by Paul Clayton
‘Get the bag. Let’s get in the car before anybody starts asking questions about what the bloody hell a car like that is doing parked outside.’
Jonny settled into the driving seat with Shannon alongside him in the front. She fiddled with the digital console to work out how to enter the destination in the satnav. Computer whizz though she was, it took several minutes. During the process, Jonny jerked the car forward and away from the curb.
Frankie, who’d drawn lots for the back seat, let out a strangled scream. ‘I know you’ve borrowed it, but can you actually drive it?’
‘Yeah, I can. Thing is, it’s an automatic. It’s like driving a bloody bumper car. I forgot I had both feet down on the pedals, accelerator and brake at the same time. Won’t happen again.’
Sure enough, the journey got smoother, the houses became grander and further apart and the trees more abundant as they drove out of the city. Soon they turned onto the motorway heading to the coast. From where she was, Frankie saw the speedometer hit eighty-five. She leant forward and stuck her head between the seats. ‘We do need to get there alive, you know.’
Jonny slowed the car to a steady seventy. He might never have stolen a car before but he’d certainly driven cars taken by others. He was a proficient joyrider, with handbrake turns a speciality. It wasn’t something he was proud of but today it might prove useful. He just wished he’d picked a simpler car. Sitting in the driving seat of the Porsche was like being on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise with flashing lights, digital readouts, hazard warnings and a message advising him not to get tired. Jonny thought the best thing to do was to ignore everything. If anything was wrong, they’d soon know. He concentrated hard on not letting the steering pull him to one side. All in all, a drive down a British motorway was much more complicated than a game of Grand Theft Auto.
In spite of all the excitement, Shannon fell into a doze in the passenger seat. Jonny clicked a button on the steering wheel and the voice of a weatherman filled the car. ‘Low pressure over the English Channel will see showers turning heavy as the day progresses. Heavy rain over the south east and along the coast, with some heavy outbreaks and thunderstorms likely.’
‘That’s all we need,’ said Frankie.
‘We’ll be there before then.’ Jonny’s attention remained on the road ahead.
Frankie sat back and stared out of the window at the traffic in the other lanes hurtling towards the city. ‘Why me?’ she thought. The three children were her life; if any of them was missing, she felt incomplete. She knew how hard she’d fight for them to stay together as a family.
She recalled moments of joy with each of them, yet her memories were like a jigsaw puzzle bought from a charity shop with no guarantee that all the pieces were there. There were things she’d shut out, parts of the picture she’d lost.
She knew that if Henry was at Healy Cove, the answer lay there. As the miles passed, she believed more and more that she was right. They would find him there and, deep inside, she had a horrible feeling as to why.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Henry didn’t know how many bones were in his body but every single one of them ached. His heart hurt with loneliness and his head still throbbed from the egg-shaped bump. He forced himself to his knees to try to stand up, but the rope tying his hands to the rail didn’t allow that much movement.
Inside the strange circular chamber, he could see out of the windows opposite him. Looking straight down to determine where he might be was useless. An odour of damp old rope and salt filled the air.
It was Wednesday. He hated Wednesdays. Double biology in the morning, double games in the afternoon, accompanied by a vicious scrum to get into the showers and out before the bell rang at the end of the day. He never believed he’d miss double games, but now his heart yearned for the pushing and bullying and the damp rugby-shirted smell of the changing room.
He felt painfully hungry. His stomach, still sensitive, started to growl. The effects of the car sickness had worn off and now his empty belly was demanding food and drink.
A strong wind whirled round the glass panes at the top of the tower like a guard whistling and sneezing on patrol. Gulls wheeling overhead screamed obscenities.
A watery sun trying to peek through the clouds caught the glass of one of the huge lamps and the light diffused at every angle, making Henry shield his eyes. The beam of light was like something he’d seen in a film where the hero, strapped to a table, had a laser gun aimed at him.
