A Carton of Milk

A pathetic wail issued from the bathroom: "Mum! There`s no toilet
paper! Why do men never replace the toilet roll?"
Angela reached for a roll from the top of the fridge, ran upstairs and
left it outside the bathroom door.
"Maybe it`s for the same reason that girls never say when they use the
last of the milk!" shouted Richard from the kitchen.
"I`m sorry," said his wife coming back downstairs. "It`s always the
same when the kids come home. I forget how much milk we get through.
I`ll pop out and get some."
"No you won`t," said Richard. "You`re not their slave. It`s Jenny who
uses it all in her endless cups of coffee. She can go for it."
"Why should I?" asked Jenny, appearing in the doorway. "It`s not just
me. Mark had a whole beer glass full at lunch time. He can go. In any
case it`s snowing again and I`ve left my boots at uni.. Mark!" she
shouted. "Mum said you`re to come off that computer for two minutes and
go and get some milk."
"No she didn`t," said Mark, emerging from the study, where he had spent
the last three days working on his dissertation. He`d been running his
fingers through his hair and it stood unevenly on end. "I could do with
a break, though. Can I take the car, Dad? It`s horrible out
there."
"I suppose so," replied his father, throwing him the car keys and a
pound to pay for the milk. "Don`t they have any legs, our kids?" he
asked his wife.
"Must have been born without them," laughed Angela.
Mark grabbed his denim jacket and opened the front door, admitting an
icy blast and a sprinkling of snow flakes into the passage.
"I won`t be long," he said. "Don`t touch the computer. I haven`t backed
it up yet." The door banged shut behind him.
"Will they never learn to make back-up copies as they go along?"
muttered Richard. "He`ll lose the lot one of these days. Coming to
watch the news, Angie? I could really have done with a cup of tea, but
never mind. We`ll have one later."
They went into the front room, where they sat companionably on the
settee and turned on the television. Jenny curled up between them on
the floor.
An hour later, as the weather forecast concluded, Jenny looked up at
her parents. "Mark`s not back yet," she said.
"Isn`t he?" said her mother. "Maybe he sneaked in quietly."
Richard heaved himself to his feet and walked stiffly into the kitchen.
"Well if he did, he forgot to bring any milk," he said. "Mark! Are you
back?" No reply.
Jenny peered round the curtains. "The car`s not there," she announced.
"The snow`s coming down by the bucketful. Just look at it against the
streetlight."
"I hope he`s OK," worried Angela. "He shouldn`t have taken more than
ten minutes. He`s been gone for ages. Do you think he`s had an
accident?"
"Don`t be silly," said Richard. "It`s only round the corner."
"I expect the garage ran out of milk and he`s had to go further afield
for it," added Jenny. "Or he met a friend or something. Or Mrs. Walker
caught him. You know what she`s like. Once she gets started she never
stops. You can`t get away - not without being rude. And it`s always
about people you don`t know and have never even met."
"He`s too bad," complained Richard. "He knows we`re waiting for the
milk."
"Tell you what," piped Jenny cheerfully. "I`ll ring him and see where
he is. Can I borrow your mobile? Mine`s got no money on it." She
checked his number on her phone, dialled it on her father`s and clapped
it to her ear. "It`s no good," she said after a moment. "He`s got it
turned off."
Richard saw the anxiety on Angela`s face. "He`s bound to be back soon,"
he comforted her. "We`ll give him another ten minutes and then I`ll
take a stroll down to the garage and chivvy him."
For the next ten minutes Angela paced between the kitchen and the front
room, where she peered frequently out into the snow. There was no sign
of Mark.
Richard put on his thick winter jacket, his gloves, hat and boots and
opened the front door. Angela ran after him. "Hang on a minute!" she
shouted. "I`m coming too."
"What a fuss,"murmured Jenny. "You`d think he was six, not
twenty-two."
The new snow was falling on old slush and encouraging it to freeze.
Walking was difficult, but the roads were clear. "You see. He shouldn`t
have had any difficulty on the road, love," said Richard.
