by Liz Flanagan
Those nights in the summer when Eden didn’t want to go home and I knew that for her sake Mum would be cool with the three of us all crashed in a big pile of sleeping bags on my bedroom floor.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have let him stay. Maybe we don’t know enough about him.’
‘That’s bollocks. You’ve known Sharon for years. She’s like, four streets away.’ I like Liam’s mum. You know where you are with Sharon. You can knock on her door any time. ‘What’s changed?’
This isn’t like Mum, and it starts ice crystals growing inside me. Mum’s the kind who bends over backwards to believe the best of anyone. ‘Have you heard something?’ Is it the parent grapevine, whispering rumours? ‘If you have, you’d better tell me!’
She gives up on the tea and turns round. ‘I’m worried sick, Jess. For Eden and for you. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Here we go again,’ I sigh. It took ages for her to get back to normal after the attack last November. She went into mother-wolf mode, uber-protective. She still didn’t like me walking back alone after dark. Running was OK: she let me do that, after the doctor said it was good therapy. Otherwise it was chaperones and taxis all the way, a daily inquisition about where I was going and who I’d be with.
The worst thing is, I know it’s not her style. She used to be laid back, before. I hate that they’ve done this to her.
The doorbell goes.
Chapter Eight
10.35 a.m.
Mum turns, tense and pale. ‘Be strong. We can do this.’ She drops a careful kiss on the top of my head and goes to open the door.
I sit there, the blood pounding in my temples. I hear Mum greeting the police, their formal introductions, their steps in our hallway, getting louder.
‘Jess? These officers have come to ask you some questions about Eden, OK, love?’ Mum’s using a bright, fake voice. This brings back bad memories for us both: police in our kitchen.
I’m staring at my white knuckles, but somehow I pull my gaze up and towards them. It’s not the same ones as back then.
Two women. One mum’s age, with light brown hair tied back and glasses that make her look like an owl. One younger, Asian, pretty, with a sleek black bob. They’re both wearing suits, not uniforms, and I know from TV that it’s not a good sign.
The officers flash their IDs and say their names and ranks. Meanwhile Mum puts a mug of tea in front of each of us on the kitchen table. They pour milk. They don’t take sugar.
I need energy right now and stir two sugars in slowly.
They bring out notebooks. They give me smiles that seem carefully calculated to be reassuring. The smiles tell me they’re safe. I’m safe. I wonder if the smiles are why they’ve been chosen for this task.
Mum sits down and the atmosphere changes.
‘So, Jess, you know why we’re here?’ Owl-lady asks.
I can’t speak. My throat has closed up.
‘Your friend Eden didn’t come home last night. We’re working very hard to find her as soon as possible. I know you want her home safe, Jess, and so do we. So we’d like to ask you some questions. Your answers could help us find her. Is that all right with you?’
It’s a script and she’s doing it well. You can tell she’s good at her job, but the rehearsed flavour of it spins me out. The clock ticks.
‘Jess?’ Mum prompts with raised eyebrows.
‘Sorry,’ I manage in a strangled voice. I cough out, ‘Yeah, but are you sure? Are you sure she’s missing? You know she texted her mum? Mr Barwell said.’
The women exchange a quick glance.
‘And you? Has Eden been in touch with you?’
‘No. Not since yesterday,’ I say, feeling like a failure of a best friend. ‘Have you spoken to Liam?’ I ask. ‘He’ll tell it straight.’
‘Liam Caffrey? Eden’s boyfriend? We’re talking to all of Eden’s close friends.’ Owl-lady is good at deflecting. She’s well in control. ‘Now, Jess,’ she says firmly, ‘tell us, please, as much information as you can, even if it seems like a small detail to you. Did anything seem wrong or different with Eden yesterday?’
I shake my head.
‘Tell me when you saw Eden last, and how she seemed to you.’
I can do that part. I tell them every last detail I can think of.
‘And you’re sure she was meeting Liam?’
I nod, but then I remember the way she smiled at her phone when it buzzed with something new, and suddenly I’m not so sure. ‘That’s what she said.’
‘Where would they go?’
