‘We’re sure it’s fine …’ Helen begins.
‘It’s just that we can’t get hold of Jojo,’ Stacey says, taking over. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen or heard from her today, Frankie?’
‘No, sorry,’ I say, my heart beating that little bit faster. ‘I’ve sent her a ton of messages but she hasn’t replied to any of them. Why? You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you?’
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Helen says quickly. ‘It’s just not like her not to be in touch. And, well, we were just passing by so we thought we may as well pop in and check if she’d been in contact with you today.’
I shake my head.
‘When did you last see her?’ I ask.
‘This morning.’
‘What time? She was supposed to be calling for me at ten.’
‘Before that,’ Stacey says. ‘I had to nip over to my mum’s just after breakfast, about eight thirty, and by the time I got back, perhaps an hour later, she was gone.’
‘I was already at work,’ Helen adds.
‘Maybe she left early to get her results,’ Mum suggests.
‘She didn’t,’ I say. ‘Her envelope was still there when I got mine and that was about half eleven.’
‘Yes, we called to check,’ Helen says. ‘No one at the school has seen her.’
‘Did she take anything with her?’ Mum asks.
Another indecipherable look passes between Helen and Stacey.
‘Her purse and phone are gone,’ Helen says. ‘And a few other bits.’
‘Well, there you go then,’ Mum says encouragingly. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. After all, this is Jojo we’re talking about. Sensible is her middle name.’
Mum’s right. If Jojo were part of the Mr Men and Little Miss universe, she’d be Little Miss Sensible for sure. She’s the girl who never drinks, who always remembers her homework, who texts to let you know she’s home safely; the girl who makes sure to get her five portions of fruit and veg and two litres of water, and eight hours of sleep; the girl who always knows the exact amount in her bank account and doesn’t squander her pocket money on nail polish and Heat magazine and tops she’ll only ever wear once from Pretty Little Thing. She is steady, practical, reliable. She is everything I’m not.
‘She probably just forgot to charge her phone,’ Mum adds, filling the uneasy silence.
‘Maybe,’ Helen says.
She doesn’t sound convinced, though, and I don’t blame her.
As if on cue, a phone on the coffee table buzzes with an incoming message, making all four of us flinch. Helen lunges for it.
‘Is it her?’ Stacey asks, looking over Helen’s shoulder.
There’s a beat where we all seem to hold our breath.
‘No,’ Helen replies, her voice flat, her shoulders slumping with disappointment. ‘It’s my bank. One of those stupid automated messages.’
‘She’ll turn up soon,’ Mum says. ‘She’s got a party to get ready for, and if she’s anything like Frankie she wouldn’t miss a party for the world.’
She’s talking about the gathering at Theo’s later. A bunch of us (including Jojo) are supposed to be meeting at Ella’s house at seven for pre-party drinks and snacks.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Helen says.
Again, she doesn’t sound convinced.
There’s a pause.
Helen glances over at Stacey. ‘We should get going.’
Stacey nods and they stand up, sliding their phones back into the pockets of their denim shorts.
‘Sorry we didn’t touch the tea,’ Helen says.
‘Oh, don’t be daft,’ Mum replies. ‘It’s too hot for tea anyway. Don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘You will let us know, won’t you, Frankie?’ Stacey says. ‘If you hear anything.’
‘Course,’ I reply.
Mum and I walk them to the door together, waving them off as they head back down the path, their hands entwined.
‘Well,’ Mum says, the moment the front door falls shut behind them. ‘You can tell Jojo doesn’t do this sort of thing very often. If I went round to theirs every time I couldn’t track you down straightaway …’ She chuckles.
I stick my tongue out at her.
Mum has made an interesting point, though. I’ve always assumed Helen and Stacey are just really relaxed, but perhaps it’s more the case that Jojo’s simply never done anything to give them any cause for concern before now.
‘Over the top or not,’ I say. ‘It is weird. For Jojo not to be in touch like this, I mean.’
