Burnt Paper Sky Read Online Free Page A

tree so that he could hear me. ‘I wonder where Ben is. I thought he was meeting me here, but I can’t see him anywhere, or that dog of his. It’s a mystery.’
    I stopped to listen, to see if he would give himself away, but there was no sound.
    ‘I wonder if Ben has gone home without me,’ I continued, dipping a booted toe into the brook. The motion of the swing had ceased now and it hung limply. ‘Maybe,’ I said, drawing the word out, ‘Ben has started a new life in the woods without me, and I’ll just have to go home and eat honey on toast by myself and watch
Dr Who
on my own.’
    Again, no response, and the flutter of fear returned. This kind of talk was usually enough to make him emerge, triumphant at having tricked me for so long. I told myself to be calm, that he was upping the stakes, making me work hard. I said, ‘Well, I guess that if Ben is going to live on his own in the woods then I’ll just have to give away his things so that another boy can have them.’
    I sat down on a moss-covered tree stump to wait for his response, trying to play it cool. Then I delivered my trump card: ‘I just wonder who would like to have Baggy Bear…⁠’ Baggy Bear was Ben’s favourite toy, a teddy that his grandparents had given him when he was a baby.
    I looked around, expecting him to emerge, half laughing, half cross, but there was absolute silence, as if the woodland was holding its breath. In the quiet, my eyes followed the lines of the surrounding tree trunks upwards until I glimpsed the sky above, and I could feel darkness starting to push in as surely as fire creeps across a piece of paper, curling its edges, turning it to ash.
    In that moment, I knew that Ben wasn’t there.
    I ran to the tree. I circled it, once, twice, again, feeling its bark scrape my fingers as I went round. ‘Ben!’ I called. ‘Ben! Ben! Ben!’ No response. I kept calling, on and on, and when I stopped to listen, straining to hear, there was still nothing. A sickening feeling in my gut pinched harder as each second passed.
    Then a noise: a wonderful, glorious crashing sound, the sound of someone rushing through undergrowth. It was coming from the glade of saplings. I ran towards it, picking my way through the young trees as quickly as I could, dodging low, whippy branches, feeling one of them slice into my forehead.
    ‘Ben,’ I shouted, ‘I’m here.’ No response, but the noise got closer. ‘I’m coming, love,’ I called. Relief surged through me. As I ran, I scanned the dense growth ahead of me to try to catch a glimpse of him. It was hard to tell exactly where the noise was coming from. Sounds were ricocheting around amongst the trees, confusing me. It shocked me when something burst out of the undergrowth beside me.
    It was a dog, and it was big and happy to see me. It bounced at my feet, eager to be petted, its mouth wide and dark red, startlingly so, its big fleshy tongue lolling. A few yards behind it a woman emerged from the trees.
    ‘I’m so sorry, dear,’ she said. ‘He won’t hurt you, he’s very friendly.’
    ‘Oh God,’ I said. I cupped my hands around my mouth. ‘Ben!’ I shouted and this time I yelled so loudly that it felt as if the cold air was scorching my throat when I drew breath.
    ‘Have you lost your dog? He’s not that way or I’d have come across him. Oh! Did you know your forehead is bleeding? Are you all right? Hold on a minute.’
    She fumbled in her coat pocket and offered me a tissue. She was elderly and wore a waxed hat with a wide brim that was pulled low on her head. Her face was creased with concern and she was short of breath. I ignored the tissue and instead I grasped her, my fingers sinking into her padded jacket until I felt the resistance of her arm beneath. She flinched.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s my son. I’ve lost my son.’
    As I spoke, I felt a bead of blood trickle down my forehead.
    And so it began.
     
    We hunted for Ben, the lady and I. We scoured the area around