Henry didn’t feel like a hero, despite having set out with high hopes of helping Oliver solve the mystery. He’d failed and now here he was, tied up, miserable, cold and hungry with no idea of what the future might hold.
Chapter Seventy
The traffic thinned out away from the city. Jonny, more confident by the minute in his handling of the powerful vehicle, pushed the speedo over eighty. Frankie was lost in thought, staring out of the rear window.
Jonny was wondering whether he might risk flicking on the radio again when Shannon opened her eyes. ‘Can we stop? I’m desperate for a pee.’
He looked across at her, smiled and nodded. ‘I could do with something to eat and a coffee.’
‘Mum’s got something in the bag. Crisps and orange squash!’ They shared a snigger.
‘Yeah. As I said, I could do with a coffee.’
Jonny slipped the car into the left-hand lane a few miles further along the road and they turned into a service area. Being near the English Channel, there were a variety of signs in English and French. Jonny drove into the car park with great care so as not to make any mistakes and attract attention.
Shannon looked back over her shoulder. Frankie was fast asleep. ‘Shall I wake her up.?’
‘Let’s leave her while we do the loo,’ Jonny said in hushed tones. ‘We can get coffee and come back with a drink for her. Yeah?’
‘Okay, but let’s be quick. Don’t want her waking up to any empty car. She’s had enough shocks today.’
‘Do you think she knows more than she’s telling us?’ Shannon asked five minutes later as she and her brother walked back across the car park clutching coffees.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Jonny. ‘But it might help to get into a bit of conversation with her about it. We’ve come all this way because you found that postcard, yet she’s sure this is where Henry is. Doesn’t it make you wonder why? I think we’ve got about fifteen miles to go. Chat to her.’
Jonny pulled back onto the motorway and the needle crept up again. Frankie woke and was grateful for the coffee. She sat sipping it in thoughtful silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonny could see Shannon was working up the courage to ask a question. He pulled out to overtake. Frankie leant forward to check how fast they were going. ‘Remember what I said about speed.’
Shannon turned her head sharply. ‘Why do you think Henry will be at this place, Mum? Is there something you’re not telling us?’
‘It’s not as simple as that. It’s a long story. I need to find Henry. I want him safe.’
‘We all do.’ Jonny’s voice was terse. The silence in the car was thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of wind rushing past the windows. The weather had worsened.
‘Once upon a time there were two little girls,’ said Frankie.
Jonny looked in the mirror. She was staring straight forward and talking to the space between them, as if wary of catching their eye. Shannon wriggled round in her seat to face her.
‘Those two little girls were good friends. They promised to always look after each other. It’s easy to make promises when you’re young. You don’t realise how much it will cost you to keep them. What you do learn is that every time you break a promise, you hurt somebody.’
She stopped speaking. Jonny and Shannon waited. The sound of the car hurtling along the road filled the space.
‘I think I’ve hurt somebody.’ Tears s
tarted to run down Frankie’s cheeks. ‘I think that person wants to hurt me. That’s why they’ve taken Henry. It’s my fault.’ Her tears fell freely, and she started sobbing.
Shannon scrambled about, unclipping her seatbelt. ‘Oh, Mum. It’s not your fault.’
‘Shannon, no,’ yelled Jonny as she tried to squeeze between the two front seats to give Mum the hug she needed. Jonny felt his arm pushed aside and he lost control of the steering wheel. There was an impact on the side of the car as he brushed a van in the outer lane. He grabbed the wheel with both hands and swung it to the left. The car shot forward, bouncing over the edge of the approaching slip road, hitting a grassy bank and leaving the ground.
It seemed to pause in mid-air. The jolt threw Shannon onto the back seat and she tried to grab her mother’s hand. Jonny wrestled with the wheel, though it made no difference, and the wheels slammed down onto the tarmac of the slip road.
