Hide and Seek

If you asked any parent how long the summer holidays lasted, they would all give exactly the same answer.

“About seven years.”

Teachers called it six weeks.

Children called it “not nearly long enough.”

Parents simply referred to it as The Endless Era.

It was, by Barry’s calculations, approximately the millionth Saturday of the holidays.

The days had merged together into one long blur of cereal, sun cream, washing machines, snack requests, mysterious sticky patches on furniture, and someone asking, “Can we have an ice cream?” every seventeen seconds.

Mr Brand looked especially tired.

It hadn’t helped that Grandma Brand had recently spent time in hospital. She was thankfully recovering well now, but everyone had been worried, and Mr Brand had driven backwards and forwards, made endless phone calls, slept badly, and consumed enough coffee to make an owl feel nervous.

So, after lunch, Mrs Brand folded her arms.

“Right,” she announced.

Mr Brand looked suspicious.

“What?”

“You,” she said, pointing upstairs, “are going to bed.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’ve got emails.”

“They’ll still be there when you wake up.”

“I should probably—”

“No.”

Marjory, Marmaduke’s mum, nodded firmly.

“As a doctor,” she said with a perfectly straight face, “I prescribe one nap.”

Mr Brand sighed.

“I don’t think doctors can prescribe naps.”

Marjory smiled.

“I absolutely can.”

Five minutes later Mr Brand had been marched upstairs with a cup of tea, strict instructions not to look at his phone, and the promise that nobody would disturb him unless the house caught fire.

“Or Barry discovers chemistry,” added Mrs Brand.

“Again,” sighed Mr Brand.

Upstairs, silence soon settled.

Then came…

SNORRRRRRRRRRK.

Mrs Brand smiled.

“Excellent.”

Downstairs, Barry looked disappointed.

“Daddy’s making tractor noises.”

“That’s called sleeping.”

“I thought he was broken.”

“No.”

Barry considered this.

“I’ll check later.”

“You absolutely will not.”

The afternoon stretched ahead.

Outside it was warm.

The paddling pool had developed a leak that looked suspiciously bite-shaped.

The football had vanished into next door’s lavender for the fourth time.

Alfie had sensibly settled down with a library book about volcanoes because, unlike Barry, he believed entertainment didn’t necessarily need an ambulance.

“So…” said Marjory.

“What shall we do?”

Barry’s hand shot up.

“Explode something!”

“No.”

“Catch pigeons?”

“No.”

“Glue Marmaduke to the shed?”

Marmaduke blinked.

“…Why?”

“I haven’t worked out the details.”

“No.”

Mrs Brand suddenly smiled.

“I know.”

Barry grinned.

“Exploding hide-and-seek?”

“Just hide-and-seek.”

“Oh.”

Marjory rubbed her chin.

“What about Sardines?”

Now, Sardines was a family favourite.

One person hid.

Everyone else searched.

When someone found the hiding place, they squeezed in silently until eventually everyone was crammed together like…

…well…

…sardines.

Mrs Brand immediately shook her head.

“No.”

Marjory nodded.

“Fair point.”

The children looked puzzled.

“What happened?” Alfie asked.

Mrs Brand sighed.

“Last time…”

Marjory continued.

“…Barry hid in the kitchen cupboard.”

“Good hiding place,” Barry said proudly.

“It was.”

“Then Marmaduke found him.”

“I did.”

“Then you got in.”

“I did.”

“Then I leaned in.”

“Then…”

Both mums said together,

“…the cupboard fell off the wall.”

Barry smiled fondly.

“It made a lovely noise.”

“It made a very expensive noise.”

“And technically,” said Marjory, “once the people count reached three-and-a-half…”

Barry interrupted.

“I was the half because I’m little.”

“…the cupboard surrendered.”

“It retired,” Barry corrected.

“It certainly stopped being a cupboard.”

“So,” said Mrs Brand firmly.

“Normal hide-and-seek.”

Barry volunteered to count first.

He covered his eyes.

“One…”

“…three…”

“…seven…”

“…twenty…”

“…banana…”

Alfie sighed.

“Barry.”

“What?”

“Those aren’t numbers.”

“They are in pirate counting.”

“They really aren’t.”

Eventually Barry reached twenty in something resembling the correct order.

He opened his eyes.

“READY OR NOT!”

The hunt began.

Finding Alfie took about twelve seconds.

His feet were sticking out from behind the curtains.

“I knew you’d look there,” Alfie muttered.

“Then why hide there?”

“I panicked.”

Reasonable.

Marmaduke hid behind the garden slide.

Unfortunately ninety percent of him remained visible.

Barry wandered past him three times.

Finally Marmaduke whispered,

“Barry…”

Barry jumped.

“AAAH!”

“You found me.”

“I did!”

“You were looking at me.”

“I thought you were a bush.”

“I’ve got shoes on.”

“Fancy bush.”

Mrs Brand had hidden in the downstairs loo.

Marjory hid behind the washing hanging on the clothes horse.

Barry proudly found everyone.

“Best game ever!”

“My turn!” shouted Marmaduke.

Round after round followed.

Barry hid under tables…

…inside a laundry basket…

…behind the sofa while giggling continuously…

…and once underneath the dog-shaped garden ornament despite there being no actual dog.

Everyone laughed.

Even Alfie.

Which was rare enough to deserve recording for scientific purposes.

Finally Mrs Brand clapped.

“Last round!”

Barry’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m going to win.”

“You’ve said that every round.”

“I mean it this time.”

Marjory counted.

Slowly.

Properly.

No pirate numbers.

“No peeking!”

“I’m not peeking!”

“You’ve got one eye open.”

“That’s my listening eye.”

Mrs Brand nearly laughed.

Everyone disappeared.

