up at the Rec like always. Something's happened to 'im Michael I know it," she said. Michael lowered his cup an inch.

  "Nah, he's got some new mate you don't know about and he don't want you to know about 'cause he's a skally and they're off somewhere right now lightin' fires or somethin' stupid," he said dismissively.

  "I'm serious Michael, he left his bag, it's raining," she looked shaken.

  "It's nothing Jan, he's just up to no good, we'll get a call he's been shopliftin' or summin. Kids don't feel the rain, if he ain't back by nine I go lookin'. He'll be hanging on some street corner somewhere." He lifted the cup, took a gulp, set it down and went about making his sandwich. Janet looked at him for several seconds before her shoulders tightened.

  "Fine, you just sit there and eat your stupid sandwich and I'll go look for him," she shouted. Michael threw the half made sandwich on the table.

  "For God's sake woman he's eleven not five, and it's not even half seven! Give it till eight and if he 'aint in I'll go look myself, that do ya?" he yelled back.

  Janet stared at him a moment longer before she strode from the room. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, he had barely tasted it before he spat the lump out onto the plate,

  "Ham's fuckin' off," he said angrily and strode out of the kitchen towards the door.

  "You win," he yelled. "I'll go look for him an' I'll get sommin' to eat while I'm out." He waited in silence in the hallway a few seconds before yelling, "You're welcome," into the silence and reached for his coat.

  By half past nine the search had covered the entire local area and Mr. Martin himself was starting to worry. They called the police at nine and reported Daniel missing but no one was taking things very seriously at the moment, or at least it seemed. Mr. Martin was still out looking and Janet was home pacing the floor when the call came, she snatched up the phone,

  "Michael, have you found him?" she asked urgently. The answer was slow in coming.

  "No, and he won't. I just rang to tell you that I have Daniel and he is safe ... For now. You will be contacted."

  The line went dead. Mrs. Martin dropped the phone and fell to her knees and cried. It was a full ten minutes before she was able to phone her husband or the police.