Tunnels

well-groomed head of hers, something he couldn't even begin to understand.

Whatever it was, it was no use worrying about that now, not when there were other, more important things to consider. He blew dismissively and rubbed his hands together to get the soil off, then stood motionless in the center of the room until his inquisitiveness got the better of him. He went over to the bench, flicking casually through the papers on top of it. There were photocopied articles about Highfield, pictures of old houses in faded sepia tones, and ragged sections of maps. One of these caught his eye — comments had been scribbled on it in pencil. He recognized his father's spidery handwriting.

Martineau Square — the key? Ventilation for what? Will read, frowning as he traced the network of lines drawn in pencil through the houses on each side of the square. 'What was he up to?' he asked himself out loud.

Peering under the bench, he found his father's briefcase and emptied out its contents, mostly magazines and newspapers, onto the floor. In a side pocket of the briefcase, he found some loose change in a small brown paper bag and a clutch of empty chocolate bar wrappers. Then, crouching down, he began to check through the archive boxes stored under the bench, sliding each one out and flicking through its contents.

His search was cut short by his sister's insistence that he come and eat his supper before it got too cold. But before returning upstairs, he made a short detour over to the back door to check the coats hanging there. His father's hard hat and overalls were gone.

Back up in the hallway, he passed a cacophony of applause and laughter from behind the closed living room door as he went into the kitchen.

The two of them ate in silence until Will looked up at Rebecca. She had a fork in one hand and a pencil in the other as she did her math homework.

'Rebecca, have you seen Dad's hard hat or his overalls?' he asked.

'No, he always keeps them in the cellar. Why?'

'Well, they're not there,' Will said.

'Maybe he left them at a dig somewhere.'

'Another dig? No — he would've told me about it. Besides, when would he have had the chance to go off and do that? He was always here or at the museum — he never went anywhere else, did he? Not without telling me…,' Will trailed off as Rebecca watched him intently.

'I know that look. You've thought of something, haven't you?' she said suspiciously.

'No, it's nothing,' he replied. 'Really.'

11

The next day, Will awoke early and, wanting to forget about his father's disappearance, donned his work clothes and ran energetically downstairs, thinking he would grab a quick breakfast and maybe meet up with Chester to excavate the blocked tunnel at the Forty Pits site. Rebecca was already lurking in the kitchen; by the way she collared him the moment he turned the corner, it was obvious she'd been waiting for him.

'It's up to us to do something about Dad, you know,' she said as Will looked at her with a slightly startled expression. 'Mum's not going to do anything — she's lost it.'

Will just wanted to get out of the house; he was desperately trying to pretend to himself that everything was normal. Since the night of the argument between his parents, he and Rebecca had been getting themselves to school as usual. The only break from the norm was that they had been eating their meals in the kitchen without their mother. She had been stealing out to help herself to whatever was to be found in the fridge and had been eating it, predictably enough, in front of the television. It was clear what she'd been up to, because pies and chunks of cheese had gone missing, along with whole loaves of bread and tubs of margarine.

They had seen her on a couple of occasions in the hallway as she shambled to the bathroom in her nightgown and her slippers with the backs trodden down. But the only acknowledgment Will or Rebecca received on these chance encounters was a vague nod.

'I've decided something. I'm going to call the police,' Rebecca said, standing in front of the dishwasher.

'Do you really think we should? Maybe we ought to wait a while,' Will said. He knew the situation didn't look good, but he wasn't quite ready to take that step yet. 'Anyway, where do you think he could have gone?' he asked.

'Your guess is as good as mine,' Rebecca answered sharply.

'I went by the museum yesterday and it was all closed up.' It hadn't been open for days now — not that anyone had called to complain.

'Maybe he just decided he'd had enough of… of everything,' Rebecca suggested.

'But why?'

'People go missing all the time. Who knows why? Rebecca shrugged her slim shoulders. 'But we're going to have to take the matter in hand now,' she said resolutely. 'And we have to tell Mum what we're going to do.'

'All right,' Will agreed reluctantly. He glanced at his shovel with longing as they entered the hallway. He just wanted to get away from the house and back to something he understood.

Rebecca knocked on the living room door and they both shuffled in. Mrs. Burrows didn't seem to notice them; her gaze didn't waver from the television for an instant. They both stood there, unsure what to do next, until Rebecca went up to Mrs. Burrows's chair, took the remote from where it rested on the arm, and turned off the television.

Mrs. Burrows's eyes remained exactly where they had been on the now-blank screen. Will could see the three of them relected in it, three small, unmoving figures trapped within the bounds of the darkened rectangle. He drew in a deep breath, telling himself he was the one who should take charge of the situation, not his sister as usual.

'Mum,' Will said nervously. 'Mum, we can't find Dad anywhere and… it's been four days now.'

'We think we should call the police…,' Rebecca said, quickly adding, '…unless you know where he is.'

Mrs. Burrows's eyes dropped from the screen to the video recorders below it, but they could both see that she wasn't focusing on anything and that her expression was terribly sad. She suddenly seemed so very helpless; Will just wanted to ask her what was wrong, what had happened, but couldn't bring himself to.

'Yes,' Mrs. Burrows replied softly. 'If you want to.' And that was it. She fell silent, her eyes still downcast, and they both filed out of the room.

For the first time, the full implications of his father's disappearance came home to Will. What was going to happen to them without him around? They were in serious trouble. All of them. His mother most of all.

Rebecca called the local police station, and two officers arrived several hours later, a man and a woman, both in uniform. Will let them in.

'Rebecca Burrows?' the policeman asked, looking past Will into the house as he removed his hat. He took out a small notebook from his breast pocket and flipped it open. Just then, the radio on his lapel issued a burp of unintelligible speech, and he slid the switch on its side to silence it. 'Sorry 'bout that,' he said.

The female officer spoke to Rebecca. 'You made the call?'

Rebecca nodded in response, and the woman gave her a comforting smile. 'You mentioned your mother was here. Can we talk to her, please?'

'She's in here,' Rebecca said, leading the way to the living room and knocking lightly on the door. 'Mum,' she called softly, opening the door for the two officers and then standing to one side to let them through. Will started to follow them in, but the policeman turned to him.

'Tell you what, son, I could murder a cup of coffee.'

As the policeman shut the door behind him Will turned to Rebecca with an expectant look.

'Oh, all right, I'll make it,' she said irritably and headed for the kettle.

Waiting in the kitchen, they could hear the low drone of adult conversation coming from behind the door, until — several cups of coffee and what felt like an eternity later — the policeman emerged alone. He walked in and placed his cup and saucer on the table next to them.