‘Skate park. Then club. Liam’s sister works there. Then he’d walk her home. He did walk her home, right?’ I ask.
There’s a long beat.
Owl-lady sighs. ‘OK, Jess, let’s get some background. How has Eden seemed lately? Anything unusual in her behaviour? Any problems she told you about?’
I stare at them. ‘You do know her sister just died in June? I’d class that as a problem.’
‘We know about Iona’s death, of course.’ They nod patiently.
‘Has she been finding it harder to cope with that recently?’ Sleek-lady takes over, and they alternate smoothly, a slick double act.
‘Not really,’ I say. ‘I mean, yeah, it’s been hard. But nothing’s changed all of a sudden.’ I’m horrified to find my cheeks getting hotter when I say that.
‘Would you say she was depressed?’
‘No.’
‘School? GCSE year. Was she feeling the pressure?’
‘Nah. She’s great with that stuff.’ Not like me. ‘She’s got an extra subject even.’
‘Did she talk to you about how she felt?’
‘Yes. No. A bit.’ As I say it, I realize it’s been a long time since I knew exactly what was in Eden’s head.
They do that glance thing again.
‘Eden and Liam – what’s that like? How long have they been together?’ Owl-lady asks it so lightly and gently that it makes me look at her, surprised.
Why is she suddenly being careful now? It seems like an easy question. Is this one of those questions like on the TV police dramas? Where they know the answer, they’re just testing, to see if I can be trusted? Like the first questions on the lie-detector tests to establish a base level.
‘We’ve both known Liam for ages, but they met again properly in May.’ And Eden being Eden, the way they met wasn’t something you’d forget in a hurry.
Chapter Nine
Shock, horror, it was actually hot on May Day, kicking off the summer in style. I went up to Eden’s to hang out. We dragged damp-smelling loungers out of Eden’s dad’s shed, covered them with beach towels to hide the mouldy bits and made ourselves comfy on the patio in our bikinis. Up there in Eden’s garden, you couldn’t even see the town, tucked away in the valley. It was just us, sheep and lambs baa-ing madly to each other in the fields, and the whole valley doing its crazy super-green spring thing. I started to feel as if things might be on the up at last.
‘Factor fifty for you – catch!’ Eden threw a bottle of sun cream at me.
‘All right, all right, so I’m white as a ghost. You don’t have to rub it in!’
‘Who else is going to do your back then? Ta-da!’ She winced at her own crap joke. ‘S’all right, you have inner class, you can carry off pale and interesting. Hey, that tattoo is all healed up fine, in’t it?’
‘Yup. I’ve already planned the next one too. Been chatting to Mo at the tattoo studio.’
‘What did he say about your portfolio?’
‘Yeah, good. I’m doing a few pages of designs and stuff for them – you know, for people to flick through? They even said they’d pay me if people choose my ones.’ I still found that hard to believe.
She came and sat next to me, and even though it was just Eden, my best friend, I turned to stone.
You can do this, you can do this …
She slopped a cool slick of sun block onto my shoulder.
I jumped away like it was acid. On my feet, flinching like a kicked mutt.
‘Shit, Jess, I forgot.’ Eden looked horrified.
‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault.’ I felt stupid. I was sweating and cold at the same time. Mortified. Months now, and I still couldn’t cope. I’d hoped it was the end of winter for me on the inside too, but this just showed I was still all frozen up inside.
‘Yeah, and it’s bloody well not yours either, and don’t you forget it.’
‘Why don’t I do you instead? That should be OK.’ Somehow it was acceptable to my broken brain for me to touch someone else; I just couldn’t handle being touched. Not since … Not yet.
‘So I did a trial shift at the café yesterday,’ I said, desperate to change the subject, as she turned her back to me. ‘Guess who works there.’
‘No way, I’m not listing our entire school. Just spit it out.’
‘Liam Caffrey. He’s back.’ I covered her shoulders in the thick white cream and started to rub it in.
‘Liam who?’
‘You know, from juniors.’ Our school was so big you could entirely lose people you weren’t timetabled with. ‘Thought he’d vanished off the face of the earth. Well, he’s back and he’s my new colleague.’
