The Disappeared Son

Lily raised her boy alone. Her husband, a notorious lout, vanished the moment their son was born, and she filed for divorce straight away. The only one who stepped in, both with a helping hand and a few shillings, was his father, George. Without George Lily could not picture how she would have survived.

After the split the household was skint; the exhusband never paid maintenance. Lily had to find work, and when she finally secured a job George sighed and said,
Right then, youre off to work. Ill look after Tom with you.

So Tom spent every spare moment with his granddad. Lily felt a pinch of jealousyTom clung to George like a kite to its stringwhile she was at the factory from dawn to dusk, hardly any time left for her child.

One crisp morning Lily was buckling her boots for the shift when Tom sprang up, unusually brighteyed, and announced, Were off to the woods with granddad today, isnt that grand?

Lily turned to George and asked, Dad, where are you off to this time?

Yorkshire Forest, he replied, they say the chanterelles are out in force.

George had been a mushroompicker and an avid flyfisher since his youth, and hed always tried to pass those skills on to his grandson. Lily, seeing no harm, said, Just dont be out too late, alright?

George winked, When were back with a couple of buckets, well be home, wont we, Tom?

They caught the early bus to the edge of the town and then tramped on foot. The forest began just beyond the village gates, a short walk even for a sevenyearold. As they neared the treeline a car pulled up beside them.

Oi, George, off hunting again? called the driver, his voice familiar.

It was Albert, an old acquaintance of Georges, behind the wheel.

Yeah, heard the chanterelles are plentiful, George answered.

Those mushrooms are scarce here now. Head over to the Cotswold Wood, thats where the good ones are. Im heading that way, hop in if you like.

Help us out if you can, George said.

Albert dropped them off at the edge of Cotswold Wood and they agreed to try hitching a ride back, or, failing that, to ring Albert and have him collect them.

Tom chatted away, delighted to be out with his granddad. George answered every one of the boys endless questions without a hint of fatigue; to Tom, his granddad was a walking encyclopedia, a hero who seemed to know everything.

The forest was indeed teeming with fungi. Lost in their search they pushed deeper when, without warning, George flailed his arms and collapsed.

Tom didnt scream. He rushed to his granddad, Granddad, did you trip?

George lay motionless, not answering. Panic rose in Toms chest. He strained, turned his grandfather onto his back, and shook him as hard as he could. Granddad, get up! Come on, you have to! he shouted, his voice cracking.

That evening Lily came home to an empty house. She dialed Georges number, but the signal was dead. Did they not get out of the woods? she thought, anxiety tightening its grip.

An hour later her worry turned to terror; two hours later she was at the police station, breathless, pleading, My son and his granddad are missing in the woods! The officer on duty, moved by her desperation, immediately summoned volunteers.

Within two hours a search partyLily, a handful of constables, and a group of volunteerswas combing the very same Yorkshire Forest.

Toms cries echoed through the trees as he stared at his unmoving granddad. He forced himself to stay calm, muttering, Come on, Granddad, what would you have taught me? Keep a cool head. He slapped his cheek, as if to wake himself, and steadied his breathing.

He whispered to himself, Check if hes breathing. The thought terrified him more than anythingwhat if he wasnt?

Summoning his courage, Tom pressed his forehead to Georges chest. The rise and fall were faint but unmistakable. Hes breathing! he gasped, relief flooding him. Just sit and wait for him to come round.

He tried to call his mother, but there was no signal. So he stayed, the cold seeping in as evening fell.

Remembering Georges lessons on forest survival, Tom gathered dry twigs, struck a lighter from his pocket, and coaxed a small fire into life. It flickered at first, then steadied. Now for more woodenough to keep us warm all night, he muttered, breaking off branches from nearby pines and piling them around the dying flames.

You wont freeze, Granddad, he whispered, feeding the fire again and again, wrapping his small arms around the barkcovered blanket theyd brought. The night noises made his throat hitch, but he kept the fire alive, recalling, A fire must never go out.

At dawn he offered George a sip from his thermos, tilting it so the water pooled in the older mans mouth. We need water, he thought, eyes scanning the undergrowth.

A clear spring bubbled not far off. Tom spotted a bush laden with bright red berries. Wolfberriesdont eat them, he recalled Georges warning. But theyll mark the way back. He filled his flask with the berries, leaving a trail of crimson beads as he trudged toward the water.

Searches continued into the third day. Volunteers rotated in, fresh faces arriving from London and Manchester, all driven by the news. Lily, eyes under dark circles, paced among them, begging them not to give up. She avoided the forest herself, yet the thought of Tom and George kept her moving.

On the fourth day a volunteer, gathering his courage, approached Lily. Statistically, after three days the odds of finding someone alive drop sharply. Weve swept the forest; beyond it lies a mire. Maybe we should check there.

No! Lily shrieked. Granddad knew those woods like the back of his hand. Theyre alive, I know it. Keep looking!

On the fifth day Lily emerged from the trees, her gait unsteady. A car screeched to a halt, and a man stepped outAlbert, the same driver who had dropped them off.

Lily, what on earth is happening here? he asked, eyes darting over the volunteers and the tangled forest gear.

The mention of the missing pair made his face blanch. Five days ago I ferried them to Cotswold Wood.

Everyone, come here! Lily cried, pointing frantically.

Hours later a young university student, part of the volunteer team, followed a faint wisp of smoke. He came upon a dying ember and, beneath it, two motionless figures swathed in a thick blanket.

He called softly, Tom?

A shiver ran through the volunteer as the boy stirred, his voice hoarse. Youve been looking for us. Granddad kept coming to himself, I gave him water and a crust of bread. Hes alive, just unconscious.

The sootcovered child clung to his mother, both eyes wide with relief as paramedics lifted George onto a stretcher.

Granddad, stay with me, Tom whispered, his tears spilling over. I still have so much to learn from you.