‘Maybe,’ Mum says. ‘But like I said before, Jojo is a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything daft.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ I murmur.
Mum glances down at her watch. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be leaving soon?’
‘In about an hour.’
‘OK, well why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll make you a quick bit of dinner.’
‘There’s going to be food at Ella’s.’
Mum rolls her eyes. ‘A few crisps does not constitute a meal, Francesca.’
‘OK, fine. Just don’t make me anything stinky, OK?’
‘Oh, ’ello. Who are you planning on kissing tonight, then?’
God, she’s embarrassing.
‘No one,’ I say. ‘I just prefer not to turn up at social occasions absolutely honking of garlic, thank you very much.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Now, go.’
Before getting in the shower, I grab my phone and compose a message to Jojo.
I press ‘send’ and reach for my towel, hoping there’ll be a reply by the time I return.
Chapter 5
The cake I’d anticipated materializes after dinner, complete with much fanfare and Mum’s trademark sparklers.
‘My clever girl,’ Dad says, kissing me on top of my head as the sparklers fizzle out, his Italian accent just as thick now as it was when he moved here from Rimini twenty-three years ago.
Luca snorts.
‘Luca,’ Mum says sharply. ‘You had your time last week – it’s Frankie’s now.’
‘No offence, I’m just not sure a three in maths is anything to celebrate,’ Luca says.
Ugh. Trust him to focus on my lowest grade.
‘She can retake if she needs to,’ Dad says. ‘Can’t you, Frankie?’
I screw up my face. The very last thing I want to think about right now are retakes. Luckily, I’m saved from answering his question by Mum.
‘Look,’ she says. ‘They’re talking about the missing baby on the news. Quick, turn it up.’
Luca is closest to the remote control. He picks it up and points it at the TV. I twist around in my seat so I can see the screen. People may have been banging on about this all day but I’m yet to see or read anything official about it.
‘Nearly nine hours after she disappeared, there have still been no confirmed sightings of missing infant, Olivia Sinclair,’ the reporter says in a grave voice.
A photo of a sleeping baby with chubby pink cheeks and wispy white-blonde hair flashes up on the screen. Mum lets out a gooey sigh.
‘Baby Olivia was snatched from the back seat of her mother’s car shortly after nine a.m. this morning. Her parents Caroline and James Sinclair have made an emotional appeal for her safe return.’
A clip is played from what looks like a hastily arranged press conference. A blonde woman holding a wad of tissues and a man with a beard sit behind a table with a jug of water and two microphones on it, cameras popping and flashing in their faces.
‘Please don’t hurt my baby,’ the woman says directly down the lens. ‘Please.’
‘Bet they did it,’ Luca declares.
‘Oh, don’t be so silly,’ Mum says, tutting. ‘Just look at them – they’re beside themselves.’
‘Either that or they’re very good actors.’
‘Oh, come on, Luca,’ I say. ‘Why would anyone kidnap their own baby? That literally makes no sense.’
<
br /> ‘Does anything?’ he replies airily. ‘All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t rule it out.’
I roll my eyes. Luca is always trying to say shocking things. I doubt he means them half the time.
‘Who on earth would steal a baby?’ Mum ponders, ignoring Luca. ‘I mean, I just can’t imagine what would make a person do such a thing.’
‘If you two as bambinos are anything to go by,’ Dad says with a wink, nodding at Luca and me in turn, ‘they’d have to be off their rockers.’
‘Shush!’ Mum says, holding up her hand. ‘The police are about to say something.’
We return our attention to the TV where a police officer is preparing to read an official statement.
‘Time is of the essence and we are urging anyone with information, however insignificant it may seem, to come forward as a matter of urgency,’ she says.
A series of telephone numbers scroll along the bottom of the screen as the camera zooms in on poor Caroline Sinclair’s tear-stained face.
‘Tenner they did it,’ Luca says, sticking out his hand for me to shake.
‘You’re such a dick,’ I reply, slapping it away.
