Between the Lies

by Cathy MacPhail

  Andrea swung round to face the crowd. But her eyes had filled with tears again. “Ok, we fell out. I feel bad enough about that. But mates do fall out, don’t they? Jude and I were going to be friends again.”

  I don’t think any of them believed that. I was sure I could read the doubt in their faces.

  Then Andrea suddenly stood up straight. It was as if someone had shoved a steel rod up her back. “Yes, I put my hand up: we fell out. And I wish I could let her know how sorry I am about that, but it wasn’t me she was scared of… Was it, Belinda?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t bear to say anything else, and then pushed through the crowd around us to get away.

  Big Belinda was right in front of me. She always stood too close: invading your space, I think they call it. We were all waiting for her to tell us what Andrea meant. “I think it’s a sin, blaming Andrea.” She poked me in the chest with a fat chip finger. “If you’re looking for somebody Jude was scared of, check out that creepy old man who lives in her street. He’s weird – Jude always said he was weird. Creepy Creen she used to call him. If she was scared of anybody, it was him.”

  SEVEN

  I hated having to see Jude’s mum and dad. Their pain was so obvious I could hardly bear to watch them. There were photographs of them in the paper, their faces drawn and tear-stained.

  It was that article in the local paper that brought Mr and Mrs Tremayne back to my house. “We had to come and say thank you… for everything.” Mrs Tremayne hugged me. I’m not a hugging type of person and I cringed, but she didn’t seem to notice. “We heard about you asking if anyone was bullying her.”

  “I don’t know if it will help. No one will admit to bullying her of course, but she was so hurt when Andrea dumped her.” Should I have said that? It just came out.

  Mrs Tremayne’s face darkened. “That girl. I think she was a bad influence. Judith is easily led, you know. And then to drop her the way she did. That hurt Jude so much.”

  “Andrea said they were ready to be friends again?” I made it sound more like a question.

  Mrs Tremayne tutted. “I don’t believe that. I saw no sign of it… Though Jude was phoning someone, wasn’t she?” she turned to her husband and he nodded.

  “Yes, she seemed very secretive about it,” he said. “Maybe it was this Andrea, I don’t know. Did you hear anything else, Abbie?”

  I held back for a moment. Should I tell them what Belinda had told me? I was wary of getting someone into trouble, but how could I keep quiet? “Someone…” I wouldn’t say who, “Someone said there was a creepy old man on your street she was a bit scared of?”

  They looked at each other then back at me. “On our street? I can’t think of—”

  Mrs Tremayne broke in: “She couldn’t mean Mr Creen?”

  “Yes,” I said at once. “Creepy Creen, that’s what she called him.”

  “He’s quiet, lives alone, keeps himself to himself… But Jude never said a word to us about him!”

  Mr Tremayne’s face lost all colour. “She’d be scared to. Would we have believed her?”

  Mrs Tremayne seemed to sag. “Oh my… I thought she’d run away, but if… someone… took her… If someone hurt her…” She sank into a chair. “We have to tell the police about this.”

  I had a terrible feeling Mr Tremayne was about to hug me now.

  I stepped back.

  “You see, this is what I mean, Abbie. Jude’s friends would never tell the police about this. Thank you, Abbie. Please keep doing what you’re doing. You’re finding out more than the police have.”

  I cried when they left. “Our girl will come home,” I heard them whisper to each other as they walked, hands held tight, down our path. Jude had always said they were cold and heartless. Well, if they had been like that before, they certainly weren’t now.

  I was still crying when my dad came in. “You’re taking this too hard, Abbie.”

  “I wish she hadn’t sent me that message.” And I meant it. “I wish I wasn’t involved in all this.”

  “Well she did. And you’re doing great. You’re taking charge.” I knew he would approve of that.

  Everyone seemed to be approving of me. I was drowning in messages.

  And on and on. I had never had so much attention, so many compliments. People smiling in corridors, patting me on the back as I passed them. Praising me. I had never had so much admiration.

  Did I like it? Yes, more than I would ever have imagined.

