chapter 4....

Chapter 4

Mike was astounded. Truly. He had never witnessed such a reaction from his son – not even when he’d been a toddler and tantrums were almost expected. He had assumed the kids would be happy to head to his mum’s for her special cake, and indeed Darla was – very much so. Murphy on the other hand. His face fell a mile at the very suggestion. He had bargained to be left at home, and then when that hadn’t worked and Mike had simply said that Gran was expecting them so there was no way out really he had stormed off to his room with a face like thunder. A few minutes later he had appeared at the car looking very sour-faced indeed and had spent the entire afternoon in silence.
Mike was stunned. It was so unlike his son to behave this way; he really couldn’t fathom what the problem was at all. And now they had been home for a while but not a word from him at all. He hadn’t apologised – in fact he hadn’t spoken at all as far as he was aware. Just gone straight back to his portrait sketches at the top of the stairs. He was like a boy possessed. Mike sincerely hoped this wasn’t the start of teenage stroppiness coming early; he definitely wasn’t ready to start dealing with that. He’d thought he had a couple of years left before then. He sighed wearily. Maybe it was just a bad day – maybe the portrait sketches had made Murphy think of his mum, and he’d been upset to be interrupted. Maybe that was it. It would probably all blow over pretty quickly anyway. He certainly hoped so. This was not the Murphy he knew and loved.
He had settled himself immediately again in front of the mirror with his sketch pad the moment they were back in the house and hadn’t said two words to anyone. It was all very strange. Mike had been so surprised by this unexpected twist that he hadn’t even told Murphy off for being rude and stroppy. He really hoped it wasn’t the beginning of the terrible teens as he had feared. He would have to be much tougher on Murphy in the future if it was. He sighed.
“Daddy – what’s wrong?” Darla was sitting happily in his lap playing with her doll “Peaches”. She was pretending to be a mum – and doing a very good job of it in fact. The doll was all swaddled in her blankets on her knee, sleeping very soundly indeed.
“Nothing really darling. Don’t you worry,” Mike stroked her lovely blonde hair affectionately – she looked so much like her mum.
“Are you sad because of Murphy? He was in a funny mood today.” She rocked Peaches back and forth, calming her imaginary snuffles.
“He was, wasn’t he? I don’t know what’s gotten into him. We’ll have to keep and eye on him, you and me. Make sure he’s OK.”
“We will daddy, we will.” Darla snuggled into him and settled herself in for a nice long cuddle/nap. He bent and kissed the top of her head and wrapped her up in his arms contentedly. He had great kids really – he didn’t need to worry too much. He just needed to keep and eye on Murphy – that was all.

*

Murphy sat, with a grim determination and a real anger in his stomach, doggedly watching the mirror. He had given up the pretext of sketching pretty much. He had his last sketch open in front of him, and his pencil in his hand but that was it: he wasn’t actually sketching at all. Just concentrating on that mirror. He knew it was important to concentrate in order to keep up his watch successfully. And he was determined to get to the bottom of this mess. He wanted to know for certain whether he had seen Jake or not. This was the only way to do that.
He couldn’t believe his dad had dragged him off to Gran’s house for half the afternoon. Just when he managed to come up with a plan to resolve his confusion his dad makes him go out instead to eat cake! He was furious! He was certain he would have missed any events in the mirror. They would simply have waited until he was out before showing themselves. It was so frustrating – and now he was sitting in front of the same mirror, no further on than at the beginning of the day just watching his own reflection staring back at him. He sighed. He didn’t feel as though he was getting anywhere with this at all. He also, whenever he let himself think it through, felt just a little bit bonkers for doing all of this in the first place.

Still, it was only his first day at this. He couldn’t rush at it. He had known that this could well take a while to sort out, and sort it out he would. Most definitely. He just had to know what had happened: he had to prove himself sane. Whether that meant him not seeing anything else (therefore proving he hadn’t lost it) that was OK, or whether it meant him seeing something again…. he would deal with that when it became necessary to. He hadn’t really thought what he’d do in that case.
He stared moodily at the mirror trying to will something to happen. Maybe he had to want it for it to work. He concentrated with all of his might. Nothing. Mind you, when he first saw Jake he hadn’t even been thinking about it at all. He’d just been wandering along, minding his own business. Maybe that’s what he’d have to do. Pretend not to be looking after all. He got up slowly and carefully, looking like someone trying to avoid setting off a bomb, and backed away from the mirror on tiptoes. He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and headed a little way down the landing, settling himself next to the banisters where he still had a good view of the mirror but hopefully couldn’t be seen. Maybe this was the way to get to the truth. He certainly felt much more hopeful about it.
He opened his sketchbook to a new page and started trying to sketch the staircase. Something slightly different to help him pass the time and keep him focused. Also, it was good practise for his perspective work his teacher kept nagging him about. It was his most major flaw as an artist – his use of perspective. Or his lack of it! He could never quite get it right in his mind. He had the rules and guidelines set out for him by his teacher on numerous occasions but they never seemed to stick somehow. It was very frustrating and it really limited what he could successfully reproduce.
He started to construct his page, marking out key points of his view so that he proportioned his page correctly. The edge of a stair here, a banister rail there, a picture on the right hand side. He then went into more detail, making sure to include the landing and the mirror in there also. After all, that was the main reason for him being there on the landing doing the sketch in the first place. That mirror. He chanced a glance at it out of the corner of his eye: nothing. He almost daren’t look at it directly really in case he ruined something or stopped something from happening. Quite what might happen he wasn’t all that sure. He still couldn’t quite believe he had been suckered into all of this. Why was he spending his half term keeping tabs on a mirror? It made no sense at all. But he couldn’t stop himself. His curiosity had been awakened and he simply had to know for certain if what he had seen was real. Had he seen Jake looking back at him? His mind was looping round and round in circles around this key point: he had seen Jake. Missing Jake. The boy everyone was searching so desperately for and was so convinced that they would never see again: he had seen him. Maybe that was why he hadn’t just dismissed this whole thing – he wanted to be able to bring good news – to tell everyone that Jake was alive and well, that he had found him.
He continued sketching and eying the mirror out of the corner of his eye for the rest of that day but saw nothing unusual in the mirror – only his own look of frustration. Bedtime came and went and Murphy was eventually sent off to bed by his dad, who clearly thought Murphy had gone quietly bonkers that day, as he was giving him some seriously worried looks.
Nor did Murphy notice anything unusual the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. Each day he sat at his vigil keeping watch but with no luck whatsoever. Each day he had to be forced by his dad to move from his spot on the landing in order to do anything: eat, sleep – you name it. Each day he was disappointed. As it came up to Sunday evening and school loomed over him once more Murphy was forced to admit defeat. With a heavy heart he turned, sighing, away from the mirror and started to prepare himself for his next challenge: school. He trudged off towards his room disconsolately, taking his sketch pad and pencils with him. He must have imagined it all along. He had proved it to himself now: there was nothing unusual about that mirror. He couldn’t have seen what he’d thought he had seen. It was impossible. He could now forget about it finally and move on.
At least he had tried to prove his vision – he hadn’t just taken the easy option and walked away dismissing it. He had tested his theory and found it to be wrong. It was that simple. He could move on now with no nagging doubts. No niggling thoughts plaguing him about the whole experience. Nothing to worry him at all.
With that thought in mind he headed off to bed – he would need all of the strength he could muster to get himself through tomorrow. Back to school. His shoulders sagged considerably. Another day of pure invisibility. Of lessons where he might as well not be there. Of long breaks and lunchtimes where he had nothing to do and no one to talk to at all. Still, it had to be better than spending his entire time staring at a mirror. He smiled. Silver linings were sometimes hard to find but they were worth it once you actually found them.

*

It literally felt as though his head had just hit the pillow when his alarm started screaming at him from his bedside table. Murphy groaned and groped sleepily for the source of the unpleasant noise. Eventually he silenced it and collapsed back into his pillows gratefully. Peace and quiet once more. Not for long though.
“Murphy – time to get up!” Dad was shouting from downstairs, “We don’t want to be late!”
“No we certainly don’t,” Murphy muttered to himself, “That would be awful.” School once again. How had his half term gone by so quickly? He heaved himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, dragging his tired feet along the carpet on the way. Another day of enthralling learning was already winging its way to him – he couldn’t wait.
He stumbled his way through his morning, not really having time to stop and think. He was dressed, fed and out of the door almost before he knew it, then had to sit through Darla’s favourite songs in the car – all of which sounded identical to him: sugary nonsense with no meaning whatsoever. She loved them anyway, and sang along at the top of her voice (not using the right words of course) but enjoying every second of it. It made his head hurt just to think about it. Then he was out of the car into the wind and making a dash for the school buildings. Only once he was settled into his desk in school did he have the opportunity to think at all. In fact, he had too much opportunity: far too much. It was just him, his thoughts and his work then with no interruptions of any kind for the rest of the day. His invisibility status hadn’t changed at all during the holidays – he was still absent while present as far as his classmates were concerned.
He tried not to let it get him down but it was hard work. He was a naturally sociable person really, although he was a little bit shy with new people. Once he got to know people though he was (he thought anyway) quite good fun and more than capable of having a laugh. But nobody here seemed interested in that at all. He hadn’t been born here, he talked funny and therefore they just weren’t interested in getting to know him. Or so it seemed. It never occurred to him that they might be a bit intimidated by him and actually they would like to get to know him. After all, he had lived in London which must have been fairly exciting. He could have interesting tales to tell – they would be quite interested to know about his life down there. But they couldn’t pluck up the courage to go to him and ask. It was easier just to keep on ignoring him really. Less chance of getting their feelings hurt that way.
But Murphy knew none of this, didn’t pick up on the looks some students gave him as he walked through the corridors of the school like a ghost: blending into the background as much as possible.

