HIDE & SEEK  

EXCERPT 

Chapter one 

The grown-ups held an inquiry into how a child came 

to disappear, but they didn’t name names like they 

do when children let grown-ups down. They talked 

about a catalogue of errors as if mistakes were 

something that turned up in the post and got paid for 

later.  

I had my own ideas. I blamed the driver, and, in 

different orders depending on how I was feeling: 

Mr Pratt – really, that was his name – the larkiest 

teacher in our school, who was so free and easy he 

didn’t bother to take a register on the bus. 

My brother, Daniel Pickles, who was going on 

five, though the way he acted sometimes you’d never 

believe he was so old.  

Dan’s invisible friend, Biffo.  

And me, Harry Pickles, that summer aged nine 

and a bit.  

Now that enough time has gone by and I can talk 

about those days it feels right to begin, not with the 

coach trip and the day things went wrong, but the 

day before, when my Auntie Joan married Otis, which 

people kept saying was the start of something 

wonderful.  

I think of my mum pounding down the stairs in 

her slinky silver dress.  

‘And what do you think you are doing?’  

I was sitting on Daniel’s face. It was obvious 

what I was doing. I pretended Mo wasn’t there, let rip 

another one.  

‘Phwoagh,’ said Daniel.  

‘Harry! That’s disgusting!’ When she was cross 

she got more Irish. ‘Will you stop it. What’s this 

about?’  

Mo never thought to break us up before the 

interrogation. I counted eight lumps of cotton wool 

between her toes, admired the way her purple 

toenails gleamed and took my time about it while 

Dan puffed and wriggled between my legs. When I’d 

used up all my ammo I said,  

‘Dan’s bugging me again.’  

‘Daniel, what have you to say for yourself?’  

A muffled whine came out of him. 

‘Will I spank the pair of you?’  

She never did. I decided it was time to hop off. 

‘Harry won’t help me find Bang Bang,’ Daniel 

whined.  

‘We’ve no time to worry about Bang Bang today. 

Harry, I don’t know why you feel obliged to torture 

your brother and Daniel I don’t know why you put up 

with it.’  

She had the answer right there if she thought 

about it.  

‘Will you look at your clothes!’  

They were crumpled.  

‘We’ll have those shirts off and ironed again.’ 

She clucked us into the laundry room and we 

pulled off our horrible pink shirts.  

‘I want to be a fireman,’ Daniel said. 

I agreed with him on that. We had real fire- 

fighters’ uniforms that whispered as you walked, with 

cool silver bands that shimmered in the dark and 

proper helmets, not plastic ones. We weren’t allowed 

to wear them to the wedding. Oh, no. We had to wear 

poncy pink shirts to match the bridesmaids. 

Barechested, we sat on the tumble-dryer. I tried 

not to kick my heels against it. Mo pressed under the 

buttons. Her nearly black eyebrows snuggled closer 

together. I could see right down her bazongers. 

‘Absolutely no more fighting today,’ she said. 

‘You know exactly what’s required of you.’  

No way was I going to do that.   

She said, ‘We’re all Joan’s got.’  

She meant on account of Mo and Joan had no 

parents.  

‘You don’t want to spoil Joan’s big day, do you?’ 

We didn’t. We really didn’t. So we shook on it. 

‘Sorry, Harry.’ 

‘Sorry, Daniel.’  

Daniel smiled at me. I didn’t smile back. 

Mo put the iron down, said, ‘I’ve one little 

favour to ask you,’ and helped Daniel on with his 

shirt.   

Dan shrieked. Then I smiled.   

Mo whisked off the shirt and shook it cool. 

Typical Dan, didn’t complain or anything. She helped 

him on with it again.  

‘Not everyone is aware, as you are, that Joan and 

Otis live together, and there is no need today of all 

days for any unexpected announcements from you. 

Understood?’  

‘Understood, Mo,’ I said. It sounded like secrets. 

We weren’t supposed to have those. Dan fumbled 

with his buttons and said in that dreamy way of his, ‘I 

liked it when Joan lived here, when Otis got the 

girlfriend.’  

Mo shot us both a how-did-you-know-that look. I 

didn’t know that’s why Joan had come to stay that 

time, couldn’t believe it, that Otis would leave us for 

another woman.  

Mo bit her lip, gently – she had her wedding 

face  on.   

‘Today is the beginning of something wonderful 

for Joan and Otis. Let’s forget about the past.’  

I wouldn’t go on about it but I wouldn’t forget. 

Dan jumped off the dryer – ‘Da-Daaah!’ – 

showed off his buttons.  

Mo said, ‘Good boy, yourself!’ 

I don’t know why. It wasn’t rocket science.  

