Lost Lad (35 page)

           
"On the contrary, I was hoping to speak to Mr Hardman.  There's always a chance he may have seen something or perhaps remember something ... "

           
"Let me give you some good advice, Mr Hogg," 
interrupted the voice which was now distinctly threatening.
"Keep well away from Cressbrook Hall.  You will
not
be welcome!"
    

After this acrimonious exchange, to help soothe the sore atmosphere, the interviewer deftly made a light hearted reference to the detective duo -

           
"We've mentioned Agatha Christie ... I was just wondering ... which of you is Poirot and which one is Hastings?"

Gary bounced back with -

           
"I don't think it's quite as simple as that, John.  But I think we could do with more help.  How are you fixed for joining us?  You could be our 'Holmes'."

           
"Now there's a thought!  Gentlemen, do you have the courage to take another call?  Jim Malpass is on the line.  Go ahead, Jim."

           
"Hello, Simeon."

           
"Hello, Jim."

           
"I well remember the 'Peak Cycling Mystery' of 1960.  Read everything I could get hold of at the time.  Fascinating stuff.  I think the last caller did the very opposite of what she intended and those friends may not have appreciated her comments, however well meant.  It was sheer bad luck for old Hardman that his residence was the only one near the disappearance.  But, did you know that there was a butler and a gardener who also fell under suspicion?"

           
"That's right, Jim.  We've done our homework and, as Gary said earlier, the folk at Cressbrook Hall may have no responsibility at all."

           
"Now I wonder, have you considered ... It
is
just possible that one of your mates could be guilty?  Even you, Simeon!"

           
"Pardon?"

           
"Now don't take offence.  You were all very young at the time and painful memories can get buried in the passage of time ..."

           
"Mr Malpass!"
interjected Simeon, restrained but bristling 
"Have you considered the folly of your theory?  Here's me, now, on the radio!  Would I be likely to do that if ..."

           
"That is the very point of my theory, Simeon.  If you have a guilty subconscious, a hidden memory, and I do stress
if
, then you
will
try to seek the truth - you can't leave it alone can you?  A few minutes ago you said Brian has haunted you all these years.  Well then, that points to a suppressed or possibly false memory.  You may have a split-personality and this being a case of your good side returning to uncover the deeds of your bad side.  I think you, and the other lads (men now) should submit to hypnotism.  I'm only trying to be helpful, John."

           
"Thanks, Jim.  We'll take that on board, but other callers are waiting."
  Simeon groaned whist John Holmes continued -
"Kathy Syson has a suggestion.  Good morning, Kathy."

           
"Don't panic, chaps!  I'm not a hypnotist offering my services.  I just wanted to tell you and everybody else that we have an annual school re-union in Heanor for former pupils of William Howitt Secondary Modern School in October.  You'll be most welcome, Simeon, and, who knows - you may get the information you need."

           
"Great stuff, Kathy.  You've put the smile back on Simeon's face.  Mary Taylor, I gather you have a theory to offer?"

           
"Yes, John,"
spoke Mary in a rather thin and frail voice.
"I was very young when this boy disappeared, but that's just it, he disappeared didn't he - into thin air?  Well ... this is a bit far fetched, but, well ... He was one of twins wasn't he?  Is it possible, just possible that some sort of conjuring trick was played on his friends?  I mean, if Mr Hogg
thinks back to the time, is he absolutely
sure
there
were
two twins in the first place?" 
At this stage all three men in the studio were wearing a
pained look.
  "Is it possible, just possible, that the one brother somehow, in the first place, gave the impression to everybody that there were two - and all the time, in fact, there was just the one!  Then it would seem like one had gone missing - wouldn't it.  I mean ... "

           
"No, Mary."
said Simeon, sharply, determined to end the embarrassing misery.
"Brian and Danny Forrester were two twins
. 
They were not identical, in fact they were distinctly
different in looks and personality."

           
"Interesting stuff, Mary."
said John hastily.
"Thank you for that contribution.  We move on."

           
"Aye oop, Dobba!"

Simeon froze.  This was a familiar friendly cheerful voice, a voice he had not heard in 43 years.  It was the first time in 43 years that anybody had called him Dobba.  It was a special name, uttered only by a small
select group of good people, bestowed upon him by a very special person.  This name was magical.  It had great power.  It came with a change of life, it changed his life.  He was reinvented by this name and Simeon Hogg, in the Radio Derby studio, became emotional during those seconds absorbing the full significance of this phone call.  In a weak and unsteady response -

           
"Danny.  Is that you ... Danny?"

           
"In person, Dobba!  'Ow are ya?"

         
"Fine ... "

           
"A just left me mobile noomber with the receptionist.  Get in touch with us, won't ya, Dobba?"

           
"Yes ... "

           
"Hello, Danny,"
said John, coming to the rescue with cheery upbeat professionalism. 
"Just confirm to us all that you really did have a brother."

           
"A did an all!  'E were a grand lad, our Brian.  We still miss 'im don't we, Dobba?  We 'ad some good
times, didn't we, Dobba?"

