He stopped in his tracks then, and pulled her towards him, holding her in a tight embrace that comforted her and strengthened her at the same time. ‘Hang in there, Cryssie,’ he said, his mouth close against her ear. ‘We’re not done yet, believe me. Don’t give up. I never give up! Never, never, never!’
Momentarily reassured, Cryssie allowed herself to be almost dragged along as, with Milo’s picture in his hand, Jed approached and questioned each and every adult and child they came to, knocking on caravan doors, checking behind trailers. She was caught up in a surreal situation, Cryssie thought, with the rollercoasters and rides careering along their dizzy routes, and everyone screaming in mock terror, with deafening music adding to the din. But her terror was real, and it was the worst sensation she’d ever experienced. There were no words that would ever describe it, she thought, her pervading sense of failure in their mission filling her with a strange calm.
And the worst thing was that there were so many small children there—any one of whom could have been Milo. Similar little fair curls, dressed in similar T-shirts…But they were all with adults, being held safely by the hand. All enjoying themselves.
They’d almost completed their circuit of the ground when suddenly, right alongside them, the door to one of the caravans opened and a young girl of about eight or nine stood on the steps, talking over her shoulder to someone behind her. She was clutching a Runaway Rascal in her arms.
‘Come on,’ the child said. ‘Bring yours, and we’ll go and ask my dad if we can have a candy floss. Do you like candy floss, Milo?’
MILO! Jed and Cryssie leapt forward at the word, just as Milo—their Milo—followed the girl down the steps of the van. In unison, they both cried out his name, and in the brief seconds that followed gathered him up in their arms in such frantic relief that, afterwards Cryssie couldn’t remember a thing about it. In her dizzy euphoria she as good as lost consciousness as she hugged and kissed the child, over and over again. But what she did remember was Jed’s reaction. Because he was holding her—and Milo—in a circular embrace that almost robbed her of breath, and when she at last turned her head to look up at him she saw tears—real tears—slipping silently down his face. And witnessing that was so natural that she unselfconsciously kissed his wet cheeks, tasting the salt on her lips.
‘Thank God,’ was all he said.
Quickly regaining his self-control, he rang Polly. ‘Polly? Milo’s safe. We’re coming home!’
The way he spoke the words filled Cryssie with a deep sense of wonder. We’re coming home! Would any words ever again match those? she thought.
After letting the police know, and still without asking any questions of Milo, they turned to go back to the car. But the child hesitated.
‘This is my new friend,’ he said. ‘She’s called Victoria, and we’ve been playing with our Runaways in her caravan. I brought mine with me,’ he added, holding Jed by the hand and looking up at them as if nothing unusual had happened that afternoon.
‘Well, thank you, Victoria, for letting Milo play,’ Cryssie said. ‘I’m afraid we have to go home now, because Milo’s mummy is waiting for him. Perhaps we’ll come and see you again soon.’
As they walked slowly back to the car Jed and Cryssie exchanged glances over Milo’s head. They both knew that there would be time for explanations later. But for now, blessed thankfulness was the only emotion they felt, or that mattered.
Much later, after the police had gone, they gently persuaded Milo to tell them how he’d got to the fair.
‘I went on the bus,’ he said importantly. ‘And I wasn’t going to the fair, anyway.’ He helped himself to another potato crisp. ‘I was going to see you, Jed, at your house. I wanted to throw stones in the river, like we did before. Cryssie said I couldn’t go this time, but I thought you wouldn’t mind. There were lots of people and children at the bus stop as I went by, and then a bus came and everyone got on, and I did as well.’
‘But—didn’t anyone ask you who you were with?’ Polly asked. ‘Who paid for you?’
Milo shrugged. ‘No one. I didn’t have any money. No one paid. And then everyone got off, and so did I, and then we were all at the fair. After a bit I saw Victoria—you know, with her Runaway—and she said we could play with them together.’ He sucked a finger. ‘Her mummy and daddy work the rides,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t see them at all.’
So it was that easy, Cryssie thought, for a child to mingle, to become anonymous, in a crowd. And for no one to realise or notice.