Time Rocks

Chapter Four

  No news of Jack. Local TV reported that the excavation site was being closed because too many people were trying to see the spot he had disappeared from. This was all because some crazy druid character had claimed that Jack was beamed up by aliens. They interviewed this loony on TV – a scruffy bloke in long robes and weeds in his hair. According to him Jack is the seventh person to disappear at Stonehenge in the last four years. Staring into the camera lens with druggy glazed eyes he said the Government knew all about the aliens, but was hiding the truth.

  Why is there always some nutter ready to exploit people’s trouble? Just imagine what Jack’s mother must feel with the press camped on her doorstep and stupid stories about her son and aliens all over the front pages.

  I rang the police. I ring them every day. I promised little Ryan I would find his big brother, and I will - for him, and for me too. I miss Jack. Maybe I like him more than I thought.

  It’s always the same when I ring the police. They get all cagey and nervous. ‘Our enquiries are progressing, miss.’ It’s like a tape. And when I ask them what they’ve found out so far they say, ‘I’m afraid we can’t discuss individual case details with the public, but we are doing our utmost.’

  Utmost! Huh, they’re always doing their utmost. They have: GPS, CCTV, the latest IT, helicopters, fancy cars and super-bikes, yet they can’t find a trace of him. My dad says all they’re interested in is speed cameras. He says they make loads of money out of them. Now they’re talking about closing down some local police stations. They say people don’t go to them like they used to do. My dad says it’s because they’ve lost touch with the public. He says you never see them unless they’re whizzing past on super-bikes or helicopters. Well I see ‘em more than that – I see them following me. Why are they following me? How can that help Jack? They look dead dodgy when I catch ‘em at it, and they run off like criminals. And when I ring the police station the bloke swears they’re not following me. Well who is then? The Mummy!

  The next thing was, I rang Chloe, but she's still not answering. I’d been trying her all day and the day before. She’s my best friend. I need to talk to her. Chloe understands things. She’s, you know, like mature, but not down on you. Another friend, Poppy, she said she hadn’t seen her either. She told me Chloe had missed school. Huh, big deal. That was not a first for Chloe, but now I was getting worried about her. I didn’t know where she was. I’d tried ringing her house and her mobile - nothing. In the end I decided to cycle over to her’s. Maybe a neighbour would know something.

  Chloe’s house is just outside town - not far. It’s a quiet little place, a nice half hour bike ride on country lanes with fields and trees. I always enjoy it, you know, the birds and trees and real old fashioned countryside.

  I pedalled away from my house at break neck speed to escape any followers I might have. After about five minutes I was gasping. I stopped to look back along the road. Nobody was following me. I paused to get my breath back. A bit further on I left the main highway and turned into the side road that would take me to Chloe’s. Soon I was pedalling leisurely beneath a canopy of sunlit elderberry blossom, noisy with birds and buzzing bees. Emerging into the open sunlight I saw a heron fly over. I remember thinking how strange it is that everything goes on just the same when you’re all worried and having kittens. I mean, it was sunny and nice, and I was going crazy, but herons and bees were just going on with it and nobody cared.

  I passed an old man riding an ancient bike. It looked like it should be in a museum. I’d seen him around before. He smiled and sort of nodded as we passed each other. A dark green van blared its horn and passed between us going much too fast for such a narrow lane. Some van drivers are crazy. A middle aged couple were eating lunch outside a pub. They had a dog shading itself under the table. They looked happy, the dog too. They kept sneaking it titbits. I didn’t know them from whoozit - Adam, but they smiled and nodded. Sometimes people do that when they're in the countryside, don’t they? Especially old people. I think it’s cos they're feeling happy. It’s like they want to share it with you.

  That was the trouble, though; everything seemed so normal, but it wasn’t, not by a mile. Jack’s mother was churning up inside, shrinking into a shadow of herself. I was going crazy. Chloe was missing somewhere, and Jack had vanished completely. He might even be dead. The police weren’t busting their braces to find him. I wanted to tell that old couple all about it, but it would have ruined their lunch, and I would not be one bit closer to finding Jack. I just waved and smiled back.

  After the pub the lane winds sharply downhill. You don’t have to pedal. The trees fold over the road and it feels like being in a bright green tunnel of stained glass. That van, the same one, was rushing back up the hill towards me. I braked and pulled into the edge of the lane, but it deliberately swerved at me. It hit my leg and forced me off the road. I crashed through the hedgerow into a wooden fence deep in the undergrowth. The van roared away leaving me sprawling in wild parsley and oxeye daisies.

  It’s weird, I know it is, but I remember lying there smelling the flowers and the grass, and looking at the sky thinking how nice it was. I think I’m losing it. Perhaps I’m turning into my mum.

  Struggling onto my feet, I dusted myself down. Apart from a slight twinge in my leg, and nettle rash on my hands, I was unhurt. My bike was undamaged too, although I had to realign the handlebars.

  I sat down in the grass and dialled Chloe. There was still no reply. I can’t explain it, but I was glad this time. To be honest I felt a bit queasy, or maybe I was scared, or shook up or something, but anyway I didn’t want to go to Chloe’s anymore. I don’t know what I wanted. I think I wanted to go home and look at myself in the mirror and clean up the scratches on my leg. I found some Dock leaves and rubbed them on my nettle rash, then picked up my bike and set off home.

  There was an ambulance outside the pub. I don’t know what had happened. Maybe a customer had had a heart attack or something.