The Lost Heir: Journey to Elholavina

CHAPTER TWO

TWO
Finders Keepers

Jamie had had enough of being punished.

It was one week to the day since his unsupervised drive into the forest yet his mother still hadn't quite forgiven him. It had taken her a day and a half to come up with any sentence at all where she didn't stutter and splutter with angry eyes and storm off into the next room, hands waving above her head like a lunatic.

Uncle Dan had been a lot calmer and more reasonable than Jamie had thought he'd be. He tended to Jamie's wounds (which in the daylight were not as bad as he'd felt them to be) and had asked Jamie very calmly why he had taken the truck for a late night spin in the woods.

Apparently "because I was bored" was not an acceptable answer. Uncle Dan had stuck to Jamie like glue since he found him trudging along the edge of the forest at five in the morning the previous Friday. He could barely go to the bathroom without finding the big lout waiting for him on the upstairs landing.

But today was a good day. Today was Friday and that meant both his mother and uncle Dan would be leaving for the whole day and it would just be Jamie - with the company of his math tutor teacher, Mr Plemmon of course - but at least Mr Plemmon wouldn't follow him to the bathroom.

Uncle Dan stood in the doorway as Jamie was brushing his teeth. He was normally dressed in dark denim jeans that were slightly too big and wore black boots and a button-down shirt with some kind of ketchup or mayo stain dribbled down the front, but today he was dressed as though he was going to meet the King himself. His dirty blond hair had been gelled back, not a hair out of his place and his stubbly beard had been cleanly shaven. When the early morning light shone through the skylight window and straight onto his tanned skin, Jamie could swear he noticed a little of his mother's concealer make-up around his eyes and cheekbones.

Uncle Dan was big and broad and his wide frame took up most of the space in the bathroom so when Jamie finished spitting his toothpaste into the sink and tried to squeeze past his uncle in the doorway his head was jammed between his stomach and the door.

Uncle Dan pushed through the other side and Jamie collapsed forward, his ankle still throbbing in pain. It had been wrapped up in a bandage for a week now and he'd been warned to lie in bed and keep the weight off it but Jamie was never one to lie in bed and do nothing. He couldn't imagine anything worse.

"That's why you need to keep the weight off it," said Uncle Dan, "you need to let it heal. It's still a bit swollen."

"It's fine." Bit Jamie as he hobbled back onto his feet. He hated being told what to do. Even more so than when he was told what not to do - like eating biscuits for breakfast, which was exactly what his plan for this morning's meal was.

"Mr Plemmon should be here soon," said his mother as she scurried up the staircase, a basket of clean and neatly folded laundry in hand, "I expect he'll have something to say about all those bruises and swollen ankle. He'll think I beat you!"

She gave him a scornful look. "I hope he doesn't call social services."

"Relax, Maggie." Uncle Dan strolled out of the bathroom tightening the tie around his neck.

"He knows what Jamie is like. He'll think he just took a bad fall or..." his eyes fell on Jamie. "Drove a malfunctioning toy truck into the forest late at night and smacked his ankle against a tree trunk."

Jamie rolled his eyes. How long was he going to have to suffer through this terrible story? His  mother had always been a worrier. Even when he was a little boy and learning how to walk she'd taped pillows around his legs and stomach to make sure he landed on something soft if he fell. When he was learning to crawl she tied a balloon to his ankle in case she somehow lost him on the journey from the living room to the kitchen. All his life Jamie had been babied and catered for and quite frankly, he'd had enough of it.