Jackson Butterglove is Missing (2/5)

Hi, it's me again. Darcy. Sorry if you were expecting Jackson. There's still been no sign of him these past few days. I had meant to visit Cecile, but work got in the way. I know that's no excuse. I felt even more guilty when I had a visitor at my house over the weekend. It was Christian Snow-Warren. Jackson's best friend and songwriting partner.

I was relaxing with my family. Bridget - my wife - accuses me of being a bit of a workaholic so insists that our weekends are kept free from our newspaper business. It's a little more difficult with my eldest, Una, pursuing reporting as part of her schoolwork but we do our best. Christian's arrival caused Bridget to give me a warning stare. I knew what that meant. A newspaper no-no. But this white rabbit wasn't here about a story. It was about Jackson Butterglove.

Another "look" from Bridget, then she ushered the children out of the room, Una frowning, undoubtedly wondering if she was missing a scoop for the school newspaper. The door closed, leaving me alone with Christian. He didn't waste time.

"Darcy - I'm worried about Jackson. No one's seen him for days."

I frowned. It wasn't just me who had missed him. Christian continued.

"We were due to meet yesterday to finalise the arrangement of the most recent song we wrote. We were to send it off to... well, that doesn't matter. The point is, Jack doesn't miss these sort of things."

This had echoes of the feelings I had when Jackson missed the last "Life in Mellowdene" schedule. It seemed that wasn't an isolated oversight.

"Go on, Christian."

A grim smile. "Call me Chris, Darcy. You've known me long enough. You went to school with Clary and Jack, and this isn't a time to be formal."

I nodded and indicated he should continue.

"I went to see Cecile, but I barely got in the door. I had the impression she didn't want to talk to me, but she finally said Jack was away on a job. This isn't like her at all. Frankly, I'm worried."

"She was very brief when I phoned her," I agreed, "but you haven't said why you've come to see me; how you think I can help."

"Well, if Jack is away on a job, I know it's nothing to do with our business. Certainly not the contract we're working on. And I phoned Bernard Sellars about the advertising work. No joy there. And then I remembered that he does some writing work for you. But from your response so far I'm guessing he's not away on any job you've given him."

"No."

"Then I'm stumped. Jackson appears to be missing." He moved to the window as if he hoped to see his friend appear.

"You may be right," I said, "but we need to persevere with Cecile. If there is a real issue, we can suggest approaching the Sheriff."


"I suppose so," he mused, turning back. "Hopefully he won't be too busy."

I raised my brow. Christian explained.

"My brother contacted Bisto Wildwood about Tara Lapine-Frost - his lady friend - as she apparently missed an appointment with him. To me it seemed a bit of an overreaction for Nigel to report this to the Sheriff, yet he must have his reasons. Love, maybe. But you're right. Jack's situation seems more unusual."

I recalled Tara featuring in one of Jackson's tales about Rowan. "You don't think the disappearances are related?"

"Don't see how. But will you come with me to see Cecile?"

I nodded. "Just let me have a quick word with Bridget and I'll be with you."

o 0 O 0 o

By the time we reached Butterglove House we had discussed how we should approach Cecile.  I suggested subtlety might work best. We both had the impression she was hiding something. The question was, did this relate to Jackson's absence?.

Beverley let us in. She volunteered some information before we asked.

"Hello Uncle Chris, Mister Fielding," she said, "If you're here to see my dad, he's out of town. Mum says it's an urgent job."

I didn't want to interrogate the girl too stringently but it seemed too good an opportunity to waste. "No, it's your mum we've come to see. Although it's interesting about your dad. Do you know where he's gone?" 

"No, sorry, I don't. He said he didn't want to say much as things weren't settled yet. He said to look after mum while he was away."

"And your mum hasn't said anything?"

"No. She's hugged us a lot, though."

As she took us into their living room, Christian asked the question I was about to pose.

"When did your daddy go, Bev?"

She smiled faintly in response. I assumed that it was something to do with the name abbreviation; being treated more as an adult. I recognised her facial expression. My son Daniel likes me calling him Dan as he usually associates this with me trusting him with some minor responsibility. Beverley adopted an expression of confidentiality.

"It was four mornings ago, but between you and me Uncle Chris, I don't think mummy expected him to be away this long. So we're taking care of her. Like daddy asked."

"That's very good of you. Your daddy will be proud."

I thought I'd better move things along. "Your Uncle Chris is right. But we do need to speak privately with your mummy. If that's all right."

