Penny Joelson - Things the Eye Can't See

‘This is the house. I’m ringing the bell,’ Kyle tells me.

‘Sit, Samson,’ I tell him and he obeys. We wait. I wonder who will answer the door. What if it’s Charlie? What will he say when he sees me? But nothing happens. I’m starting to think no one is there at all when I hear the door click open.

‘You collecting for Guide Dogs for the Blind?’ a woman’s voice asks. She’s shorter than me and her voice is soft, kind. ‘I’m sure I have a few spare coins somewhere. Hold on . . .’

‘We’re not collecting for charity,’ I say. ‘We’re looking for Charlie.’

‘ Charlie? ’ Her surprise is clear as her voice goes high. ‘Well you won’t find him here.’

‘We heard he was staying with you,’ Kyle says.

‘He was.’

‘But not any more?’ I ask.

‘No.’ She sighs. ‘You friends of his? He’s never mentioned a blind friend . . . Don’t get me wrong – I love that boy to bits – but there was only so much his poor old nan could put up with.’

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘You must know what he’s like. I never knew whether he was coming or going. He was out all hours of the night. He worried me silly. Rude too, he was. No respect. I told him he had to change his ways. But he didn’t. In the end I told him to go home, sort things out with his parents. It was only ever meant to be a short-term thing, staying with me. And would you believe he raided my purse before he left!’

‘But he hasn’t gone home,’ I tell her. ‘Tia told us he was here.’

‘Not at home? Well, he hasn’t been here for a month or more,’ she says. ‘My son Vince – Charlie’s dad – he and I aren’t really on speaking terms. I never heard from him. I just assumed . . .’

‘Can you think of anywhere else Charlie could’ve gone?’ I ask.

‘Who knows?’ she says. ‘I despair of that boy. I tried my best, I really did. Let me think . . . There’s no one else in the family who’d have taken him. I don’t know who he was mixing with, apart from the one mate I sometimes overheard him talking to on the phone. Hassan – that was his name. I think he met him at that unit he was at for a time. I can’t think where he’d have gone.’

Charlie’s nan has been nattering on and yet we’re no closer to finding him. At least Hassan is a lead. ‘Do you know where Hassan lives?’ I ask.

‘Not a clue,’ she says.

‘Thanks for talking to us,’ I tell her.

‘No problem – and I’m sorry I thought you were collecting. I do always give to Guide Dogs for the Blind, you know. He’s a lovely one you’ve got there.’

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