Ski hung up and shoved his mobile in his jacket pocket. I hesitated, and then went over to him. ‘What happened?’ I whispered.
He snorted. ‘Lots of hysteria about how could I do this to her … she's on her way now. Lucky me.’
A shaky laugh escaped from me. ‘She sounds like my dad … he's going to kill me.’
Ski's green-blue eyes looked almost black in the light from the streetlamp. ‘Yeah, snap … But you know what, Emma? It'll be worth it if we really have found Abby. I mean, even if she's …’ he trailed off, obviously remembering what we had seen.
‘I know.’ My stupid eyes started leaking again, and I looked down, swiping at them with my hand.
Ski touched my arm. ‘Emma, it'll be OK … don't cry.’ He dropped his hand and shoved his fists in his pockets.
I nodded, groping for a tissue in my pocket and wiping my nose. Part of me really wanted him to hold my hand or something, which must have made me the most terrible person in existence. I mean, how could I have even been thinking of that then, of all times?
‘They're coming!’ called Rob suddenly.
Everyone snapped around. The police were emerging from around the side of the crumbling house, with Dad following them and Rob's dad behind.
‘Curtains,’ said one of the police officers as he joined us on the pavement.
We all stared at him.
He brushed at a smear of dust on his shirt as he elaborated. ‘Some old curtains, rolled up and thrown in the corner … mind you, it really did look like a person at first; we had to break in and go have a look to be sure.’
The second police officer opened the door of the squad car and leaned in, doing something with the radio.
‘Aye, I'm not surprised you thought it was a person … there was a bit of mildew that looked just like hair, from a distance. But listen, you lot.’ He straightened up and looked at us, his eyes serious.
‘You were right to ring us, but you shouldn't have been nosing around back there in the first place; it's dangerous. Not to mention that it was trespassing – that's an offence, you know. We could press charges against you for it.’
He scanned his gaze over us, and nodded slightly, apparently satisfied by our stricken faces. ‘We'll leave you to your parents to sort out, but I don't want to hear anything from you lot again, all right?’
Curtains. I couldn't look at anyone, couldn't say anything.
We hadn't found Abby after all.
* * *
‘What concerns me most is that you don't seem to understand how serious this is.’ Dad spoke in this quiet, spookily controlled voice, like tidal waves of rage were just barely being held back. He was sitting in my desk chair while I cringed on my bed, staring at the carpet.
‘No, I understand,’ I managed. ‘But—’
He sliced at the air like he was karate-chopping a fly. I gulped, and shut up.
Dad stared at me, tapping a pen against my desk. ‘You lied to us about where you were going. Again, after promising me just yesterday that you could be trusted. Now, what am I supposed to do? Eh?’
If I moved, I would shatter into a million pieces.
‘Trespassing. Do you have any idea how serious this is? Anything could have happened to you. Anything! Besides which, it's illegal – and who are these kids you're running around with now, anyway?’
‘Just – friends of Abby's.’ And of mine, maybe.
‘Emma, I don't like it. I don't know anything about them, other than that they apparently encourage you to lie to us, and trespass—’
‘That's not fair!’
He took a deep breath, and threw the pen down. ‘Look – I know you've been upset about Abby. It's incredibly upsetting, for all of us. But I won't have you going out of control, lying to us – Jenny thinks that I shouldn't punish you, but I don't agree; I think you need to realize how serious this was—’
‘I know how serious it was!’ I yelled. ‘We were trying to find Abby! Nothing's more serious than that!’
The rafters shook as Dad bellowed, ‘That's not for you to do! That's the police's job, do you understand?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No!’ Dad stood up. ‘Not another word, Emma. I mean it!’
‘But Dad – please listen, OK?’ I spoke in a rush, frantic to get the words out before he started shouting again. ‘It's just that we realized where Abby might have been setting up a live action game when she disappeared, and—’
‘Emma, stop it! You're not a detective! This isn't a game! If you keep on like this you're going to get hurt, or cause the police even more trouble. Now, quit mucking about in police business!’ He jabbed his finger in my face. ‘Do you understand? That's final. ’
I stared at my duvet cover, struggling not to cry.