"Of course, Mister Fielding," she said with a short nod and an air of importance. Moving to leave us alone in the living room she leaned towards me in passing and whispered, "He's not my real uncle you know. We just call him that."

I suppressed a smile, whispering back. "Understood. Thanks for telling me."

When she had gone I turned to Christian. "What do you make of that, Chris?"

He frowned. "Jack said 'he didn't want to say much as things aren't settled yet.' What could that mean?"

"He probably didn't want the children knowing what he was going to do."

"Maybe. Let's hope Cecile will tell us."

o 0 O 0 o

We didn't have too long to wait. She entered, pausing to shoo Beverley away and waiting until she had gone. She nodded a greeting to me and then addressed Christian. Her voice was quiet.

"Twice in one day, Chris?  If it's about Jackson, I thought I'd explained."

He dropped his head, slowly shaking it in contradiction. "Not really, Cess. Away on a job? Away where? What job? For how long?" His voice hardened as he spoke.

I closed my eyes. So much for subtlety.

"Oh," said Cecile, clearly taken aback by Christian's uncharacteristic behaviour, "this isn't like you, Chris."

"I'm sorry, Cess, but we're worried. Jackson disappearing isn't like him. And your recent behaviour isn't like you."

I noticed Cecile's eyes. They were a little bit red. I decided to intervene. "Cecile, we're worried about both of you. Have you been crying?"

She turned her unhappy face towards me. "Darcy, I appreciate your concern, but it's a family matter. Please leave it." She moved past us, perhaps in an attempt to close the subject.

Christian wasn't prepared to do that. "I thought we were close enough to share our problems. Darcy could step outside..." - I frowned at him at this - "...and I can go and get Charity if that helps. Or what about Eliza? You've always called her the sister you never had."

"No! Not Eliza. She can't know."

"So there is something. Come on Cess. I'm really worried now. We'd even thought of calling the Sheriff when he's done with Tara."

"Bisto Wildwood is involved?"

My mind whirred. I needed to follow my instinct so said, "Not with Jackson. Not unless Tara's disappearance is connected. Is it, Cecile?"

Christian regarded me in confusion. I continued.

"Is it something to do with Rowan? And tunnels?"

Cecile stared at me. "What has Jackson said?"

"Let's just say I know of Rowan's link with Tara."

Christian interrupted. "Wait a minute. What's Rowan got to do with this? What link?"

Cecile sighed in resignation. "I don't want the children to come in and hear what I'm saying."

"That's easily sorted," said Christian, and he went to the door, closed it, turned and leant his back upon it. He gestured with his paw for Cecile to continue. With a further sigh she did.

"Rowan's not directly involved but he's part of the reason I've been keeping things quiet. Jackson and Tara have gone off together - and before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusion, no. Not like that."

Christian shook his head, saying - barely audibly - that he'd never think that.

Her voice became earnest. "It does concern Merlin and Eliza, so they can't know until Jack returns with the information. It's been dreadful, keeping quiet. You can't say anything."

"If it's that important," I said. "But how long is Jackson likely to be away?"

"It was supposed to be less than a day," she replied, and I could see her eyes glistening.

"And 'away' where, Cess?" Christian pressed.

The tears came. "Oh  I don't know, Chris. I suppose it could be anywhere. It's awful. What am I to tell the children?"

Without warning an eager living room door hit Christian's back. He staggered forward a few inches and we stopped talking.

The door opened a little more - slower this time  - and Brendan popped his head through the gap. He peered at the rabbit obstructing his passage, a curious expression upon his face.

"Ooh, sorry Uncle Chris," he said, then he addressed the rest of us. "Thought you might like to know - the Sheriff's van has pulled up outside. I'm going to see what he wants."

Cecile shot to her feet, wiping her eyes, calling, "No Brendan..." but he had already gone.

Seconds later, we heard the front door open. We stared at each other, not knowing what to expect.

o 0 O 0 o

(to be continued)

Editor's note

"What's this?" you may ask. Why is Darcy acting as editor to his own writing? Well, it's a good question. I thought some sort of explanation was needed - to address why I stopped writing this piece at such a critical point. 

There will be some questioning my decision to stop just when we might be finding out what happened to Jackson.

Well, the answer is simple. I'm a newspaperman. Always thinking of the next issue. "Leave 'em wanting more."

Am I being cold-hearted? 

Take heart. I'm a Sylvanian.

Darcy Fielding: Editor

o 0 O 0 o