Having polished off a slice of cake, I return upstairs. I left my phone up there on purpose in the hope I’d return to a message from Jojo. Alas, the only messages are from Ella and Bex sorting out logistics for tonight.
I remove the towel from my head and start the agonizing process of drying my hair. I’m already running late but my barnet will be a mass of frizz if I leave it to dry naturally. I’m forced to blast it in ten-second bursts, hanging with my head upside down in the gaps so it doesn’t start sticking to my neck. It’s during one of these gaps that I notice my phone glowing on the bed, Jojo’s caller ID (a photo of her on her sixteenth birthday clutching the unicorn balloon I’d bought for her) flashing up on the screen.
Blood rushes from my head as I whip it back and make a dive for the phone.
‘Finally!’ I say. ‘Where the hell have you been all day? I must have messaged you like twenty times!’
There’s a beat before Jojo replies, almost like there’s a delay on the line.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I only just managed to charge my phone.’
‘What about your portable charger?’ I ask.
‘Oh. I, er, I’ve lost it.’
‘Your mum and Stacey have been around and everything.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Nothing much. Just that you’d gone AWOL on them. Why? Haven’t you spoken to them yet?’
‘I’m going to ring them in a bit, straight after I’ve talked to you.’
Even though I’m irritated with Jojo for acting so blasé right now, I can’t help but feel pleased she chose to ring me first.
‘I had to go to school all by myself, Jojo,’ I say. ‘I looked like a right Billy No-Mates.’
‘Sorry,’ Jojo murmurs. ‘Um, something came up.’
‘Something more important than going to collect our GCSE results together?’
She doesn’t answer.
I sigh, but don’t push the issue. I’ll get to the bottom of this later. Right at this moment, I have more pressing things on my mind. Like finishing my hair and getting to Ella’s before all of her mum’s home-made guacamole runs out. I eye the outfit I’ve picked out to wear tonight – a little red slip dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door – and for the first time since this morning, start to get excited about the night ahead. I hadn’t realized quite how stressed I was about Jojo’s non-communication until she finally got in touch.
‘Listen,’ I say. ‘My mum’s offered to drive us to Ella’s. I’m running a bit late but I reckon I could be at yours for about twenty past if my hair decides to dry any time soon. That work for you?’
There’s a pause.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Jojo says, her voice oddly faint. ‘But I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight.’
‘What do you mean? This has been in the diary for ever.’
It really has. Theo’s party marks the pinnacle of the summer, the end of an era. In less than two weeks I’ll be back at school and Jojo will be at the Arts Academy and things will never be the same again.
‘Are you poorly again or something?’ I ask. ‘Is that it?’
She didn’t look great when I saw her yesterday. But if she’s still unwell, surely she would have been at home all day.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Jojo says.
‘What’s going on then?’
‘I’m at my dad’s.’
‘Your dad’s?’
Jojo’s parents split up when she was ten, and Helen got a place with Stacey soon after, taking Jojo with her. Jojo’s dad lives in a flat on the other side of town.
‘Yeah. I’ve been here all day.’
‘How come?’
Jojo usually spends every other weekend with her dad. It’s rare she spends time with him midweek, even during the holidays.
‘Um, he’s in a bit of a bad place at the moment.’
I don’t know Jojo’s dad all that well, certainly not as well as she knows mine. He’s a sales rep for a greetings card company and spends a lot of time on the road. Jojo’s mentioned he struggles with depression every now and again, but I didn’t think it was anything especially serious.
‘Is he OK?’ I ask. ‘He’s not done anything, you know, stupid, has he?’
‘Oh no. No. Nothing like that.’
‘He’s going to be OK, then?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Then you can come to the party!’
‘I can’t just leave him, Frankie!’
‘But you literally just said you think he’s going to be OK.’
‘Exactly. Going to be.’
‘But it’s results day.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry, but I …’ She hesitates for a moment. ‘I just don’t feel right leaving him.’
