SweetFreak
Page 19
‘I didn’t see him, he just sent a . . .’ I draw in my breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Blue now looks baffled. ‘I’m just trying to work out if he could help us.’
‘He couldn’t,’ I say.
‘Why not?’ Blue persists.
I grit my teeth. Why is he pushing this?
‘Carey?’
I turn on him. ‘My dad has a new family, OK?’ I spit. ‘I haven’t seen him since he walked out five years ago. The only time he even bothered to contact us was to send us a picture of his new baby. That’s why he got in touch last summer. But he didn’t want to see me or my sister or my brother. All right? Can we drop it now?’
Blue studies me. ‘How do you know he didn’t want to see you?’ he asks.
‘Because he hardly wrote anything in the letter with the picture of Teddy – just “hope you’re well” and his address.’ I pause, remembering Jamie’s face when he saw the photo. ‘It really upset my little brother.’
Blue hesitates. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe he put his address in because he wanted you to contact him?’
‘No way,’ I say with a sniff. ‘You don’t know my dad.’
Blue shrugs. ‘OK,’ he says.
‘What’s your dad like?’ I ask, more aggressively than I mean to.
‘He’s dead.’ Blue looks away, but not before I see the flicker of pain cross his face.
‘Oh,’ I say, wincing. ‘Sorry.’
‘So . . . if you really don’t want to see your dad and there aren’t any other family or friends who could help . . .’ Blue tails off.
‘. . . we’re out of options,’ I finish. ‘Just like I said.’
We look at each other and there’s such warmth and kindness in Blue’s eyes that I have to swallow hard to stop myself from crying.
‘I guess I’ll have to go to the police then. Tell them everything. Hand in this.’ I hold up the bag of jewellery again. ‘And hope they believe me.’
‘I’m sure they will. And the fact that you’ll be returning stolen goods has got to count in your favour when it comes to everything else.’ Blue grins.
I smile back.
‘So we’ll go to the police in the morning, yeah?’
I nod, relieved to have made a decision, though uneasy about how the police will react. I have to use everything I’ve got to convince them they have to properly investigate Taylor.
Amelia’s life may depend on it.
28
We spend the rest of the night huddled together for warmth in the very back of the church porch. I sleep badly. Images of Amelia’s face – alternately weeping and accusatory – drift around the edges of my dreams. I wake with a start, just before dawn. Fear for my friend sears through me.
As soon as it’s light we set off for the police station. I’m stiff and sore and cold to my bones though it’s a warm morning, almost spring-like and much milder than yesterday. Blue buys some bread on our way, but I can’t eat. Running away has failed and I’m about to turn myself in with no sure-fire way of saving Amelia, let alone proving my own innocence. Am I being stupid to surrender
As I lead the way across the concrete yard in front of the police station, the door ahead opens. I look up. Amelia’s brother George is striding out, his mum close behind. George is scowling, muttering something. His mother, pale-faced and dressed in a blue raincoat, looks up and spots me.
‘Carey?’ she gasps.
My heart races. I stop walking. Beside me, Blue looks up.
‘Mrs Wilson,’ I stammer. I back away, but George storms over.
‘What have you done with my sister?’ He grabs my arm.
‘Nothing. I swear.’ I twist away from him. Several passers-by have stopped to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. Blue puts his arm around me and glares at George.
‘Where’s Amelia?’ George demands.
‘What are you doing here, Carey?’ Mrs Wilson asks. ‘Do you know where Amelia is?’
‘No . . . no . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘But I think I know who might.’ I fish in my pocket, fingers trembling, and draw out Amelia’s necklace. The little silver heart dangles from the end. ‘I found this in Taylor’s bedroom yesterday. It was Amelia’s.’
Mrs Wilson peers at the necklace. ‘Taylor Lockwood? Who Amelia went out with months ago?’ She frowns.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But Amelia wore it all the time so how did Taylor get it? I think maybe he’s the person who’s been targeting Amelia. He’s been trying to make it look like me all along to avoid suspicion. I’m worried that he’s done something to hurt her and no one is trying to find him!’
