Into The Dark – Jenny 15

[For back story go here: Story so far at 12 June 2020 and more recent Jenny episodes]

Jenny was going spare. Not content with throwing her a pandemic, a relationship crisis and a house full of old things that used to live in the loft but had now taken residency in the spare bedroom and beyond, life now threw her an absent son. 

Peter’s routine was absolutely rock solid. There was no deviation from it in terms of location, even if the type of screen he was in front of with at any one time differed slightly. But every screen she located was silent and every location where he might be silent, sleeping, eating or just chilling was vacant. There was no Peter. Peter was out and at the current time this wasn’t just unlike him, it was an emergency.

The emergency was added to by the fact that he wasn’t responding to calls or texts to his mobile phone. No matter whether it was her, Izzy or Helen trying to get a response, Peter remained unresponsive.

“He’s probably just…” began Izzy when she’d returned from work as well (staggered from Jenny’s exit time for Covid reasons), and then she stopped because she really couldn’t think of what it was he was probably just.

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” Jenny shot at Helen, borderline accusatory now school was definitely one hundred per cent not on any more.

“No,” said Helen. “Met Tash and Nessa in the park. And even when I am here and he’s here it’s not like we ever see each other or say anything.”

“Didn’t you hear the door go when he left?” asked Jenny. “This isn’t a large house, the door does make a noise.”

“I’ve not been here. He could have gone somewhere when I was out, I wound't have heard it then, would I?”

“Has any body actually been in his room?” ventured Izzy. “You know, like really in there? To check? Properly?”

Jenny and Helen looked at each other, or rather Jenny looked at Helen and Helen stared at her feet, the idea being so ridiculous or even dangerous.

“Right,” said Izzy. “We do this together, OK?”

The room was, of course, dark. The curtains were drawn shut and no one really knew if they could be drawn open any more. Jenny ventured towards them to do so, but found she was stepping on too many soft and worrying things to get across the space and try it out.

“I’m going to turn the light on,” said Izzy, warning the others.

The light was just a light bulb now, the idea of a shade having broken and not been replaced since who knew when. The revealed room wasn’t like a bomb had hit it, but more that someone was preparing for the bomb to hit it. Duvets, blankets and sheets were spread liberally around protecting against shrapnel. Naturally the place had a smell to it and naturally no one really wanted to know what the smell was or how it got there. To his credit, Peter had kept the surfaces clean, although he’d done this by ensuring everything he had stayed on the floor or in one of the overflowing cupboards or drawers.

“Has anyone checked… under the blankets?” asked Izzy, timidly.

“You can do that,” said Helen, quickly. “I’m going to search by standing here and looking around a bit. And I'll look at my phone too in case there’s someone else I can contact.”

“Have you tried any of his friends?” asked Jenny.

“He has friends?” asked Helen.

Jenny lifted the first duvet she could reach. She felt she should really be lifting the one on the bed, but she had a few others to navigate before she got there. The one she did lift didn’t come away immediately – there was some resistance keeping it on the floor. It finally gave with a slight sucking sound revealing a couple of pieces of toast with what probably started out as jam spread across them.

“I’m done,” said Helen, turning round and walking out.

“You have to make it to the bed,” said Izzy. “I know it sounds crazy and I know it’s not easy, but somehow you need to do it.”

Jenny nodded solemnly and edged nearer to the heap of whatever it was on the platform before her. She picked up a rod – what was once a microphone stand for when (if) Peter’s idea of being in a rock band ever took off – and using this she first nudged then lifted a layer of material.

“What’s going on?” said Peter. Jenny and Izzy whirled round to see him at the bedroom door. Jenny stood there looking at him with a set of his pyjamas dangling from the microphone stand.

He looked pale, cold, washed out, was wearing a jacket, shirt and jeans and was still in his slippers. 

“I’ve been out,” he said.

Jenny had never felt happier to see him, and had never felt more proud.