At the garage, the shop door was locked for the night, but the kiosk
was open for petrol sales. They approached together.
"Hello Mr. Walden... Angela," greeted the youth within. "Your Mark was
in earlier. Hadn`t seen him for ages. Didn`t have time to talk much
though - he said you were waiting for the milk."
Angela and Richard looked at each other. "Where did he go from here
then? Did you happen to notice?"
"Back to his car. Round the back, I think it was." He glanced at the
security screen above him. "That might be it there now."
"Thanks."
"The car is still here!" said Angela excitedly. "Over there, covered in
snow. Where ever is Mark, though? He can`t be far away."
Richard strode over to the car, leaving the only footprints in virgin
snow, Angela noticed. He swept the snow off the windscreen with his
gloved hands.
"Nobody in here," he announced. "Hang about though. He`s left the milk
on the passenger seat. For Heaven`s sake! The key`s in the ignition.
Does he want the car stolen?" He tried the driver`s door. "Locked," he
said. "The little twit`s gone and locked himself out. A while ago mind
you, to judge by the snow on the car. I wonder where he went."
"Home, I expect." Angela spoke in relief. "We`ll find him there when we
get back."
She put her key in the lock. "You drive home," she said. "You know how
I hate driving in the snow."
Mark was not at home, nor did they pass him on the way.
"Where the Hell is he?" exploded his father.
"No idea," Jenny greeted them cheerfully. "But at least you`ve brought
the milk. You look frozen. I`ll make us all a cup of tea."
There was still no sign of him at bed time. Even Jenny was becoming
anxious.
"Shall I go and back up his dissertation, Dad? We ought to shut the
computer down. He wouldn`t have left it on if he`d meant to be gone so
long, would he?"
"No, he wouldn`t," said her father quietly.
"Do you think we should ring the police?" whispered Angela.
"And what for, may I ask? What are they going to say?" Richard
answered. "He`s not a child. We`d look a right set of over-anxious
wallies when he walked in from the pub. He`ll have met up with a friend
and gone for a drink. Time for bed. He`s got his key. He`ll be back by
tomorrow."
He wasn`t.
Twenty-four hours after Mark walked out into the snow, his father
finally gave in to his wife and daughter`s tearful anxiety and his own
serious misgivings and rang the police.

Mark whistled to keep himself warm as he trudged through the snow
carrying his carton of milk. "I`d have put on something a bit warmer
than my denim jacket if I`d realised I was going to have to walk home,"
he thought. His trainers were full of melting snow.
"What ever am I going to say to Dad?" he kept worrying. He knew he`d
been becoming increasingly absent-minded lately, working as hard as he
was on his dissertation. But to mislay the car! How could he possibly
explain that? He couldn`t find the car keys, either. "I must be going
nuts," he said to himself.
He turned the corner into his own street and saw his parents`s house by
the light of the street lamp. A strange car stood on the drive.
"Visitors. I didn`t think we were expecting anybody. I wonder who they
could be on a night like this."
He inserted his front-door key in the lock and turned it. "I`m getting
pretty unobservant," he thought. "I wonder when they painted the front
door white. I hadn`t noticed."
He kicked as much snow as he could off his trainers and shook the snow
out of his hair. He entered the house with an icy blast and a
scattering of snow flakes.
"Hi, Dad!" he shouted. "I`ve brought the milk, but you didn`t give me
enough money for a big carton. Oh, and I can`t seem to remember where I
put the car."
A small boy careered round the corner and stopped by the kitchen door.
He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and wailed: "Mum!"
Jenny poked her head around the door behind him. The colour drained
from her face.
"Oh my God!" she said. "It`s Mark! I don`t believe it! Mum! Dad! Come
quickly. It`s Mark! He`s back!"
The little boy`s face puckered and he clutched at his mother`s leg.
Jenny picked him up, still staring at Mark.
"How could you, Mark?!" she suddenly shouted. "Five years, it`s been!
Five years! To the day! And you just walk back in as though you own the
place..." Mark`s expression stopped her in midstream.
"I just went for the milk," he said.