Waterlow Park

This is the final instalment of Waterlow Park. I stopped working on it after this. Hope you enjoyed what there is of it.
Chapter 21

At exactly 8:07 mum comes walk up the garden path to find me shivering outside the house. For a moment she looks puzzled and says nothing. Then she frowns and says: ‘Stephen… What are you doing outside, it’s raining?”

I try to reply but I’m too wet and cold to speak. I sort of mumble something and try to cough out the words. Mum moves over to me and scoops me up in her arms.

“What’s happened Stephen?’ she gently asks.

‘I got locked out!” I splutter, not able to stop the tears. ‘I left my bloody key in my room!’

Mum hugs me close to her chest so that I can smell her perfume and feel her body heat. She does this for several moments and then she suddenly draws away from me as if struck by a thought. ‘But why didn’t Sofia let you in?’ she says. “Have you two been arguing again?’

Some more words leave my mouth but even I cannot make any sense of them. I panic and shake my head back and forth. Mum takes hold of both of my arms and pulls them down by my side. “Look at me Stephen,’ she orders. “Try to stay as calm as possible and slowly tell me what has happened.”

“Sofia’s not here,’ I splutter.

Mum frowns again and then something like a smile seems to creep on to her face. ‘What do you mean she’s not there? Where is she Stephen? Is she hiding?”

‘She’s not here,’ I say again. ‘She’s gone.’

Mum pulls away from me and opens the front door as if she doesn’t believe what I’m saying. ‘Come inside,’ she says, roughly grabbing hold of my hand and heaving me inside the house. The she shuts the front door and begins calling Sofia’s name.

“She’s not here,’ I say. ‘She’s on the Bayswater Road.’

Mum abruptly stops yelling and turns around to stare at me. ‘What did you say?’ she asks. ‘Look Stephen, I’ve just got home from a hard day at work and I can do without this silly nonsense. Now where is Sofia hiding?’

‘She’s on the Bayswater Road,’ I repeat.

‘Stephen!’ she snaps, snarling like an angry dog at me.

And then I sort of slump to the floor and more shouting than talking I tell her all about what has happened since I got home. I tell her about Sofia not being here, about me calling and calling her and only getting voicemail; about me using Find my Phone to trace her whereabouts. And about Bayswater Road.

Mum starts to look worried as she takes this in. ‘Show me,’ she says, her voice raising in pitch.

’What?’

“Show me Find My Phone.’

She follows me upstairs as I try to tell her that it won’t work now. That Sofia’s phone has disappeared. That the red dot is gone. But mum won’t listen until I’ve shown her, and even then she seems either completely unimpressed or unable to understand what I’m showing her. Now she gets angry. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ she says.

‘You told me I’m not allowed to call you at work,’ I say, looking down at my feet.

Suddenly there is a noise downstairs. The sound of someone putting a key into the door lock. For a moment I feel a deep wave of relief wash over me. Everything going to be all right. Sofia’s home. She late and she’s really gong to catch it from dad but at least she home.

But it isn’t Sofia. It’s dad. He doesn’t say anything but mum ands me both know straight away that it’s him. ‘Tony!’ mum cries.

Waterlow Park Chapter 08

  
The new book I’m working on is starting to take shape. It’s provisionally entitled: ‘Dangerous’ and is an exercise in self counselling. I’m using writing to try and get some understanding of the feelings I’ve been experiencing due to the death of my father.  In order to do so I’m meeting up with people I haven’t seen for a quarter of a century when I was a sportswriter. Last Friday I saw the boxing manager/advisor Ambrose Mendy. The last time I met him was in 96 when I visited him in Woking Prison. He really is a fascinating character. And if I say so myself, the book is getting interesting.

In the meantime, here’s chapter 08 of my dead and buried kids book ‘ Waterlow Park’. Please read and send me heaps of money if you don’t like it.
Chapter 08

“So you see Mr. Dawkins, we really do recommend that you consider sending Stephen to one of our counsellors. It comes as a shock at any age to see a dead body. Let alone if you’re eleven years old.”
Dad nods his approval and I feel mum squeeze my shoulder. Then dad makes a stupid joke. I think he’s been drinking.