Dad's face looked like he had just bitten into one of the super-hot peppers that Jenny grows. ‘Right, I hate to do this, but you're going to have to stay at home until you prove you can be trusted again. You're not to go anywhere, do you understand? Not without my express permission.’
Express permission. Does that mean I get it quickly? ‘For how long?’ I muttered, wiping my nose with the corner of my pillow.
‘Until I say.’ And he left, banging the door shut behind him.
I sat hunched on the edge of the bed, hugging myself. All around me, my posters stared down at me from the walls, mocking me. Stupid, insipid posters of actors and pop stars who I didn't even like.
Suddenly I hurled myself off the bed and lunged at the walls, ripping the posters off, tearing the glossy paper to shreds and yanking flakes of paint along with the Blu-tac. I didn't stop until my walls were almost bare. Becks survived, and one or two others, but that was all.
Next I turned to my wardrobe, flinging open the doors. Shoving aside the pile of old clothes and cuddly toys, I dragged out the cardboard box and sank down next to it, surrounded by scraps of poster.
Slowly, I prised open its flaps. There they were – books upon books, most of them with the spines broken from having been read a thousand times.
Emma, you've got to read this – it's utterly fantastic.
Oh, it's by Tanith Lee! I love her stuff!
Books with bright pictures of dragons on the covers, of spaceships, of strange planets. I piled them carefully on the carpet, arranging them by author and stopping to read bits here and there. I realised I was smiling, a broad, soppy grin. It felt like they had been in exile, and now I had them back.
And then I got to the bottom of the box, and my hand slowed down.
My notebooks.
I hesitated, wondering if I really wanted to go there. It was enough that I had my books back, wasn't it?
Finally I reached in to pull one out – and then dropped that one to dig even deeper, until I found the one with the blue-jean pattern on its front cover. PROPERTY OF EMMA L TOWNSEND, proclaimed red paint-pen in big letters. I used to sign everything ‘Emma L’. The L's for Louise, which I hate, but I thought ‘Emma L’ sounded cool.
Almost dreading what I would see, I opened the notebook and started to read. The green-inked words were both familiar and strange.
The two novice mages had been travelling for many days, seeking the evil enchantress Esmerelda in her kingdom of Colldara …
But I couldn't read the words without hearing Karen's voice. Nausea dipped through me. I started to shove it back into the wardrobe – and then stopped.
Karen wasn't even here, and I was still scared of her! What was I scared of? A memory? Setting my jaw, I opened the notebook again. And as I read, I began to relax, caught up in the wonder of my own words. At some point I moved into the bed, snuggling under the duvet, turning pages. I kept reading until I got to the last page.
I couldn't read that one because it had been torn out, leaving only a few bits of paper clinging to the spiral binding.
Day Thirteen
… Yet Abby's parents say they have not given up hope. ‘I try ringing her mobile almost every hour,’ said Mrs Ryzner. ‘A
nd I know Greg and Matthew, our sons, keep trying to text her … I just can't stop thinking that maybe one time she'll pick up.’
The Daily Post, Friday 17th September.
Jenny drove me to school that morning. We didn't say much. Well, it would have been difficult anyway, what with Nat's favourite kiddie CD blaring away, and Nat herself yodelling along in the back seat.
As we inched through the sticky traffic near St Seb's, Jenny turned the volume down. ‘Emma, listen – I've mentioned to your dad that maybe counselling might be a good idea for you.’
Here it was, then. I stiffened, not looking at her.
‘You seem really upset about Abby, that's all.’ She darted a glance at me. ‘Going off without telling us, and what you did to your room last night—’
‘It's my room,’ I muttered.
‘Well, I just think, and your mum agrees, that maybe it's all got to be a bit too much for you, and—’
I whirled around in my seat. ‘You spoke to Mum about this?’
Jenny's voice stayed level. ‘Yes, we spoke last night once your dad got home with you. She's very worried about you, Emma, and so are your dad and I.’
