I swallowed hard and absently twisted the keyring in my fingers. Luka said it was a Croatian good luck charm. It hadn’t brought him and Eva much luck, that was certain. Looking at it properly for the first time, I realised the head of the little doll unscrewed. I expected to find a smaller doll inside but when I pulled the two pieces apart I realised something else was there instead.
Something that looked like the memory card from a camera.
A smile broke across my face.
CHAPTER 28
Here Is the News
South Kent News
Page last updated at 04:50 GMT,
Slavery Ring Found in Sleepy Kent Resort
Kent police have uncovered a ‘significant’ people-trafficking ring in the rundown seaside resort town of Slumpton. Raiding a series of businesses and construction projects, including a multimillion pound marina development, they found up to 120 migrant workers living in squalid conditions from a variety of countries including Croatia, China and Pakistan.
Passports had been confiscated on arrival to the UK and most victims were told they had to repay large sums of money to the parties who brought them here.
A local millionaire and businessman, Alexander McAllistair, and a number of senior councillors have been arrested and are being held for questioning under the Anti-People Trafficking Act 2007.
The story first appeared in local newspaper The Slumpton Advertiser.Senior Reporter Will Longmeadow told us, ‘I can’t reveal my sources but I received incriminating images implicating powerful local figures. I immediately went to the highest authorities.’
A spokesperson from the anti-slavery charity Project Bluebird said, ‘There is no place for slavery in the modern world and we hope to see the men behind this brought to justice.’
I didn’t get to look at what was on the memory card. I took a chance that something important had to be on there, for Eva to hide it like she did. And I was right. She had photographed everything, including Lili’s letter. Will never actually knew who his source was because I sent it all anonymously, with carefully altered handwriting. There was no other way. I shuddered at the very thought of explaining it all to Mum. And how would anyone ever understand about Luka?
What Will found on the memory card was like a stick of dynamite in the middle of Slumpton. Not long after the story was on the news, McAllistair was on bail, waiting for his criminal trial. A local policeman and a couple of town councillors were also found to be part of the smuggling ring.
I never found out what happened to Lili. I liked to imagine that she was back with her family again and no longer so scared and timid. But maybe she would never get over it.
The worst bit was knowing that the truth about what happened to Luka and Eva would probably never come out. There was just nothing to prove their part of the story. It seemed desperately unfair that McAllistair and his men wouldn’t be charged with murder. Because that’s what it had been. But at least we’d stopped them ruining anyone else’s life.
There was a silver lining though. I saw something in the local paper about how some photographs of the fairground had been found and it seems they’ve gone to the local museum. They’re going to be used as part of an exhibition about the town’s history.
So Eva got her exhibition after all.
Luka would have been so proud.
Luka...
Every time I thought about him walking away into the rain, I went through that goodbye all over again.
I would have done anything to be allowed to see him one last time.
CHAPTER 29
Spring
Five months later
‘Bel! You’d better get a move on, or you’ll be late on the first day back!’
‘I’m coming!’
I finish off tying the David Stafford tie. (Still purple. Still horrible.)
I look at my reflection in the mirror and make a face, before heading off down the stairs.
I see Mum at the hall mirror, her mouth stretched into a square as she applies her lipstick. She often wears lipstick these days, and she’s just had her hair cut and coloured. She doesn’t have that pinched look any more either.
‘Now, you know I’m going out tonight, don’t you?’ she says.
‘How could I forget?’ I reply. ‘You’ve been going on about it all week.’
‘Oi, missy, watch it,’ she says and tries to smack me on the bum as I duck into the kitchen.
A bowl of cereal later, I’m out the door, off for the first day of the second half of the summer term.
The sun isn’t exactly cracking the pavement and I still can’t imagine anyone ever actually sitting on the beach, but the trees are all bunchy with blossom and the air smells nice. Slumpton seems only averagely rubbish these days, rather than the worst place in the world.
There have been quite a few changes since everything that happened at Christmas.
Dad lives in Newcastle now. And that’s all right. It took me a while, don’t get me wrong. Eventually I agreed to visit but said I didn’t want anything to do with his other woman and he respected that and kept her out of the way. By the third visit, I decided it was time to put him out of his misery. Can’t say I adore her. But she’s all right. I’ll live.
Mum’s seeing Will properly. He has turned out to be okay. He got promoted after breaking that story. Sometimes I feel like asking for a commission.
There’s even talk about bringing back the fairground now the marina project has been scaled down.
I don’t think I’ll be going though. Too many memories there for me.
I think about Luka all the time. I still miss him so much and sometimes I get the shivers so hard I have to sit down. I wonder, ‘Why me?’ Why was I the only person who could see him? I guess I’ll never really know.
I’ve even wondered whether I really did meet a ghost boy at all or if I had some kind of nervous breakdown, brought on by the stress of moving here and my parents splitting up.
But I know that’s not true. And I only have to look at the photo to remember how it felt to be in his arms, to kiss him, to see his face light up as he smiled at me.
If I think about it all too much I get a bit dizzy and worry I’ll turn into some sort of nutter. It’s time to concentrate on the living.
Abbie’s waiting at the end of the street so we can walk to school together and I give her a wave. She casually waves back. She’s not one to get excited about anything much. Her laid-back attitude makes me laugh and makes me a little bit envious too. She probably wouldn’t blink if I told her the truth about what happened at Christmas.
But I know I never will.
As I’m walking towards her, an ice-cream van goes by and all the hairs on my arms stand up. It’s playing the tune I heard on the carousel the day I met Luka.
I stare after it for a moment and wonder ...
Stop it, Bel, I think.He’s gone. I swallow deeply and, for a second, a pain in my chest makes me gasp.
‘Hey,’ says Abbie, with a grin.
‘Hey,’ I say back, giving myself a shake.
‘Ready for the shiny new term?’ She raises an eyebrow in that clever way she has.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Bring it on.’
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the following people:
Helenanne Hansen and Michele Kirsch for being early readers of Dark Ride and giving me the encouragement and courage to stick with it.
Suzy Greaves for her stubborn belief this would happen for me one day.
Luisa Plaja, Emily Gale, Alexandra Fouracres and Sam Tonge for mopping me up a million times and providing the best writerly support a girl could ask for.
My dad, George Green, for giving me the writing gene in the first place.
Paul Donohoe from the real ‘Project Bluebird.’ Antislavery is a charity that fights against people trafficking and slavery worldwide. Donations can be made via their website www.antislavery.org.
Everyone at Piccadilly Press but especially Anne
Clark for rescuing me from the slush pile and being the kind of editor I always dreamed of working with one day.
Finally and most importantly of all, thanks and love to Pete, Joe and Harry for being there through thick and thin.
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