At the weekend, after a week of the children being back at school, we took Barney for an outing to the park. Laura stayed at home because, as she put it, she didn't want to interfere with my "fatherly bonding time". Personally, I think she just wanted a break.
The time was 10:00am.
"Can I take him, Daddy?" Emma asked, tugging at Barney's lead in an excited manner. She adored the dog, so I gave in with no protest, watching them race off into the distance.
Laura and I had bought Barney to be the "Family dog", yet he had shown an immediate preference for the children and made his unreasonable dislike for myself quite clear from the offset. Over time, his distrust for me had faded, but he always seemed to dislike strangers. However, he had been fine with Emma. In fact, everyone who had met Emma so far seemed to like her – that was one of the few characteristics Amanda had described to us when she first informed us of this seven-year-old girl who seemed "perfect for your family". And, of course, Emma had fit in just right.
Luke's eyes lit up when he noticed an ice-cream van parking at the side of the footpath, so I bought him a cornetto, saving some money for when Emma came back. Whilst in the queue, I bumped into Hazel, my old work colleague at the primary school I had recently taken a break from teaching at, to become the full-time parent Emma needed.
"Simon!" she cried, pulling me into a tight hug. I patted her awkwardly on the back, remembering too late how forward Hazel was. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" She paused to take a look at Luke, who was gripping onto my hand, licking his ice-cream. "This must be your little boy! How old is he now?"
I nudged him to answer. "Seven," he mumbled shyly.
"I can't believe how much he looks like you!" Hazel exclaimed, looking from myself to my son to compare us and clapping her hands like an overexcited toddler. "He's a spitting image of his father, aren't you?" She gave no time for a reply, before launching into another question. "So, Simon, are you having a good time off work?"
"Yeah, it's been very relaxing." Something talking with Hazel certainly wasn't. "We've done so much." I launched into a brief description of my holiday before she could interrupt again, telling her about our experiences with Emma from the day she arrived. Luke, bored at our "adult conversation" began to hop around the pavement, nearly dropping his cornetto in the process.
The time was 10:30am.
"So, where is this little lady?" Hazel eventually asked when I had run out of things to say. I could clearly tell she was not going to leave until she had met Emma, as Hazel was the kind of woman who was given what she asked for immediately and without question (and I knew this better than anyone, having worked with her for too long), so I scanned the park to try find Emma's bright pink t-shirt among the greenery.
We waited around on a bench for a little while for her to come back, as I couldn't see her anywhere in our part of the park. Unfortunately, this gave Hazel the chance to inform me of everything that I had missed in... a week. Surprisingly, it was a long list. Eventually, noting that Emma had been gone quite a while (and the conversation was dragging), I told Hazel to look after Luke (the poor boy) and set out to find her.
The time was 11:00am.
It was only at a later date when I realized Emma had been gone for an hour. Alarm bells should have been ringing by this point.
I travelled around the park – it wasn't small, but there certainly weren't many places where she could have been hiding. At the swings there were a few small children, but no sign of Emma. Among the trees, where she loved to skip and run around with Luke, there was no sign of Emma. And in every single place I checked: the rickety bridge, by the lake and through the flower gardens, there was no sign of Emma. She had disappeared.
"Have you seen a little girl with a Labrador anywhere?" I asked anybody who I went past, my heart pounding and my stomach churning with panic. "She has blonde hair – with a fringe," I began adding each time. "She's only seven – she's only small," I garbled. "Please, I need to know anything! Did you see her earlier?" Eventually, an elderly man pointed me in the right direction with his walking stick. I nearly tripped over, running to the edge of the park nearest the road as quickly as my legs would carry me, fearing the worst when I saw the massive build-up of traffic through the trees.
"Emma!" I shouted, my knees buckling as I came to a standstill. I was just beginning to drag myself across the grass, clutching the painful stitch in my side, when she emerged, running with great speed, through the trees towards me, crying out "Daddy!" It took me a few minutes to realize that her face was wet with tears.
When I had eventually calmed her down enough to speak, she began to shuffle from foot to foot in her panicked state, letting out small sobs of distress as I held her to my chest.
"I-I... I was o-out w-with him and... It happened s-so quickly," she gabbled.
"Barney! Where's Barney?" I asked, as I suddenly realised he had not followed her out.
This brought on a fresh flood of tears and another tight hug, although this time I decided to take control. I grabbed Emma by the shoulders, firmly but gently, and demanded "What happened and where is Barney?" to which I received no reply aside from hiccupping sobs.
"I lost him!" she eventually blurted out, tears dripping from her face as if she had just been immersed in water.
"Right," I took in a deep breath. "What I'm going to do is take you to where Luke is sitting with a nice lady, called Hazel, and she will look after you. I am going to find Barney. Okay?"
She nodded, letting out another hiccup.
"Which way did he go?"
"Th-that way," she pointed across the road with a shaky, wet hand. I then tugged her across the park, leaving another of my two children in the capable hands of Hazel.
The time was 11:30am.
My search was unsuccessful. Across the road and along the streets this time, I asked anybody and everybody if they had seen a dog. They hadn't.
I just didn't understand how Emma could have lost him. Barney was the most obedient dog I had ever met and he wasn't spooked easily by anything. However, this was the least of my worries, as I was getting nowhere and time was ticking. I contacted Laura, so she wouldn't worry about us being back late, and she decided to start making the "lost pet" posters immediately. It made everything seem more real, as if I wasn't going to find our dog. But I was. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't leave until he was safely back with us. I was going to find Barney and nothing could stop me.
The time was 12:00am.
My stomach was growling in protest. The children had been left for half an hour with Hazel, so I had to go back to the bench to collect them.
We searched for another half hour – Hazel took Luke and I took Emma. Again, there was no success, not even a single mention of a dog apart from a spaniel and a grey hound. With owners.
It was hard to give up, but when I saw how long we had been at the park for and how long Barney had probably been gone for, I had to face up to the fact that we were not going to find him. Not that day, but hopefully tomorrow. It was a close area that we lived in. Nearly everybody knew each other and the community was tight. Together we would find Barney.
At 1:00pm, I gave in. We were all hungry, so we called at a café on the way home. It was the saddest meal of my life, with two weeping children sitting on either side of me and a terrible feeling of fear and misery building up inside me. Hazel joined us – for once she was completely silent and I missed her chatter. The situation felt comparable to when my father had died.
Laura was out putting up posters when we arrived home. I contacted every local pet shelter in the area and used the number I had been given "in case of emergency" when we had taken Barney to be microchipped.
By the end of the day, everybody was upset and exhausted. With every phone call, the whole family sat around the phone, desperately hoping for any news. When it reached night time, we had to resign ourselves to the fact that we would try again tomorrow. Still, I left my mobile phone on the bedside cabinet just in case. It never rang.
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