I was actually trembling, I was so angry. ‘What, do you think I'm insane, then? Why? Because I want to find Abby? Because I took my posters down? Ooh, yes, call the loony bin!’ In the back seat, Nat had fallen silent, staring at me with wide eyes.
Jenny manoeuvred the car around a lorry that was signalling left. ‘Emma, come on … that's not what counselling is about. It's very helpful to get your feelings sorted when you're a bit confused, that's all.’
I gritted my teeth as I glared out the window at the passing houses. Damn Jenny, anyway. And Mum. All of them holding secret conferences about me, deciding they knew what was best.
We pulled up to the school. Jenny's blue eyes rested on me, worried. ‘Emma, we just—’
‘I'm not confused,’ I told her. And I grabbed my bag and shoved open the car door, slamming it shut behind me.
I was, though, to be honest. Confused, I mean. I kept thinking about Ski lifting me up to the window, and the pale, huddled figure I had seen. I had been so certain it was Abby – and it was just curtains. Squares of stupid cloth used to cover windows. Then my thoughts would drift to Ski again, and guilt would stab me that I was even thinking about him, that I could actually like a boy in the midst of all this.
At lunchtime I sat by myself in the noisy canteen, trying to finish a worksheet for History. As though I actually cared about the struggles of the suffragettes. It wasn't like I got a vote at home.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Jo and Debbie sitting over by the vending machines. Debbie was showing something to Jo, who had her chair balanced on its front two legs as she craned forward to look.
Were they texting Karen again? My stomach jerked, and I looked down hastily, staring at the worksheet. Doodling a triangle in the margin, I thought about the pages and pages of the story I had read through last night, and wondered if I'd ever have another best friend. A real best friend, someone who I didn't have to pretend with, or worry that she'd turn against me.
Stop it! I glanced at question five and wrote the first rubbish that came to mind, my jaw clenched tightly.
Dinner that evening was stiff and stilted, with Jenny trying to pretend everything was wonderful, and Dad hardly talking to me. As soon as I could, I escaped to my room and put a CD on. I should have been doing my maths homework, but I totally wasn't in the mood. Instead, I flopped onto the bed with one of my newly-liberated books.
My mobile rang before I had read a page. ‘Just thought I'd tell you what happened after you left last night,’ said Sheila's voice.
‘What?’ Glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, I slid down onto the floor, crouching on the opposite side of the bed.
‘Well, once we got home after carrying out your brainy idea, Mum rang the police and spoke to PC Morton. You know, the one who was with PC Lavine?’
‘And?’
‘And they had already searched the house, OK? They searched it when Abby first went missing, and then again after we went and talked to PC Lavine. They've been checking out all the empty buildings or whatever where Abby might have gone to set up a game. There's nothing there. There's nothing anywhere.’
My heart plummeted. I swallowed hard, running my finger along the skirting board. ‘Oh. Oh, well, at least we tried.’
‘I knew it was a stupid idea to go barging over to that old house! I should have listened to myself!’
The back of my nose prickled. I sniffed and said hastily, ‘Um … were things OK with Ski's mum last night?’
‘No, not really. She turned up just after you left with your dad … she's always pretty hysterical anyway, but she really outdid herself, screaming and crying. The police took ages to calm her down and make her realize that we weren't all being arrested. Ski looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.’
I was silent for a second, taking in the information that Sheila seemed to know Ski's mum. I played with a corner of the duvet. ‘So … is he OK?’
‘He seemed OK at school today. A bit hacked off.’
Did he say anything else about me, though? My mouth went dry. Like an idiot, I parroted again, ‘So, um, he's really OK?’
There was a pause.
‘Do you want his number, so you can ring and make sure?’ sneered Sheila.
My cheeks burst into flames. Thank god she couldn't see me. ‘Sure, why not?’ I said, totally offhand, like I rang boys all the time. As if I'd actually be brave enough!
When we hung up, I sat beside the bed for a long time, staring at the wall.
Nothing found anywhere. Nothing.
