The Weasel Disappears.

Considering how late we got to bed and how much I had drunk the previous night, I felt remarkably well for a Sunday morning. It was a good job because though the sun was shining and it was just the sort of day for taking Lilly out into the Goyt and striding for miles across the heathery boggy hills and valleys, I had work to do. A lot of it and none of it very interesting. I had just put the kettle on and was thinking about whether to have toast with a lot of butter and honey or go for a health bowl of Muesli when Mrs BW came down stairs looking troubled.

“The Weasels not in her room!”

“Well she was home before we went up to bed. We told her off for coming in so late.” I had that sinking feeling already.

“Her bed does not look slept in and her window is wide open. I think she is gone.” Mrs BW looked concerned.

There was no sign of the Weasel. A brief check to see what was missing, not an easy thing in a room that would present a stiff challenge to Time Team was inconclusive. I tried her phone. It rang but she did not answer. I texted her. She did not reply. Mrs BW phoned around and spoke to a few people. She managed to establish that the Weasel was not with any of her usual friends.

“There is not a lot we can do. ” I said. ” She is 17 after all.”

Mrs BW was not convinced. But we had to try and get on with our day. I took the Munch up to Howards. Howard had arranged for him to spend some time with the local farrier, as the Munch has expressed an interest in following this as a career. I chatted normally trying not to betray the feeling of panic that was trying to push its way out of my stomach. It seemed as if the world was retreating, drifting away so that there was only us and the lack of a Weasel.

I got back at Midday. Still no sign. No texts. I tried again. Just a text, a neutral sort of text. A minute passed. My phone hummed. I grabbed it. It was a brief message from the Weasel. “On way home popped out this morning back in ten minutes Xx.” An hour passed. Mrs BW’s phone pinged. Another text. “I am with someone, stop bothering me.” Mrs BW hadnt bothered her. We got worried. All the fears that had laid dormant, began to surface. Suppose she had met some one on Facebook, suppose she had gone to met this person. Suppose she was not in Buxton.” We both felt helpless.

“Sorry” I said. ” I have got to go out to think. I am going up to the rugby club to watch the Under 17’s”

“Okay.” Mrs BW seemed to understand. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

To be continued.

4 thoughts on “The Weasel Disappears.

  1. OK, I'm on the edge of my seat – don't be too long putting up the next part.In a recent set of comments on a post of mine about attitudes towards abortion, one person said something like, if people could see into the future and understand what raising their kid as a teenager would be like, no one would have kids.Having already raised 3 with another going through it and the 5th one about to, I can sooooo sympathise…

  2. Malc – The U17's won and are top of the league. We have been thrown out of ours, so now its only friendlies. I think the Weasel knows what she is doing. She is very clever and manipulative. Not sure where she gets it from?

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