hide and seekMature

“Blimey, I didn’t expect this! They should hire a new weatherman!” I said, laughing up at the sun.

“I know, I was expecting rain, rain and more rain.” Liz agreed.

“All the better for searching for daddy. He likes sunshine, so he’ll come out of his apartment today. Maybe even chance work since it's a Tuesday.” I said my voice full of hope.

We started off in the direction of the station at the corner, intending to take the bus to the heart of London to try and find the office block which had imprisoned my father in this awful, tea-drinking country. I’m going to have a thing or two to say to his boss.

“Let's go, Robin, you can start planning the verbal abuse you’ll deliver to the boss on the bus.” Liz laughed, translating my expression perfectly. Am I that easy to read?

“Sure, that big-shot will be sorry he ever made my dad stay in this city.” I said, relishing the thought of picking a fight with a man in a business suit.

We almost ran to the corner, expecting the bus to be there considering our late start, but we were shocked at what we saw there. It was a mashed up BMW, the rear half looked as if it were not two days old, the front however, was a horror film scene for all cars everywhere. What the hell did this cunt hit?"Excuse me ladies, are you two staying on this street?" a policeman asked, gesturing to the direction we had just come from.

"Yes, the Airways B and B, about halfway down. Why?" I said, cautiously.

"At what time did you hear the crash?"

"I didn't hear anything. Sorry officer." I said, perplexed.

"How did you not hear it?" Liz stammered in disbelief.

"I don't know, I was asleep, I couldn't hear a thing!" I replied, almost hurt at her abruptness. "You could sleep through a hurricane!" she joked.

"Wouldn't be the first time." I said, jokingly.

"Alright miss, what time did you hear the crash?" the officer asked, directing his query at Liz this time.

"Midnight. That or thereabout. Was anyone hurt?" Liz said sombrely, hoping that the crash wasn't going to affect our plans to hunt down my father and drag him to the airport.

"Strangely enough, not even the guy who threw himself in front of the car was hurt. Which I think we all agree is really impossible considering the state of the car that hit him." The policeman muttered, scratching his head.

His black uniform against the bright, sunlit road was giving me a headache, and I was itching to resume the hunt for my dad, so after informing us of another bus stop nearby we left the crash scene to continue our quest for my dad, and for Liz no doubt, a shopping mall.

"How much farther is this bus stop?" I whined, pretending to be tired to annoy Liz.

"Its right there, wake up! I know that your idea of a morning is sleeping but we are in London and we have to make the most of it. Lets try looking for your dad around Big-Ben or the London eye, he would want to see the touristy things wouldn't he?" Liz said, and to my surprise, she was seriously trying to fool me into making this a touristy holiday.

"Might as well check the London dungeons while were at it, he might work part time there as a vegetable." I joked.

We were both laughing as the bus pulled up to the footpath and we boarded, showing the day-passes that we had purchased in a newsagents on our way to the stop.

"Where's your dads office block anyway?" Liz asked, keeping her voice low, she clearly believed all that rubbish about gangs and hoodies in London.

"North of Piccadilly circus. I have the address right here, don't worry." I said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Every time you say don't worry it makes me worry more." she grumbled, and resigned herself to the long wait for the bus to crawl its way to our destination.

"This is so slow, I told you we should hire bikes!" I grumbled.

"If we hired bikes we would either get lost or forget which bike shop we got them from." Liz said her mood lifting.

"Oh yeah, I forgot my memory sucks." I said jokingly.

The bus was crowded, and what an odd crowd. There was an elderly couple, ordinary enough, three kids no older than us wearing hoodies, a man in a chicken suit, (which I'm almost sure was for a good reason) and a man who seemed determined not to get too close too or recognised by anybody. I knew London was different but I wasn't expecting hermits and chickens on a bus.

When we reached Piccadilly we gladly dashed off the bus and began heading in the direction we thought was north. But after two more wrong turns and directions from a tour bus ticket seller, we turned around and were finally headed in the right direction. As we walked we took the chance to discuss the mysterious and unfortunate BMW that was now scrap metal.

"Did the idiot hit a giant rock?" Liz suggested.

"I doubt there would be a giant rock in the middle of the road and a suicidal nutter would chuck himself behind it. I think the jumper was wearing a bullet-proof vest and forgot about it." I said, feeling stupid that I had come to that conclusion.

"A bullet-proof vest wouldn't mash up a BMW like that, and the force of the impact, the guy couldn't walk away like he did."

"How do you know he walked away?"

"I saw him!"


"When I couldn't wake up I went to see what all the commotion was."

"Did you see the guys face???"

"No, he ran off before the police arrived."

"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?"