‘And?’ Eden didn’t look round.
‘He’s all right, y’know? I think you’d like him. He actually smiles when he hands the plates over, instead of just grunting.’
‘Sounds like you like him.’
‘Not like that. But it matters, the small stuff, when you’ve got a long shift.’
‘You haven’t even started yet.’
But I was looking forward to starting work in the café the next weekend. Now that Liam would be there. I tried to describe what made him different. ‘He talks to me like I’m …’ Like what exactly? I chased down the words: ‘Like a person. Not a girl. Not a waitress. Not someone from his English group. Do you know what I mean?’ I paused, nearly done with covering her back. I rubbed in a smear across her shoulder blades.
‘Not a clue, J.’ Eden stretched out her arms, inspecting them. ‘Pass me the sun cream.’
‘Like I’m someone with options. Like he hasn’t made up his mind about me yet.’ I passed the tube over. ‘Here.’
‘Well, you’ve only known him two minutes,’ she murmured, and I knew she wasn’t really listening.
‘Ten years. I’m just saying. There’s not many lads like that. So comfy with who they are that they can handle whoever you are. You know?’
‘Are you sure you don’t fancy him?’ She broke off from rubbing the cream into her arms and turned to grin at me.
‘Nope. Missing the point, E … There! You’re done. Chuck that tube over.’ I tapped her lightly and moved over to my chair to slather myself in the stuff. ‘No sunburn for us today.’
‘Ah, this is perfect.’ Eden settled down on her lounger with a long sigh.
‘What the hell is this then, delusional duo?’ Iona’s voice carried from inside the house, loud, clear and drenched in sarcasm. She was beautiful, blonde like Eden, but paler and more delicate. If you didn’t know her, she seemed doll-like, all sweet and fragile, with those big blue eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose.
Eden swore. ‘I knew this was too good to be true.’ She seemed to deflate a little, all her contentment leaking away.
Iona slouched through the open patio doors, wearing a vest and tight jeans, sunglasses on, carrying a jug in one hand, stacked beakers in the other. ‘Think you’re in Beverley Hills? What a joke.’
If her words were mean, it was her delivery that spiked them. Little word bombs exploding with hate.
‘Mum made me bring you this: she thought you might need to cool down.’ Iona plonked the jug down on the metal table next to us, making the juice slop over the edge.
‘So kind of you to think of us, dearest sister.’ Eden was sprawled, eyes closed, arms spread to catch the light.
‘Then I’ll be driving myself into town in a minute: music on, windows down.’ Iona had just passed her test and loved reminding Eden of the fact. ‘So sorry you’ll be stewing here … though I suppose you could always walk down later, once you’ve dried off.’ She reached into the jug and grabbed a handful of the ice cubes Claire had put in there.
‘Eden …!’ I warned, but Iona was too fast.
‘Mum was right, you’re definitely not cool enough.’ Iona smirked and slammed the ice cubes onto Eden’s back before darting back inside.
‘Argh!’ Eden’s shriek echoed down the valley. ‘Can’t she give me a day off?’ She sat up, furious, dripping. ‘Oof … Actually, it’s quite nice. Definitely cooling. Probably even good for you, you know, like one of them spa treatments after a sauna. You should try it …’ She got a mischievous glint in her eye.
‘Don’t even go there!’ But it was too late. She grabbed a handful of ice and chased me around the garden with it.
‘Oi! Unprovoked!’ Then of course I had to get revenge. By the time we’d finished, there was nothing left in the jug and we were sticky and damp and bent double, giggling.
‘Right, there’s only one thing for it. We need to swim.’
‘The dam? Hell, yeah. It’ll be freezing. Let’s do it!’
We grabbed our stuff and headed for the hill behind her house. I always forgot how hard the climb was. Just before the summit, surrounded by boulders and sheep poo, it felt like we’d never get there. Then suddenly, like a mirage, a flight of stone steps appeared ahead of us, looking as if they led up into the sky …
‘Race you!’ We ran up them, laughing, and then there it was: a huge rectangular basin of water reflecting blue sky, built of stones, with a tiny golden beach in one corner. Our own local miracle, a beach on the high moors. And all around us in every direction, the view was amazing. Panoramic perfection, three hundred and sixty degrees.