“So, just to confirm,” he says, too cheerfully. “You don’t think that Stephen did it?”

There is a long, long silence and the two police officers turn and look at each other. One of them shakes his head, the other one frowns. Mum squeezes my shoulders harder until it’s almost hurting.

“No we don’t think he did, sir,’ the woman police officer eventually replies with a dead straight face.
***
I didn’t know what to do other than call 999 on my mobile. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever done this and I was amazed that it took only eight minutes 12 seconds for the police to come sprinting up Waterlow Park. First on the scene was a young looking policeman called PC Foster. Straight away he told Smitty and me to move away from the dead body. Then he knelt over the thing on the ground and took hold of its wrist. Smitty told me later that he must have been checking for a pulse. He said he’d seen people do that on TV. Soon another four policeman arrived, including a lady policeman called PC George. She started asking us questions in a very soothing voice that you could tell was put on. What are your names? How old are you? Where do you live? Who first noticed the body? What time was it when you first noticed the body? Was there anybody else in the park when you found the body? Did you touch the body? Did you take anything away from the body? Loads of questions. So many questions.

While we were busy answering PC George’s questions I kept a sneaky eye on what the other policemen where doing. I managed to catch what a couple of them were saying and the words ‘suspicious’ and ‘murder’ kept getting repeated in hushed tones. One of them had a camera and was taking photographs or maybe it was a video. Another one put his ear to the the body’s heart and touched the face. I guessed that they were checking for signs of life. There was really no need to do that – the man was definitely dead. Anybody could see that. 

Then even more people arrived. These were not dressed in police uniforms but you could see that they were probably police. Some where dressed in white uniforms and wore face masks. One of them took some more photos of the body and another one covered the body up with a plastic sheet. Another man stuck a ring of red tape around the body that had the words ‘CRIME SCENE DO NOT DISTURB’ written on it over and over. When I looked behind me at the gates to Waterloo Park I could see that they was also being taped up with the same red tape. “It’s to keep people out of the park,” whispered Smitty.

There was a lot of talking going on and the crackle of police radios. “Why do they use radios?” I asked PC George. “Mobile phones are so much better.” PC George didn’t answer. She just smiled at me.

Finally, we were both asked where our parents worked. I couldn’t them where dad worked but I said that mum was a nurse at the Royal Free. They must have called her because within half an hour she was being led towards us by another policeman. She seemed shocked and gave me a big hug, not even bothering to look at Smitty. A little while later Smitty’s dad turned up and took hold of his hand. He was fat like Smitty, too. Like a bigger version of him. He didn’t bother to look at me.

Next, the police asked mum some questions and she got on the phone to dad. Then Smitty and I were put in separate police cars and driven home. It was the first time that I’d ever been in a police car. I sat in the back seat next to mum. PC Foster and PC George were in the front seat. I pretended to myself that I was a villain wearing handcuffs. The drive home was very quick. When we got out of the car I noticed that a lot of the neighbours were staring out of their windows at us. Some where shaking theirs heads, as if I had done something wrong. I waved to them and they just looked away.
***
After dad made that stupid joke PC Foster and George kind of stopped talking to him and just talked to mum instead. I think they must have guessed that he had been drinking. “So are you all right then young Steven?” says PC Young, holding a notepad in her hands and scribbling something down.

“I’m fine thank-you,” I lie, because I’m far from fine. Actually, I’m really, really scared. So scared that I can’t stop shaking. Lots of thoughts are going around my head. If that was the man we saw in the park the other day then who killed him? Was he killed because of the money? Does whoever killed him know that I took the money? Should I just have done with it and come clean about the money? Will I get into trouble? Will I go to prison for taking the money? 

I decide to try and act like I’m not scared. “Why do you use a notepad?” I ask. “Why not use an iPad or something?”

PC George smiles and hesitates before responding: “It’s just tradition,” she says. “Silly old old tradition…”