"Everyone saw him, I couldn't give them any info they didn't already have, but I do know that nobody saw his face."

"Great, while were on a roll, did I miss anything else while I was sleeping?"

"No. Don't worry, that's all that happened."

"Good." I said, agitated that I had missed out on all the action.

We finally approached the right building, suddenly aware of the crowd that surged around us, we hastily ran towards the revolving doors that lead into the enormous sandstone building. The inside was paved in marble, finely cut and laid together with such precision only a master craftsman could achieve. The crystalline chandelier that hung gracefully from the arched ceiling shone its incredible light throughout the entire entrance hall.

Groups of people dressed in highly professional business suits walked past, barely registering our presence in their rush to get to wherever they needed to be.

“Where’s the front desk then?” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. I’m going to see my dad!!!

“Over there, under the huge sign that says reception” Liz said, pointing to somewhere to the left.

I cleared my throat and felt my face flush red. “I knew that.” I managed to mumble, to try and save some dignity.

We headed for the desk, me in the lead, followed by a giggling Liz. When we reached it the kind-faced receptionist smiled in welcome, displaying an unnervingly symmetrical set of teeth that were blindingly white next to her fake-tanned skin. This was only exaggerated by the pearly white shirt and necklace she wore.

“Can I help you ladies?” she said, smiling at us now as though we were cute three year olds who had lost their mother.

“Yes, I’m looking for Adrian Robinson, is he in your employee database by any chance?” I said, projecting each word as though to sound smarter than I was.

We’ll see how patronising she is when she realises I know what I’m doing.

“I’m sorry girlie, I’m not authorised to hand out information about our employees to just anybody.” she said, smiling her awfully disturbing smile, and speaking in a patronizing voice which coupled with her English accent made me want to vomit.

“Just tell me where his workstation is and I’ll go.” I said, trying to keep the threat from making itself present in my voice.

“And who are you to demand that I give you this information?” she snapped.

I’m getting through to her!

“I’m Michelle Robinson, his daughter, I feel I have every right to visit my own father.” I said, sneering at the receptionist.Don’t pick a fight with her! Save it for the boss.

The lady sighed and turned to her computer. Clearly the law was on my side, so I relaxed as she surfed through the R’s until she found my dad.

“Robinson, Adrian. Age 44, Nationality: Irish...” she began to read, clearly uninterested in the profile of my father.

“Tell me something useful, please!” I snapped.

“Workstation, 3rd floor 5th door on the left.”

“Thank you.” I said, exasperated.

“No use going up there now. He hasn’t shown his face around here all week.” she called after me, stopping me in my tracks.Hasn’t been seen all week?

“Did you report him missing?” I asked, turning slowly to gauge the lady’s reaction to this obvious course of action.

“No, we all thought he ran away back to the leprechaun land after the scene he caused last Tuesday.”

That did it. I couldn’t stand her goody two shoes, English accent patronising me any longer. I couldn’t control myself. My right fist rose up from its safe position at my side, swung towards her tangerine-coloured face and connected with her jaw with a resounding SMACK that echoed through the enormous hallway, making most people stop and stare at us, before rushing on.

“Like father, like daughter.” the receptionist muttered hurtfully as she pulled out a gaudy hand-mirror to check her face for blood or bruises.Serves the dumb hag right for bad-mouthing my family and my country. I thought, as I turned and strutted out the door, my head held high and Liz at my side, who for some reason had her mobile phone out and was holding it at head height in front of me.

“That was amazing Robin! I’ve never seem such a brilliant right hook!” Liz exclaimed, clearly impressed.

“All in a days work little lady!” I said, quoting the ending of a spaghetti western for fun.

I heard a beep that told me that her phone had finished the video, and only then did I realise that she had recorded the entire incident.

“You got that on yer phone?” I asked, amazed at her intuition.

“Yup. Youtube or myspace?” she asked as she saved it under the heading


I couldn’t help but laugh, so, after watching the video twice, adding a directors commentary version and video editing it to show the receptionists reaction at the moment I took the swing at her in slow motion , we sent the finished piece to my father's office computer via email, as a link to youtube.Don’t ye just love revenge!

Then I remembered the disturbing news the disturbing secretary had given me.

“My dad has gone missing. We have to file a missing persons report. Where the hell is the police station!?” I said, beginning to panic.

“I don’t know! But there were loads of cops at the crash scene, maybe we could go back there and one of them will take us to the station.” Liz said, also panicking.

“O.K. lets go then.” I said, calming down now that there was a plan.

We got on the next bus we could, and waited patiently, and in silence for it to reach Victoria, so we could get to the police, who would get to my father, who would get back to Ireland, whether he likes it or not.

The End

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