The Changeling - Chapter one

The Changeling

A short story in instalments

By Serendipity Says

Chapter one

John sighed as he fell onto the sofa. Never in his life had he felt so drained! He reached for his cup of tea and idly flicked through the photo album that he had found in the cupboard.

He smiled as he looked at himself playing on the beach, aged around 4. His Mother holding his hand as he jumped over the little waves.

Ah, he used to love those holidays. Being an only child had its advantages – no siblings to vie for Mum's attention!

It had been a tough few months. His beloved Mum had passed away around ten years ago, her body ravaged by the cancer which had taken her life.

And then, his Dad! Suddenly and without warning he had passed away from a massive heart attack!

John looked around at the home in which he had spent his childhood.

And a strange childhood it had been in many ways. Mum and Dad had never encouraged him to make friends, never liked him to go out and play.

They had home schooled him, so apart from routine medical appointments, he didn't really spend much time away from the house until he had started work.

Now his parents were gone! It felt bitter sweet. He missed them so much, after all, they had been his life! But he also felt free. He could live his own life now, do what he wanted. Make friends, maybe even meet a nice girl and settle down.

Between looking after Mum and working, he had never felt the need to settle down. But now, in his early 50's maybe it was time to change that at last.

This won't do, he thought, I still have this rambling old house to deal with!

With no family, it had fallen to John to pick through the house, looking for anything important, sifting through the 'stuff' that had accumulated through the years.

He hauled himself out of the sofa. What next! He thought. There's the attic. He had looked through most of the house, but had left the attic. He hadn't been up there for years. Goodness knows what rubbish he would find up there!

He climbed the ladder and flicked on the torch and looked around in surprise. It was clear! There was hardly anything there! He stepped out onto the floor and scanned around. Nothing. Nothing at all! He had expected clutter everywhere.

He flashed his torch this way and that. The light fell onto a small box, tucked right under the eaves at the front. John picked his way across, treading carefully, as the flooring looked rotten.

Finally he reached the box. It was tied with a blue ribbon, dusty with age. What could be inside? Old photos or documents?

He untied the bow and took off the lid. A pile of newspaper clippings fell out. He shone the torch on them, looking at the headlines.

Toddler missing, screamed one, abduction, kidnapping! One after one he read the clippings. As he got further into the box, the clippings got shorter. The half pages became paragraphs, the paragraphs became a few sentences. It was as though the newspapers had given up, lost interest.

Who was this toddler, had he ever been found? Why had his parents kept the clippings?

At the bottom of the box, he found a grainy photograph of a young boy. He shone the torch on it, trying to see the photo more clearly in the darkness of the attic.

The child looked familiar somehow, as though he had seen him before. Then realisation dawned and he dropped the box!

This photo was going to change his life for ever! His life as he knew it tumbled, like the newspapers tumbling from the box on his lap, his mind reeled. What did this mean? Could it be true?

The Changeling - Chapter Two

The Changeling

Chapter two

John gathered up the clippings and the photo, putting them back into the box and made his way shakily down the ladder, into the brightness of the house.

He went downstairs, clutching the box tightly and put it down carefully on the kitchen table.

He sat and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He could hardly believe what he had seen. Surely, he had been mistaken, it just couldn't be true. It didn't make any sense!

He looked again at the box and thought about the contents. No, no, this just isn't right, he said to himself, rising and pacing back and forth across the tiled kitchen floor.

With a sudden movement, he grabbed the box, bolted for the back door, and ran into the garden.

'Fresh air, yes, that's what I need. Got to clear my head, can't think straight', he murmured to himself.

He walked across the overgrown garden to the bench under the apple tree. It was always Mum's favourite spot. He had lost count of the times that she had read to him on that bench over the years.

The tree had been planted when he had been small. It had grown strong and tall over the years. The bench had been Mum's idea. 'I just like to be here', she had said. 'It's my special place, this tree holds so many memories.'

When she had been ill, she had asked for her ashes to be scattered around its base. 'I want to be a part of it for ever.' She had said.

