Their secret. No one else knows. The secret has been a tickle in Marcus’s tummy for so long but he pushed it way way down and watched the sky every day. Sometimes it was blue with candyfloss clouds. Sometimes the clouds were bossy and raced past the sun when it tried to shine. Today, the sky is just like Super Plink promised. All glossy with bubbles and Marcus knows it’s the right time.
He stares at the cars outside his school and sees the secret signal. A little plink painted on the door of a silver car. He thinks it’s Gutsy but he changes his mind when he gets close. It’s Ace, the pilot plink.
The back door opens. Super is inside the car, just like he said. All the bubbles are bursting against the glass and the wipers are going swish… swish… swish really fast when he drives away.
Staring is rude so no one looks at them. Even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to see through the special glass. It’s just like the windows in Daddy’s big car. Marcus can see Josh jumping as high as a kangaroo to catch the bubbles between his hands. He can’t see Auntie Rebecca anywhere and Lollipop Jessie is staring at the bubbles so hard she forgets to stop the cars with her big lollipop.
It’s nice in the back seat. Marcus listens to the plink songs and eats popcorn. He thinks about his birthday party when Super did magic tricks and told stories and made a secret with Marcus that no one, not his mammy nor his daddy, not even Josh – who says the plinks are ‘brill’ – knew.
Super laughs and slaps the steering wheel with his magic hand. ‘Hold on to your hair, little man,’ he shouts. ‘We’re going to rock this car all the way to Plinkertown Hall.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Son of Media Mogul and Chat Show Presenter Missing
Barbara Nelson
A widespread Garda search is underway to find missing schoolboy, Marcus Richardson, 4. Marcus disappeared shortly after he left St Bede’s Junior Academy on Rockfield Road this afternoon. He is the only child of media mogul, Lar Richardson, 64, and his wife, Amanda Bowe, 32, the well-known presenter of the celebrity chat show, Mandy Meets.
Arriving at her son’s exclusive private school an hour and thirty minutes after she had been notified of his disappearance, Amanda Bowe was too distressed to answer questions. Marcus had been picked up from school by his aunt, Rebecca Dowling.
‘I always collect him when Amanda is busy at work,’ Marcus’s distraught aunt admitted shortly after her nephew disappeared. ‘Marcus was expecting to have what he calls his “Monday Mammy day” with Amanda and was very upset when she wasn’t there to meet him. After I’d comforted him, he ran on ahead with my son, Josh. I could see them in the distance but lost sight of Marcus when the bubbles started.’ Fighting back her tears, Rebecca Dowling admitted, ‘Amanda’s work takes first priority and, although she only collects Marcus on the days she’s not on air, this is not the first time I’ve had to step in at short notice and collect him from school. I’ll never forgive myself if something terrible has happened to the poor little boy.’
Capital Eye has gained access to footage that shows Marcus at the school entrance. He appears to be visibly distressed when he finds his aunt instead of his mother waiting for him. After going through the school gates with his cousin, Josh Dowling, 5, he is soon out of camera range.
Gardaí have been unable to confirm if there is any connection between Marcus’s disappearance and an explosion of bubbles that blew over Rockfield Road at the same time as school ended.
Marcus was wearing his St Bede’s uniform, a navy blazer with red trim, charcoal grey trousers and shoes, a red tie and socks. Under his shirt he was wearing a Super Plink T-shirt.
Lar Richardson is on his way home from New York where he was a guest speaker at the conference Digital Media Development – The Next Stage.
As yet, gardaí have no reason to suspect foul play. A twenty-four-hour information hotline has been opened and they have appealed to the public for information, especially all those who were in the vicinity of Rockfield Road when Marcus Richardson went missing.
The residents on Rockfield Road and the adjoining avenues and drives have already searched their gardens, front and back. They’ve checked their sheds, their garages and their houses, in case Marcus found an open door and fell asleep under a table or in a bedroom.
There were bubbles, thousands of them, according to Rebecca. An explosion of bubbles that shimmered in rainbow hues, wobbling and elongated, as big as balloons. Children had jumped to catch them, to burst them with their fingers, to blow them higher, and still they’d erupted from a hidden space that caused no one to wonder because bubbles are fun. Innocent, joyful fun for children and parents alike. And, somewhere, in that crush and heave, in that instant of distraction, her son was taken.
Taken. Amanda has said it aloud, set the word free. The police haven’t contradicted her. Nor do they deny it. They simply don’t know. They are waiting for something to happen. A ransom demand that will move the investigation in a certain direction – but, so far, this is a search without clues to guide them. The lollipop lady claims she didn’t notice anything unusual when she allowed the cars to pass. Amanda doesn’t believe her. She’s human, after all. An explosion of bubbles. Of course she’d looked upwards and smiled as the sky was obscured by a dazzling prism.
‘He just disappeared into thin air.’ Rebecca keeps repeating this statement, as if sheer repetition will make it feasible and remove the burden of guilt from her. Amanda refuses to listen. Thin air doesn’t exist. It’s a fallacy, an excuse without meaning. Someone took her son’s hand and led him away without anyone on that crowded road noticing.
She’s unmoved by her sister’s tears. Rebecca has to remember something. Anything that will give the police a lead. How far can a small boy stray without being noticed? Unless a car door opened and a hand reached out to grab him. A hand belonging to a stranger with the low brow and the tattooed arms of a criminal. A Shroff henchman. How could Rebecca and all those wary, watchful parents miss something so earth-shattering? Amanda wants to shake the words from her sister, demand that she remember, remember – remember.
Lar is on his way home. He has managed to change his flight and will land in the early hours. At first, when she made contact with him, he refused to believe her. What did he think she was doing? Playing some cruel, malevolent joke? Lighting flames beneath their already shaky marriage?