My dad, a retired diplomat, would have his contacts out looking for me.
Then, once I was rescued, he would offer the kidnappers a cup of tea and a chat and express his sympathies to them about picking the wrong target and hope I wasn't too dreadful. He would make sure that they were ok and not too traumatised after having to deal with me. The kidnappers would leave, being utterly charmed.
Then we would go to my favourite cousin's house where she would make me a sandwich and her husband and my dad would watch sports on telly.
Then, my uncle (father's younger brother) would show up, look in the fridge for something for pudding and then he and my father would have a 30-second bicker about something trivial. The two would sulk for 2.75 seconds and then be the best of friends again.
My uncle would ask if anyone wanted a margarita and then would make every dish in the house dirty while making said cocktails.
My cousin's husband would try to put the wind up me about STDs or somesuch.
Then, dad and I would go back to his house in his red sportscar. If it was after 5.30pm, my dad would have his evening glass of wine. If it was the afternoon, he woud ask me where I wanted to have lunch. On the way back from lunch, we would stop off at the library, where dad is on the Board.
By the next mirning, everyone would have forgotten about it, except my my aunt (father's older brother's widow, a sweet and gentle lady) and my favourite cousin's two sisters, who would scold me for getting myself into a bit of a mess.