Dan said, ‘If we had a television we could plug it 

in and switch it on and –’  

I mouthed, ‘Not now, Daniel,’ in perfect time as 

Mo said it out loud.   

Me and Dan were fed, brushed, ironed, combed and 

fighting to stand on the tile where the sun shone 

when Pa swept into the kitchen, drop-dead handsome 

and smelling of lime. No pink on him.  

He held out his arms to us. ‘My beauties!’  

My Auntie Joan used to say we had big brown 

come-to-bed-with-me eyes with extra long lashes like 

Pa’s.  

‘Boys aren’t beautiful, boys are smart,’ Daniel 

said.  

‘You boys are beautiful and smart,’ said Pa. ‘And 

very nearly late. Come on. Of all people we have to be 

on time.’  

The wedding was smack bang in the middle of 

Notting Hill, just like us. We only had to walk out of 

our house, across the garden square, around the 

corner and up the church steps. Forty-five seconds, it 

took, if you got a move on. I timed it.   

‘A  tent!’ Dan gasped the minute he got out of 

the house. You’d think the Martians had landed.  

‘It’s a marquee, Daniel,’ I said. ‘For after the 

wedding,’ in case he still didn’t get it.  

In next door’s garden Shy Geoffrey popped his 

head out from behind The Times to tell us 

something. Something nice, most likely, Good Luck, 

or Have a Nice Wedding, something like that. You 

never could tell exactly on account of how he 

mumbled.  

Out in the square Mrs Gomez was throwing a 

wobbly because someone, and They’d Better Not 

Think She Didn’t Know Who They Were, had left the 

hosepipe running. She broke off to do a wolf-whistle 

for us.  

‘Nice dress, Mo,’ said Sebastiano’s mum as we 

strolled by. Then she turned and bellowed at the 

bushes, ‘You’ll have it cold or not at all!’  

Leaves moved, but there was no sight of 

Sebastiano, who was a master of camouflage and 

allergic to houses.   

We  passed the den. Cal blew a salute on the 

conch shell. Pa waved.   

Mo said, ‘I see you’ve got it back then, Callum.’ 

Me, Cal and the other big boys had been playing 

Lord of the Flies til Milly’s dad had his sense of 

humour failure and confiscated the shell. Milly was a 

pig we were hunting with spears. She was two. She 

didn’t mind. She’d helped us gather firewood for the 

spit.  

Seb’s mum shouted, ‘Callum, have you seen 

Sebastiano?’  

Cal selected stones for his catapult, pretended 

not to hear. We had a code of honour, you see.   

When we got to the corner Mo dropped her keys 

and bent down to pick them up. Pa gave her a whack 

on the behind. She slapped his arm.  

‘Will you stop that, Dominic!’  

I could tell she liked it, though. Luckily Cal was 

taking aim at the one-eyed cat and didn’t see.   

I don’t need to tell you much about the wedding. 

They’re all the same, aren’t they? Everyone whispered 

about whether Joan would turn up on time. She did, 

though. I wasn’t nervous until the pastor asked if any 

of us knew a reason why Otis and Joan shouldn’t get 

married. Pa knew some reasons. I hoped he wouldn’t 

say them. The pastor left a huge long silence as if he 

knew one too. I held my breath for luck, closed my 

eyes and tried to figure out that row I’d heard Mo and 

Pa at in the bathroom.  

‘Not that again,’ said Pa.  

‘’Twas you brought it up.’ Mo’s voice strained.  

‘I only said.’  

‘I heard you.’  

I didn’t hear the next bit. Pa had the taps 

running. When he turned them off I caught,   

‘You know how intelligent women can be 

blinded by that sort of man.’  

‘What sort, exactly?’  

He shook his shaving foam. ‘Handsome. 

Charming. Stylish.’ 

Then he squirted. ‘And the boxing.’  

‘What about the boxing?’  

‘It’s so . . . It’s all blockheads and brutes, Mo.’ 

‘Dom! What is your problem?’  

‘Let’s leave it.’  

‘You’re the one keeps bringing it up.’  

I heard the scrape of Pa’s razor, the killer one he 

got off his dad.  

‘All right, Mo.’ He said it softly, like something 

dangerous was coming. ‘Ever seen him reading a 

book?’  

Nothing from Mo. Must be tick-ticking towards 

one of her explosions.  

‘Oh and we’re such a cultured pair.’ Her voice 

had laughter in it, actually. ‘Mo Tully, Me and My 

Boys.’  

‘Your column’s very good, hun.’  

He was stretching his face, shaving round his 

mouth, most likely.   

‘It’s hardly Dostoyevsky, Dom. And as for you.’ 

‘What about me? Bugger! Ouch!’  

‘I hardly think a lifetime’s subscription to the 

Lancet counts as culture.’  