For a moment Jonny was high in the air, looking down and watching the car flip over and over, before he felt the seat belt tugging at his side as the car rolled onto its side. The noise of metal being bashed on concrete was almost deafening as the car scraped along the slip road before flopping onto the grassy verge and plunging down the embankment out of sight from the motorway.
Shannon smacked against the glass as the car crashed to a standstill on its roof.
Frankie’s sobs spiralled into startled cries and screams.
‘You both okay?’ Jonny fought to catch his breath. ‘Mum? Shan?’
‘I’m okay.’ The belt held Frankie upside down in her seat, and she grabbed the door handle to steady herself.
There was silence. Shannon lay still on the ceiling of the car. Jonny unlocked his door and pushed it open. Releasing his seatbelt, he half-stepped, half-rolled forward onto the grass, catching his arm on the open door. ‘Stay there, Mum. I’ll come and get you.’ He opened the rear door. The seatbelt was all that was holding Frankie. ‘Okay. Hang on to the bottom of the seat. I’m going to release your seatbelt. Then I’m gonna let you down slowly.’
Frankie didn’t understand what he meant but she grabbed the seat, digging her fingernails into it. She knew she wasn’t a lightweight, but Jonny seemed strong. As he unclipped the belt, she lurched forward. He grabbed around her waist, pulled her towards him, and both of them collapsed onto the grass.
‘Shannon!’ screamed Frankie. ‘Shannon!’
Jonny picked himself up and ran around to the other side of the car. He tugged at the rear passenger door but it wouldn’t move. He wrenched open the front door and clambered through the gap between the seats. He lay on his back on the ceiling next to Shannon and kicked at the door with both legs to push it open. Then he turned to Shannon and shook her.
‘What?’ Shannon was still dazed from being turned upside down when the car had rolled.
‘Thank God.’ Jonny placed his arms under her and dragged her out onto the grassy field. ‘Right. Where is it that hurts?’
‘It’s my knee. Don’t laugh, but I think I banged my knee.’ She grabbed hold of Jonny’s wrists and tried to haul herself up to a standing position.
Frankie ran round the back of the car, caught her and pulled them both into the biggest hug she could manage. ‘Oh, this has all gone horribly wrong. What do we do now, Jonny?’
‘We’re about six miles away.’ Jonny had taken his phone out of his pocket and was scanning a map. ‘We can walk. The thing is that I borrowed this car and I meant to return it.’
‘Can’t you call the guy you borrowed it from? Tell him what’s happened?’ Frankie was pretty sure the owner didn’t know Jonny had taken his car.
‘You and Shannon start walking to the road. Here, Shannon, take my phone and follow the map. And don’t turn around.’
They both looked at him and realised they had no choice. As they set off walking, Frankie put her arm around a hobbling Shannon. They did what Jonny had told them to do and walked away. The phone said it was 5.72 miles to the lighthouse; Shannon thought it was a hell of a walk if you had a bad knee.
They got to the edge of the field and pushed their way through the hedge onto the roadside. Soon Jonny ran up to join them. ‘Keep walking,’ he said.
They did as he asked but Frankie couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. Where the car had been, there was now a growing fire. She grabbed hold of Jonny’s arm. ‘What have you done?’
‘Just leave it. You said this was your fault and we’re doing our best to help. Let’s get off this road and cut across country. We need to get that lighthouse.’
Frankie remembered how excited Henry had been on the day they’d gone to Brighton, the day Cora had given them the car. They’d played her favourite childhood game of ‘Who Can See the Sea First?’. Henry had won.
They walked for more than an hour after leaving the car. Jonny, being in charge of the route, decided it was best to avoid the town at the end of the motorway and cut across country. Looking on the map, it appeared that Healy Cove consisted of little more than the lighthouse and a few houses.
Shannon insisted that all she’d done was bang her knee. She said she was ‘well up for it’ when they started the journey, but after they’d been walking for a while she seemed to be slowing them down. Jonny was aware they were covering less and less ground. ‘How’s the leg, Shan?’