It was the end of lunch time and he was sitting quietly by the window with his book open in front of him. He had read the last paragraph at least four times already. There was something about reading in a public place that he found really difficult: he could never quite settle to it somehow. He was too easily distracted by the bustle around him. Even though he knew in this case that nobody was likely to be interrupting him at all, it still disturbed his concentration. He couldn’t focus on the words he was reading, and kept on reading and re-reading them as though he was stuck in a loop. In between these repetitions he kept looking out at the wind and grey skies with a little frown. He’d give anything to see a lovely southern blue sky looking back at him. Feel the hot sun on his face. Anything other than the monotonous cold here. It really got him down sometimes.
The bell was ringing out in the corridor so he knew it was time to get himself along to his last lesson of the day: History. One of his favourites actually. He always enjoyed the lessons and his teacher Mr Devine made them fun, exciting and interesting. He learned so much that it was hard to keep it all in his head really. There was a very real danger that the new lesson would push out the old one entirely! That was part of what he loved about the lessons. They challenged him to learn new things, but also to look at things he already knew from a different angle. You could never possibly say you were finished in one of Mr Devine’s lessons: there was always more work you could do. Murphy loved that. Sometimes, he got the impression that the work Mr Devine put him onto wasn’t something he’d planned but was something he had thought of there and then in response to the questions Murphy raised, or the answers he had given to the tasks he’d completed. He loved those tasks the most. They were always interesting and challenged him in so many ways. And Mr Devine knew how to make things appeal to him personally. He often made the tasks comic strip based, which Murphy loved – coming up with comic book versions of famous historical figures. Obviously done in his own unique style with his brand of shading and colour scheme choices. In fact, a lot of his work was currently displayed on the walls of the classroom all around him, which was something which Murphy was half proud of but also a bit embarrassed about too. He loved that he was doing good work (and he had really enjoyed doing it) but he worried about what his classmates thought of him and his work. In some ways he liked to keep that side of things to himself – to keep them private. They were very personal in lots of ways and he sometimes felt a bit like he was revealing too much about himself by showing his work. He would definitely be devastated if he heard anyone saying anything about his pictures that he didn’t like. He would be really gutted if that happened. But so far, so good. He had heard some people just saying they were good pictures – in fact he’d heard someone ask who had done them. But no one seemed interested enough to say anything to him personally.
Anyway, the fact of the matter was that he loved his history lessons and couldn’t wait to get there to get stuck into some facts. He gathered up his things, stuffing his lunch box into his bag and headed off to Mr Devine’s classroom whistling under his breath. It would at least be a good afternoon and then he’d be off home again. Safe at last!

*

As always, in the lessons Murphy enjoys he finds the time flies by and before he knows what’s hit him it’s all over: this afternoon’s history session was no exception to that rule. Almost the minute it started it seemed it was over and Murphy was part of the throng of students heading out of the door towards their parents cars. Murphy could see his Gran grinning away at him from within her embarrassment-mobile, ornaments swinging away all around her. He forced a smile back (he did love her really – it was just that her car was SO embarrassing) and headed towards the front seat. Only to find Darla installed there looking smugly up at him. He sighed and headed to the back seat instead. Darla could be so annoying too.
He settled himself into his seat – at least not too many of his friends would see him sitting back here. It did mean that he had to sit with his knees virtually around his ears for the entire journey home because it was cramped back here in the little car. But never mind. At least he didn’t have to walk all the way home in the cold and the wind.
“Hi Gran,” Murphy received a grin via the rear view mirror from his Gran, “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Don’t you worry my dear – it’s a pleasure, it really is. How was school today? Did you manage to catch up with your friends after the holidays?” Gran pulled the car out into the traffic as she spoke and they were on their way home.
“Yes Gran, they’re all fine.” Murphy didn’t want to get into the whole nightmare scenario with everyone at school with his Gran: better she didn’t know about his lack of friends. It was bad enough that his Dad knew about it all and pestered him and worried about it. He couldn’t cope with his Gran starting that too.
“That’s great love. Did they do anything exciting over the holidays?” Gran was weaving through traffic, quietly oblivious of the van driver she had just cut up as she turned into the high street. Murphy caught the driver’s eye through the rear window and shrugged apologetically. His Gran really should be concentrating on her driving, not trying to talk to him. It made him nervous when she drove like this.
“No not really Gran, nothing special really. It was only a week off, so there’s not a lot you can do in that kind of time.” Murphy fished his book out of his bag and buried his head in it pointedly. He would rather not talk to her while his life was at risk in the car. Better to wait until they were at home.
The sound of Gran humming along to the oldies on her car radio meant that she had forgotten about talking and was for the moment at least concentrating on her driving. Murphy sighed in relief and started to read. It was his newest history book he had gotten from the library at lunchtime that day. He was obsessed with the Romans and there society at the moment. They had been studying it for ages in lessons at school and Mr Devine had really brought it to life for him. He thought it was amazing that they had invented so many things back then that we now took for granted in our lives. And with so much less technology to help them make those things. They must have been a nation of geniuses!
This book had plenty of pictures and artefacts reproduced in it for him to really get a feel for the place. Rome seemed a fascinating place to him, and it was definitely somewhere he would like to visit someday.
“Here we are then bookworm! Home sweet home!” Gran was unbuckling her seatbelt and helping Darla out of hers. He hadn’t even noticed that they had arrived at his house he was so absorbed with his reading. Bookworm – that was what his mum used to call him. Because he always had his head buried in some book or other. The thought made him smile.
He unbuckled himself and jumped out of the car, bringing his bag and books with him. He was glad to be home – he was so tired after his first day back at school. It was exhausting really – even though he had spent most of the day sitting behind his desk it still took it out of him. He didn’t honestly know how his teachers did it – standing there in front of their classes all day. Just trying to keep up with his own work was enough – never mind trying to keep and eye on the whole class and making sure they were all working away on the right things. Maybe that was why they were so grumpy a lot of the time....

He went straight up to his room once he got in and dumped his stuff on his bed. He had never been the kind of person who could just leave his things all over the place. He liked to know where he’d put everything and that he hadn’t lost anything. Also, he didn’t trust Darla with his things. She would be likely to be nosying in his bad and drawing all over his things no doubt. She liked to think she was doing a good thing – keeping an eye on his things and drawing him special pictures. Which sounded nice but when she had chosen to do one of her drawings on top of one of his comic book sketches he didn’t find it so amusing. She was a bit of a nuisance really and frequently got on his nerves. But she was his little sister after all: that’s what sister’s are for really.
He headed back down to the kitchen – he was really thirsty and hungry now he was home. He bounded down the stairs past the mirror (he wasn’t acknowledging its existence these days) and made a beeline for the kitchen and some milk and cookies (his Gran was very traditional in her choice of snacks). He could already hear Darla in there tucking in merrily. This would keep him going until his dad got home for dinner (or tea as they call it in Whitleby).

Chapter 3 - the story continues!!

Chapter 3.



The rest of the day passed in a kind of blur. Murphy couldn’t settle to his work again and was constantly distracted. Every little noise from outside his room made him jump up to see what was going on. He kind of felt like he had seen a ghost or something, and he was seriously spooked about it to be honest. The more he tried not to think about it the more he did. He started remembering even more worrying details. Like the fact that Jake was wearing the same clothes from the picture taken on the last day he was seen (he had been to the seafront with his family and they took a snap of him with an ice cream). And the fact that he had seen something else in the background, behind Jake himself. This was the bit which was making him feel the most worried for his state of mind – he could see in the background what seemed to be a village of some kind, with a sandy dirt lane leading off towards a thatched cottage. Except there were no thatched cottages nearby that he knew of. And, how could he possibly have seen all of that in the mirror at the top of his stairs? It just didn’t make sense.
He had been very quiet during lunch, and his dad had asked him if there was something wrong, but he just couldn’t bring himself to mention it – not to anyone. He felt like he was being an idiot for even considering it. He was trying to put it out of his mind as much as possible, but he was finding it very difficult to do. He just couldn’t get over how the Jake he had seen had smiled at him when he saw him. He stopped pacing his room – did he just? Jake smiled at him? As in, he’d seen his face move and smile? He racked his brain. He had – that is what he had seen standing there at the top of the stairs. So it was a moving, smiling Jake he had seen, staring out of their mirror from what seemed to be a different part of the country altogether. He flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. That settled matters – he was definitely going mad.
Abandoning all hope of working on his sketches that afternoon, Murphy threw on his jacket and trainers and headed for the door. He was going to go for a walk to clear his head. He glanced out of the window – mercifully it wasn’t even raining either. His dad was in from the garage now and playing with Darla so it would be OK for him to go. He grabbed his ipod and headed onto the landing. Then, the moment of truth: he would have to pass that mirror again. He walked slowly and purposefully towards it, with a tiny ball of fear in his stomach but a look of determination on his face. He wanted to look again, to know what was there. To confirm that he had been imagining what he thought he saw. He took a deep breath, braced himself and rounded the corner to face the mirror.
What he saw made him release his breath all at once – just himself. What a relief! Murphy bounded off down the stairs through the kitchen to tell his dad where he was going and off out of the back door. He knew he had been imagining the whole thing. It was all in his mind. He was just tired and worried about Jake: that’s why he had seen him there. It was probably just a trick of the light – nothing more. He pushed his headphones into his ears, turned on his favourite music, tucked his hands into his pockets and headed out of the back gate onto his favourite trail by the sea. The wind whipped his face and he felt it refresh him and wake him up as he made his way along the cliff tops. Looking out to sea it was hard to imagine himself as he had been just an hour ago – worried and pensive thinking he was losing his mind. He felt absolutely fine now, and he was confident he would continue to feel that way. Mirrors couldn’t show you things like that. All in his imagination it was. Simple as.

*

The walk did him so much good. Murphy bounded up the stairs an hour later, back to his sketches without sparing a moment’s thought for the mirror on the stairs. He had put it all out of his mind now. He was busily working away when he suddenly caught sight of the clock above his desk – it was 5pm. Time to log on to chat to his friends John and Sasha. They had made a pact during the holidays to be online at 5 every day to chat. They knew that they could guarantee this during the holidays much more than they could during term time. Murphy had been so caught up in his ideas he had almost forgotten. He quickly logged onto his messenger page and there they both were – their photos grinning back at him all the way from London. No sooner had he logged in than the messages started flying:

“Hey Murphy, do you sound like you’re off Coronation Street yet?” Sasha – so cheeky.

