And although her senses told her no, the fact was that she was still a young, romantic lass, still in love with Mark, and what could be more beautiful than saying a tearful goodbye on a cold railway platform? It was an offer her immature mind could not refuse.
Despite the time of day, busy for taxi drivers, one arrived in ten minutes, lured by the length of the journey and its earn-ing potential. But when the lady driver saw her fares, she balked.
‘You sure you have enough money?’ she sneered at the kids.
Angrily Mark almost stuffed the roll of notes he’d stolen from his mother into her face. ‘Does that look enough?’
‘Yeah, OK, just asking,’ she said defensively.
The two teenagers got into the back and their twenty-mile journey began.
At first they were silent, engrossed in their thoughts.
‘My mum’ll kill me if she finds out about this,’ Katie said.
‘Why should she?’
‘Cos the school will phone her up eventually when they realize I’m not there.’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s what they do, isn’t it? I think they’ve given up on me.’
‘You fool, Mark, you bloody fool,’ Katie said almost in the style of one of the heroine’s she had just been reading about in an Austen novel.
Next thing, the two were in a clinch. Their teeth clashed, their lips mashed together and groans of ecstasy emanated from their throats. The taxi driver saw the embrace in the rear view mirror and gave them an ‘Oi’.
They disengaged. Katie looked seductively at Mark and he looked lustily at her, feeling himself tight against his zipper. They sat close together for the remainder of the journey and using Katie’s school bag and Mark’s rucksack for cover, Mark slid his hand up her skirt and she hers down his jeans. But they fooled no one, especially at the point of climax when Mark howled loudly.
The taxi driver tutted disgustedly.
There were problems on the west coast mainline, delays in both directions and the next train, north or south, wouldn’t pass through for at least another hour. Going east wasn’t a problem, but Mark had set his mind on London. Homeless and hungry in Leeds didn’t have the same ring to it, somehow.
‘This is so wrong,’ Katie breathed into Mark’s ear. They continued to embrace on the platform at Preston railway station. ‘Please don’t go. I didn’t realize I missed you so much.’
The young, virile Mark’s resolve was weakening. He was hard again, his cock feeling like it was on fire, straining against his damp clothing.
‘I need to disappear, otherwise they’ll kill me.’
She pushed him away. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘You’ve got Bradley,’ he said, hurt.
‘Bradley’s nice enough, but he isn’t you.’
‘I do want to be with you, but I can’t.’ He looked up at the overhead arrivals monitor. A train from Manchester for Blackpool was due in shortly.
Katie’s mobile phone rang. She checked it. ‘My mum, jeez. The school must have contacted her already.’ She pressed the disconnect button.
‘They won’t know you’re with me,’ Mark said confidently. ‘Just get on the train and waltz back into school. Say you felt ill or something — but please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me, or know where I’m going.’
‘I won’t,’ she promised him. She kissed the tip of her forefinger and placed it on his lips, then turned and crossed the platform as the Blackpool train drew into the station.
‘No reply. Her phone must be turned off.’ Katie’s mother, a mid-forties version of her pretty daughter held up the home phone to prove her point.
Henry Christie held up his hands to reassure her as he spoke. ‘It’ll be nothing to worry about.’
‘Nothing to worry about? She hasn’t missed one day of school since she was five years old. If that little brute has anything to do with this, I’ll wring his neck.’ Her own neck and jaw were tensed as she spoke.
‘It may not be anything to do with Mark. It might not be anything to do with anything,’ he stressed, ineffectually.
‘Ma’am, has she seen Mark Carter recently?’ Karl Donaldson asked Mrs Bretherton, pronouncing the surname as ‘Carduh’ and utilizing his slow Yankee twang as a soothing device. Her eyes came up to him seductively. Henry thought he heard her gasp.
‘No, no,’ she said, suddenly self-conscious under Donaldson’s eyes. ‘I know she missed him, though. Always mooning around the place. I think they’ve had relations,’ she said timidly, ‘but she never confided to me, though.’
Mrs Bretherton was wearing a fairly low cut blouse, a practical piece of clothing and not excessively revealing, but Henry spotted that her upper chest and lower neck had flushed red. She actually fanned herself by flapping hand, and blowing out. It’s not that hot, Henry thought sourly.
‘Are you OK, ma’am,’ Donaldson inquired as though he cared.
She licked her lips, they’d gone dry, and said, ‘Yes, I’m just hot all of a sudden.’
Henry’s mouth curved down disdainfully at the corners.
‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry y’self about,’ Donaldson cooed. ‘Even if she is with Mark, he ain’t no danger, but we do need to trace him. And obviously we’ll put our efforts into finding Katie, too. S’please, doncha worry.’
‘I won’t,’ she said with a quiver.
The two detectives had hurried from the school on receiving the news from the head teacher about Katie’s absence and gone directly to the Bretherton household. Henry would have staked Donaldson’s fat pay packet on Katie being with Mark. It was too much of a coincidence. They’d once been very close and if Mark was going around saying his farewells to his mates, it was always on the cards that Katie would be on the list as well as Bradley.
‘Detective Superintendent Christie receiving?’ Henry’s PR called out.
‘Go ‘head.’
‘FYI, we’ve got a patrol on Pier Gardens, Shoreside, attending the scene of a garden shed break.’
‘And that has what to do with me?’ Henry said irritably.
‘We thought you’d be interested. Looks like someone might have bedded down there for the night, then stolen a bike — and also left an unpleasant calling card.’
‘Oh, right, sorry. I am interested, Get the patrol attending to take details and pass them on to the MIR please.’ Henry’s thumb came off the transmit button and he looked triumphantly at Donaldson and Mrs Bretherton. ‘Could be where Mark got his head down.’
Mrs Bretherton’s house phone then rang.
She picked it up. ‘Katie, where the heck are you? I’ve been worried sick. The police are here… oh.’ She looked at the dead phone. ‘Hung up.’
‘What did she say, ma’am?’
‘That she was OK. That was it.’
‘Will you ring her back, please?’ Henry asked.
‘And beg her not to hang up,’ Donaldson said sweetly. ‘If she is or has been with Mark, we urgently need to speak to her.’
‘I’ll try.’ She fumbled with the touch-tone keypad under the gaze of the two men. Eventually she tabbed in the number, put the phone to her ear and looked at Donaldson as she waited, her eyes taking him in. Henry could see she was wondering what it would be like. He glanced at Donaldson who had that lopsided grin on his face and Henry suddenly realized that the big dumb Yank thought he was God’s gift to women following his tawdry encounter in Malta. That, Henry thought peevishly, could unleash a very dangerous animal. ‘It’s ringing,’ Mrs Bretherton said. Then it was answered as she bent forward, as if craning to hear would actually increase the volume. ‘Darling, please don’t hang up. I’m not angry. Please, this is very important…’ Henry held and waggled his fingers for the phone. ‘Love, please don’t hang up, there’s a police officer here who must speak to you.’
‘Katie? This is Henry Christie… yeah, I thought you’d know me. Love, you’re not in trouble but just tell me, have you seen Mark Carter this morning?’
Katie agonized over her answer. The half-filled train was heading towards Blackpool and she could still feel Mark’s hand down her panties, and what he’d said about love and her promise to him not to talk almost made her say no, I haven’t seen him.