  The next night Andrea phoned me.

  I was wary of answering her call at first. Why was she phoning me? I didn’t want her crying again.

  “Abbie, I’m sorry about today. If Jude and me hadn’t fallen out, maybe she wouldn’t have run away. Maybe it is my fault.” She stumbled over the words as if there was a lump in her throat. “But I’m not as heartless as you think, Abbie. All Jude would go on about was her mum and dad and how much she hated them… She wasn’t interested in any of my life, what was going on for me. I wanted to talk about some stuff at home, and she hardly listened. And I lost it with her. That’s how we fell out. I told her she was the most selfish person I had ever met.”

  That sounded just like the Jude I knew. “I’m sorry to hear that, Andrea, that must have been awful.”

  There was still a sob in her voice when she answered me. “It was… It still is, Abbie. Anyway, I just wanted to say, keep doing what you’re doing. It’s brought the whole school together. Everybody thinks you’re fantastic. I never thought you could be like this. I never liked you, to be honest, but you’ve been a revelation.”

  She hardly let me get a word in. I wouldn’t have known what to say if she had. Everybody thinks I’m fantastic? Andrea Glass complimenting me?

  Keep doing what you’re doing. Jude’s parents had told me that too. So I would. I hadn’t any choice. I was in too deep now. And I had already decided what I would do next.

  EIGHT

  Next day I was in front of the cameras again. Robbie couldn’t say a word, though his sneer when I walked into the studio spoke volumes. But for now I was the darling of the school. When I’d asked Mr Barr for permission he’d agreed immediately. “You’re doing wonders for our reputation, Abbie.”

  ST THOMAS’S UNITED

  School comes together in search for missing girl

  That was the headline in one of the Glasgow papers yesterday, and there was a photo of Mr Barr standing against a background of waving ties.

  “So, Abbie, what is it this time?” Angus asked.

  But I wouldn’t tell him. I wanted the whole school to hear this together.

  First, I thanked everyone for their help. “Don’t just give me praise,” I told them. “We’re all in this together.” And I brought them up to date with everything (though I didn’t mention Creepy Creen). “Jude’s mum and dad are so grateful for what we’re doing and they want us to keep up the momentum. Jude has to be out there, maybe listening, maybe watching.” I took a deep breath. “So, I suggest we have a candlelit vigil tonight at Jude’s house. Let’s all gather there around six, let’s light up the skies for Judith.”

  As soon as the camera stopped rolling, Robbie laughed at me. “Where did that come from? A candlelit blinkin’ vigil?”

  “I think it’s a nice idea. It’ll let Jude know we all care about her, and Mr and Mrs Tremayne want me to keep on helping,” my voice was rising with every word, “and what harm will it do anyway?!” I could feel my eyes well up with tears and I hated myself for that. “Why don’t you ever think I’m sincere about anything?”

  Robbie stepped back, still with his eyebrows raised. “Wow! They look almost like real tears.”

  I sniffed them back and rubbed at my eyes. “They are. No matter what you think.” And they were. I promised myself they were.

  I pushed away from him only to career into Mr Madden, who was coming into the studio. “Why are you crying, Abbie?” he looked beyond me to Robbie. “Are you responsible for this?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He too
k me by the elbow and led me away. “I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing, Abbie. The teachers will be at your candlelit vigil tonight too.”

  I hadn’t expected that. Wasn’t sure that I wanted it. But I had no power to stop it. I had set the snowball rolling, and now nothing was going to slow it down.

  All afternoon the vigil was what everyone talked about. The word was spread with messages and posting everywhere.

  Only Belinda wasn’t happy about it. “A candlelit vigil? I mean, who do you think you are? Organising everything.”

  “There was nothing to stop you from organising anything…” I tapped my teeth with my finger. “Oh, wait a minute. You’re thick as a brick – you couldn’t organise a prayer group in a convent.”

  How did I dare say that to Big Belinda? She looked ready to explode. She didn’t have the brains to snap back a smart reply. I was saved from annihilation by the arrival of the majestic Frances Delaney.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?”