‘All I meant was –’  

‘Dom. Please don’t let me think the father of my 

babies is a snob.’  

Pa let out a sigh.  

‘Maybe I am. Yes. Probably it’s me. You know 

how much I care about Joanie.’  

‘Honey,’ she said, ‘you’re dripping blood on the 

floor.’  

Plop! Plop! Big Plop! Only Mo could win an 

argument and poo all at once.  

Daniel sneezed. Flowers did that to him. But it was all 

right. He used the handkerchief like Mo had told him. 

Whatever Pa was thinking he didn’t say it and 

the pastor got right on with the vows.   

Joan, it turned out, was actually called Meredith 

Joan. That was news to some people. Not me and 

Dan. We’d found out in rehearsals.   

I thought we were home and dry but then came 

‘To Have and To Hold,’ and Otis, well, how can I tell 

you? Otis, who could skip non-stop for a whole entire 

hour, do thirty pressups with Daniel clinging to his 

back, Otis cried. I mean really cried, sobbed out loud. 

I nearly died of embarrassment.   

Daniel, like an idiot, stepped between Otis and 

Joan, grabbed Otis’s thumb and gave it a squeeze. 

Otis stopped crying and ruffled Dan’s hair. Then I 

wished I had thought of it.   

After that everything went according to plan. 

No-one fainted. The ring wasn’t lost. Me and Dan 

were brilliant pageboys. We didn’t fight, fart or upset 

the bridesmaids.   

I had a bit of trouble when Otis and Joan got to 

the stuff about honouring each other’s bodies. My 

lips twitched. I felt the giggles coming on. But I was 

ready. I clenched my teeth and in my head I listed my 

all-time favourite Spurs team, including substitutes. 

I expect you know about wedding receptions – 

chicken salad, Christmas cake and speeches that 

make your neck ache. It wasn’t like that at Otis and 

Joan’s wedding. The grown-ups had crawly things 

that would tap-dance off the plates if you didn’t stick 

your fork in quick. I had my own special plantains 

mashed up by Otis’s mum with her secret ingredient. 

And Dan had one jacket potato with Lurpak, his 

favourite meal in the world.  

For pudding there was black chocolate mousse. 

Otis and Joan stood up, thanked everyone, said how 

much they loved each other, and – this bit made me 

puke – Otis thanked Daniel, for ‘bringing us together 

in the first place.’ 

It was true, though. 

I could just see Dan Dan, fat, stupid and two, 

trying to squeeze between the café railings in Holland 

Park. He got his head through all right, but his 

shoulders wouldn’t pass and when he tried to back 

out he was stuck. He didn’t cry, not straightaway. He 

grasped the railings either side and slid his head up 

and down, trying to find a bigger gap. There wasn’t 

one. He moved his head round as far as it would go, 

lifted one foot off the ground. That didn’t work, so he 

stopped and stood, thinking. I crept up behind him, 

gave him a shove. He yelped. Still he didn’t cry. 

I looked around for someone to help us. With a 

bit of luck I’d sort it and Mo would never know. Just 

the other side of the railings a pregnant woman and a 

toddler had a picnic on a rug. No use at all. Beyond 

them, some lanky boys played football. One snatched 

up the ball and jabbed his finger at the others. They 

seemed like tough boys to me. At the far end of the 

park, people played noiseless tennis. Daniel made a 

sort of gurgling sound.  

I ran up the café steps to fetch Mo and Joan. 

They would have seen us if they hadn’t been eating 

ice-cream and laughing. I told them what Daniel was 

doing, got the gurgling off perfect. They stopped 

laughing and dashed for the railings. I hung back to 

rescue their chocolate flakes. They’d dropped their 

cornets, you see. 

When I caught up, Mo was saying, ‘It’s all right, 

Dan Dan, it’s all right,’ in a way that told him it was 

not all right at all. I wiped chocolate from my mouth. 

Dan’s bottom lip quivered. 

Joan said in a put-on cheery voice, ‘This is a job 

for Dangermouse.’ 

The sky darkened. I saw leaves vibrate. Dan 

cried. 

Joan said, ‘Harry, fetch my bag please would 

you, darling?’ 

She probably carried important life saving 

equipment about on account of she was a nurse at 

the hospital. I raced for the bag, held it out while she 

fumbled in it and came up with a bottle. It said Body 

Shop on it and something about carrots. She smeared 

orangey stuff over Daniel’s ears. 

‘Steeeeenks!’ Daniel blubbed.  His neck grew 

fatter. Mo gripped him by the arms and wailed, ‘Try 

to relax!’  

Dan’s face turned purple. Then the rain came. 

We didn’t have anoraks. That toddler screamed and 

kicked at picnic things its mother tried to gather up. 

