- Hi, after thirty years in computer sales I have taken early retirement and now live in Spain. Married (3rd time lucky!). Assorted offspring - his and hers. Love to hear from anyone. I was the sinner who always bunked off sports day! - "Well, well, well!" Old Dave's on Friends Reunited. He's living in Spain." "Who's Old Dave?" "Kid in my class. We used to hang out together. Don't know why - he was a bit of a pain, really. Thought he was the class joker but wasn't really funny." "He sounds like a natural for Friends Reunited. Why don't you drop him an e-mail?" - Hi, Dave. Remember that back road out towards Lowthorpe? Boys will be boys, eh? - CANCEL - Hi, Dave. I remember the day we both bunked off Sports day. - CANCEL. CLOSE WINDOW. SHUTDOWN. "What's the matter?" "Nothing. I don't think I'll e-mail him. We weren't such good mates." "You're looking awfully worried. Problem at work?" "No..... er, yeah. They might be restructuring in the New Year. One of the offices will probably close." "Don't let it get to you." ............................................................................................................................ It was one of those sunny June days. The fields were drowning in cow parsley. The hedgerows shimmered. Dave came out of his house with sticks of rhubarb from the garden. We munched them as we cycled, riding slowly, weaving in and out. We were soon off the estate and into the countryside. The town was small then, before it expanded. The back road was deserted. It was a work day, a school day, but bunking off Sports Day didn't matter. Lots of kids did it, even the goggle-eyed conformists who never missed school. The air was like a warm bath. I swerved to avoid a dead rabbit - too much bother to take it back to scare the first years. A pheasant scuttled across the road. There was a travellers' camp off to the right - beat up cars and lorries, caravans and litter. We were always a bit scared of the boys from the camp. They weren't going to be pushed about by the locals and they knew how to fight. A dog stood up, scratched and went back to sleep. ............................................................................................................................ "Dinner's nearly ready?" "Oh, yeah, O.K." "And stop worrying!" ............................................................................................................................ We signed in at the sports field. Lots of people just left then. It was normal. Nothing to say where we went. Dave was very cool. He avoided me after that day. I wasn't his mate any more. He started hanging out with a tough crowd - Derek Townson and Malcolm Stubbs and co. They looked over at me and glared. I got the message. A word or a look and I was dead meat. I took to going about with the quiet lads. We went fishing. I started listening in class and doing homework. Mum was thrilled. She saw me in a suit, driving a car. Well, that's how it turned out, I suppose. Dave started joking about, weaving all over the road. There's still hardly any traffic there - it's narrow and bumpy. This time it wasn't a rabbit or a pheasant. It was a little child. It ran out suddenly and stopped. It looked at us with that hostile look very poor children have. Dave was in the road, cursing - on top of his bike, on top of the child. "Christ - he just ran out in front of me. Is my bike all right?" We stood it up. The mudguard was bent but that was all. The child was filthy. He was twitching and making a funny noise. Something dark soaked into the dirt under his head. "He must be from that camp". "We can't take him back like this. They'd kill us." "Should we go on to the houses, ask someone to phone for an ambulance?" "You going to wait here with him while I go?" I looked back at the camp and shook my head. "Put it in the ditch". It was hard to do. Neither of us wanted the head. My guts felt funny from the rhubarb. Dave started to giggle. "A-one, a- two, a-three." We swung it into the ditch. A woman's voice called from the camp. "Tommy, Tomm -eee!" "Quick...hide it!" Dave was piling branches over it, over Tommy, who was making a gurgling noise. I shut my eyes and threw armfuls of hedge that way. There were nettles and brambles in there. It hurt and made me want to cry. "Come on.......now!" We were peddling fast, cutting down a different lane, back home another way. I just followed Dave's back - red hair and sweaty school shirt. My eyes kept watering in the sun. He followed me down the alley by our house and shoved me against the wall. It was cold and damp through my shirt. "DON'T TELL". Well, I didn't tell and I won't now. Not with Anne and Rebecca and Tom to think about. There’s a new road going to be built up that lane - a bypass. There will just be bones by now. What can they tell from bones? "Don't worry sir, just a small sample. We're testing all males who were in the area in 1963, and according to our records....." ............................................................................................................................ "Tom! Dinner time! Tomm -eee! Suddenly, I'm shaking and crying and Tom's standing over me. "Just chill, Dad - what happened? Somebody died?" REPLY: - Hi, Dave. Remember me? Remember that day we missed Sports Day? Do you keep off the back roads when you're driving? Does every kid look like Tommy to you? How often do you google "Missing child+1963". Right now, men in safety helmets and yellow jackets are bending over a human skull in a ditch. Are you scared, Dave? - CANCEL. CLOSE. "Nothing, son. It's just this hay fever. I get it every June." | 