  The light was behind her, illuminating her tousled blonde hair. She looked like some kind of superhero come to my rescue.

  “Nothin’ Frances,” Belinda mumbled, and she stepped away from me. “We’re just having a wee difference of opinion.”

  Frances ignored her. Her smile landed on me. “Great idea about the vigil, Abbie.” She cast a glance at Belinda. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Belinda?”

  “Sure will, Frances,” Belinda must have hated having to say that. “Try and keep me away.”

  Frances linked her arm in mine. “So Abbie, do we have to bring our own candles?” Her laugh rang out and seemed to echo all through the school.

  ***

  Mrs Tremayne called me just as school finished. Someone must have phoned her about it. “What a wonderful idea, Abbie. The neighbours are going to be there too, and people from the streets all around. Some of Jude’s aunts and uncles are coming. And the paper’s been in touch: they’re sending a reporter and photographer. And the tv people are coming. That Sara Flynn. So much good publicity. Thank you so much.”

  More publicity than I had ever expected. I began to feel nervous.

  NINE

  I didn’t want to go that night. I wasn’t used to all this attention, I felt guilty and embarrassed and, if I could have, I would have stayed home. Dad couldn’t even come with me; an important union meeting trumped my candlelit vigil.

  “But I’ll come along as soon as it finishes,” he promised.

  So I had to go alone. I had no choice. It was me who had organised it. Face the music, Abbie, I told myself. It will be over soon. A couple of hours and it will all be over.

  It was such a perfect night for a candlelit vigil. Crisp and clear with not a cloud to hide the stars. I hadn’t believed so many people would turn up. I expected the pupils from St Tom’s to be there, maybe a couple of the neighbours Mrs Tremayne had referred to, but nothing like the massive crowd that was standing outside Jude’s house when I arrived. I really did gasp, and I thought that was something people only did in books. There were pupils not only from our school but from some of the others in the town; people had come from neighbourhoods all around, and as far as I could tell, everyone from Jude’s family was there too. They stretched all along the street and spilled onto the road. Some were standing in other people’s gardens. They lined the walkway by the river on the other side of the street. It looked as if hundreds were there, maybe thousands. I spotted Mr Madden and some of the other teachers. He raised his hand in a wave when he saw me. A path was made for me as I walked through the crowd, like I was someone special, and when Mrs Tremayne spotted me, her eyes seemed to light up. She broke away from her husband and hurried toward me.

  “Here she is. Here’s the girl we owe for all this.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up the path to their front door. “The heroine of the hour: Abbie Kerr. No one’s doing more than Abbie to help us find Judith.”

  And they all began to applaud me. Applaud me! I felt embarrassed, and guilty. I wanted to say: Not just me… please, I don’t deserve this.

  There was a shout from the crowd, then a cheer. Some of my schoolmates applauded too. Belinda had a sour look, as if she’d been eating something nasty, but Tracey and Andrea were clapping along with the rest. Boys let out loud whistles. I spotted Robbie whistling with the rest of them, and when he saw me he gave me the thumbs up. Did he mean it? Was he being sarcastic again?

  “I wouldn’t let them light the candles till you came, Abbie,” Mrs Tremayne shouted over the crowd. “Do you think everybody’s here now?” How could anyone else be coming? There was no room for anyone else. Even more had come since I arrived. “What do you think, Abbie?”

  I looked at my watch, and round the crowds, and I nodded. “Ok,” I said. I’d never felt so nervous.

  “You first, Abbie.”

  I took my candle from my pocket and my hand shook as I held it over the match.

  And then, after mine, all the candles were lit, one by one, and the street was illuminated with the glow from hundreds of candles. The air was icy cold, and the moon seemed huge hanging above us. There wasn’t a breath of wind, so the flames hardly flickered. It was as if their glow spread out over the dark river and the lights across the water seemed to be lit for Jude too, joining in with us. It was breathtaking. All these people, here, for Jude. For a girl they hardly knew or hardly liked, praying for her safe return. I had to hold the tears in. I lifted my candle high. “This is for you, Jude, to show how much we want you back.”

