by Sara Barnard
God, what am I meant to say to that? Agreeing is probably the only option, but I don’t really want to encourage her. I take option C: make a joke.
Me
No, me and Connor are the CUTEST. But that’s a cute pic.
Ivy
That’ll do ☺
Don’t you think you should talk to Rowan?
If I do, she’ll tell. I can’t trust her.
But she’s your sister.
I know. But this is more important right now.
Me
Is it?
Ivy
It has to be. You and me, though – we’re OK?
Yes.
< 3 You’re the only one I miss.
Really?
Really.
Conversations That Took on a New Meaning after Bonnie Disappeared
The ‘Veggie-Connor’ Edition: one month before
‘You love Connor, right?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘How much?’
‘What do you mean, how much?’
‘Like, what would you give up for him?’
Bonnie and I were sitting on a picnic bench on the edge of the playing field, watching Connor play football with some of his guy friends. As we watched, Connor glanced over at us, grinned and waved. I waved back, feeling the smile on my face.
‘Why would I need to give up anything for him?’ I asked Bonnie.
‘If you had to, I mean. Like, if it turned out he was really allergic to peanuts. Would you stop eating peanuts?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘What if he wanted to be a vegetarian? Would you become one too?’
I made a face. ‘I don’t think that’s the same as the peanut thing.’
‘What if he wanted you to, I mean. If he asked you to give up meat. Would you?’
‘No, probably not,’ I said. ‘He’d have to really convince me. And let me make an exception for bacon sandwiches. And Christmas dinner.’
Bonnie was looking at me like I was deliberately missing the point. ‘But if you love him, wouldn’t you want to support him?’
‘Sure. I wouldn’t eat ribs in front of veggie-Connor. Doesn’t mean I couldn’t eat them when he wasn’t around.’
‘I think if I loved someone,’ she said, clearly deciding to make the point herself as I kept missing it, ‘I’d give up anything to be with him. I think that’s true love.’
‘What do you know about true love?’ I asked.
She smiled and shrugged. ‘Enough,’ she said.
Tuesday
Bonnie Cops Bungle Swoop on Runaway Teacher and Missing Schoolgirl, as it Emerges the Pair Left HOURS Before Police Acted on New Info
• Cops act too late to catch up with vulnerable 15-year-old Bonnie Wiston-Stanley
• Music teacher Jack Cohn still on the run
• Love letters passed to police reveal teacher groomed pupil for ‘romantic getaway’
Police arrived hours too late to tackle disgraced music teacher Jack Cohn, who remains on the run with schoolgirl Bonnie Wiston-Stanley, 15.
‘Solid information’ on the pair’s location passed to detectives yesterday afternoon could have seen police finally catch up with the couple, sources say. But instead of immediately acting on the information, police waited until late in the evening before bothering to show.
Cops were left red-faced when they raided a property in the seaside town of Tenby, Wales, which was believed to be the hiding place of the runaways – only to find it empty. The holiday home’s owner, a former friend of Cohn, yesterday tipped off police to the fact the pair may be there. The friend, who could not be reached for comment, is not believed to be involved.
Police now admit they are ‘back to square one’ in their search to catch up with the couple, as damning new evidence of Cohn’s plans comes to light.
Letters written by Cohn reveal dozens of messages to his pupil, which date back to at least February this year. The teacher had previously suggested a ‘romantic getaway’ for the pair after 15-year-old Bonnie Wiston-Stanley confided in him how she felt pressured by her upcoming GCSEs. The months of messages lay bare Cohn’s desire to groom the girl and convince the straight-A student of his interest in a romantic relationship with her.
As Head of Music, Cohn first met the pupil in her first year at Kett Academy, aged just 11, and became her form tutor the following year. Now in Year 11, Wiston-Stanley is one of just three students taking Music GCSE – and it is during this period that fellow students suggest the pair ‘grew close’.
The letters show how Cohn took advantage of this trust and asked Bonnie to text him ‘any time’ she felt stressed by preparation for her upcoming exams, and invited her to ‘just say if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better’.
10
Carolyn wakes me up on Tuesday morning with a cup of tea and a plate of jammy toast. This is so unusual I immediately assume that Bonnie has been found and/or something terrible has happened, so I sit bolt upright in bed – Carolyn starts in surprise and the tea sloshes out over the mug, dripping on to my bedsheets – and demand, ‘What is it?’
