Kerry Organises the Spooky Woman to Call Me : (Chapter 41)

“Mum”… “Yes, darling,” I replied. “That spooky lady that I went to and she spoke with Grandfer, well I have just seen that she does speak to the dead over the phone so she can call you and she can tell you about George, maybe Grandfer or Nannie will speak to her and tell you who has George,” she said.

“Darling, I am up for anything, so yes please tell the spooky lady to call me,” I replied.

I then fed the dogs, sorted TNT and off I went on my walk to where the photo was taken. I knew I was turning into a stalker as I got closer, yet I didn’t care. I then decided to walk down the track and to the gate of the lady’s house. Hhhmmmm strange her dog was locked in the house, hhhmmm this is for the first time, I could hear it barking away, as I peered through the fence I could see so many little poohs to the back of the house, hhhmmmmmm.

You know when your gut is telling you things, well you think it’s your gut, it’s not, it is your head, your gut only feels things. My head was saying that she never leaves her dog inside in all these weeks, her dog is always at the front of the house and all the poohs were always at the front of the house. Then my gut had its normal feeling of something just so isn’t right, the same feeling it had felt for weeks.

“Mum……” “Yes darling,” I replied, “The spooky lady is calling you 9pm your time tonight,” she said. “Thanks darling, I love you,” I replied. “Love you too mama bear,” she said.

As I walked back across the fields, I decided that the only way to put an end to this was to spend a full night in the track to see if she has George… Uff the thought of this brought just one word to my mind and it was this word: F…….! As I fed the dogs, I needed to think, so how does one do this, ok I need flasks, I need cushions, I need covers and I need snacks.

SHIT! that is the landline ringing; bloody hell it was 9pm already… “Hello,” I said.

So, after an hour of total bullshit, all I had in my notes was a tiled floor (I mean really a tiled floor in Spain, oh yes so very rare), pillars, oh and the number 25. “Thank you,” I said.

I then called Kerry, we discussed all the bullshit, had a giggle then we discussed me spending a full night in the track. “I think you need to mum, but please don’t do that on your own,” she said.

So, there I had my answer, yes I needed to do this. Yet, there was absolutely no way I was going to ask anyone to do this with me, shit everyone had helped me enough and expecting someone to sit all night in the cold and keep watch was a no-no. “Yes darling I promise I won’t go on my own,” I replied.

With my mind still racing, I decided to post another Facebook post:

April 2

I received a message today from my vet: a reminder that George is due his injection this month. With all the searching and all the time organising posters, I have forgotten about the simple things like injections, worming tablets etc.

Then my mind races, I start thinking all sorts of things.

Then I get cross with myself for not doing more, as this person that took George can’t possibly know that George is missing. I then stare out into the campo and fall to my knees. It has now been six weeks and with all the posters and sharing, we still haven’t found George.

George is allergic to the front line, George is allergic to so many foods, chicken being his worst, and George needs to come home before he ends up looking as bad as me.

Gosh, today I actually looked in the mirror; my hair is going so grey, and wow my eyebrows, I don’t actually recognise myself anymore.

Every night is a new night and every day is a new day; all it takes is for that one moment for someone to send me a photo to say that they have found George.

I can’t thank everyone enough for all the support, the caring, the sharing and just all of you being there for me. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx we will find George or as William now calls him, “Mr George.”

“MR GEORGE DARLING, WE WILL FIND YOU”

Have you ever gone to bed thinking of what you are going to do the next day and it seems so easy, yet when you wake up in the morning, and you immediately realise that easy is so the wrong word? Well, it happened to me, shit did it happen to me? As I knew there was no shrugging this off, I had to do it. I had to spend a night in the track.

Orders done, TNT has been, right start packing that bag. After just two short minutes, I realized that I needed more than one bag. You know on the war films where the man goes off looking all sexy and cool with his super large backpack, well imagine the other way around, I looked uncool with a large...

...amount of carrier bags attached to myself. As I pulled off my body armour, my phone started pinging; it was the lady that had given the reward money.

Shame on me as I explained everything to her, and can you believe that two hours later, she messaged to ask if she could pay for a private investigator to look into it all. She also explained how she was in the process of obtaining quotes.

I had to thank and decline, uuuufff so I didn’t want to; I wanted it so much that it actually hurt, it hurt so much that typing the word “no” sent my complete body into a frozen state. I mean, why does one type no when uuuufff you want it so much. That’s the thing — your gut wants it yet your head must always rule. Going along with this extremely kind lady would be wrong.

So off I went alone across the fields at midnight, basically covered in carrier bags.

