but once a week Theo and I sat down, planned our meals for the next seven days, then went to the supermarket to buy what we’d need. He loved it, as did I. It was free entertainment that got him out of the house and taught him the rudiments of healthy eating at the same time. I even tried to build in some educational games, such as seeing how quickly he could find, say, a tin of baked beans and bring it back to the trolley, even though I’d probably have to go and swap the tin he’d just grabbed with the correct reduced-sugar-and-salt version while he was doing his next errand.
“Thanks, Theo,” I said as he proudly handed me a carton of milk. “Next is melon. We need one of the small yellow ones, okay?”
He nodded and sped off. I used the breathing space to load some frozen stuff into the trolley. Fish fingers, made with pollack not cod. Peas, no added sugar. Prawns, sustainably sourced. Or were they? That’s what it said in big letters on the front of the packet, but that could mean anything. When I checked on the back, there was no MSC certification.
I suddenly realized I’d been able to read the whole of the back of a packet of prawns undisturbed. Theo never took that long finding something. I looked over at the fruit section, concerned but not alarmed. Perhaps he’d gotten distracted. Or started talking to one of the staff.
The store was a sensibly sized one, not one of those vast behemoths that stock everything from saucepans to tracksuits. The fruit section was literally seconds away, in full view of where I was standing with the trolley.
And Theo wasn’t there.
I stared at the space where he should be, uncomprehending. That time I’d lost him before on a shopping trip flashed into my mind—the horror of not knowing where your child is, even for a minute.
Beyond the fruit section were the doors to the car park. Automatic doors, that might temptingly open and close if you played grandmother’s footsteps with them. But if Theo was doing that, I’d see him.
Wouldn’t I? I had a sudden vision of him dropping a melon onto the floor. The melon rolling toward the door. Theo following it…
And then what? Going into the car park? Why on earth would he do that? But cars drove around the car park stupidly fast sometimes, and a little boy focusing on a rolling melon might not see one coming—
Stay calm, I told myself. He’d probably just decided to come back to the trolley the long way around, past the checkouts, hoping to grab something interesting from the shelves on the way. It was still less than twenty seconds since I’d realized he was missing, and no more than a minute since I’d last seen him. But I could feel the panic starting to build in my chest. I pushed the trolley rapidly along the row of checkouts, peering down each aisle. Not there, either. But could he now be behind me, given that I’d moved the trolley from where he was expecting it to be? I turned and headed back the other way. Someone blocked me in as they stopped to reach for a packet of cereal. Cursing, I abandoned my trolley so I could move more quickly.
“Theo!” I called at the top of my lungs, all British reserve abandoned. “Theo!”
Still nothing. Frantically I ran to the customer service desk, where they did the PA announcements. But there was no one around.
“Excuse me,” I said, butting into the queue for the nearest till and speaking to the youth operating it. “I need to make an announcement. I’ve lost my son. He’s two and a half. Wearing a red hoodie and jeans.”
The young man didn’t stop scanning his customer’s shopping. “I dunno how to use it.”
“Oh for God’s sake. I’ll do it myself.”
I ran behind the desk, searching for the microphone, just as the woman whose shopping was being scanned looked up and called, “A red hoodie, did you say?”
“Yes. Have you seen him?”
She pointed. “A little boy in a hoodie just went out with a man in a suit. They looked like they knew each other. I think they were holding hands.”
I looked again at the doors. In the magazine racks by the entrance, someone had placed a small yellow melon.
* * *
—
I RAN OUTSIDE, STILL shouting Theo’s name. I knew it was probably hopeless, but I pelted down the