“No – do you sound like someone off Albert Square?” Murphy was not going to put up with that kind of nonsense.

“Lol. You’re a funny guy you are chuck!” Sasha smiley faced him.

“Hi Murphy – how’s it going? Did you see the latest comic entry on the site? Unbelievable eh?” This was John – always so much more sensible than Sasha, “I thought it was fantastic – can’t wait for the new series to come out.”

Murphy quickly typed a response – he could see his conversation window with Sasha light up as he did so. It was always such a rush to catch up with them whenever they got together like this. “Yeah, it was great. I really like the new hero – he is going to be the best one yet I think.” Murphy hit enter then turned his attention back to Sasha.

“What’s new oop North then chuck?” Sasha was always taking the mickey out of his new Yorkshire accent (which he didn’t think he had at all). Any excuse and she was off.

“It is cold but not rainy for once. I do NOT have an accent so stop calling me chuck!” Send. “It’s good here – especially now it’s half term.”  Enter. Back to John’s flashing conversation.

“I am so excited about the new hero – he is so cool. Imagine being able to create an invisibility fog whenever you wanted to. Cool!” 

“I’d like to be able to get rid of my fog of invisibility – around school anyway.  Maybe I am the new superhero after all – it’s named after me!!”

“No mate, invisibility at school is awesome – I wish I could be invisible there. Especially in Mrs Saunders classes. That woman HATES me!”

“I wouldn’t mind being invisible from the teachers – Mrs Saunders – YUK! But invisible from the other students too….. not much fun.” Enter. Back to Sasha.

“Ok, ok…. I’ll stop – for now! Lol    its good here – went to the cinema today to see The Blobster. Was so funny I almost died! What you been doing then?”

“A whole lot of nothing in the half term so far. Lots of sketching and just hanging round the house with dad and Darla. It’s been cool. No family trips to museums or anything. Long may it continue.” Enter. John.

“Yeah, that’s rough mate. Real rough. Still no change then? I thought that girl Harriet seemed to be talking to you?”

“No – not since the last time. I still just get on quietly most of the time. Nothing else doing. Lessons are OK – it’s the breaks that are hardest. Literally nothing to do at all then.” Send.

“The idea of chilling out sounds cool,” This was Sasha again, “My mum would have a fit at the very idea. Fun has to be organised or not had at all. That’s the way it is here. I don’t get a minute to myself.”

“Yeah – I remember your mum being like that. Do you remember the day of the 5 different visits?!” Send. Sasha’s mum was ace fun and a bit of a legend but she had more energy than the rest of them put together sometimes. She would organise such complicated days out for them sometimes that they’d be exhausted and have to beg to rest for a bit. He was referring to the time she had rushed them through five different museums in one day – it was an unforgettable and totally exhausting experience for all of them.

“Do I ever remember – mum is SO embarrassing. She’s a nutter!” It was common knowledge that this was where Sasha had gotten her cheekiness and energy from in the first place. She and her mum were like two peas in a pod. Definitely cut from the same cloth.

“It took two days to recover from that if I remember rightly. We were shattered and your mum was still raring to go!”

“That’s my mum – always up for a bit of educational fun! Zzzzz!!”

Murphy chuckled to himself. “Yeah – fun of the non-fun kind… I remember it well!” 

“I’m sorry to hear that mate – I really am. I thought it would be better by now. I really did.” John was back.

“John, do you remember the time we went with Sasha’s mad mum to those 5 museums in a day? It was mental!” Send.

“Do I? I still have the mental scars! That was last summer wasn’t it?”

“No, the summer before. Was such a hot day too. All we wanted to do was chill out in the park. She wasn’t having any of it though. Determined she was.” Murphy smirked to himself as he hit send.

“So Sasha – what else is new? Still going out with Jim?” Murphy proper laughed as he sent this one, “What is it – your 2 year anniversary coming up?”

“I hate you Murphy – you are so mean! I’m not even going to dignify those questions with a response.”

“Aww, come on – I think it’s sweet. You and Jim are made for each other.” Jim is the boy who lives next door to Sasha who has had a crush on her forever it seems. As long as they could remember anyway. He tended to hang around her as much as he possibly could, and their parents (hers and Jim’s) seemed to do their best to make sure they had plenty of opportunities to be together. It drove Sasha mad. She had tried being kind but firm with him. She had even been downright nasty on one occasion but to no avail. Jim wasn’t budging an inch. He would hang around with her all of the time if he could – even if she didn’t speak a word to him the entire time they were together. He seemed to just be happy to be near her, and this was a constant source of embarrassment to Sasha. Murphy and John liked to do the proper supportive friend thing… and tease her about it all the time!

“Yeah right. You’re just jealous that’s what you are. Just cos no girls ever look at you!” Murphy could clearly imagine Sasha sticking her tongue out at the computer screen as she pressed enter.

“Yeah – I’d like a little kid to fancy me too……!”

“Women – they’re all determined about something or other. That’s my feeling anyway. There’s always a plan of some kind that you don’t know about – you know what I mean?” John had only had one girlfriend (and they were only together for a week) but he felt that made him an authority on the subject. That and the fact that he had three sisters and a mum to contend with at home. Not to mention several pushy aunties and cousins dotted through his family. Anyway, he seemed to think he knew a lot about how girls minds worked.

“Yeah…. I guess so.” Murphy had very little experience when it came to girls. They were a mystery to him, and he hoped it would stay that way. “You planning anything for half term? Any excellent adventures?” They were both huge Bill and Ted fans, no matter how old the films were.

“Dude – awesome! Yeah! I’m off to see my uncle Bob tomorrow in Camden. We’re going to paint the town red whatever that means.” John’s uncle was a legend to them. He was an ex-hippie who just lived life however he wanted and didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. He had a motorbike, he wore leather, he hardly seemed to work at all, in short – he was cool. Murphy had met him a few times before and had some really fond memories of his visits to Camden. Going round the market, sitting by the loch. Good times.

“Cool! Say Hi from me…. Wish I could be there.” Murphy loved Camden – it was one of his favourite places to visit with his mum too.

“Yeah, me too mate. Me too. It’s definitely not the same around here without you.” 

“Shut up you! I don’t know why I bother talking to you at all! You are beneath me anyway.” Sasha again – he would have to make amends.

“OK, Sash – sorry! I was only kidding! And you know you’d miss me if you didn’t get to talk to me at all.” Murphy smiled to himself. “You’d be lost without my witty banter!”

“Yeah right – chance would be a fine thing. You never leave me alone long enough to miss you anyway!”

“Whatever!” Murphy could hear his dad shouting him for tea, “Got to go! Teatime here! Take care!” This he sent to Sasha and John.

“Bye Murphy!”

“Bye mate”
Murphy logged off and headed down for tea. He always had an extra spring in his step after talking to his friends. It put him into such a good mood. He took the stairs two at a time and bounced into the kitchen to see his dad and his sister looking at him as if he was mad.
“Blimey son – you’ll do yourself an injury one of these days. We’re not going to eat your tea for you if you aren’t here straight away!” His dad sounded amused, “Get yourself sat down.”
“Sorry dad – I didn’t realise I was being so fast. Was talking to John and Sasha.” Murphy helped himself to some bread and butter.
“Ah – I thought you were in a good mood son. You look all perky. How are they? Up to anything good?” Mike started heaping mashed potato onto their plates.
“Yeah – John’s off to see Uncle Bob again in Camden.” Murphy felt his dad stiffen a little at the mention of that name. As a policeman, his relationship with an ex-hippie was a little strained to say the least. They certainly didn’t see eye to eye when they had met. Not on any single subject really.
“Well, hope they have a good – and legal – time together.” Dad’s tone of voice said it all: he really didn’t approve of Uncle Bob at all.
Murphy tucked into his bangers and mash happily but quietly for the time being – best to leave that conversation there really. He could never convince his dad about Bob – no matter what he said dad still saw Bob as irresponsible and a bit of a rebel. Nothing would change that at all.
“How’s Sasha? Still seeing that boy Jim?”
Murphy nearly spat out his food! “No dad – she never was! We just used to wind her up about it!”
Mike smiled, “I see. Poor girl. I thought she really went out with him – you boys went on about it so much.”
“Yeah I know – we never gave her a break about it. Don’t feel too sorry for her though. She was just as bad to us whenever she got the chance.” Murphy smiled to himself. If Sasha could have heard this conversation – she would have gone totally mad! So funny. He couldn’t wait to casually mention it when they next chatted. She would hit the roof!
“So kids – what do you fancy for tonight then? I thought we could have a DVD marathon. What do you think? We might have to toss a coin for what we actually watch. I know what you two are like,” Dad gave them a slightly warning look, “No arguing you two.”
Murphy and Darla exchanged a little glance – what to watch? Could they find something they agreed on? The only sound for the next minute or so was the sound of them both eating and of their brains ticking over. What to watch? Eureka! Murphy had it suddenly-

“Wallace and Gromit Night!”

“Yay!” came from Darla, and she immediately began shuffling round the room singing the theme at the top of her voice, doing a little dance.
“Excellent choice son, excellent choice!” Murphy’s dad loved those films too, “Let’s get organised. Darla – you can clear the table mats and put them away; Murphy- you can dry the pots; Dad- I’ll wash up! Let’s go!” They worked away to the tune of the Wallace and Gromit brass band (provided by Darla) until everything was cleared away and the kitchen was all tidy.
“Right – to the living room!” Mike announced, and they made their way there to make ready for the film festival. Everything had to be just so. The curtains had to be closed, all toys and bits and pieces put away. There needed to be footstools and end tables by the sofa “for their viewing comfort” as their dad said (really mainly for their viewing treats!) and the phone needed to be switched onto silent. Once that was all sorted they set off upstairs to wash their hands and “visit the conveniences” (again one of Mike’s sayings) while Mike himself put the big bag of popcorn into the microwave and poured out fizzy drinks into large cups for them. Usually, by the time they had been to the toilet and returned to the living room everything was ready, popcorn in bowls by their seats, drinks in place and the first film set up in the player. Tonight was no exception. They settled in together and their dad pressed play. Nothing would disturb them now – not for the rest of the evening. It would be in the morning when things would get complicated. For Murphy anyway.