I can hear crying in the background. ‘What’s that noise? Is that a baby?’ I ask.
‘It’s the TV,’ Jojo says. ‘Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow or something.’
She hangs up before I have the chance to say anything else.
I stare at my phone.
I’ll call you tomorrow or something.
Or something?
Is she taking the piss?
Immediately, I call her back. It goes straight through to voicemail. She must be calling her mum. I continue drying my hair and try again a few minutes later. Once more, I get her voicemail. I try her another three times before leaving a message:
‘Jojo, it’s me. Listen, I hadn’t finished talking to you. Can you call me back, please?’
As I hang up, I’m trembling with annoyance. I know it’s her dad and everything, but if it’s nothing urgent, couldn’t her visit wait until tomorrow? Why today of all days? Worse still, she wasn’t even especially apologetic about it. Yes, she said the word ‘sorry’, but it didn’t exactly seem to be coming from the heart. If anything, she was trying to get me off the phone as quickly as possible. Or maybe this is the way things are going to be from now on. Maybe she’s already preparing to cast me off to make space for all the fancy new friends she’s going to make at the Arts Academy and this is just step one: distance myself from Frankie.
Well, if that’s what she’s got planned, I’ve got a few things to say about it. And she’s going to listen to them whether she likes it or not.
Chapter 6
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?’ Mum asks.
We’re parked outside the anonymous block of flats where Jojo’s dad lives.
‘Yes, thanks,’ I say. ‘We’re probably just going to skip Ella’s now and go straight to Theo’s.’ I paste a convincing smile on my face. ‘Jojo’s dad can drop us off,’ I add for good measure.
I haven’t shared my fears about Jojo with Mum. Mum adores her, she always has, and I know the second I suggest Jojo might be preparing to cast me off, she’ll only try to convince me I’m wrong and attem
pt to talk me out of confronting her about it. I’m not wrong, though. I’m certain. It’s literally the only explanation.
‘Did she explain why she didn’t let her mum and Stacey know where she’d got to?’ Mum asks. ‘I know her phone wasn’t charged, but surely her dad could have let her use his. She must have known they’d worry.’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘She didn’t say.’
It’s a good point. And yet another niggling aspect of our telephone conversation. The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t add up …
I open the car door and get out, peeling my dress from where it’s stuck to the back of my legs.
‘If you’re going to want a lift later on, make sure you give us a decent bit of notice,’ Mum says. ‘No SOS calls at three in the morning, please.’
‘Will do,’ I murmur, already distracted by the myriad things I want to say to Jojo before I lose my bottle. That’s the thing about Jojo. She’s got a vulnerability about her, a natural delicacy that can make it hard to get mad with her, even when she’s in the wrong.
I head into the foyer of the building and press the call button on the lift. It’s way too hot to even contemplate the two flights of stairs.
As I make my way down the bland corridor to Jojo’s dad’s flat, I try to decide what my opening gambit should be. After all, I’m just turning up here uninvited. Not that I had much choice – Jojo’s phone is still going straight to voicemail, so I couldn’t have warned her I was coming over even if I wanted to. Still, I can’t help but worry this might not be the best idea. What if her dad really is in a bad way? The last thing he’s going to want is his daughter’s mouthy best friend turning up on his doorstep. But at the same time, I can’t shift the feeling that Jojo wasn’t being entirely truthful when we spoke on the phone earlier. Jojo is an excellent actor, but she’s a shit liar, always has been.
I reach Jojo’s dad’s flat. I can hear the theme music to The One Show playing on the other side of the flimsy mock-pine door.
I take a deep breath and ring the buzzer.
Less than ten seconds later, Jojo’s dad opens the door. He’s wearing a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and eating a strawberry yoghurt. Now, this is probably going to sound really terrible and I know you don’t have to look depressed to be depressed, but Jojo’s dad seems completely fine to me, slightly confused perhaps, but otherwise perfectly chipper and very much enjoying his yoghurt.
First Day of My Life Page 3