  And every candle was raised and everyone shouted, “For Judith!”

  Mrs Tremayne leaned closer to me. “Are you crying, Abbie?” By then, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. Her arm went round me. “My, you’re shaking.” She squeezed me closer. “You’ve been such a good friend to us.”

  I had to hold back a sob. Mrs Tremayne was crying too. She was nice woman. She didn’t deserve this. What was Judith thinking about? But I had to draw in that sob. “Take a photo!” I called out. “Send it to her phone. I’ll do it too. Let her see how much we want her to come back.”

  And now the sky was lit up with flashes from phones, including mine. I typed in a message:

  And I prayed she would get it.

  There was a roar on the road as a van drew up; the legend on the side read: Scottish News. The back doors opened and Sara Flynn stepped out, with her cameraman behind her. She pushed her way into the Tremayne’s garden. Before we could really take in what she was doing, she turned to the camera and began to address it.

  “We’re here at the home of Jack and Ruth Tremayne, where so many of their friends and neighbours, including their daughter’s school friends, have gathered to hold a candlelit vigil for the safe return of Judith.” She turned to Mrs Tremayne. “How are you holding up?”

  “All this is heartwarming for us. It’s keeping my spirits up and my hopes that I will see my girl soon. But this girl,” I tried to move away, but she drew me in closer to her, “this girl, Abbie, is the one responsible for all you see.”

  I wanted to melt into the crowd but Sara Flynn had me cornered. She smiled with her so-red lips. “Abbie. Abbie Kerr again, the heroine of the hour? You must be delighted with this turnout.”

  I tried to stop her from saying anything else. “Nothing to do with me really.”

  “Of course it is,” Mrs Tremayne insisted. “She suggested the candlelit vigil. She went onto the school news channel and asked everyone to come.” She laughed. “She’ll be having your job soon, Ms Flynn.”

  “I only suggested it,” my voice shook. I pointed into the crowd, all the faces glowed in the candlelight. “They came here for Judith. They should be getting the credit.”

  “And why do you think they came here, Abbie?”

  It only took me a moment to give her an answer. I’d had this speech ready for ages. “Teenagers are never given credit for anything. We’re always on computers, we’re rude, we’re selfish, we talk back to our parents, we don’t ca
re about anything. Everyone thinks teenagers are lazy, and we don’t obey the rules. But this is us,” I spread my arms out towards the crowd, “the real us. We’re teenagers but when something bad happens to one of us, we come together, we do the right thing and you see how much we care.”

  There was a sudden rousing cheer.

  “Good for you, Abbie!”

  “You tell ’em.”

  Sara Flynn didn’t stop smiling. “That was a wonderful little speech, Abbie.” Was she being as sarcastic as Robbie? “Have you had any more texts from Judith?”

  I looked out beyond the crowd, hardly listening to her now. I shook my head.

  “Do you think this will bring her back?”

  I do, I wanted to say. I know it will bring her back.

  TEN

  I looked around at all the candles, flames quivering now in the slight breeze that had risen up from the water. Magical. It looked magical. It was a magical moment: the perfect moment.

  Come on, Jude.

  Now was the time. The perfect time. Sara Flynn was there with her camera, all the pupils were waiting, the neighbours, the candlelight, Judith’s mum and dad. Now was the time. I looked at my watch.

  “Have you somewhere to go, Abbie?” Mrs Tremayne didn’t wait for my answer. “It is cold. I think everyone’s been here long enough.” She began to call out to the crowd: “Thank you all for coming.”

  But I didn’t want them to go, not then. I glanced again at my watch. “No, no, let them stay.” Did I snap at her? “Mrs Tremayne, let’s stay a little longer.”

  She put her arm round my shoulder and squeezed. “I think you can call me Ruth.” And then I was almost crying again. She was a kind woman.

  “Well, I think we have all we need here,” Sara Flynn turned to her cameraman. “Let’s go! I want to make the ten o’clock bulletin.”