*

Murphy woke up late to the sounds of his dad and sister playing downstairs – playing pirates by the sounds of it. “Oo-arr me hearties!” kept drifting up to him every now and then followed by “pieces of eight” and so on. They had finished quite late last night with their Wallace and Gromit Fest (well, late for them anyway) and Murphy was glad to be allowed to lie in for once. That was something he very rarely got away with. His dad must be getting soft! He rolled over lazily and stretched, preparing to force himself out of bed – he could have stayed there quite happily for most of the day. He knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t get away with that. No way. He took a deep breath and heaved himself up and out of bed, heading for the bathroom. As he wandered across the landing, blearily rubbing at the sleep in his eyes, something moved out of the corner of his eye. He looked round to see what or who was there but saw no one. He stopped for a minute, feeling a little uneasy. He had the feeling that someone was watching him, but as he turned on the spot he could see that there was no one there. Those niggling thoughts that he had pushed away, about the mirror and seeing Jake were starting to return to him now. Seeing things again. He couldn’t believe it.
Slowly, he headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day. As he walked along he told himself that he was just imagining things but that niggling doubt and fear wouldn’t be pushed away quite so easily. What was going on? Why was this suddenly happening to him? He had never had this kind of thing happen to him before – never. It was really starting to spook him. Not least because when he’d seen Jake he had seemed so alive, not like a reflection of himself at all. He had seemed to be there in real time. Blinking, breathing – very much in the flesh. That had been what spooked him so much about the whole thing. He had wanted to say hi, that had been his initial instinctive reaction. Before he realised what he was seeing, what he was really seeing. That was it – he had really seen it. He couldn’t dismiss it anymore. It had actually happened. He looked himself in the eye in the mirror – toothbrush working away furiously in his mouth. So that was what he was really saying? He had seen Jake? It wasn’t his imagination? He had spent his entire time since seeing Jake convincing himself that it just wasn’t true – that it was nothing more than a trick of his mind or the light. He couldn’t believe that he was so willing to go back on that. He had been telling himself that for absolutely ages. How could he have changed his mind so quickly? And why was he suddenly so sure?
Murphy finished brushing his teeth, ran his hands through his messy hair and headed back to his room. His eyes felt as though they were out on stalks – desperately trying to get a glimpse of something/someone but at the same time hoping desperately that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of anything either. He didn’t want to be thinking or seeing these things – definitely not. What was happening to him? He wasn’t even sure why this was making him so anxious in the first place – after all he had explained it all away once before as a trick of his mind and the light in the hall. Why now was he so convinced that what he had seen was real? One thing was absolutely certain though – he wanted to get to the bottom of this and fast. He couldn’t just forget about it, he realised that now.
He dressed quickly and headed downstairs for some food. He stopped in front of the mirror on the stairs and looked thoughtfully into its surface. He could only see himself looking back. Nothing more, nothing less. He sighed. What to do, that was the question. How could he solve this puzzle and stop him from wondering and worrying? He headed down the stairs feeling very preoccupied and uneasy. He didn’t see the glimmer of movement which came from behind him, as though someone had walked across the landing. He was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice.

*

The school holidays no longer seemed quite so much fun to Murphy anymore. He veered wildly between wanting to spend all of his time keeping a look out for further activity from the mirror and wanting to be out of the house and as far away as possible. Whatever he did he found he just couldn’t quite settle to. If he was watching TV he would suddenly realise he hadn’t been taking in the last few minutes at all. Even working on his sketches didn’t hold his attention for long. He would find himself staring aimlessly into space and was worried that he would ruin them by carelessly scribbling in the wrong place. It was a nightmare, and it was now looking like he wouldn’t get any of them finished at all.
Murphy just couldn’t understand why he was letting this whole thing get to him so much. So he thought he’d seen Jake in the mirror at the top of his stairs – so what. Why did it matter so much anyway? It was turning into a burning obsession for him, and it was something he just couldn’t stop thinking about. No amount of reasoning and rational thought seemed to be enough to bring him round to dismissing any of this. On the contrary – the more he thought about it and tried to push it away the more absorbed he became in these thoughts. He just wasn’t sure what to do for the best – how could he possibly cure this? How could he set his mind at rest and prove to himself that there was no truth in what he had seen or felt.
He was really wracking his brains now – he wanted to put this behind him and start enjoying his half term again and he knew he wouldn’t be able to until he had reached some kind of conclusion about this. What could he do to make that happen though? He had it – he would steak out the mirror at the top of the stairs. He would watch it as much as he could and see if he saw anything like it again. If after two days of watching he hadn’t seen anything he could stop worrying about it – it must have been his imagination. Right, this was a plan – finally! He rushed from his room onto the landing and sat himself down at the top of the stairs to begin his vigil. Two days of observation and this would all be behind him. This was definitely the best plan he had come up with so far. It would almost certainly work.
He paused for a second – how weird would this look when his dad and sister came past him? Him just sitting there on the landing staring in the direction of the mirror. Hmm. He’d have to think of a cover story of some kind. What could he do to make it seem less weird? He had it. He’d grab his sketch book and pencils. That way he could say he was using the mirror to do a self portrait. Genius. That was definitely the thing to do.
He rushed off and grabbed his stuff and was seated back at the top of the stairs in no time, turning to a fresh page and eying the mirror warily. All he could see at the moment was himself looking back out at the world, a bit dazed and puzzled to say the least. He sighed. Half of him still felt extremely silly for even contemplating doing this. It wasn’t exactly the sanest thing to do under the circumstances. But still, at least he would be able to put his mind at rest. Hopefully.
He started to mark out his proportions on the paper and sketched in certain things first, as his mum had taught him to do. He started by focusing in on his face and sketching in proportionally where his eye line was, the tip of his nose, his mouth then ears and hair (although only roughly at first). He looked at the picture and his reflection to check his proportions, and then started on the detail of the sketch. The eyes came first, filled in with as much detail as he could muster – right down to the pupils and the patterns surrounding them. His lashes were painstakingly filled in one lash at a time then his brows. He always started with the eyes as they were his favourite part to sketch. His least favourite parts of the face were the nose and the chin and jaw. He always found these difficult, as they were key to making the portrait look like the actual person but they were also the most tricky to get right. Deciding when to outline a feature and when to shade around it he found so difficult. It was like some kind of torture for him really. It was certainly the bit where he had to rub out and start again the most frequently.
He looked up into the mirror again in time to see his tongue sticking out of his mouth as usual – he put it away sharpish, and carried on with his sketch completely absorbed in his task. He didn’t hear his dad coming into the hallway downstairs. Mike looked up at his son with a fond smile on his face. He hadn’t seen him do any “classical” artwork since before his mother died. They had sat together and sketched their portraits in front of that mirror lots of times. He hadn’t seen Murphy do this for a long time. He suddenly had the urge to go and hug his son. Seeing him like that not only reminded him of just how talented a young man he was, but also reminded him of his lost wife Kathy. He felt hot tears welling up in his eyes as he stood there, and decided to move on without disturbing Murphy. He walked quietly into the living room where Darla was watching TV and settled in behind her, trying to get a hold on his emotions. He didn’t quite know why the sight of Murphy there had upset him so much but he knew he shouldn’t be inexplicably crying in front of him and Darla. That wasn’t logical behaviour. And he desperately didn’t want to upset them – they were doing so well really, both of them.
He tried to focus on the TV programme Darla was singing along to. Lots of brightly coloured characters were bouncing around on the screen merrily and Darla was copying them with her hands as best she could whilst singing along with every word. She was concentrating so hard to keep up, he could see that in her face. She was completely absorbed in what she was doing, and so didn’t notice her old dad in the background looking a little forlorn and sad. Which was a good thing – he didn’t want to drag his children down when they were obviously settled, occupied and happy.
He pottered off into the kitchen and put the kettle on. A nice cup of tea would cure him he thought – it was the fix for everything according to his mum. No sooner had he thought that then – the phone rang. It was his mum.
“Hiya son. How are things? The children enjoying their hols are they?” She always seemed to know somehow – whenever he was feeling down she had always known about it.
“The kids are fine mum – really enjoying their holiday. I think I might have a job getting them back to school next week. There will be some long faces in our house that day, I bet.” Mike smiled wryly.
“Kids never want to go to school really – they’d all much rather spend their time at home doing nice things. Don’t worry about it, they’ll get back into the swing of things.”
“Yeah, you’re right as usual. I shouldn’t worry about things that haven’t actually happened yet. How are you mum? You been out in the garden this week?” She was a fanatical gardener, although she only had a very small garden. She tended to those roses like they were extra children.
“Oh yes. Had a good potter around with my secateurs yesterday. Shipped off some dead leaves and shoots. I have to go out every day to them though to keep a watch for greenfly. Tricky things those greenfly you know.”
“Yeah, mum. Tricky little bugs they are,” Mike smiled to himself. This was, he knew, one of his mother’s favourite pet subjects: her battle with the greenflies.
“Yep. You take your eyes off those roses for a day and they’ll be in there like a shot. It’s only the constant threat of death that keeps them away at the moment. I tell you, they’re a menace to society.”
“I keep expecting to be asked to head up a task force at work to be honest. It’s such a nuisance to the community at large.” Mike held back a little snigger.
“No need to be funny with me son, you know what I mean. Cheeky.” Gran was having none of it from him. He wasn’t too old to be put across her knee (as she was fond of telling him – much to his own children’s amusement).
“Sorry mum. Now, what can I do for you today – or did you just phone up for a chat?” He knew that wouldn’t be the case. His mum never just phoned for a chat. There was always a purpose to her calls.
“Well, son. I wondered if you’d like to bring the kids over today for a spot of lunch? It would be nice to see them and I have made a nice Victoria sponge for us all.” She knew how to get his attention.
“Sure mum, I’ll round ‘em up and head ‘em on down. What time do you want us?”
“About 1ish if that’s OK with you?”
Mike looked at the clock in the kitchen – only 10:30am. That gave them plenty of time to get organised. “Sure mum. See you at 1.”
“See you later son, bye!”
Now to rustle up the troops. Mike stopped – he thought he’d allow himself his cup of tea in peace and quiet first. No rush to get going. He settled himself in one of the comfy conservatory chairs with his cuppa and just let his mind drift off. He was so glad that they had moved here, close to his mum. He was so glad to be back in touch with his mum in the first place. That was something he never expected to happen really, what with the stranglehold his dad had over her and his feelings about Kathy. He didn’t think he’d ever be reunited with his family at all, and he didn’t let it bother him. He had Kathy – that was what mattered. But since he’d lost her he was adrift for a while, with friends to help and support – and they had been a great help – it just wasn’t the same though. Having your family around you is something so important to Mike; he just felt such relief when his mum had gotten back in touch. The idea of moving up here was all hers also, and it made such sense to leave the bad memories behind and move to somewhere where he could get some help with his life and some support from his family.
His mum had made a huge sacrifice in letting him go in the first place. It was his father who had had such a problem with Kathy, not her. She had really liked her (although she’d had to keep her opinions hidden from dad). He was so controlling and hated that Mike had disobeyed him and married Kathy against his will. He could never forgive him for that. And if he wasn’t going to see his son then nobody else in his family would be able to either. He was such a powerful and scary man that the whole family felt obliged to follow his lead. In fact, some of them agreed with him anyway – an artist was not a suitable profession for anyone they felt. She would be sponging off him for the rest of their lives together. She’d never amount to anything – she was little more than a hippie. That was their feeling about her. They didn’t see the wonderful woman that Mike saw at all. They just saw her as not suitable. Not good enough in fact. And nothing he said could possibly change their minds it seemed.
So, it had taken a lot of courage for his mum to get back in touch, even though his father had passed away before then. His family had still very much had a stranglehold on her and had forbidden her to contact him. When she’d heard about Kathy dying, and knew just how much pain he’d be in she just couldn’t help but get in touch with him. She had to make contact and check that her son was alright. She had consequently lost all contact with dad’s family but that was a small price to pay she felt for the opportunity to get to know her son and grandchildren. She wouldn’t change her decision now at all. She only wished there was some way to go back and reclaim those lost years. As did Mike really, although he wouldn’t admit this out loud. He had hardened his heart against his dad and his family over this and wouldn’t let on just how much it had hurt him when he was cut off. He had never really given up on his mum though. Somehow he’d known all along that she’d come through for him. He’d known that they would be reunited somehow. He still felt a little angry with her though for allowing dad to push her around. He thought there must have been something she could have done – if it had been him he would have rather left his dad behind than his son – that was for certain. But his mum was too in awe of her husband to consider disobeying him in this. She loved him too much and was brought up to be a good wife to her husband and that meant for her that his word was law. It was a generation thing really. And something she couldn’t bring herself to break with. Until her husband had passed away. Then she felt finally free enough to make contact again.
Still, he was so glad of her support and her company now that he was willing to overlook and put behind him the years where he was without her. After all, he felt she had suffered just as much as him about this. She hadn’t really wanted to lose touch at all.
He drained his cup and stretched lazily – time to rally the troops. He heaved himself out of his chair in the sunshine and went off to find his children. They would definitely be excited at the prospect of Gran’s cake – he knew that much!

