Down by the harbour, I sat by the boats, away from the clean, warm sand that the locals and tourists preferred. The harbour beach was jam-packed. I saw my friends, Megan and Connor, at the other end of the beach. They were holding hands and paddling in the shallows. Amy and Matt and a few other kids from school were lying on a beach blanket under the wall, which was more sheltered. The tide was coming in. When it was high they would probably go jumping off the harbour wall. They always did.
I took my new phone out of its box and inserted the SIM card. The battery was fully charged, so I started adding the names and numbers of all my friends. I knew that it was stupid. I couldn’t call them in case Lauren was monitoring their incoming calls. But it made me feel safe – connected – to have their phone numbers programmed into my phone. There was another ten minutes till the next bus. I shoved the empty box into the bin, kicked off my flip-flops and wandered down to the sea. I walked along the water’s edge, leaving footprints in the damp sand. Halfway across the beach, I stopped and just watched.
I’d known them practically my whole life.
I would never see them again.
They would all go on to college together, celebrate their eighteenth birthdays, choose their universities and careers. How long would it be before they forgot me?
I would never forget them.
The bus rattled its way along the seafront road. I said a silent goodbye and turned back the way I’d come. My footprints had already been washed away by the incoming tide.
The bus was almost empty. The only people that ever used this service were the tourists staying at the chalets on the Towans and the kids too young to drive. It was that time of day when most people had already headed out where they were going, too soon for anyone to be headed home.
I stared through the window at the sea as we passed by. Where would we go? I didn’t really care so long as Ryan and I were together. But what if something happened to him? What if the cleaner caught him breaking into the farmhouse and took him back with her? What if something happened and I was left here all alone? Again.
We had to get out of here. Soon. We needed to put as many miles between us and Lauren as we could.
The bus pulled into the stop outside Perran Towans. I stayed aboard. I didn’t want Ryan going to the farmhouse to collect the rest of his money. I had a better idea.
When the bus dropped me off outside the village stores in Penpol Cove, I pulled my hood up and put my sunglasses back on. I headed for the fields in front of my house and climbed the stile into a freshly ploughed field, the furrows in straight lines like a row of small waves. I walked along the perimeter of the field until I was just across from my house. Scrunching myself down, I peered over the hedge. The street was empty. I decided to give myself twenty minutes. If there was no sign of life from within the house in that time, I would risk it.
Minutes passed. Gulls tossed and screeched on the wind. Clouds raced across the sky. A boy dribbled a football along the street until his mother called for him to come home for lunch. Then nothing. My legs shook with the awkward effort of crouching behind the hedge. Surely a cleaner sent back to catch Ryan would have more important things to do than hang out at my house in case I came home. I scanned the parked cars on the street. There were six of them. Four I could see clearly. Two were partly hidden from view.
I stood up and shook the cramp out of my legs. She wasn’t here. I made my way back through the field, across the stile and on to my street. Trying to seem like someone taking a casual stroll I walked up the road, flicking my eyes from left to right, making sure the parked cars were empty. They were.
For a moment I considered marching right up to my front door and unlocking it with my key. But a small part of me still felt uneasy. I kept on going right to the end of my street and then turned the corner, doubling back on myself along the rear alleyway. It was narrow. Both my street and the one behind it had back gardens that opened on to the alley. It was big enough for wheelie bins and not much else. There was no one there but me and the ginger cat who liked to come and visit us from time to time.
When I got to my back gate, I paused. The garden was small with nowhere to hide. Just a picnic table, a washing line and a few scraggly shrubs. I unlatched the gate and pushed it open with my toe. It swung inwards with a creak.
I would only need two minutes to get what I needed. One hundred and twenty seconds. In and out. Surely the odds were on my side.
I swallowed my fear and slowly put one foot in front of the other. There was no sound. I’d always enjoyed the quietness of Penpol Cove before; now, it just felt creepy. I pulled my house keys out of my jeans pocket and slipped the back door key into the lock. I turned it and pushed the door open.
I stepped inside. The kitchen looked just as it always did. The table still had a half-finished bottle of red wine next to the salt and pepper shakers. Miranda’s mug was sitting in the sink. The address and phone number of the house she was staying at in Bath were stuck to the side of the fridge with a magnet. The house was silent. All I could hear was the hum of the fridge and the all too familiar pounding of my heart.
I left the back door open and tiptoed into the hall. The door to the sitting room was ajar. I glanced inside. Nothing. Exhaling deeply, I climbed the stairs.
It was an old house. Every other stair squeaked or groaned and some of the floorboards on the landing were loose. I wished I could remember which stairs and boards were bad, but I’d never been the sort of girl who liked to sneak out of the house at night. Upstairs were three rooms: my room, Miranda’s and the bathroom. I was pretty sure that Lauren wouldn’t be hanging out in the bathroom, but I pushed open each door in turn to check. Nothing.
My cash savings were in a jam jar on the top of my bookshelf, hidden behind a copy of Great Expectations. I pulled out the jar and emptied the cash on to my bed. One hundred and four pounds. Not a lot, but enough for petrol to get us out of Cornwall. Enough to buy food for a few days.
My mother’s engagement ring was in my jewellery box. It was a slender band with a large diamond, which I had attached to a thin gold chain. Miranda had had it valued just a few months ago when renewing the house insurance. The jeweller had said it was worth three thousand pounds. The ring was all I had left of my mother, except for a handful of photographs. I put the necklace around my neck and picked up the framed photo of me and my parents which stood on the bedside table. It was the photo I said goodnight to every night before turning off the light. I was about to slide the photo out of the frame, when I remembered I couldn’t. Ryan had said we would make it look like we had drowned. So no one would look for us. If I took that photo, Miranda would know I’d run away. Instead, I rummaged through the shoebox of photos I kept under my bed until I found another photo of my parents, as well as one of me and my friends on the evening of the Year Eleven Ball.
I heard a noise from downstairs. Light footsteps. Like someone trying to move stealthily. I stood perfectly still, holding my breath. The footsteps were coming up the stairs. Quickly. I spun around, looking for something to use to defend myself. The atlas. Just as I reached for it, the door opened a fraction and the ginger cat padded inside. He glanced at me, before jumping on to my bed and curling up on my pillow.
Stupid cat. Of course – I’d left the back door open.
‘Sorry, Katkin,’ I said, picking him up. ‘You can’t stay here today.’
I left my room, Katkin in my arms. He purred loudly, not yet understanding that I was about to kick him out. I didn’t bother with keeping quiet any more. I just wanted out, back on the bus, back to the chalet.