Sunday in the Park

Caroline Logan

The only thing that is unreal about this day is how I feel.

Where did you last see him? the policeman has to raise his voice to be heard over the whirring of the helicopter now circling above our heads combing the vast expanse of Dean Castle Park looking for my son.

There is a definite sense of the park winding down with families making their way back to their cars peering curiously at us as they pass. The vintage cars displayed on the grass in front of the castle when we arrived earlier that afternoon are now out numbered by police vehicles.

I take the police to a small copse of trees close to a junction of paths intersected by a single track country road where Christopher had taken to his heels for a second time that day. I cant tell the police which route my son took as I had turned my back on him, declared I was hungry and was going back to the car. Exhausted I had walked purposefully away from him. My strategy failed. He had fled not followed. My instinct tells me he took the river path because of his fascination with water. The area where I lost him is cordoned off and the dog team are trying to pick up his scent.

Dont worry, well find him before it gets dark, the policeman reassures me.

When he runs out of adrenaline hell make his own way back. Hes got an excellent sense of direction, these words sound feeble to my own ears in the midst of this full scale drama but I know from experience they are true. This feels a far cry from my own low key way of dealing with this behaviour when he lived at home in Glasgow.

This is my first visit to Dean Castle Park, Christophers choice for our Sunday outing from his residential school. We had set out in good spirits, Christopher, his support worker and his sister Jennifer, looking forward to exploring somewhere new. Christopher is brimming with excitement enjoying being our guide showing us the play area, animals and pond. We decided to go for a walk leaving the busier part of the park behind. Christopher has brought two toy figures and is running ahead placing his toys in perilous situations in bushes, hanging them from branches, plopping them into puddles and then rescuing them, a favourite game.

Be careful of the barbed wire, I shout as I see Christopher attempting to climb over a fence to retrieve the toy he has just lobbed into a field.

Somehow he manages to negotiate the barbed wire without injury. Grubby toy in hand he throws me a stroppy adolescent look and stomps ahead.

Alarm bells are ringing.

Lets head back, but Im too late Christopher with his long striding gait has increased his distance heading away from the park along a straight single track road.

Christopher were going this way, I wave and shout.

Christopher glances back.

If you wait with Jennifer Ill get him. I leave Jennifer with his support worker and set off in pursuit.

I have a clear view of Christopher and keep a steady pace. As I walk further down the road I become conscious of the whooshing of traffic travelling at high speed. The noise is becoming more distinct. I start to run. Christopher starts to run. Please God keep him safe, please God keep him safe.

The road unexpectedly dips and turns and I lose sight of my quarry. Panic picks up my pace. I am an Olympian sprinter. I reach the turning just in time to glimpse my son vanishing round another bend. The road is snaking down an incline and the noise of impending traffic fills my head. The next bend brings momentary relief as I see the A77 running safely parallel. No sign of Christopher. I follow the road down and watch in dismay as it disappears into a river only to reappear the other side. I spot the footbridge, cross it but still no sign of Christopher. I pass deserted farm buildings and continue uphill as far as the main road where I stop. Left or right? I flag down a car. No they havent seen him and yes they will phone my mobile if they spot him on the road ahead.

I stand doubled up for a few moments my breath rasping and phone the school. Credit low my phone tells me. I double back, walking this time to ease the pain shooting through my hip joints. As I reach the top of the footbridge I see him. I cant take my eyes off him. He is standing at the edge of the river bank peering down at something. His toy figures are trapped by some rocks, tantalizingly visible but dangerously out of reach. He is unaware of my presence, totally absorbed with the spectacle below. Finding him is one thing gaining his cooperation quite another. It takes me all my powers of persuasion to get Christopher to step back from the edge. I glance at my watch. I have been pursuing him for two hours. I tuck Christophers arm through mine and keep up a constant prattle to distract him. The school phone me every five minutes to check our progress. It is a very long walk back. We have only just reached the relative safety of the park and agreed a rendezvous point with his staff member when he shrugs off my arm. The mischievous grin is back and the drama of the afternoon really takes off.

The policemans radio crackles into life beside me. The helicopter has spotted him. There is no mistaking Christophers blonde head and gangly figure as he appears from the river path his stride lopsided due to a missing trainer. He strolls into the copse oblivious to the welcoming committee.

Hi, Mum he says.

Christophers autism brings days like this.