*

Here goes .... book 1 chapters 1 and 2. Hope you like it!!

Chapter 1.



Murphy looked out of the window at another rainy day. It was very early in the morning and he knew that his dad would soon be hurrying him off to school. He sighed: another grey and windswept day. He hated the weather here so much – it seemed almost as though he had never seen the sun. He wondered if there was any likelihood of the weather changing. He wouldn't mind the coldness – it could be quite refreshing to be out and about in the cold, especially when he was all wrapped up in his scarf and hat. It also made coming inside at the end of a walk into something of a treat. Sat in front of the fire with a hot chocolate listening to the wind outside. Nothing could beat that. It was the rain that got to him. Why must it always rain?
As he gazed out he could hear his dad bustling around downstairs getting breakfast ready. He loved his dad and his wonderful breakfasts, but despite that he still had a feeling of dread in his stomach: another day at school loomed ahead. Another day of feeling totally invisible. It's not as though he hates school – more that he doesn't like this place as much as his last one.

Just thinking of St Jude's brings a little smile to his face. He loved going there, and had the best friends anyone could ask for: Sasha and John. Every day they would all meet up and make their way there talking and laughing, planning their time together. They would get up to all kinds of mischief during the day: they had secret codes and signals so that they nobody could hijack their ideas. One of their favourite games was a game they called Colour Qualities, which they had made up themselves. They each had a different colour – Murphy was always blue, John green and Sasha red. They each had their own dominions which they ruled, which consisted entirely of things with this colour. They would compete to be all powerful in the Colourverse and to control the rainbow (the source of all gold). They let their imaginations fill in all of the details of their worlds and of the feuds and peace treaties with each other. Nobody else was allowed to join their game, and they were never invited to join in the games of others. They were a fully functioning, totally independent trio of friends who were totally happy and comfortable in each other's companies.

He really didn't have a care in the world and wished with all his heart he could go back. His journey to school was just the beginning of each happy day: he would spend as much time as possible with his friends laughing and joking and basically having fun. He would occasionally do some work too! Not too much. Just enough to keep his teacher's happy. Then at the end of the day he and his friends would run home to his house for snacks and games galore with his mum-

The smile vanished. He was reminded of the reason why he had to leave all of that behind. His mother had died and his dad had no choice but to move away with him to Whitleby. It just wasn't practical to live in London any more, especially with dad working all of the time. That's what he said. There wouldn't be anyone to keep an eye on him while he was at work. Now his journey to school was very different. His dad would take him in the car when the weather was bad (which it pretty much always was) as the school was a good twenty minutes walk from their home. Then he would spend the day virtually invisible. The only time his anonymity was threatened at all was when he was called upon to answer a question. Then his classmates would turn and stare at him, muttering and giggling under their breath about his “funny accent”. He sighed  again – fitting in at a new school in a different part of the country was proving to be hard work.
Murphy turned from the window and headed for the bathroom. No sense in hanging around. He couldn't afford to make his dad late for work. He was the chief of police after all.

Minutes later he walked into a heady fog of cooking smells and immediately was smiling once again. His dad – the tough as nails chief of police - was over by the stove with a spatula in his hand wearing the daft pink pinny he had been bought as a joke many years ago. He was humming absent mindedly while he worked – his impressive smart black uniform trousers and shirt poking out from beneath the pink frills in a frankly comical way. He didn't see Murphy arrive at all: he was so engrossed in his cooking. Seated at the table was Murphy's little sister Darla, singing to herself and playing with one of her many dolls. She waved at Murphy when she saw him, using her doll as a substitute hand, but barely missing a beat of her song and dance routine with the doll.
“Blast! Blo-” Mike cut off mid potential swear word at the sound of Murphy sniggering away in the background. “Don't just stand there son – get over here and help your struggling old man!” Murphy wandered over and helped him to plate up the food (a full fried breakfast this time with all the trimmings: tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread and black pudding) and settled down at the table to eat.
“What have you got on today dad?” Murphy asked between mouthfuls of food, “Any interesting cases?” Murphy's dad looked at him in an affectionate way. “Now you know I can't go blabbing about cases to all and sundry – where would that leave me, eh? Fired, that's where,” at the sight of Murphy's face losing it's hopeful look he conceded, “I do have some leads on the missing schoolboy Jake though.”
Murphy's head snapped up from his food. This was interesting stuff, as the missing person's case was all anyone could talk about at school.

“Yes, we have had in some possible sightings just a little way up the coast line at Brindlingborough. A family on their hols who thought they might have seen him. I'll be following that up this morning.” Darla looked up from her scrambled eggs and toast and gurgled happily. She loved the very mention of Bridlingborough, which was by far her favourite local spot for a day out.
Murphy looked pleased, “That's great news dad. Everyone is so worried about him.” Murphy finished his breakfast and got up to load his and dad's plated into the dishwasher. “Right, I'll just get my stuff.” And off upstairs he went, leaving his dad and Darla to organised themselves.
“Don't forget your PE Kit!” came the war cry from dad. Murphy stopped dead on the stairs just as he heard the words and an involuntary shudder shook him: PE? In this weather? He sighed once more – this was going to be one long day.

*

Bouncing along in the back of his dad's range rover Murphy stared out of the window disconsolately as the school came into sight. The looming metal gates at the entrance gave him a feeling of dread and foreboding and the first sight of the school building itself was no different. It was a very old and well established school set in a Victorian red brick building. This sounded nice on paper, but in actual fact was cold, draughty and damp. Or at least it had been throughout his time there (which had only been two months admittedly, since the beginning of the school year).
It was set almost on the cliff edge looking out over the damp and misty bay below, so it should in theory be a pleasant and inviting place to come to school. So far it had been nothing but dark, cold, rainy and dismal. He could see many students struggling towards the school, almost bent double against the wind and rain, their eyes closed to slits against the onslaught. Hoods drawn around their faces and heavy bags full of books on their backs. It could be worse Murphy thought – I could be out there in that awful weather. No sooner had this though occurred to him than the car ground to a halt outside the school.

“Here you are then son. Have a good day,” Dad handed his lunch to him with a smile.

“Cheers, Dad. See you later,” Murphy almost sounded cheerful as he clambered out of the car and staggered off in the direction of his classroom. His dad waved cheerily and set off down the drive and out of sight. Murphy turned just in time to see his dad turn right out of the school gates on his way to the police station. With one final sigh he heaved his bag up onto his shoulder and turned towards class once again. The sooner he got there the sooner he was out of the rain he thought to himself. He caught the eye of one of his classmates as he turned – a girl called Harriet. She smiled uncertainly at him and rolled her eyes at the weather. Surprised at the attention, Murphy grinned back sheepishly and fell into step next to her on his way into the school building. Talking in this wind was an impossibility so they soldiered on in silence for a while. Murphy opened the door of their block with some difficulty and managed to hold it open long enough for them both to slip inside. At which point it closed behind him with a loud bang.