He sat down and gazed up through the spreading branches. The fruit was just starting to set, little miniature fruits, promising a bumper crop to come. This tree had always done well. Each year the apples swelled, ripe and juicy, filling its branches.

John looked down at the box, almost frightened to open it again, to see if what he had seen was true. He knew that it was impossible, but he had been so sure! The jolt had been enough to make the world spin!

With trembling hands, he once more opened the lid and gazed at the contents. He shuffled through the clippings, looking for the photo.

Yes there it was, he looked at it again. Yes, yes, he had been right!

He looked at the grainy photo of the missing child. And his own eyes looked straight back at him!

The Changeling - Chapter Three

The Changeling

Chapter Three

John stared at the photo. But how could this be? Maybe this little boy just looked like him. But then, why would his parents have kept the clippings, why did they hide the box away for all of these years?

His mind ran through infinite possibilities, each more far fetched than the last. There has to be an simple explanation, there just has to be!

He looked closer at the face gazing back at him from the photo. Then he gasped! Through the graininess of the photo, he had spotted something that proved without a doubt that the boy in the photo was him!

The boy's face was tilted upwards, the eyes and mouth smiling. He looked so happy. And there, just on the jawline, faint but there, was the birthmark!

John idly rubbed his chin, as he stared at the boy, feeling the slight roughness of the mark on his own skin

He put down the picture and began to look at the clippings, reading each in turn.

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, disappeared from a local park this morning'

'There are still no clues as to the whereabouts of Henry Maxwell, aged 3, who disappeared last week from a local park'

'Local lad, Henry Maxwell, aged 3, thought to have been kidnapped'

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, now believed dead!'

The clippings spanned around a year before they stopped. Henry had never been found, he had just disappeared, with no clues, no leads, no sightings.

John felt sick! But he couldn't be Henry Maxwell! There were photos of him as a baby, giggling in his parents arms. His earliest memories were here, in this house, with his parents!

He put the box down and stumbled back to the house. 'I'll find the photos of me as a baby, I am NOT Henry Maxwell! I am John Thompson!

He opened the sideboard in the lounge and pulled out the old album and flicked through the pages, his mouth dry and his heart pounding.

He looked: Him smiling up at his parents from his pushchair, him running in the garden, him on the beach. Picture after picture of him! A picture of him aged around 2, cuddling a teddy with a ribbon tied around its neck.

But then he stopped. His hand resting on the page. He looked closely, hardly believing his own eyes. No, this can't be right! The baby in the pictures, there's something missing, something not quite right!

Picture after picture was the same. He flicked through the album. Desperately seeking out the truth.

This child had no birthmark!!!

This child was not him!!

What was happening? The world that he had known began to crash around him. Who was he? Was he John Thompson, or was he Henry Maxwell?

The Changeling - Chapter Four

The Changeling

Chapter Four

John reached for the phone and hesitantly rang the number.

'Hello, police, I think I have some information on the missing boy called Henry Maxwell!'

He listened to the tapping of the officer as he typed the information into his computer.

'Sir,' The officer finally said in a bored voice. 'He went missing 50 years ago! This case has been closed for many years. What new information do you think you can have?'

John swallowed nervously. 'I think,' He said, his voice trembling, 'That I may be Henry Maxwell!'

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then a puzzled voice said 'Sir, can you hold just a minute, I need to speak to one of my colleagues.'

John waited, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. Minutes went by, still there was no sound from the other end of the telephone.

Ten minutes went by! Then an official sounding voice asked 'Sir, why do you think that you are Henry Maxwell?'

John nervously told the man what he had found, and what he suspected.

'Sir, I think that I need to come and speak to you!' The man said curtly.

John put down the phone. 'What have I got myself into,' He muttered, sitting down heavily, feeling as though his legs would no longer hold him.

Presently, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Falteringly, he got up and answered the door to a large, burly man carrying a briefcase. The man held out his hand. 'I'm Detective Inspector Manning, from the missing persons department. I believe that you have some important information about the case of little Henry Maxwell.'