Mrs Wilson takes the necklace. ‘Amelia did wear this all the time.’ Her voice is suddenly uncertain.
George glances at the slender chain. ‘She hadn’t for weeks,’ he says with a sniff. ‘Taylor already told me: Amelia sent this back to him on Valentine’s Day.’
Is that true? I’m aware of Blue beside me, but I keep my focus on George. ‘You’ve talked to Taylor?’
‘Of course,’ George says. ‘Two or three times.’
I frown. Taylor never mentioned any conversations. ‘When?’ I ask. ‘Why?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but the last time was just after Amelia sent him the necklace in February. She asked me to get it back for her, that she’d made a mistake, but Taylor hung up on me.’ George grimaces. ‘Probably because the two times I spoke to him before that I was having a go at him for upsetting Amelia.’
‘You did?’ Mrs Wilson sounds shocked.
I’m shocked too. Taylor never breathed a word of any of this.
‘Anyway, what about you, Carey?’ George asks. ‘What were you even doing in Taylor’s house yesterday?’
Before I can reply, Blue interjects, his eyes glinting hard and bright. ‘Carey was looking for proof that Taylor was the one trying to hurt Amelia.’
I nod. George and his mum look at Blue, clearly noticing him for the first time.
Mrs Wilson’s eyes flicker back to me. ‘The police told us there was a break-in at Taylor’s house last night. They asked if we thought Amelia might have gone there.’ She narrows her eyes. ‘But from what you’ve just said I think it was you, wasn’t it?’
‘I didn’t take anything,’ I say. It sounds like an apology. The plastic bag containing the stolen jewellery feels hot in my hand. I hold it out. ‘See, Mrs Wilson? This was . . . someone else took it, it wasn’t me.’ I sound guilty as sin.
‘We’ve come here to hand it in to the police,’ Blue says pointedly.
‘Exactly.’ I glance, grateful, at him.
Mrs Wilson takes the bag. She peers inside then looks at me. Her face is strained and grey, she must be worried sick about Amelia. I know my mum would be.
‘Are you sure you don’t know what’s happened to my daughter?’ she demands. ‘The police think you were there when she disappeared. And you’re certainly not behaving like someone with nothing to hide: running away and now turning up with a load of stolen jewellery.’
I stare at her, despair creeping through me. It was a mistake to think anyone would believe me. Mrs Wilson doesn’t. Nor does George. And the police definitely won’t.
‘In fact . . .’ Mrs Wilson narrows her eyes. ‘Wherever I look, there you are, Carey. Right at the centre of everything.’
‘Because you’re guilty,’ George says with feeling. ‘Come on.’ He reaches for my arm again but I dart back, Blue quick beside me. George lunges for me.
Blue shoves him back. ‘Run!’ he shouts.
We tear onto the pavement, across the road, running as hard as we can. George is panting after us. He’s fast but we’re faster. Blue nips us up and down little roads, one after the other, until my head is spinning and my lungs burning.
At last we stop down a little side street. Blue looks back the way we’ve come. ‘He’s gone,’ he says, gasping for breath. ‘What an idiot. His mother was horrible too.’
I shake my head, panting. ‘It’s n
ot their fault. They must be desperate about Amelia. I get it.’ I sink onto the ground. ‘Anyway, I can’t go to the police now,’ I say miserably. ‘Nobody’s going to believe me.’
Blue nods. ‘We need to get out of town.’
A painful sob twists in my guts. ‘The worst thing is that because everyone thinks I had something to do with Amelia going missing, they’re looking in the wrong places.’
‘I know,’ Blue says with real sympathy. ‘But there’s nothing we can do for Amelia right now. We need to get out of here. Her mum’s probably already got the cops looking for us.’
‘OK.’ I straighten up. ‘Where can we go?’
Blue meets my gaze. The memory of our earlier conversation about my dad rears up. At the time I’d thought Blue was wrong about Dad wanting to make contact. But perhaps he was right. Suppose by putting his address in the note Dad was hinting he did want to see us. After all, why else would he have told us where he lived?