“Can you believe this weather?” He and Harriet both laughed at their appearances as they shook themselves down and started the long process of thawing out.

“I can't believe we have to spend so much of our lives dressed as Eskimos!” Murphy replied, beginning to remove layers of scarves, coats and gloves. Harriet laughed again and began her own disrobing. They headed together towards their classroom door, still shivering slightly and turning a bit pink around the ears and nose, Murphy with a little spring to his step. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all – he seemed to have been cured of his dreadful bout of invisibility.
That all changed however the moment they stepped into the classroom. Harriet immediately hurried off to her crowd of friends by the window without giving Murphy a backward glance. Murphy sloped off to his seat near the back with a heavy heart. His invisibility had settled itself once more. Business as usual.

*

The day drudged on with Murphy spending an inordinate amount of his time brooding and staring into space. His first two lessons barely warranted a mention really – Maths and Geography. Both were extremely uneventful and involved much use of textbooks and working in silence. He figured his teacher Miss Arnwright was just as miserable in the cold weather as he was, as she was sporting a huge scarf and cardigan this morning and spent the majority of the lesson sneezing and sniffling to herself from behind her desk, hanky permanently in place. Anyone who dared to disobey the call for silence was reprimanded so severely that no one else dared even to raise their heads throughout each lesson. She was obviously trying to minimise her contact with the students – maybe to keep her germs to herself - or maybe to keep away from the germs of several students also snuffling away at their desks.

When the bell rang for break time it was a welcome relief from the monotony of sitting so still for all of the students, and they piled out of the classrooms along to the hall in a noisy huddle. As they made their way down the corridor similar groups of students burst from their quiet classrooms noisily and joined the hubbub which was moving determinedly towards the only indoor place available to them during break time: the hall. They knew they would have to be quick to get a seat or a safe space or they would risk being thrown out into the playground: not a pleasant prospect in the current climate!

They all burst in through the doors loudly and scrambled for seats. Murphy headed for his usual spot near the back where he could sit alone and eat his snack in peace. He pretty much always sat alone at his new school and could only dimly remember when his breaks and lunchtimes were filled with games and giggles. Now he sat quietly trying not to eavesdrop and feeling as though he was surrounded by an impenetrable force field which mysteriously kept potential friends at bay. He sighed once more watching Harriet hurrying past to a table nearby with her gaggle of friends, all chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Murphy tried not to overhear but was sitting so close by it proved impossible.

“My dad thinks we'll never see him again,” Harriet was saying, looking totally devastated. Murphy guessed they were talking about Jake. His ears pricked up: he might hear something useful for his dad. “It's such a tragedy – he's our age too. I remember him being at the school party before the summer holidays. He was such a laugh – I just can't believe he's gone... forever. I won't believe it!” Her friends made sympathetic noises and put their arms around her. Murphy wished he could help in some way – hang on, maybe he could.

“Harriet – I don't know that he's gone forever. I heard there was a sighting of him in Bridlingborough just last week!” Murphy was happy to use the information from his dad to help give Harriet some hope.

“Really Murphy – how do you know that?” Harriet exclaimed as she and her friends all spun round to question him. “That wasn't in the paper – my mum would have told me.” She sniffed a little, and Murphy saw she had tears shining in her eyes.

“My dad told me – he's working this case now. So don't worry; I'm sure they'll find him.” They were cut short as the bell rang for lesson three. They hastily headed in the direction of the science labs – no one wanted to suffer the wrath of the science teachers if they dared to be late.

*

The day was pretty uneventful after that – PE was as much of a nightmare as he had suspected it would be: Rugby. Staggering around in the mud trying desperately not to get pounded by the school bully whenever he got the ball, but more pressingly trying not to fall face first into the huge puddles of mud all over the weather worn pitch. He was soaked to the bone, freezing cold and exhausted by the time he trudged to the changing rooms at the end of the school day. Every bone in his body seemed to ache and every visible inch of him was covered in mud. He got his stuff and hastily headed for the shower cubicles, praying there would be one left and that he wouldn't have to use the group shower again. He darted gratefully into the last available booth, closed the curtain and quickly threw off his muddy clothes and turned on the shower. At which point he very nearly jumped, entirely naked out into the corridor again. The water was absolutely FREEZING! He stopped himself in time though and as swiftly as possible began the arduous task of getting off the vast amounts of mud clinging to his skin. He knew by now there was no point in waiting for the water to heat up. If it wasn't hot already it wasn't going to be. He did the best job he could getting himself clean under the circumstances and hurried to turn off the shower. He dried and dressed in record time, and spent the final two minutes of school time clutching the lukewarm radiator in the changing room, his teeth chattering so hard he though they might crack. He couldn't wait to get home and get warm – even being in the car would definitely be warmer than this.

Immediately upon hearing the bell he bolted for the front of the school, where he knew his dad would be waiting to take him home – maybe he would even have news of Jake's disappearance to tell him. Murphy hurried to the driveway and looked around for the familiar range rover. He scanned each car, not seeing it and then-

“Coo-eee! Murphy!” he turned slowly, cringing slightly at the sickly sweet voice. “Murphy! Over here!” He saw her, his Gran, waving cheerily from within her no doubt exceptionally warm car with not a care in the world. No thought for how many other students were turning to stare at her and her assortment of pink, fluffy and ridiculous car “ornaments” as she called them. Murphy scurried to the car quickly in order to reduce the number of people who would see the monstrosity on wheels, pushing past many smirking faces on the way to the car.

“Hello there, dear. Did you have a nice day?” Gran took a long look at Murphy as he fastened his seatbelt. “Oh dear, someone looks tired. You've not been staying up all night on that computer of yours again have you? I've warned you that's not a good idea.”

“He's always on that computer,” Darla piped up from her seat in the back of the car, “I never get to use it. Hardly ever.” Darla looked satisfied with her little proclamation, and immediately went back to her colouring book, humming to herself.

“No Gran it's not that,” Murphy glared at Darla, “I just had rugby in the cold and rain. It really tired me out,” Murphy replied, slouching down in his seat to hide from the people staring as his Gran drove off down the drive, “I am so cold, I don't think I'll ever get warm.”

“We'll see about that, eh?” At that, Gran flicked the heater up to full spurt and Murphy was walloped by a wall of suffocating heat from the vents, “Better?” Without looking for a reply, Gran turned left into the main street and headed for her house, just a few streets away, her multitude of ornaments clinking and clanking all the while.

Murphy, trying not to choke and splutter – not only was he being assaulted by hot air, but also by the extreme sickliness of the fragrances Gran had swinging from her rear view mirror – spent the journey looking out of the window at the people hurrying about their business. He liked to try and make up stories, or guess the destination of the people he saw in and around the centre of town. It passed the time, and sometimes he managed to come up with some seriously funny scenarios.

He saw a man struggling along from the bakers with a pile of crates so high he couldn't see around them at all, and was simply relying on everyone else to get out of his way as he headed to his delivery van, which people were doing, albeit rather grumpily. Another woman was pushing along what looked to Murphy like a space-age module which seemed to be hovering above the ground (it was, in fact a pram with plastic sheeting all around it going through a very deep puddle. Still, if he squinted...) She was followed by what looked like some kind of alien storm trooper sweeping the ground before him with a special sensor before making his way cautiously across a hostile and potentially lethal landscape (which was in fact an old man with a walking stick covered from head to toe in waterproof clothing). He briefly wondered why on earth anyone would go out at all in such weather, and then he remembered: if they didn't they probably wouldn't get to go out at all. The weather was pretty much always like this!

They turned off the main road into the quieter cul-de-sac his Gran lived in at that point and she spent an inordinate amount of time making sure she parked the car exactly straight on the driveway. Murphy knew better than to comment on this – he knew it was a remnant of the rules she lived by when her husband was alive, Murphy's Granddad. Murphy had never met him at all, but he knew he was an exacting and particular man who wasn't shy about voicing his opinions, especially if he saw something he didn't much like. In fact, that was part of the reason Murphy never knew him: he never approved of his dad's marriage to Murphy's mum and therefore would have nothing to do with any of them while he was alive. It was only since his death that his Gran had the nerve to get in touch again, and she had been trying to make up for lost time ever since. In fact, the move to Whitleby had been partly instigated by her, as she wanted to help dad to look after Murphy after his mum died.

Finally the car was deemed to be straight enough and they headed inside, Gran leading the way, keys clutched in her hand, with Murphy and Darla following into her wake. Into the land where ornaments had already gone and would continue to go forth and multiply. She bustled off into the kitchen and Murphy flopped immediately onto the sofa, turning on the TV. He always made a point of watching the programmes he used to watch with Sasha and John: that way they had something to talk about together later when he got to his computer at home. Darla settled herself at the coffee table with her colouring and continued as though nothing had changed at all. She didn't even take off her coat until Gran came and did it for her. Today Murphy felt it would be hard to keep his attention on the TV at all – he could already feel his eyelids drooping even as the opening credits began. Stupid rugby, he thought, and then drifted off completely.

*

“That's my worry too – whether he will ever fit in here. He seems to spend all of his time on the internet talking to his friends from London. He doesn't mix at all,” Mike took another sip of his tea and sighed heavily, “I don't know mum – Murphy's a good lad but he has always been so shy – all wrapped up in his artwork and his books. I worry about him sometimes.”
“I don't think you need to worry son,” Gran replied, “It'll all come right in the end.” Gran was tidying away the tea things as Murphy wandered into the kitchen trying not to look as though he'd just overheard their conversation.

“Hey Dad – when did you get here?” Murphy was rubbing his eyes blearily and yawning quietly.

“Right when you started snoring,” Darla giggled to herself, “It was so loud I thought my ear drums might burst. BOOM!” Darla mimed an explosion with her doll who she threw over the table onto the floor dramatically. Murphy stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes at her which made her giggle even more. She dived under the table to rescue her injured dolly.

“Hi Son, not long. Just long enough for one of your Gran's cups of tea and couple of biscuits. You feeling all right? How was school today?” Mike ruffled his son's hair affectionately and smiled. The hint of worry was still there though, albeit fairly well hidden.