Alfie hid behind the greenhouse.

Marmaduke climbed carefully underneath the picnic table.

Mrs Brand squeezed into the downstairs coat cupboard.

Barry…

…vanished.

Marjory found Alfie.

Then Marmaduke.

Then Mrs Brand.

Easy.

“Right,” she smiled. “Where’s Barry?”

Silence.

Mrs Brand called,

“Barry?”

Nothing.

“Barry!”

No answer.

The search expanded.

Behind curtains.

Under beds.

Inside wardrobes.

Garden shed.

Wheelie bins.

Playhouse.

Paddling pool.

Laundry basket.

Kitchen cupboards.

Everyone looked twice, just in case Barry had forgotten the cupboard incident and wanted to finish the job.

Nothing.

“Barry!” called Mrs Brand, still trying to keep a modicum of quiet for Mr Brand’s sake.

Still nothing.

Alfie frowned.

“He’s usually laughing by now.”

That was true.

Barry believed stealth meant whispering,

“Hee hee hee…”

…very quietly.

Five more minutes passed.

Then ten.

Marjory’s smile began slipping.

“Barry?”

Mrs Brand checked the garden again.

No Barry.

The trampoline.

No Barry.

Behind flowerpots.

No Barry.

Even the recycling boxes.

Still no Barry.

Marmaduke looked worried.

“I didn’t lose him.”

“No, sweetheart.”

Alfie stood thinking.

“He can’t have gone outside the front door.”

“He knows not to.”

“He wouldn’t leave without telling us.”

Mrs Brand nodded.

“Exactly.”

Still…

Where on earth was he?

They searched upstairs.

Bathroom.

Cupboards.

Toy room.

Alfie’s bedroom.

Barry’s bedroom.

Nothing.

Only one room remained.

Mr and Mrs Brand’s bedroom.

Everyone stopped outside.

Mrs Brand whispered,

“We agreed not to wake him.”

Marjory nodded.

“He really needed this sleep.”

Alfie listened.

His dad was still snoring gently.

“Maybe Barry isn’t there.”

Mrs Brand looked around.

“We’ve looked literally everywhere else.”

Barry had once hidden inside an empty suitcase.

Another time behind the shower curtain while having absolutely no bath.

He could be anywhere.

Mrs Brand sighed.

“I suppose we’d better have one quick look.”

Very quietly.

The door creaked open.

The room was dark.

Curtains drawn.

The only sound was…

SNORRRRRRK…

…followed by a tiny…

Snuffle.

Mrs Brand frowned.

“Did you hear that?”

Marjory nodded.

Another gentle…

Snore…

Then…

A much smaller…

Pfffff.

Mrs Brand tiptoed closer.

Mr Brand was lying peacefully asleep.

One arm stretched across…

…something.

Something small.

Something with very messy blond hair.

Barry.

Curled up underneath his dad’s arm like the world’s happiest sleepy puppy.

One little hand still clutched the edge of Mr Brand’s T-shirt.

His cheeks were rosy.

His mouth hung open.

He was snoring.

Tiny little squeaky snores.

Mrs Brand put a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing.

Marjory whispered,

“Oh…”

Alfie smiled.

“I wondered where he’d gone.”

Marmaduke whispered loudly,

“Barry won.”

Mrs Brand nodded.

“He certainly did.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

The room felt wonderfully peaceful.

After all the running…

Searching…

Counting…

Calling…

There they both were.

Fast asleep.

One enormous snore.

One miniature snore.

Perfectly in time.

Like a father-and-son orchestra that specialised exclusively in nasal music.

Marjory quietly took a photo.

“Insurance?” whispered Mrs Brand.

“No.”

“For Grandma.”

“Perfect.”

As they backed towards the door…

Barry mumbled in his sleep.

“…found me…”

Then he smiled.

Didn’t wake up.

Just smiled.

Mr Brand absent-mindedly gave Barry’s shoulder a sleepy pat without opening his eyes.

It was obvious Barry had climbed in for “just one cuddle.”

And somewhere between one cuddle…

…and one enormous yawn…

…the greatest hider in London had accidentally fallen asleep.

The bedroom door closed softly.

Nobody said anything until they reached downstairs.

Then Marmaduke grinned.

“So…”

“Who won?”

Mrs Brand laughed.

“I think Barry did.”

“He hid for ages.”

“He certainly did.”

“And nobody found him.”

“Eventually we did.”

“But only because we’d run out of places.”

Alfie smiled.

“Technically, he picked the perfect hiding place.”

Marjory nodded.

“The one place no one wanted to look.”

About an hour later the bedroom door opened.

Mr Brand wandered downstairs looking considerably more human.

He stretched.

“That was…”

He stopped.

“Why are you all smiling at me?”

Nobody answered.

Mrs Brand simply handed him Marjory’s phone.

He looked at the picture.

There he was.

Fast asleep.

Barry tucked underneath his arm.

Both snoring.

Mr Brand couldn’t help smiling.

“I don’t even remember him getting in.”

Mrs Brand grinned.

“He must have sneaked in.”

Barry finally appeared behind him rubbing his eyes.

“I win.”

“You certainly do,” said Alfie.

“I was invisible.”

“You were asleep.”

“That’s advanced hiding.”

Mr Brand lifted him onto his shoulders.

“I think,” he said, “that’s exactly the sort of hiding champion I needed today.”

Barry beamed.

“I can help you nap again next Saturday.”

Mrs Brand laughed.

“I have a feeling there may be another million Saturdays before school starts.”

Alfie groaned dramatically.

“The holidays are never ending.”

Barry gasped.

“Really?”

Mrs Brand winked.

“Only if you’re a parent.”

Barry thought carefully.

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t finished hiding yet.”