That night I dreamed that Abby and I were walking through the woods, dressed in grey cloaks with wrought-iron flowers at our throats. All around us, the forest leaves shone like stained glass in the sunlight.
Abby gave me an impish smile. ‘Do you remember Esmerelda?’
My veins chilled. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Well, it's really important for you to find her.’
I wanted to shout, No! I barely managed a groan, clutching my pillow, trying to fight my way out of the dream.
The forest shifted, and we were in a glade drenched with sunlight. Abby's hair poured down to her waist in a chocolate river, glistening with warm highlights.
She held the tiger-eye necklace. It shone brown and gold in the sun, winking at me.
She draped it around my neck with royal formality, and then fluffed my hair out from under its chain. ‘Keep it safe,’ she murmured, touching the stone as it lay on my chest. ‘It's yours now.’
‘Abby – Abby, please don't go.’ I grabbed her hands, holding them tightly in my own.
She smiled sadly. ‘I have to, Emma. But keep looking for Esmerelda, OK? It's all down to you, you're the only one who knows. Promise me.’
‘Yes – yes, OK, I promise.’ The wind murmured through the grass, and the sunshine sparked Abby's eyes, so alive and warm and brown, and I thought – this isn't a dream.
Abby kissed my cheek, her lips as light as a butterfly brushing past. ‘Goodbye, Emma,’ she whispered.
I came slowly awake, my pillow damp with tears. My stomach ached like someone had kicked me with a steel-tipped boot. It had been so real …
The warm shape at my feet shifted as Pippin rose and stretched. He picked his way across the duvet to me, and butted my chin with his head. I scooped him into my arms, burying my face in his fur.
‘Oh, Pippin … it was like she was really there …’
I was going mad; I had to talk to someone. The dream was like Abby saying, Don't give up. But I didn't have a clue where to start, what to do!
I sat huddled up, rocking slightly, trying to think. Finally I opened the drawer and took out the little dragon, clutching him with his wings jabbing against my palm. A place with passageways, stairs, secret rooms … come on, Abby! Where were you going? Tell me!
Pippin b
linked at me, his paws tucked cosily under his orange-striped body.
He looked blissfully unconcerned that I was losing my mind.
Day Fourteen
Even though it was only Saturday, Dad insisted on doing his special brunch again, first rattling around in the kitchen for ages and then finally sweeping in and putting croissants with ham and cheese on the coffee table. ‘Et voilà! Le petit déjeuner extraordinaire! ’
Jenny smiled at him as she pressed down the plunger on the cafetiere. ‘Mmm … looks good.’
‘Yum!’ said Nat.
Dad kissed the side of Jenny's head. ‘Bien sér, ma chérie,’ he said, practically gurgling the words with his phoney French accent.
I sat in the armchair, apart from everyone, and picked at my croissant. It was flaking crumbs everywhere, and I pressed them against the beige fabric, watching tiny grease stains appear.
‘Shall we go do something this afternoon?’ said Jenny. ‘Nat, watch your crumbs; you're getting them all over the carpet.’
Dad shook his head. ‘I've got that management training thing at two o'clock, remember? Over at the Reading office.’
Wonderful. He could learn how to be even bossier.
I tuned them out, frowning down at my half-eaten croissant. Passageways, stairs, secret rooms … stairs, secret rooms, passageways …
‘Does that sound OK, Emma?’ asked Jenny.
I glanced up. ‘What?’
Jenny sat curled up in the corner of the sofa with
her coffee, smiling hesitantly at me. She opened her mouth to reply, but Dad jumped in first. ‘Jenny was just explaining that we might be able to get you a counselling appointment next week.’
My vision actually went red for a second. I had thought that was just a saying. I stood up and shoved my plate onto the wooden tray. ‘I've already told you, I'm not going.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Emma …’
‘Dad, if you'd just listen to me—’
He leaned forward, his black-haired forearms resting on his thighs. ‘I am listening. But your mother and Jenny and I have discussed it, and it's what we've all agreed is best for you. We're concerned about you, love.’
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