Janina Matthewson - Of Things Gone Astray

After a further twenty-five minutes, Delia heard what she was certain was a lorry. It didn’t sound far away; it was somewhere ahead of her. She picked up the pace, her eyes set forwards, weary and desperate, and the street soon broke out into a small row of shops with, oh joy, a bus stop.

After a few minutes, a bus pulled up and a weary Delia hopped onto it. A whimper rose up within her, but she remembered she was in public for long enough to quell it. She flung herself into a seat and closed her eyes. She had no idea how she’d managed to go so far astray. She leant forward with her head in her hands as the bus trundled her towards home.

ROBERT FOUGHT HIS WAY THROUGH the crowd of commuters to exit the tube station. He climbed the escalators with more of a wince than usual, regretting the morning’s ill-advised run. He should do that more often, he thought. Or never again. As always, he got out a stop early to get a bit of air before being confined at his desk all day. As he walked, his mind was still at home with Mara and Bonny. He knew the day would be long, he knew he’d be tired and moody by the end of it, he wished he could have just called in sick. He hadn’t faked a sick day since he was fifteen though; he’d almost forgotten how to do it. He sighed as he turned onto his street, thinking about what he and Mara could be doing if he didn’t have a responsible job.

He’d gone two blocks too far before he noticed he’d passed his building. He turned back, still smirking, and walked three blocks too far in the other direction. He stopped and tried to concentrate. He walked directly and purposely to the position of his office. He didn’t get there. He paused and looked around. This time he’d made it to roughly the right position on the road, but for some reason he wasn’t at his building. In fact, he couldn’t see his building at all.

Suddenly he chuckled. He was clearly on the wrong street. He retraced his steps back a couple of blocks. He was sure he was on the right track now. He turned down the street he’d turned down every weekday morning and quite a few Saturdays for the last six and a half years. How had he got this wrong? He strode on.

He stopped. He’d gone too far again. No, he hadn’t, he’d not gone far enough.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all.

He was in the right place, he was in the exact spot, but there was no work. His work wasn’t there.

The entire building was gone, vanished as if it had never been there at all.

Robert turned around slowly, twice. There was the travel agent he’d booked his and Mara’s last holiday in. There was the French restaurant that used to be really great but had then changed hands and gone sharply downhill. There was the hotel that seemed a bit rugged but that Robert had once seen a quite famous actor he could never remember the name of leaving. There was the new building that housed three identical nondescript businesses with shiny receptions and ambiguous names. Robert’s building should have been next to the hotel, but it wasn’t.

Robert stood staring at the lack of his work for ten minutes, with no idea what to do. His body was frozen while his mind tried and failed to comprehend the vanishing of the building that should have been right in front of him.

HE SPENT TWO HOURS STARING at his piano before he could think clearly enough to do anything. He would have to call her. He didn’t want to worry her, but he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t deal with it alone. He went to the phone in the kitchen.

The phone rang five times and her voice came on: ‘Hi hi, Katy here, I’m obviously busy. Leave a message if you want.’

He hung up and immediately dialled again. On his fourth attempt it was answered by a gruff-sounding male.

‘’Lo?’

‘Hello. May I speak with Katharine?’

‘Um, yeah, all right. Who’s it?’

‘It’s her father.’

‘Oh, right! Hiya Marcus, it’s Jasper.’

He’d forgotten there was a new boy. ‘Oh. Hello Jasper.’ There was a brief pause.

‘I’ll get Kate, then, yeah?

‘Thank you.’

He waited, listening to his daughter and her lover exchange the phone.

‘Dad? What’s up?’

‘They’re gone. My keys. Gone.’

‘You can’t find your keys? Do you need to go out somewhere? I’m sure it’ll be OK; you’ve a quiet neighbourhood. Ask your neighbour, that lovely woman with all the hair, to keep an eye out.’

‘No, no. Not the house keys. The other keys. My keys. My piano keys.’

There was a pause.

‘Dad? Dad, are you all right?’

‘Of course I’m not all right. I need to play. I need to play my piano and my piano keys are gone.’

There was a long pause on the phone. He stood still and waited for her to talk.

‘Dad,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t, I mean, they can’t be.’

‘How am I supposed to play?’

‘How can they just be missing?’

‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘Just are.’

‘OK.’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’ll be fine, Dad. I’m coming over. We’ll sort this out.’

‘Right.’ He hung up and walked back towards the music room. He stood in the door. Couldn’t bear to go further. Two or three more steps and he’d be able to see it. He didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t see it. Not again. Not alone. He would wait.

‘MUM!’ DELIA CALLED AS SHE staggered in through the front door after a twenty-five-minute bus ride. ‘I’m sorry! Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine, of course, Dee, darling, but where have you been?’ Delia’s mum wheeled herself through from the living room, appearing to be more curious than worried or distressed.

‘Sorry. I suppose I got lost. Are you hungry?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve had a banana, but it’s not quite, you know … It’s not like you to get lost, Dee. I don’t think you ever have before.’

Delia followed her mother into the kitchen and began making them both breakfast.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what happened. It’s a lovely day out there now, though. Maybe we should go for a walk later. We could have a picnic.’

‘Oh. Perhaps. It’s just, well, I’ve gotten to a rather exciting point in the Willow Tree Sampler and I want to keep going.’

‘We could bring that with us, though, Mum.’ Delia tried not to sound as if she was pleading. ‘You could work on it in the park.’

‘Oh no. No, the wind could pick up and wreak havoc with the cotton. It’s far too risky. Let’s have a nice day indoors. You can read or play on your computer and I’ll work on the sampler and we can have cups of tea whenever we want.’

JAKE STOOD ALONE IN THE corridor, frowning at the wall. He had been lying all day. He’d lied to his class. His teacher had asked him if it was a special day for him, using that extra-chirpy voice she had sometimes, as if she was winking with her entire head, and he’d lied and said no. He’d said there must be a mistake on the register.

He didn’t know why he’d lied. It was a special day for him. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to be sung to, but he’d lied and said no, and no one had sung.

There was a clip clopping of shoes behind him and Jake turned around.

‘Mr Baxter, school finished fifteen minutes ago. I’m sure someone’s waiting outside to collect you.’

She wasn’t Jake’s teacher so he didn’t know her name. He thought she maybe taught in the room next to his or the one next to that. She was looking at him the way adults always did: as though unsure of how to talk to him, as though they didn’t know if he could hear their words, and they wanted to make extra sure he understood what they were saying. They looked in his eyes a lot, all the adults.