Anyway, at this point, what have I got to lose?
I take a deep breath. ‘Let’s go to Broadcombe and find my dad.’
On the way to the bus station Blue buys me a red hat to conceal my hair and a jacket from a charity shop. The jacket smells and the hat makes me look like there’s a big blob of jelly on my head. But I know it’s important to keep my identity hidden. I mustn’t be recognised or the police will find me.
We buy our tickets and get on board the first bus that turns up. The journey takes just over an hour. Neither of us speak much. I’m full of worry for Amelia, mulling over ways in which I can get the police to investigate Taylor. My imagination roams freely, trying to find something I can definitively lay at Taylor’s door, but the more I think about it, the further away I am from finding that single, undeniable piece of evidence against him.
‘We’re here.’ Blue’s gruff voice rouses me from my thoughts.
I glance out of the window. We’re driving through the centre of Broadcombe. I’ve never been here before but it’s similar to Cornmouth: the same squat terraced houses, the same shabby high streets with boarded-up shops and pound stores and off-licences behind fibreglass panels. As the bus pulls to a stop my heart rate quickens and all thoughts of Amelia and Taylor and the police being after me fade to the back of my mind.
I’m now just minutes away from the street where my dad lives and I’m about to see him for the first time in five years.
29
Blue turns to me and smiles. ‘We need to go left, then second right.’
I nod, taut with anticipation, and we walk on. I’ve never thought of myself as particularly shy but I’m amazed by Blue’s confidence. He talked a guy on the bus into letting him check out my dad’s address on Google Maps and now he’s just asked an elderly lady to make sure we’ve remembered the way correctly.
‘How do you do that?’ I ask, as we take the next turning. ‘Just chatting out of nowhere to all those complete strangers?’
Blue shrugs. ‘The first thing I realised when I landed on the streets was that I needed to get over being shy.’
‘I can’t believe you’ve ever been shy.’
‘When I started at my last school I was. We moved when I was fourteen, about a year after my dad died. It was a stupid school that I didn’t fit into at all. I was so desperate to make friends and I had no idea how to talk to anyone. I . . . I screwed up, ended up in trouble.’
I hesitate. This is by far the most Blue has ever told me about his past and, in spite of all the thoughts whirring around my head, I really want to ask him what kind of trouble he got into – and how that led him to his life on the streets.
‘Look,’ Blue says before I can ask any more. ‘We’re here.’
I glance up. Camber Avenue is much like the roads around it – a narrow terrace of pebble-dashed houses. Blue points across the street. ‘What number does your dad live at?’
‘Seventy-seven.’ I want to wait, to psych myself up, but Blue is already halfway across the road. I’m so not ready for this. I need more time. What am I going to say when Dad opens the door? Will he even recognise me? I was ten when I last saw him. And what if he’s seen the news about the police wanting to question me? My legs feel like jelly as I follow Blue up the front path. He grins at me, then raps on the door.
My heart hammers. I want to run. But it’s too late. The door is opening.
A woman stands in front of us: plump in jeans and a sweatshirt with a mane of fine, mousy hair tied in a ponytail down her back.
‘Hi.’ It comes out as a croak. My throat is dry. Is this Dad’s girlfriend? The mother of his new baby? She looks cross. There are lines on her forehead.
‘I’m not buying anything,’ the woman says with a scowl.
Oh, she’s horrible. Surely this can’t be Dad’s girlfriend. Why didn’t I think she might be here and he might be out? What am I doing here?
I take a step away, but Blue grabs my hand and pulls me back.
‘That’s OK, we’re not selling anything,’ he says with a smile. ‘We’re looking for—’ He turns to me. ‘What’s your dad’s name?’
‘Alan Logan,’ I say.
The woman’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Oh my goodness.’ She peers at me more closely. ‘Are you Carey?’
I nod, feeling sick. Has she recognised me from TV?
The woman smiles and her face lightens so she seems almost pretty. I relax a little. There’s no way she’d look that welcoming if she knew I was wanted for questioning by the police.
