‘He didn’t leave a note or anything?’
‘No.’
‘Have you been to the police?’
‘Yes, the local police, in Bolton, but they didn’t seem to take it very seriously, with him being sixteen, you know – it’s not like he’s a little boy. They put him on file, made a few enquiries, came round to the house to take more details. That was about it. They said if I hadn’t heard anything in a couple of months, to go back. I’m sure they thought I was making a fuss about nothing.’
‘And you’ve not heard from them?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m sure they’ve just filed him away. It happens all the time these days, doesn’t it, kids running away? How can they possibly look for them all?’ She had a point. But surely they could have done a bit more in this case. It wasn’t as if Martin had been in the habit of running away. And he hadn’t even told his mother he was leaving.
‘What about friends, people he spent time with?’
She sighed. ‘He were a loner really, he loved his fishing, there was no-one close. He liked to be on his own.’
‘There must have been someone, a school friend?’
She bit her lip, gave a small shake of her head.
‘Which school does he go to?’
‘St. Matthew’s.’
‘Tell me about Martin.
Her account was sketchy though there was no mistaking the love in her voice. Martin was a quiet boy, doing reasonably well at school. His passion was angling. There’d been no rows or unusual events at home. He’d not talked of leaving. He’d not been in trouble. She told it all slowly, in that thick blurry accent.
‘What about drugs?’
She shook her head.
‘You’re married? How did Martin get on with his father?’
She considered her reply.
‘Okay. They’re both quiet, never that close.’
‘Was Martin lonely, Mrs Hobbs? Was he unhappy?’
Maybe it wasn’t the most sensitive question to ask. But I was trying to fathom out a reason for Martin’s disappearance. He was a loner, not close to anyone except Mum. Adolescence was a terrible time – even when you had close friends; without them it must be intolerable. But why leave home? An attempt to break away from Mum? Had Martin perhaps blamed her for his loneliness?
She covered her mouth with her hands, shook her head from side to side. Tears welled in those brown eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know.’ Guilt and grief.
I tried to bring her back to the task in hand. ‘Think for a minute. Is there anywhere Martin might have gone – relatives, a place he knew well, friends of the family?’