“I'm good Dad – just tired. Rugby today in this weather. I couldn't believe it. The PE teacher at school is a total sadist.” Murphy helped himself to one of the leftover biccies and settled himself on a stool next to his Dad.

“Ah you big softie – it's good for you that is. A bit of rugby in the rain – can't beat it!” His Dad chuckled cheerfully to himself. “That was my favourite sport when I was at school – I was on the school team and everything. There's nothing better than the exhilaration of the match and the camaraderie of the team. Can't be beaten.” He smiled to himself, only to spot Murphy's look of utter disbelief.

“Yeah Dad, OK. You sure you've been taking your medicine? It sounds like you've forgotten some key things to do with rugby there: the mud, the rain, the freezing cold, the bruises, the injuries, the HUGE big thugs who are determined to knock you down at all costs and shove your face in the dirt. But other than those things Dad, I'm sure rugby is great,” Murphy rolled his eyes at his Gran who smiled happily and started to get them organised.

“Right then you lot, I'm going to have to rush you off – its bridge night tonight and I need to get myself all organised. And you need to get yourselves home and get some food down you. And make sure it's decent food mind – none of them ready meals if you please. You are growing lads – and lasses,” she smiled at Darla, “And you have to keep you strengths up. Rugby or no rugby.” Murphy and Mike started gathering up coats and bags and heading for the door. Darla danced with her doll towards her dad, asking to be carried.

“Bye then Mum,” Mike said in the hallway, heaving Darla into his arms alongside her school bags, “Thanks for picking up the kids for me. It means a lot in this weather, eh kids?”

“Yeah, thanks Gran. See you later.” Murphy kissed her on the cheek on his way out the door. Darla leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek also as her dad walked out of the door.

Bent almost double they rushed as fast as the wind would allow them towards the car. Safely ensconced inside they shuddered and settled in, heating on full the second his Dad turned the key in the ignition.
“Homeward bound then troops – lets see what's for tea.” The car swung out of the cul de sac and onto the main street, heading quietly in the direction of their own house on the other side of the town. At least he assumed that was where they were going. It was now raining so hard that Murphy could barely see through the windscreen at all. He wasn't sure how his Dad was managing to drive, but he didn't want to think about that really. Not his concern. He had already started thinking about what he would do when he got home. Food was definitely the first port of call – his stomach growled hungrily – but after that he would treat himself to a hot shower this time and log on to talk to Sasha and John. He smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to catch up with them and find out the gossip from his old school. That was truly the part of his day he really looked forward to, the part where he wasn't a worry to his dad, he wasn't invisible, and he was happy. He smiled: nearly home!!


Chapter 2.


Life continued on in much the same way for the next few days: Murphy hating his new school and making no friends at all. Then rushing home to talk to his old friends from London on the internet every evening. The only light at the end of the tunnel was the thought of half term looming: seven days of luxury and relaxation in the warmth of his home. It sounded like heaven to Murphy. He couldn't wait. Murphy's Dad was so busy with his work he couldn't really manage to intervene too much, and had to pretty much leave Murphy to his own devices whilst worrying from afar. He didn't really need to worry though as Murphy was actually absolutely fine – he was tougher then he looked. Although he had to admit to himself sometimes that he was a little lonely. He wished that Murphy could have settled in as well as his sister, but he guessed it was easier for her, being younger.

Murphy's Dad was working so hard and was also coming under a lot of local scrutiny on account of the missing boy Jake (of whom there was still no positive news since the day he disappeared). The strain of working on such a case was really beginning to show with Mike, especially as Jake was Murphy's age. The thought that something like that could happen in such a small town right under people's noses was one the local residents found shocking and disconcerting. The horrifying idea that it could have even happened to his own son. It really didn’t bear thinking about. Emotions were really running high amongst the residents and he was questioned constantly by concerned citizens with more questions for him than he had answers for them. He sighed. The situation was getting desperate. The boy hadn't been seen at all in over two months. Before long they would have to start to consider the possibility that he wasn't coming back at all – that perhaps they would never find him, never know what happened. The thought was almost too much to bear, especially when he pictured having to break that news to Jake's distraught parents. Right now he wasn't willing to give up on finding Jake, or least on finding out where he got to. He had to admit to himself that it wasn't looking too hopeful for finding him alive, but finding him or finding out what happened to him was a top priority – it was the only way he would be able to look the local people in the eye.

All of these thoughts were swirling through Mike’s mind as he swung the car up the school drive to pick up Murphy. He was a little early so the school was pretty deserted, without a student in sight. They were all still struggling away in lessons trying hard to concentrate on the most difficult afternoon of the week to do so: Friday afternoon. Mike smiled to himself. He had really struggled in lessons at school, and the only area he was any good at was sports. He was a school team rugby player who went on to play for his college and the local amateur teams on a Saturday afternoon too. He had loved the game, and being so good at that made it easier for him to bear being pretty average (if not below average) in most of his subjects. He remembered well, as he looked in through the classroom windows, the feelings of pent up energy he used to get towards the end of each school day – particularly towards the end of the week. He was like a caged animal sometimes and couldn't wait to get out into the fresh air, whatever the weather. He always had so much energy and found it so hard to sit quietly and concentrate. He smiled. At least he hadn’t passed that restlessness onto Murphy. Not that he was inactive or lazy, but he certainly wasn’t the same frustrated kind of student Mike had been. He was also very bright and excelled in Art and History lessons – something he got from his mum Kathy. His smiled turned wistful at the thought of his late wife. He had loved her (indeed still very much did love her) with all of his heart. It was a bitter blow to have lost her so suddenly and he knew that his pain and sadness still showed, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from the world. He went about his work day after day and he put on a brave face in most circumstances. In fact, when he was busy he was able to almost forget about the emptiness inside. The worst time was late at night once the kids were tucked up in bed. Then he had nothing to distract him from his feelings at all. Another sigh escaped him. He just hoped he was doing a good job supporting them through this – he wasn’t the only one to have lost someone important after all.

At that the bell rang and the children started to trickle out towards the waiting cars, buses and bikes. Mike watched for Murphy, looking forward to seeing him on this afternoon more than others. He knew that Friday afternoons were his son's favourite: he had Art on a Friday afternoon and he always came home happy and full of his work. Today would be extra special as it was finally here – half term week. He knew Murphy had been looking forward to this week for the whole term and he would be in the best mood on the way home. Mike really treasured his time with Murphy especially as he was so busy – it meant he didn't spend as much time with him as he'd like. Even these short car journeys were a chance to just be with him, and catch up on the details of his day. Most days there were niggles and complaints but he was optimistic about today's report: it promised to be a good one.

One look at Murphy's smiling face as he bounded towards the car confirmed Mike's suspicions: Murphy looked as though he'd had a really cracking day.

“Hi Dad!” Murphy jumped into the car, his arms full of paintings and pictures – his portfolio. He leaned back and placed his pictures gently onto the back seat before he snapped his seatbelt on.

“Had a good day son?” the car pulled out of the drive on its way home.

“Not bad, not bad. I had a really good art class – I brought my stuff home for you to see. I got some spare paper to work on during half term too.” Murphy was smiling to himself and the very sight of that made Mike smile too.

“Good, good. Glad you had a good time. It's nice to see you smiling.” They both shared a grin then rode the rest of the way home in companionable silence. They didn't need to cram their catch up into a short car journey this time – they knew they had all week to get each other up to speed now. Murphy's dad had managed to get this week off to be with him and Darla and they were all looking forward to spending time at home together. They didn't have anything big planned – no trips or visits. Just spending the kind of quality time together they usually didn't get to have. Also the kind of quality time that wasn't marred by school or the weather or any of the things that annoyed Murphy so much. They could spend the entire week pottering around their house if they wanted to. In fact, Mike was hoping that he might get some free time to tinker with his bike – that was definitely an idea. His bike was like a third child to him and needed plenty of tlc. Or at least it would do once it was actually up and running. In the meantime it just needed a lot of work. But it was his kind of work – he really enjoyed tinkering away in the garage, covered in oil. Yes, he would definitely try and fit in some garage time this week if he could.

Murphy was thinking about his holiday time too. He was so looking forward to a whole week when he could get up whenever he wanted, eat whenever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. He didn't have to suffer the silent days at school for a while where he shuffled around virtually invisible. He didn't have to suffer Maths, Science, PE or any of the subjects that drove him to distraction every week at school: he was free! He would spend the whole week either with his dad or working on some of his paintings. He was currently working on a comic strip actually – his own invention. He was keen to explore it and maybe develop it into a whole story. That was something he definitely wanted to get stuck into properly during half term. Then there was the extra time he could spend chatting to Sasha and John – after all, they were on half term too. It would be great to message them more and maybe chat on the phone during the week. It wouldn't be the same as being with them obviously, but it was better than nothing. In fact, they were a major inspiration behind the characters in his comic strip. He had based it on their favourite Colourverse game from St Jude's. They were all superheroes battling to save the universe and each had their own super powers. He hadn't worked out all of the details yet, but he had some initial ideas that seemed very promising. He wanted to explore them further. It would take him some time though and he was definitely looking forward to having some hours to devote just to that during half term week.

His head was so full of these thoughts that he didn't even hear his dad until he asked him a second time, “Hey, penny for them! I said, dreamer, how about fish and chips for tea?” Mike was pulling over in front of the best chippy in Whitleby, “What do you reckon?”

“Yeah, dad – that's ace!” Murphy loved fish and chips but they didn't get to have it that often. His dad was keen to make sure they ate properly, but every now and then he allowed himself a little indulgence. Tonight was one of those nights much to Murphy's delight!

“Can I have a can of coke too? And some scraps?” Murphy followed him in through the door into the hot sweet smell of the frying and the malt vinegar which pervaded the shop.

“Ok, ok. Hold your horses. Let's get to the front of the queue first!” They stood eyeing up the menu board for some reason, although they always ordered the same thing: cod, chips, peas, scraps and fizzy pop times two.