Tennis players ran for cover. Footballers bickered and 

pulled on their anoraks. I licked chocolaty rain from 

my lips. 

Joan said, ‘Let’s call the fire brigade.’  

Fantastic! I’d never seen anyone do that in my 

life before.  

Joan dived into her bag, came up with a mobile 

phone and dropped it, on account of the rain and the 

moisturiser. She picked it up, punched 999. 

Rain dripped off my nose and I shivered. I 

needed a pee. It was ages before anyone answered. 

Daniel was only whimpering by the time I saw a dot 

moving towards us from way beyond the tennis 

courts. The dot turned into a fire-fighter – he had his 

helmet on and everything. He sprinted like a god or 

Linford Christie. Before it seemed possible he 

appeared, handsome and black, towering over us the 

other side of the railings. He’d brought a crowbar and 

a calm that worked instant magic on all of us. 

I wanted him to notice me. He was looking at 

Daniel. He dropped to his haunches alongside my 

brother, put his face close and smiled. They might 

have been the only two people in the park. 

‘I’m very good at this,’ he said and I believed 

him. 

He pulled off the helmet, passed it to me. Heat 

came up out of it. He put the crowbar on the ground, 

took hold of one railing, got his heavy boot against 

the other. Dan’s soft baby hair stroked the boot’s 

muddy ridges. The fireman tensed, closed his eyes, 

breathed out through his nose. Mo raised a weak 

hand. The railings bent like Curly Wurlies. Daniel fell 

forward. Before his face could hit the ground the 

fireman caught him one-handed, passed him through 

the gap and into Mo’s arms. It all happened in a 

moment and that moment I fell in love with Otis. 

Auntie Joan took a lot longer about it. 

Otis’s family was bonkers. It spread like nits and I 

caught it. Me and Dan actually danced with the 

bridesmaids. Mine could speak Spanish, play violin 

and football. She said ‘see y’around’, when we’d 

finished. Otis’s mum said I was an excellent dancer 

and it was nice for Otis to have boys in the family. He 

had two little brothers, but they were men, so didn’t 

count. I told her I couldn’t see Daniel turning into a 

man and she laughed. I began to know how adults 

felt when they were tipsy. 

We were the last children up at the party. Dan 

lay across some chairs under Otis’s jacket, his arms 

flung out. I could easily drop a grape into his wide 

open mouth, watched the dancing instead. Couples 

stuck together swayed to mushy music. Coloured 

lights skittered the floor. 

To keep myself from sleeping I tried counting 

fire-fighters. It would have been easier if they’d 

brought their axes or something. 

I held a competition in my head for the best- 

looking couple. Mo and Pa had to be contenders. Pa’s 

hand covered the small of Mo’s back, pressed her 

close, seemed he was sniffing her hair. Joan had blue 

laughing eyes and shiny black hair just like Mo’s, only 

Joan looked like she might float off the floor, up, up 

through the top of the tent, that’s how happy she 

was. Luckily Otis had his strong arms around her. 

Really they should have won. I mean, it was their 

wedding. I gave it to Mo and Pa anyway, by a whisker. 

Daniel startled like a baby. I put my hand on his 

chest, said, ‘It’s all right. You can stay sleeping,’ and 

he did. 

Next thing I knew Pa had me propped against our 

front door while he went through all his pockets for 

the keys. Mo had them. Pa carried me in and up the 

stairs. Behind us Mo knocked Daniel’s head against 

the banister. 

From inside his sleep Dan groaned, ‘Everyone’s 

got a  television.’  

Mo laughed, ‘Not now, Daniel.’  

Pa dumped me on my bed in the dark. He was 

trying to be gentle. It wasn’t working. He had 

difficulty with my shoes. 

‘Velcro,’ I said, then he managed it.  

He undid my trousers, pulled them off by the 

ends, unbuttoned my shirt, left it on. He was rough 

and I liked it. He didn’t bother with my boxers or my 

socks. 

‘Teeth, Pa.’ 

‘Not tonight, sweet boy.’ 

Pa pulled the duvet up to my chin, pressed it 

round me. He leaned down to kiss me, jabbed his 

nose in my eye. He kissed my forehead, stroked my 

hair, murmured something mushy. I couldn’t make 

out the words. His breath smelled of wine. He had 

smoked a cigar. He felt bristly.  

A tube train trundled by and then another one. 

They sounded tired, like they were heading home to 

bed. 

D’dee D’dee, said the trains. D’dee D’dee.  

I heard Mo tiptoe down the stairs from Dan’s 

room. She met Pa on the landing. I heard low, teasing 

voices. They seemed to be wrestling. There was 

giggling and shushing. It must have been the last 

night I went to sleep feeling safe.