The Long Dream Read Free

concern as he read it and his eyes were full of compassion as he looked up at me.
    "When did you get this?" he asked.
    I told him how I'd found it the night before under the mat and how I'd run around the village looking for Paul, then how I'd searched the whole house twice. It all came flooding out of me until I felt empty and I was so grateful to be able to share it all with him.
    After listening intently to my story, Mr Mayfield asked if I had checked the garden. I said I hadn't, so he promptly got up and went out the back door. I watched him as he went around looking in every corner and even in the shed, but there was obviously no sign of Paul whatsoever.
    He returned to the front room looking very worried and then quietly sat down. He read the letter again and calmly said, "I think we're going to have to call the police. This letter offers no explanation at all. I think it's best if we hand it over to them and see what they make of it. Do you agree?"
    "Absolutely, I can't think of anything else we can do," I answered.
    Mr Mayfield got up from his chair and went across to the hall to get the phone. I was dazed and numb and it was as if I was moving around on autopilot.
    The boys got up and Mr Mayfield told them we had to look for dad as he hadn't come home the night before. They dressed themselves for school and were picked up by one of the other mothers. She looked after them and they enjoyed a normal week at school with all the activities they loved.
    Mr Mayfield had contacted the school and arranged for help right after he'd called the police. I was bowled over by the fantastic amount of help and kindness I received over the next few weeks and the boys often stayed over with some of their friends. I was really not in a fit state to look after them properly and so it was best if they were away from home.
    The police were also wonderful and were a great comfort to me. They needed some photos of Paul, which I managed to find, but then I made a significant discovery. He'd taken nothing with him and there was even the usual amount of cash in the bedside drawers. I looked everywhere many times, but I could not find Paul's passport. I knew he loved France, and could speak French quite well, so when I told the police this, they considered it a very significant clue. They checked the passenger lists at the airport and the ferry, but although no one had seen him or his car, they still thought it was likely he had travelled over.
    ***
    A few days later there was a real breakthrough. They had found Paul's car. It was parked near the ferry port, so it seemed he really had gone to France, perhaps as a foot passenger, but none of the staff or customs recognised his photo from around the time he had left. It would make sense if he was abroad, as he'd made no attempt to contact me, his family, his office or anyone else that we knew of.
    Paul's car was brought back home and when it appeared on the drive, my heart lurched. It was a beautiful Mercedes, but I felt sick at the thought of actually getting into it and sitting in the driver's seat where he'd sat so many times. I kept it for a while, undecided what to do with it, so I just let it sit there on the drive. It was a constant, painful reminder of Paul and I just couldn't bear it anymore, so I contacted the dealer and we came to an arrangement.
    As it was nearly new, they agreed to take it back and I got a very decent price for it. This was a very welcome boost for my bank balance, but we were managing okay because the company that Paul worked for kindly agreed to pay me an allowance until the police discovered his whereabouts.
    The boys were so versatile and were adapting to our new life on our own much better than I was. During the day, I could keep busy doing all the usual things like shopping and chores around the house, and I even got back into gardening. However, I was not eating much and had lost a lot of weight, so was not up to going back to the gym. My heartache got worse in