Everything Under

It would be – she thought – a sort of memorial, a way of apologising. She reached down and pressed her hands into the damp earth. She felt Margot leaving. Stopped dumb-struck on the path, bent double. Felt a sudden, great sorrow at what was gone, what was left behind, what would never be spoken of again.
His name was Marcus. He did not remember his parents. He was walking along the canal. He had met and spoken to no one. He liked to run, to fish, to listen to riddles. He walked the way a boy walked, stopped and listened the way a boy would, spoke the way a boy would.

Inside I’d packed my bag, found the keys, ran as far as the car before I realised I still did not know where you were. Even you, it seemed, did not know that. I went to the shed and knocked both fists against the door, shouted and shouted until it was flung open. Even then I shouted for a moment longer, arms raised, head back. When I opened my eyes and saw her I realised that she was frightened of me. Good, I thought, I’m glad you are, I’m glad you’re scared.

Then there was silence for so long I thought Jennifer must have made a mistake, turned the machine off or moved the earpiece away. I opened my mouth to say her name and then your voice spoke into my ear.
Gretel, you said. Gretel. I’m lost.