Cecelia Ahern - Theres No Place Like Here

Jenny-May Butler, the little girl who lived across the road

My life has been made up of a great many

I was born and reared in County Leitrim in Ireland,

When Jenny-May Butler went missing, her final insult was to

Wait a minute.

Jack Ruttle trailed slowly behind an HGV along the N69,

The porch light was still on when Jack arrived home.

Jack slugged back his third cup of coffee and looked

For almost two days Id stayed in the same wooded

When I was fourteen, my parents talked me into seeing

I went to see Mr. Burton every week while I was

Helena was watching me curiously through the amber blaze of

Helena added another log to the dying fire and its

Only a week before Sandys no-show, Jack had quietly closed

Jack woke up earlier than Gloria, as usual. Her head

I tapped my shoe against the plate that once held

Jack paced alongside the red Ford Fiesta, feeling a mixture

Helena and I stepped out of the darkness of the

Sandy. I could hear my name being called and felt

Jack sat on the gravel surface beside what he assumed

I awoke, I wasnt sure how many hours later, to

So Joseph is a carpenter. What is it that you

I spent the next half hour searching the road for

On Tuesday morning, exactly two days since Sandys no-show, Jack,

I was sixteen years old, in Mr. Burtons office. I was

Oh, Dr. Burton. Jack sat up in the car seat and

Missing person number one, Orla Keane, entered the great Community

I stared up at the ceiling, at the point right

Hello, I hope Ive called the correct number for Mary

Leading away from St. Stephens Green, Leeson Street was a fine

It had been three years since Id seen Mr. Burton. From

Bobby closed the door of Lost and Found quietly behind

I dont know how long Id been in the storeroom.

Mr. Le Bon, I assume, Dr. Burton addressed Jack, leaning back in his

Bobby stood at the door of the stockroom, arms folded

Come on, we can walk and talk at the same

Jack slept in Bobbys box bedroom that night, surrounded by

I went to the OCA meetings every month. I went

After returning from an afternoon rehearsal at the Community Hall,

I have found that the many imbalances within our individual

Despite Dr. Burtons threats and protestations, Jack had decided to continue

Bobby was in no mood to discuss hearing his laughter

Barbara Langley hadnt much in the way of clothes suitable

After Jack had left Sandy Shortts family home, he drove

I stood up from my chair and the eyes of

Jack felt the anger pumping through his veins. The muscles

The week that Jenny-May Butler went missing, the Garda came

Jack, is everything OK? Alan asked, as soon as Jack

Hello, Sandy. Grace Burns smiled at me from behind her

Come on, Bobby! I yelled, poking my head in the

Jack, Garda Graham Turner said with surprise, what are you

I have thought about that moment with Jenny-May long and

Helena had to get back to the village for the

I dont think shes here. Graham walked toward Jack in

Sometimes, people can go missing right before our very eyes.

J enny-May Butler, the little girl who lived across the road from me, went missing when I was a child.

The Garda launched an investigation, which led to a lengthy public search for her. For months every night the story was on the news, every day it was on the front pages of the papers, everywhere it was discussed in every conversation. The entire country pitched in to help; it was the biggest search for a missing person I, at ten years of age, had ever seen, and it seemed to affect everyone.

Jenny-May Butler was a blond-haired blue-eyed beauty whose smiling face was beamed from the TV screen into the living rooms of every home around the country, causing eyes to fill with tears and parents to hug their children that extra bit tighter before they sent them off to bed. She was in everyones dreams and everyones prayers.

She too was ten years old and in my class at school. I used to stare at the pretty photograph of her on the news every day and listen to them speak about her as though she were an angel. From the way they described her, you never would have known that she threw stones at Fiona Brady during recess when the teacher wasnt looking, or that she called me a frizzy-haired cow in front of Stephen Spencer just so he would fancy her instead of me. No, for those few months she had become the perfect being and I didnt think it fair to ruin that. After a while even I forgot about all the bad things shed done because she wasnt just Jenny-May anymore: she was Jenny-May Butler, the sweet missing girl whose nice family cried on the nine oclock news every night.

She was never found, not her body, not a trace; it was as though she had disappeared into thin air. No suspicious characters had been seen lurking around, no CCTV was available to show her last movements. There were no witnesses, no suspects; the Garda questioned everyone possible. The street became suspicious, its inhabitants calling friendly hellos to one another on the way to their cars in the early morning but all the time wondering, second-guessing, and visualizing dark, distorted scenarios implicating their neighbors. Washing cars, painting picket fences, weeding the flowerbeds, and mowing lawns on Saturday mornings while surreptitiously looking around the neighborhood conjured up shameful thoughts. People were shocked at themselves, angry that this incident had perverted their minds.

Pointed fingers behind closed doors couldnt give the Garda any leads; they had absolutely nothing to go on but a pretty picture.

I always wondered where Jenny-May went, where she had disappeared to, how on earth anyone could just vanish into thin air without a trace, without someone knowing something .

At night I would look out my bedroom window and stare at her house. The porch light was always on, acting as a beacon to guide Jenny-May home. Mrs. Butler couldnt sleep anymore and I could see her perpetually perched on the edge of her couch, as though she was on her marks waiting for the pistol to be fired. She would sit in her living room, looking out the window, waiting for someone to call or come by with news. Sometimes I would wave at her and shed give me a half-hearted wave back. Most of the time she couldnt see past her tears.

Like Mrs. Butler, I wasnt happy with not having any answers. I liked Jenny-May Butler a lot more when she was gone than when she was here and that also interested me. I missed her, the idea of her, and wondered if she was somewhere nearby, throwing stones at someone else and laughing loudly, but that we just couldnt find her or hear her. I took to searching thoroughly for everything Id mislaid after that. When my favorite pair of socks went missing I turned the house upside down while my worried parents looked on, not knowing what to do but eventually settling on helping me.

It disturbed me that frequently my missing possessions were nowhere to be found and on the odd occasion that I did find them, it disturbed me that, as in the case of the socks, I could only ever find one. Then Id picture Jenny-May Butler somewhere, throwing stones, laughing, and wearing my favorite socks.