           
"We did, Danny, yes we did,"
was the shaky reply which very nearly broke.

After picking up this obvious intensity of affection which still existed between the two former pals, John Holmes encouraged Simeon to nostalge about his Howitt days which were described as open, sunny, kind, loving, leafy green and hopeful: this in sharp contrast to the days of Mundy Street Boys School which were described as claustrophobic, hateful, cruel, ugly, dark and despairing.

More calls came in with ever varied and exotic explanations for the sudden absence of Brian Forrester.  One woman suggested that Brian, having fallen off his bike, wandered through the woods and came across the terrible Mandrake Tree which had a taste for adolescent flesh and left no trace of its victim.  An authority on Druids and Satanism was certain that Brian, a concussed amnesiac unable to identify himself, was offered as a 'black rite' sacrifice at a nearby sacred grove in a ritual execution.  One caller started with a plausible theory of Brian falling through a limestone hole (of which there are many in that area) but then pushed credibility beyond the limit with tales of his being taken prisoner by The Fairies of Caldon Low in their subterranean fairyland.  

The last call was a welcome contrast. 

           
"Now here's something exciting.  We have Simon on the line who claims he knows exactly where Brian Forrester is.  Good morning,
Simon."

           
"Allo!"

'Another kook,'
Gary Mackenzie silently mouthed to John Holmes, but for Simeon, here again was a familiar voice, a funny little voice, light high and camp.

           
"A just wanted ta tell ya, Simeon, that ya old friend is all right.  Is 'appy an well.  A get regular messages from 'im - is OK, don't ya worry."

           
"Simon!  It's been a long time, but I seem to recognise your voice.  I think we've met?" 

           
"We 'ave met.  A met you an ya mates in Water-cum-Jolly Dale in 1960.  Am still lookin' after t' 'Ardmans at Cressbrook 'All."

           
"Are you the butler we've been hearing about, Simon?"

           
"I am, Mr 'Omes.  Ave bin 'ere 51 years an seen Mr Charles grow up ta be a fine gentleman and a brilliant writer.  'E's inta mystery an folklore ya know."

           
"I know indeed, Simon.  Charles Hardman has been my guest on several occasions.  An interesting speaker, but do tell us, where is Simeon's long lost friend?"

           
"Is a long way off - in a different place, a very strange place, Mr 'Omes."

           
"Listeners may not know this .. "
explained Simeon,
  " .. but Simon Tonks is a clairvoyant and is able to communicate with the dead.  Put us out of our misery, Simon, and tell us what happened to Brian Forrester on that infamous Sunday, July 24th in 1960."

           
"Yes, tell us, Simon," 
added Gary.
 "This could save us all a whole lot of time and trouble!"

Simon's initial chirpy exuberance was slightly tempered by a touch of sarcasm in his next offering -

           
"Do a detect a bit o' wot we call up 'ere, 'extraction of the urine'?  Scepticism is not condoocive to arriving at the truth, gentlemen.  Ooo said oat about 'im bein' dead?  I do get messages from t' spirit world, but also, like anybody else, a get messages from the living - and Brian Forrester is living.  In spite of ya attitude - 'ere it is.  Your friend was abdooked by aliens from outer space!  Flying saucers often coom to Derbyshire.  Most of them are seen over Kinder Scout 'cus the attracted by ancient sites - the follow 'ley lines'."

At this point, Gary waved a circling finger at the side of his head and mouthed -
'Crazy!  They're all kooky and crazy!'
  Simon Tonks carried on -

           
"It'd be when 'e were goin' down t' big 'ill.  'E were taken.  'E dunt talk about it mooch, but is very 'appy an sez e wants ya ta leave 'im well alone an not disturb 'im, but sends ya all is good wishes.  Is got a new life.  Is 'appy - leave 'im be."

As John Holmes was thanking Simon and all the others who took part in the interview, Simeon was thoughtful, cogitating and mulling over the insistence and significance of Simon's last words -

            'Leave well alone.  Leave him be'?

Chapter 28

The Other Twin

It had been arranged that Danny Forrester would come to Bog Hole at three o'clock that Monday afternoon of April 28th 2003.  Gary had remained in Derby checking out a few interesting spots.  Simeon, taking advantage of the sunshine, was sitting outside with Aunty Joyce and a gaggle of relatives, happily soaking up all the fuss of a Hogg who, unusually had -

           
"Bin on t' wireless!  Arr Simeon, on t' wireless!  Now then!"

The chatter descended into myriad inanities such as Aggie Oaks's inflated prices, the cheeky youth in the next row, Mrs Grocock's shame and her dirty windows.  Simeon tuned them out and began to think about the twin who did
not
disappear, the twin, soon to arrive in Horsley Woodhouse - his old friend Danny Forrester.  Like himself, nearly half a century earlier, a once fifteen year old Danny was now approaching the age of 60.  What would he be like?  In voice and disposition, unchanged; it was the young Danny he heard through the headphones at Radio Derby.  It was the same youthful Danny he remembered, cheerful, bouncy, open, candid, honest and sincere.  Quite simply Danny Forrester was one of the best, the nicest person he had ever known.