A little over twelve years ago, a pair of fraternal twins was born, to a teenage mother and a father whose existence was only acknowledged on their birth certificates, as initials and a surname (that they weren’t given). Like many children, they both had issues that effected/defined their childhoods. Jenny, the older (by 23 minutes), is Trans and came out & socially transitioned at 5 years old, (rightfully) demanding that reality confirm to her opinion of events. Timothy, the younger (because he was the higher positioned at the end of gestation), is somewhere on the Autistic Spectrum, waiting for CAMHS to stop smegging about on a proper assessment, and occasionally struggles with sensory overload in extreme moments (but otherwise tends to be the more aware of the pair).

Before they turned twelve, their father was never a topic of conversation, not because of their mother actively refusing to talk about him, just that he genuinely never came up. Shortly after their twelfth birthday, they both independently decided that they needed to know about him, eventually they would begin to discuss between them seeking him out themselves. (Yes, talking to their mother would almost certainly be a sensible choice of start point, but taking into consideration that she had never brought him up, they talked themselves into believing there was a risk of her actively hiding any possible clues if they asked before trying to find him themselves).

So it happens that their mother didn’t think too firmly about locking the documents away, letting adventurous children find their birth certificates (giving them the name) and, almost by accident, a letter from a place called Quiet Gardens about an appointment for their mother to talk about someone of the same initials + surname as that they’d found on their birth certificates.

Thus, in keeping with the tradition of children’s stories, they devised The Plan. And in further compliance with traditional children’s stories, it was utterly terrible. With far too little preparation, and without checking the weather forecast for the weekend, they put their plan into action at the first opportunity.

That Friday, their unsuspecting mam let was trusting them to come straight home from school on their on and stay put while she was tied up with a special project at work. You can see where things are going can’t you. After getting home, instead of staying put, Tim printed out a map to where the letterhead was addressed from while Jen collected up provisions (read; confectionery, potato snacks and fizzy pop) and supplies (read; pop-up play tent and 2 indoors sleeping bags), and once they'd finished prepping they immediately set off walking.

Eager children can set a decent pace, and they were very eager children, covering nearly 5 of the 13 miles they had to travel before stopping for food at a little after 7pm... by pure coincidence (though none of them would ever know it) exactly as their mam got home to an empty house. By the time they had had their fill of Haribo, Space Raiders and Panda Pops and set off again (slightly slower with all that crap in their bellies), she had started going round the neighbours asking if anyone had seen them. With none of the neighbours having seen anything, her immediately next step was calling the police to report them missing.

Jen and Tim meanwhile were “happily” trudging their way along a side road to an old campsite where they could stop for the night. “Jen, why didn’t we take the bus?”

“Because the buses don’t go the right way without like 4 changes, and they have cameras and other people on them, and mam will have reported us as ‘missing’ to the police by now.”

“What, Police, Jen you said we wouldn’t be getting into trouble.”

“We won’t be, it’s just they’ll be trying to stop us getting to see dad.”

“Jen...”

“What, you'd've just worked yourself into a tizzy and we'd be no closer to seeing dad. Keep moving”