Hot and sweaty, we dumped our things and waded in, flinching, on tiptoe, sucking our stomachs in against the cold.
‘Flippin’ freezing!’ Eden yelped, then turned and watched me following.
I recognized the look in her eyes.
‘Don’t you dare splash me, Eden Holby.’ By August the water would be properly warm, heated by the stones all summer long, but it was hard to believe that now. ‘Oi! Two can do that, goosebump girl!’ I splashed her back and we stumbled slowly forwards in the soft sandy murk, till we were deep enough to plunge.
For the first few strokes it felt as though we’d never be warm again. Gasping, we swam to the middle.
I pedalled my legs underwater, looking all around us, at the light on the water and the perfect unbroken blue above. I laughed, suddenly fizzy with happiness, dipped my head back and regretted it. The water was a vice around my skull, cold rising from the deeps at the dead centre of the reservoir.
When I tilted back upright, Eden had a strange look on her face.
‘E, what’s up?’ I asked her. ‘Don’t tell me: you’re peeing. Ew!’
She didn’t even smile. ‘Jess, can I tell you something?’
‘Course, E. What?’ I nearly asked if we could go back to the beach first, but something in her face stopped me. We stayed right there.
I gave her time.
She bobbed down for a moment, then came up and spat out water. ‘Last night, I found something. I don’t get it yet, but I think it’s important. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.’
‘Promise.’ I kept my eyes on her face, working my legs harder to keep my head steady above the water.
‘Iona lost her passport, and she’s got to get a new one really quick, before the holiday.’
I nodded. Eden’s dad was French and I knew they were off to see their gran in France at half-term, like always. ‘In three weeks, right?’
‘Normally Mum would make us fix it ourselves, something like that. Y’know, drag us all the way to the passport office to make a point, to teach us responsibility or summat …’
‘Yeah, mine’s like that too. They can’t help it – it’s a mum thing.’
‘But this time she was dead
cagey. Wouldn’t discuss it, just said she’d go herself.’ Eden was breathing harder now, using arms and legs to keep afloat. ‘And I know I shouldn’t have done it, but Iona’s been such a shit this week. When we’re not at school, she’s on at me the whole time. I know she hates me, but it’s worse lately.’
‘I know.’ I’d seen it too. Sometimes I caught the edge of Iona’s hate, just from being with Eden. It hurt.
‘So, I wanted to see why Mum was being weird. I guess I wanted to use it against Iona.’ Her words came out choppy and breathless. ‘So I looked in Mum’s desk, the locked one. I know where she keeps the keys. She’s so obvious, with her totally guessable passwords, and her “secret” keys hanging right next to the lock.’
She stopped and clamped a hand over her mouth, making her sink a bit.
‘What was it, E? What did you find?’
‘Three passports. My birth certificate. And something else … Papers.’
I could see it was serious. Her hair was wet, down her back, dark gold, streaky and shining in the sunshine. She was squinting against the light, and her eyes, that astonishing colour, were like chips of blue glass, full of pain and something unfamiliar. She looked guilty.
She opened her mouth to tell me, but before she could speak a bright yellow tennis ball slammed into the back of her head.
‘What the f—?’
‘Are you all right?’ My hand shot out and grabbed her arm, holding her up, and we both spun round.
‘Oi, what the hell? Who did that?’ Eden’s angry voice carried easily across the water, to the sloping wall of the reservoir where a handful of lads stood, guiltily, not looking our way.
Except one.
He raised his hand. ‘Me! So sorry. It was an accident …’ Liam Caffrey: the resurfaced mystery man, all grown up and gorgeous. Tall now, with that fair hair sticking up at the front. His face, all triangular with those killer cheekbones, and his dark eyebrows – telling you stuff his mouth hasn’t said yet. I’d know him anywhere, even if I hadn’t seen him yesterday.
But Eden wasn’t listening. She grabbed the ball and tucked it under the wide front strap of her bikini, and then started hammering through the water towards him: front crawl, powered by fury, her elbows rising behind her and chopping through the water.