Instead of answering straight away, Shannon took a moment to stop and bend over, propping herself with her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. ‘I’m doing my best. It hurts every time I bend it.’
‘I think it might help if we strapped it up.’ Jonny wasn’t sure what they could strap it up with; they hadn’t come prepared for a long hike. Since the early morning visit to the police station, they’d dressed in the sort of clothes they lounged around the house in, with a thick jumper or cardigan pulled over the top. Frankie had been the most sensible with a zip-up plum-coloured hoodie over both a T-shirt and jumper.
Jonny thought for a moment. ‘Give us your hoodie, Mum.’ Frankie took it off. Jonny started to rip open the top of one of the sleeves along the seam.
‘Oy. Be careful,’ said Frankie ‘That’s bloody Primark, that is.’
‘Good. It’ll tear easily then,’ Jonny said, and it did. He ripped the sleeve clean away and handed the rest of the garment back to his mum. Taking the detached sleeve, he bent down and asked Shannon to straighten her leg. He wound the sleeve tight around her knee joint and knotted it firmly. ‘There. That should help you keep the leg a bit straighter while we walk.’
Shannon smiled and hobbled a few steps forward to try it out.
‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ said Frankie, holding up her hoodie minus one arm.
Jonny had a big smile on his face. ‘It’ll keep the rest of you warm. Just keep swinging your arm about. Okay?’
The little party set off once more, heads down, concentrating on finding their footing through the furrows of a ploughed field. Had they looked up, they might have seen a last burst of sunlight catching a piece of glass a few miles away and flashing across the sky.
Chapter Seventy-One
Henry shielded his eyes. When the sun caught the mirrors on the lamps, the chamber was almost impossibly bright. Next to him was a bottle of water with a straw, and the wrapper from a Mars bar. The taller of his two balaclava-clad captors had brought them in about half an hour ago and held the water bottle while he drank. They’d returned with the bottle filled again and placed it next to Henry on the floor. By stretching over, he could lower himself to the straw and take a drink. They’d unwrapped the Mars bar and fed it to him in large bites.
Henry had never loved chocolate more, but he knew it wasn’t good to be eating a Mars bar for breakfast. Mum would go mad at him and, as it was the only thing he’d eaten since the chicken nuggets supper he’d parted company with in the car, it did little to push away his hunger pangs.
Left to his own thoughts once more, Henry felt like this was some sort of adventure story. He liked adventure stories and he liked books. At school he could hold his own in conversations about Avengers Unmasked and Avengers Uninterested, but he preferred to curl up with the Famous Five or Secret Seven, a world where your uncle was always a famous scientist who might get kidnapped and held in a castle or a cave, or even a lighthouse, because they knew something the nasty men wanted.
The thing that worried Henry most was that he wasn’t a scientist. They’d mistaken him. Perhaps a scientist lived in Parkside Tower, and that’s why they’d taken him. They always kidnapped you when you got too close to the truth, and often you didn’t realise what it was that you knew. That thought frightened Henry. If he didn’t know what these people wanted, how could he help them get it? Or was he going to have to brave it out, say nothing and make sure they didn’t get it? He hoped he wouldn’t say anything but, if it was going to be a diet of Mars bars and water, he might have to give in.
There were places where the wind whipped around the lighthouse and seeped through the walls of the lantern room. How brilliant that Mum had made sure he’d had a warm jacket on when he’d set off with PC Ashley to investigate. The thought of his mum brought a tear and it trickled down his face. Sucking in his breath, he bit his bottom lip. Mum and Jonny and Shannon and PC Ashley would all be looking for him. They’d find him. That’s what happened in adventure stories whenever somebody went missing. He’d be fine. He had to hang on.
As he waited, he heard the sound of someone outside. Footfalls gave an echoing metallic clang, and all the while the wind whistled around the tower in a howling scream. The door to the room began to open.