John nodded and invited the man into the house. 'Would you like a cup of tea, while we talk, John asked nervously.

'Yes please Sir, that would be very nice!'

John went through to the kitchen and presently brought back two steaming cups, handing one to the Inspector and hugging the other in his own hands, as though its warmth could somehow make him feel better.

He sat down opposite the man, pointing to the box and the photo album on the table.

'You see', said John, the missing boy has the same birthmark as me! The baby in the earlier pictures doesn't, and then when I reach around 3, the birthmark appears in the photos. I just can't explain it! Am I really Henry Maxwell?'

The Inspector looked at the photos and the newspaper clippings, taking his time to check them thoroughly, occasionally glancing up at John with a surprised look.

Finally, he put down the documents and turned to look at John, he shook his head, puzzled!

It would appear that you are indeed Henry Maxwell', He agreed. 'But, if you are Henry Maxwell, then who is the boy in the early photos?'

'I think we are going to have to go through this house with a fine tooth comb to try to try find the truth of the matter.'

'But we will find out the truth Sir, you mark my words!

The Changeling - Chapter Five

The changeling

Chapter 5

John cringed as the sound of protesting wood filled the house.

A team of men wearing white coveralls had arrived early that morning, along with Detective Inspector Manning.

'What are you looking for, exactly,' asked John, feeling as though both him and his home where being violated. 'Why are your men pulling up floorboards?'

'Well Sir,' Replied Manning, 'It is our belief that we are looking for the remains of a child!'

'Surely you can't be accusing my parents of murder! They were the kindest, most loving people that you could imagine. There is no way that they would murder a child. It just doesn't make sense!' Exclaimed John.

'There have been some developments.' Replied the Detective Inspector. 'We have reason to believe that the child, named John Thompson, died at the hands of another.'

'Why would you even think that!' Shouted John. 'They protected me, they would never have harmed me! I don't believe you!'

'Sir,' the Inspector said gently. 'There was a report made to the police back then, John Thompson had been admitted to hospital on numerous occasions with unexplained injuries. It was suspected at the time that his parents were responsible. An investigation was ongoing, but the injuries stopped, and the child seemed well, so the investigation was halted.'

'We now have reason to believe that the child died at the hands of his parents and that you were abducted and raised in his place!'

'Why, why would they murder their own child! Why would they take me? It makes no sense at all!'

'We don't quite understand either Sir, which is why we need to do such a thorough investigation of the property now.'

John walked across to the window and gazed out at the garden. The garden that his Mother had loved so much.

More white coveralled men were scouring the flowerbeds and lawns. One was dragging a device across the garden, peering at a screen.

'What's that machine for?' Asked John.

'That is a ground penetrating radar, it looks for anomalies under the ground' replied the Inspector.

'Anomalies? What do you mean? Bodies? You think there's a body out there?' John asked in a surprised voice.

'As I said, we're just being thorough' replied the Inspector.

John sat down, wishing that he had never made the phone call, wishing that he had never found the box, wishing that his world could go back to the way it was just a few days ago.

'We've found something!' called one of the men from the garden. 'There's something under this apple tree! We're going to have to dig it up – its entangled in the roots of the tree!'

'NO!!' John screamed frantically. 'No, you are not digging up my Mother's tree! I don't care what it is that you think that you've found!'

Gentle arms held him back as he tried to stop the men. 'Now then Sir, this has to be done. Calm yourself.'

'My mother planted that tree when I was little, it grew with me, you can't destroy it, you just can't!'

But at that moment, the sound of a chain saw rent the air. Within minutes, the job was done and the tree lay in a tangled, broken heap on the lawn.

Men swarmed into the area, gently teasing and clearing the roots from the ground, digging down to find their 'anomaly'.

'Sir, we've found something!' The Inspector hurriedly made his way into the garden and across to where the apple tree had so recently stood proud and strong.

He looked down into the hole that the men had so carefully dug. Peeking out of the soil was a skull! A human skull. A skull the size of a 3 year old child!