Page 2 of They Found Us
“Have you seen a dark-haired three-year-old boy?” I ask the unfamiliar faces of each shopper I pass.
“No, sorry,” they all reply.
Continuing to shout his name over the noise of the shop that now seems ten times louder, my heart slams against my ribs.
“He’s here somewhere,” I tell myself. “He will be near the toys.”
“Mark Smith. Your parents are looking for you. Please shout, ‘I’m here’ as loud as you can. Mark Smith, please shout, ‘I’m here’ as loud as you can.”
I stop, keeping as still as I can to listen for my son. But all I can hear are those stupid nursery rhymes and people talking.
When I get to the toys, I know he’s here. Call it a mothers’ intuition, but I feel calmer. “Mark, where are you? We need toget going now, and you haven’t chosen what toy you would like yet.”
Immediately the pile of soft toys beside me falls, and out jumps Mark.
“Boo!” He laughs. “Did I scare you, Mummy? Did I scare you?”
My knees buckle in relief. I hold on to the shelf at the side of me for a second to stop me from falling. “Oh yes, you definitely scared me, baby.” I scoop him up and swallow back tears.
Leo appears and looks instantly relieved when his eyes land on Mark. “You two get in the car. I’ll pay for the shopping.”
When we get home, I still can’t shift the uneasy feeling in my stomach. It’s like a sense of dread, but I don’t know what for. We found Mark, and he is perfectly fine. I put all the shopping away in the nursery. Everything has its place and is organised and tidy. Not that it will stay like this for long once the baby is here. Once that was done, Leo insisted I sit with my feet up. At first I refused, but I must have been tired, as Leo and Mark have just woken me up by bursting in through the back door, carrying a ball.
“Mummy, have you had a good nap?” Mark climbs on me, being careful not to stand on my bump.
“I did, thank you. And where have you two been?”
“To the beach to play football.”
“I’ll make dinner tonight. Spaghetti bolognese?” Leo wiggles his eyebrows at me, making me laugh.
He knows I can’t resist him when he cooks Italian food. There’s just something about an Italian man, especially a very attractive Italian man serving you delicious Italian food. Mymouth waters already. Spag bol, as I used to call it and am banned from calling it now, used to be such a boring dish to me. But I had never tasted a real bolognese made by an Italian. The recipe Leo follows is one he got from Sergio and Alga, our chef and housekeeper from Italy. They said the recipe had been in their family for years. I often think about Alga and Sergio. They were more like family to us. I miss them.
Mark sits and colours at the table beside me while I watch Leo begin to work his magic in the kitchen. He puts on his apron and rolls up his sleeves, showing off his olive-toned forearms. As he chops and dices the ingredients, the kitchen is soon filled with the scent of sizzling onions, garlic, and herbs. He puts the beef into the pan next, then the tomatoes. As he stirs, he coaxes out more delicious flavours. Then he opens a bottle of red wine, pours himself a glass, and the rest goes into the pan. Turning down the heat, he says “Low and slow. That’s what Sergio always said.”
Once it’s ready, we sit around the table. Leo sprinkles our bowls with freshly grated parmesan, and steam curls up from our forks when we dig in. The first mouthful is always the best, warm, rich, and familiar. The kitchen is silent while each of us enjoys our food. But the silence is soon disturbed by a ringing noise that will change our lives forever.
Chapter Two
Katie
Leo and I both stop mid-mouthful and look at each other. It takes a moment for me to register where the noise is coming from. Leo stands quickly, his chair making a high-pitched screech on the floor with the force.
He opens the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen, reaches in, and pulls out a red telephone receiver. “Yes?”
I watch Leo’s expression, trying to read him. I can’t hear anything from the other end of the phone call. Leo notices me look at him intently and turns his back on me. I release my fork from my hand, no longer hungry. That phone has never rung since we’ve been here. To be honest, I had forgotten it was there. When we first moved in, Leo installed it as an absolute emergency phone. I thought that it was for us to use if we ever needed help here. I never for one moment thought that someone would ring us.
“What’s happened?” I ask when he puts down the receiver. Leo hadn’t said much in reply, just the odd “When?” and “Where?”
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”
But that’s the understatement of the century.
“Then why have we just had a phone call?” I ask as I make my way towards him to look him in the eyes.
“Van needed some advice, that’s all,” he replies without looking at me.
“Leo, we are supposed to be dead. It is out of our control.” Leo had hardly said a word, so where was this advice Van so desperately needed?