‘Alan said Teddy was the spit of you! I’m Sandy, by the way. Come in, come in.’
I glance at Blue, who gives me an encouraging nod, then step inside. The house is cluttered but clean, with the scent of polish and peppermint in the air. We follow Sandy into the cramped living room. There’s a big TV and a pair of faded orange sofas and a large box of kids’ toys in multicoloured plastic in the middle of the floor.
‘Teddy?’ says Sandy.
A chubby fist appears from behind the box. And then my littlest brother crawls out from behind the toys, grinning up at us. He’s beautiful, with dark curly hair and huge brown eyes.
‘Wow, he does look like you, Carey.’ Blue tells Sandy his name, and how we’re passing through and how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting Teddy and seeing my dad. I’m so glad he’s talking because I’m completely tongue-tied. I crouch down and hold out my hand to Teddy. He crawls determinedly over, then hauls himself unsteadily up beside me. He’s dressed in the cutest little red jumper and chinos.
‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Carey. I’m your sister.’
Teddy smiles up at me.
‘He likes you,’ Sandy says. ‘Your dad was always saying how he wanted you two to meet.’
I glance at her, bewildered. ‘Dad never said that to me.’ I blush at the level of hurt in my voice. It must be obvious to the others too, because Blue looks away and Sandy’s face falls.
‘I know, pet,’ she says with a sigh. ‘That’s the thing with Alan. He feels a lot for people, but he’s not very good at . . . he always says he’s a great starter and a poor finisher.’
‘So where is he?’ I ask. Teddy grips my hand and tries to haul himself up.
Sandy chews thoughtfully on her lip. I glance at Blue. He shakes his head very slightly. But it’s enough for me to realise what must clear to Blue already.
‘He’s gone, hasn’t he?’ All the excitement and hope of the past few hours drain away. ‘My dad doesn’t live here any more.’
Sandy nods. ‘He got restless back in September, said he needed to go to London, the opportunities for work . . . that he’d be back every weekend but—’
‘But he left and you haven’t heard from him since?’ Clearly Dad has done to Sandy and little Teddy exactly the same as he did to my family.
‘That’s right.’ Sandy flumps down on one of the sofas. Teddy turns from me, lets go of my hand and crawls over to her. She picks him up, absently, tears in her eyes.
‘How old is Teddy?’ Blue asks.
Teddy is struggling to get down from Sandy’s lap. She sets him on the floor and he crawls determinedly towards me. I hold out my hand for him to use as balance while he pulls himself up. He’s so gorgeous, all chubby arms and sturdy little legs and that beautiful, big-eyed face.
‘How could Dad leave him?’ I ask.
‘It’s just what he does,’ Sandy says wearily.
‘But Dad wrote. He sent a picture just after Teddy was born. He even put your address.’
‘I made him send that picture,’ Sandy says with a sigh. ‘And I made him put the address on. I told him to invite you all over but he told me to stop nagging. He said he knew what to write, that he’d got the words just right.’
I snort. ‘It was literally just the picture and an address and a . . . a few basic sentences. All it said was that the baby was called Teddy. My little brother Jamie was really upset about it. My sister threw the whole thing away, didn’t want our mum to find it.’
Sandy nods. She looks stricken. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Blue clears his throat. ‘Carey?’ I look up into his anxious face and the full horror of our situation dawns on me. We have just spent our last money getting here and it’s obvious that there was no point trying to find Dad. That there will never be any point.
‘I told you this would happen,’ I hiss.
Blue looks crestfallen and I immediately feel guilty.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper. It’s not Blue’s fault my dad is such a waste of space. And at least I’ve met my new brother. I wish Jamie and Poppy could see him too. I smile down at him, holding out my hand for him to grip. Teddy burbles happily at me, his plump fist wound around my fingers. I look up at Sandy.
‘Can I come again, another time?’ I ask. ‘Maybe bring my brother and sister?’
Sandy nods. ‘Course, whenever you like. Teddy would love to meet them, they’re his family. And you must definitely all come to his first birthday party.’