Why did the walk feel like miles, why did I eat all the treats that I had packed on the moment that I arrived, and why did I think that my phone battery would last all night... It was now 4 a.m., I was freezing, my battery was now flat on my phone, and I couldn’t feel my bum.

So here came my thoughts: you bloody idiot, if she had him she would have taken him out for a pooh at first dark, you waited until midnight so not to be seen, you are a complete idiot.

I then decided this was another moment, a situation that I tell no one. I then headed home and walked in the door around 5 a.m.

I put the kettle on and flopped into the sofa. It was a strange moment as I asked myself why… why did I come home, if she has George he will need a morning wee. It was like someone had put a rocket up my arse. “Bye boys, I will be back in a minute,” I told them, and that was it — I was running across the fields. Why I didn’t think to drive is beyond me.

No watch, no phone and no George. The walk back was such a long walk. As I walked in the door I knew it was now time to feed my boys, I couldn’t be bothered. It took a lot of concentration to put the bowls down in the right order, and as soon as they were chomping away, I put the kettle on and plugged in my phone. Next, it was to print my orders and get to the warehouse to wrap and pack. I was so tired that I decided to stay at the warehouse and wait for TNT; truth was the pile of mats on the floor just looked so inviting.

As much as I tried to convince myself that as TNT walked through the warehouse door that he didn’t notice me asleep on the mats, deep down I knew that he did. Hopefully, I wasn’t snoring yet as I sat up and wiped the dribble from my face there is a slight chance that I was.

Blimey the 4-minute drive home was difficult, with windows wide open and the odd slap, and I made it.

I was now feeling a tad sick; I was so tired and exhausted, uuuufff how I wish someone had been with me to make me a cup of tea. As I lay on the sofa, I grabbed my phone and I could see all the messages that Kerry had been replying to, there were so many. I then went back to staring at all the photos of the body. I basically spent the day in and out of sleep, I was so uncomfortable and as much as I wanted to just go upstairs to bed I couldn’t.

It was now around 6 p.m. and I fed the dogs and put the kettle on. “Mum,” “Yes darling,” I replied, “I have spent few hours researching on Facebook and few other ways and guess what,” she said. “Cold potatoes aren’t hot,” I replied. “Muuuuuuuum shut up and listen, the lady that said George ran up the track lives at number 25,” she said. “No way, oh my god,” as I said it, I squeaked.

Number 25 was what the spooky lady had kept saying.

“Yes, but do you have an address darling,” I said. “I do mother,” she replied. “Right so we need a plan, as it’s not like I can walk right in,” I said. “You can mum,” she said. Kerry then went on to explain how I couldn’t yet a friend could as I would be recognised. “Mum she is selling a sofa on Facebook,” she said.

“Get some sleep, and we will speak in the morning,” she said. “Night darling love you,” I replied.

All night was mostly spent trying to think of who I could ask to do the so-called deed. This was morally wrong and I needed someone that I could trust.

It was now 6 a.m., and I was up, showered and teeth cleaned. I felt full of energy yet full of a strange feeling. I had to ask a friend to do something terrible, and the thought of just even asking was kind of stressful. It felt like forever awaiting until 8 a.m. to call; I nearly called at 7 a.m., and how I managed to wait until 8 a.m., I will never know.

“Claudia, could you help me today please,” I softly said. “Yes what do you want me to do,” she replied. “I will pop up to the office and explain,” I said. Talk about cheeky… I took my day’s orders with me to the office as well.

So now Claudia had been briefed and the plan was about to begin as Claudia phoned inquiring about the sofa.

Claudia had arranged to go and see the sofa at 3 p.m., and in the meantime, I was out in the area very close to the address, putting up poster after poster.

UUUFFF the hours dragged, and then came the message: “I am outside and about to go in,” messaged Claudia.

The half an hour that she was in there felt like forever. Then came the message, “I am out, I will meet you at the end of the road and explain,” she said.

It doesn’t matter how many times that someone doesn’t tell you what you want to hear that the feeling ever gets any better. Basically, Claudia had needed the bathroom while looking at the sofa; she also needed to go into the garden as she needed fresh air due to a headache. Blimey, she had done her best yet no sign of George.

“Blimey, thank you so much,” I said, and my gosh, I so meant that as not many a friend would do that.

So, it was back home, feed the dogs, and as much as I didn’t feel hungry, I knew that I needed to eat. “Shit, I need to go shopping again,” I said to myself, so it was pasta with pasta again.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, all I could think about was the body, that poor little body on the side of the road. Could it be George?

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