The Lost

Jonah pushed Theo on a rusted swing until his laughter turned to hiccups, spun the creaking roundabout until he felt dizzy himself, and was waiting to catch his son’s small body before he could skin his knee again on the slide. The play area didn’t have much else in the way of equipment: a jungle gym that predated any recent health and safety laws, a lopsided hobby horse that threatened to dislodge its riders, and a crawl-through length of bendy pipe that would have looked more at home in roadworks. But Theo never minded any of that. As far as he was concerned, the play area was a magical place of excitement and laughter, regardless of the cracked tarmac on the park paths, the overgrown rhododendron bushes choking the trees, and the uncut grass that doubled as a minefield of dog waste.

Jonah felt his tension from the scene with Chrissie fall away as he watched his son’s simple joy. He wondered how long it would be before the world ground that away. Not yet, he hoped.

There weren’t many other people in the park. It was an overcast weekday. The morning dog walkers had left, and the only other occupant of the play area was a young mother with a pushchair, busy fussing with her baby’s blankets. It would have been nice if there’d been a potential playmate there for Theo, although he didn’t seem to mind. Most of his friends were at school, but because his birthday fell just outside the cut-off point, he wouldn’t be starting till autumn. Even so, he seemed perfectly content, humming to himself in the bright blue anorak and red bobble hat. Jonah was glad Theo could be happy in his own company. Chrissie said he was like his father, easily satisfied.

She didn’t mean it as a compliment.

Jonah yawned. A short distance from the play area, a man in a grubby combat jacket was sitting on a park bench. His head was shaved and he looked like a rough sleeper, nursing a jumbo-sized bottle of something that probably wasn’t Pepsi. Jonah had clocked him straight away, wary as a police officer and parent for anyone hanging around a children’s play area.

But the man seemed oblivious to anything except the contents of the bottle. Yawning again, Jonah smiled as he watched Theo. His cheeks were pink from the crisp air, matching the colour of his knitted hat as he tried to turn the slow-moving roundabout faster. Jonah stopped himself from warning his son to be careful. You can’t wrap him in cotton wool.

‘Come on, time to go.’

‘Aww...’

‘Don’t you want some lunch?’ There was a park café on the other side of the trees they usually went to, a painted wooden hut that smelled of stewed tea and chips.

Theo considered. ‘One more go on the roundabout.’

‘Just one.’

‘And then the Snake.’

That was Theo’s name for the crawl-pipe. Jonah had already checked it was clear of anything more sinister than dead leaves. Junkies used the park at night, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d found discarded needles lying about.

Jonah caved, as he always did. ‘OK. Only five minutes, though.’

Lifting his son firmly onto the roundabout, Jonah spun it to the requisite speed and then sat back down. Theo’s face grinned at him as he went past in a blur of blue and red. Smiling to himself, Jonah yawned again. He would have happily stayed at home and had an early night instead of going out. But it would be good to see Marie and Gavin. It had been a while since they’d gone out as a foursome, and Gavin seemed to be having a tough time of it at work. He didn’t go into many details, but from what he’d confided to Jonah he was part of an operation involving a particularly brutal gang of traffickers and drug smugglers from Eastern Europe. Romanian or possibly Russian, because, according to Gavin, trying to gather evidence on them was like grasping smoke. His frustration made Jonah glad he’d chosen firearms. It was no less stressful, but at least in his line of work he generally knew who he was up against.