“Now, son, what do you think your Gran would want? And Darla? The usual?” There was no real point in asking Murphy knew: they always had the same stuff from the chippy. Always. Gran had fish cake and chips, and Darla had a chip butty with plenty of salt and vinegar. And ketchup, once they'd got it home to her. Gran had picked up Darla from school today, and they would be waiting at home for them right now, unaware of the fish supper they would be bringing home. Gran would no doubt have brought one of her home made cakes round, which would serve as pudding for tonight's tea.

They shuffled their way to the front of the queue slowly but surely, until Mike was giving the order to the lady behind the counter. Murphy loved the warmth of the chip shop and was happily leaning up against the warm surfaces of the display units as his dad paid for and accepted their tea as it was handed to him.
“Come on then, son. Let's get off home before this gets cold.” They rushed out to the car and headed for home, surrounded by the smell of hot food and vinegar.

*

They all tucked into their Friday night feast quite happily, with Gran bustling around getting plates and cutlery and Darla bouncing around excitedly shouting “Ketchup, ketchup, don't forget the ketchup!”
They crowded round the kitchen table and devoured their take away happily, with barely a word exchanged between them. Just the happy sounds of people enjoying their grub.
Then, as was customary on a Friday night, they settled down in the living room together to watch some TV and digest their supper. It didn't even really matter what was on the TV, they were just happy to be mildly entertained whilst being so inactive. Their dishes in the dishwasher (which was whirring away in the background) they had nothing to worry themselves over at all. They could be just as lazy as they wanted to, which was a rare luxury for them – especially for the whole family together at the same time.
Dad flicked through the channels trying to avoid the news (they all hated watching the news) until he came across some TV gold – The Simpsons. “Yay!” shouted Darla clapping her hands, and that was that. They sat and giggled together through Homer and Bart's antics.

Gran was up and about before anyone else, she didn't seem to suffer as much from her fish supper as they did. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that she didn't indulge in a huge portion of battered cod, peas, chips and scraps. She was content with only a fish cake and half her portion of chips (which Mike and Murphy usually finished off for her). Murphy could hear her opening doors and drawers, then the kettle hissed into life. He heard the magic sound of her cake tin opening, and knew they were about to be treated to one of his Gran's culinary delights. Murphy felt his mouth water, his tea already forgotten. He caught his Dad's eye and smiled – he knew his dad was thinking much the same thing: cake – yum
Sure enough, Gran reappeared with a tray full of chocolate cake slices and two cups of tea for her and dad. These regular Friday feasts had become a family tradition since they had moved up here and they were one of Murphy's favourite things. His Gran made the best cakes in the world in his opinion. He could always find room for a slice of one, no matter what he had eaten beforehand.

Gran handed round the plates of cake to a chorus of thank yous followed by much contented chomping and slurping from the whole family. Then they settled in to watch Corrie together, with Darla returning to her colouring at the coffee table, and Murphy beginning to think of going up to use the computer. In fact, that's exactly what he did during the first ad break. He left his family in front of the fire to go and chat to his friends from London.

He turned the computer on the minute he got into the room and put up his newest pictures on the display board his dad had put up for him. He was really proud of his latest sketches and wanted to view them up there on the wall over the next few days – that would help him to make improvements to them. The more he looked at them, the better he could make them. It also helped him to have new ideas – when he was kind of drifting off into space, he would often find himself suddenly brought back to the here and now only to find himself concentrating on a new idea for his comic strip. That was why he liked to hang them up. His mum had taught him to do that. She was an artist by trade and always hung her work around their house so that she could let them “speak” to her as she used to say. Every time he painted sketched anything, he was reminded of his mum, of all the little things she used to teach him as she worked, and indeed as he worked alongside her. Those were his favourite times with her – both of them working on their art together. It started when he was only a baby really, finger painting alongside his mum's masterpieces. He had watched her paint and seen her pictures appear before his eyes as if by magic. He loved it so much.

Just as he was climbing down from his bed the computer pinged to life – ready to go. He logged in and went straight to opening up a chat window to see if his friends were online. He sighed – no luck tonight. They were probably out at the cinema or somewhere. So, he spent some time looking up his favourite comic sites, checking out the latest releases and newest ideas. He checked every few minutes to see if there was any sign of his friends, but no joy. After about an hour he logged off with a shrug and headed back downstairs to see what was on the TV.

*

The weekend just kind of rumbled on much as usual, but with a much more leisurely air to it because they knew they had the whole week to themselves this week. On a cold Sunday afternoon the Johnson family found themselves in different corners of the house quite contentedly pottering away doing things they loved. Darla was in her bedroom playing super girls with her dolls, safely shut in behind her baby gate so she couldn't escape down the stairs (or, more likely, go flying down the stairs) by herself. Down the hall Murphy was in his room sketching more scenes and characters for his comic book. He was charged with keeping an ear out for Darla also just in case she needed him, as their Dad was out in the garage tinkering with his beloved bike. The only evidence he was actually around at all came in the form of the occasional explosions and sputtering mechanical noises emanating from his direction. That and the occasional billowing smoke shooting out into the back garden. Murphy smiled to himself as another bang caught his ears. Hid dad would probably never finish working on that bike, much less ride it down those country lanes he was always talking about. But, it made him very happy to tinker away at it and therefore it was worth having in Murphy's book.
Murphy’s room was like an illustrator’s dream really. He had the easel his mum used over in the corner by the window, and also a huge architect’s desk his dad had picked up for him second-hand at a car boot sale down in London. He was seated at that desk now, with all of his designs and ideas spread out in front of him. His Colourverse characters were coming along well he felt, and he was making some progress. He couldn’t wait to try them out on his friends in London. He was thinking of getting his dad to scan them for him so that he could email them to Sasha and John.

He was working on the colouring of them today, as he had finished his initial sketches for these frames the day before. This he found one of the most difficult parts of the process, because a lot of his work had gone into the sketches already and he could so easily ruin them with the wrong colours. He had to concentrate to make sure he didn’t choose the wrong ones or that he didn’t colour the wrong parts in. His head was bent close over the paper and he was in his usual concentrating pose – with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth! No matter what he did he always ended up sitting that way when he was working.
He was using an effect his teacher had shown him on the Friday before half term – stippling. Using a very sharp pencil, he was shading in the areas of his characters skin with hundreds of tiny dots. This gave his sketches a graphic design edge to them, but also provided some interesting effects, especially when he layered the different colours on top of one another. In this way, he hoped to make his work more interesting and unique – to make it stand out from other work available at the time. Not many people used this technique and he knew that if he could find his own blend of colours and style then he would have a cartoon series that could really be worth something one day.

He looked around his room at all of the work he had done already and smiled. He had really come a long way in a short space of time. Moving up to Yorkshire wasn’t quite what he wanted, but he had to admit his work had really come on since he did. Probably mostly because he spent so much of his time doing it – nothing and no one to distract him now. But, he had to admit there was more to it than that. The atmosphere, the surroundings, the feel of the place (if he forgot about school for a minute), was definitely an inspiration to him. From that point of view, he would almost say he loved it here: almost! He chuckled to himself – loved Whitleby. Yeah right!

His mum would have loved it here though – of that he had no doubt in his mind. He only wished she could have moved here with them. She would have loved painting the surrounding areas here, the freedom, the sense of peace and space. The local community would have loved her too. She was the sort of woman who had that effect on people wherever she went. She was so warm and loving that people instantly wanted to be with her and to welcome her into their circle of friends. She always had way more friends than she could keep up with, but only a few close ones who she really relied on. They were his special Aunties as she called them – number one of these being Dawn. Murphy missed her a bit too since the move, but again they could keep in touch via email, and she took a great interest in his sketches. She reminded him of his Mum so much because she was an artist that sometimes it was more painful for him to talk to her as it brought back memories. Straight after his mum’s accident he avoided her a little because of this, but he was glad they were back in touch now.

He got back to his drawings and was immediately lost in the work – all other thoughts left his mind completely and he was just happy to be working and doing something he enjoyed. The time flew when he was busy like that, and he had no opportunity to feel lonely or unhappy.
He could hear his sister Darla singing to herself from her room and his dad crashing around in the garage, so all was definitely well in his world at the moment. He could quite happily lose himself in his work and while away the hours with his new superheroes.

That is, until his stomach started rumbling louder than his dad’s bike: lunchtime! He decided he had to have something to eat and soon. He would head downstairs and see if he couldn’t rustle up some sandwiches for lunch. He headed down the hallway, passing Darla on his way. She seemed fine, although she was serving “food” to her dolls now he could see: maybe she was hungry too! As he got to the end of the hallway he turned the corner towards the stairs but what he saw there made him stop and stare. He could see, plain as day, Jake looking straight at him. Missing Jake, the one everyone was searching for. Except he wasn’t standing at the top of his staircase, at this point Murphy gulped and tried not to stand with his mouth open in shock. Jake was looking at him from inside the old mirror that stood at the top of the stairs.

Murphy looked round quickly at the staircase itself, sure he would see Jake standing there, merely reflected in the mirror’s surface. Nothing. Even if he had been, he would have had to be suspended in mid air to be reflected that clearly. He turned back round only to glimpse the image disappear out of the corner of his eye as he did so. He could see nothing but his own dumbstruck reflection in the mirror staring back at him in shock.

He really did not know what to make of this – he was speechless and just stood there gazing at the mirror, his mind whirring in his head making him feel dizzy. How can he have just seen what he had just seen? It wasn’t possible was it? There is no way he could have seen the actual Jake standing there. His mind was playing tricks on him – he was tired, had been staring at his work too closely for too long. He couldn’t possibly have seen what he though he had. No way. Murphy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck wearily. He was getting a headache just thinking about it. Tiredness, that’s what it must be. There was no other explanation for it. No other sane explanation that is. He was still standing at the top of the stairs looking at the mirror when he heard a voice from downstairs.

“Lunch is ready Murphy! Bring Darla down with you please!” his dad shouted from the kitchen, breaking his reverie. Like a person in a trance Murphy stumbled off to get his hungry and excited sister and lead her by the hand down to the kitchen, still feeling totally puzzled. Just when he’d thought life couldn’t get any weirder.
 

*