‘Oh dear,’ Carolyn says, frowning. ‘I’ll have to wash those.’
‘Is it Bonnie?’ I ask. My voice is managing to be both shrill and crackly with sleep. ‘Tell me!’
‘Calm down,’ Carolyn says. ‘Everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘I can get my own breakfast!’ I say. I mean by this that I know there’s a reason she’s woken me up early, and I want to know what it is, but my mind hasn’t quite woken up properly so it just comes out like I’m snapping at her, and she looks hurt. ‘Sorry,’ I add.
‘Shuffle over,’ Carolyn says, setting my cup of tea on my bedside cabinet. I shift across the bed a little, leaving a space for her to sit down. She settles down next to me and pats my shoulder. ‘Have some toast.’
‘Is it Bonnie?’ I ask again. She just looks at me, so I roll my eyes, grab a piece of toast and shove it in my mouth.
‘Yes and no,’ she says as I begin to chew. ‘There’s some good news, some so-so news and some bad news. Which would you like first?’
I swallow. ‘Chronological order.’ This is what Bob always says to this kind of question.
She smiles. ‘Good choice. OK, now, I don’t want you to worry, but there was a very significant lead in the case last night. The police were tipped off.’
I feel my eyes widen.
‘Don’t get too excited – this is the so-so news. There was a raid at the property where the police believed Bonnie and Mr Cohn were, but they weren’t there.’
My breath comes out in a short, sharp burst. Is it relief or disappointment? I don’t even know.
‘Did they have the wrong place?’ I ask.
Carolyn shakes her head. ‘No, it was obvious that they’d been there, and that they’d only recently left.’
‘So how come they weren’t there?’
‘I don’t know. Something spooked them, presumably. Maybe they got a heads-up somehow that the police were on their way. But anyway, even though they weren’t caught, this is a very significant step in the case. Knowing where they’ve been can help us know where they’re going.’
‘OK.’ I take another bite of toast, relaxing a little.
‘The good news is, you don’t have to go to that revision session at school today,’ Carolyn says. ‘The bad news is that the police are coming here this morning to talk to you.’
I choke on the toast, crumbs catching in my throat. ‘What?’ I manage.
‘Ten a.m.,’ she adds. ‘I thought I’d get you up now to give you time to prepare.’
‘Why?’ I ask, still coughing.
‘I’m sure they’ll have a list of questions to ask you.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, if they’re anything like me, they’ll be curious to know why you aren’t wondering where this bust took place.’
For a moment, I don’t understand what she means.
And then I realize in a rush of panic that I try very hard to keep from my face: I haven’t asked anything about where they’d almost been caught.
‘I thought you didn’t know!’ I say. ‘Otherwise why didn’t you say straight away?’
Carolyn’s expression is completely unreadable.
‘Go on, tell me then,’ I say. ‘Where?’
‘Wales,’ Carolyn says slowly.
Shit. I have royally fucked up. She looks so suspicious. But in a Carolyn way, because she’s trying to hide how suspicious she is. Quick, Eden. Save this.
‘Why would they go there?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know, Eden.’ She doesn’t need to say the next bit: But I think you do.
We look at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking. I have no idea how to fix this.
Finally, she begins, ‘Eden—’
I interrupt. ‘How could they not get them?’
‘What?’
‘How could they get so close and fuck it up?’
‘Eden, language.’
‘What are they even doing?’ I demand, feeling myself getting actually worked up even though this outburst is meant to be just for show. ‘They find out exactly where they are and still miss them?! They could be anywhere now! Anywhere! They’re back to square one!’
‘It’s not quite square one—’
‘Why would they go to Wales, anyway? What’s in sodding Wales?’ The show is all real now. My voice is getting squeaky again, my breath catching in my throat.
‘Have some tea,’ Carolyn says with a sigh, passing me my cup. ‘I really don’t know, love. But that’s likely to be the kind of question the police will be asking you, so have a think about the answer, will you?’
I nod, gulping my tea. Oh God, I don’t want to talk to the police. What the hell are they going to ask me? What the hell am I going to say?
I wait until I’m sure I’m alone – in the bathroom with the door locked – before I text Bonnie. I’m not subtle about it. WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!? WHERE ARE YOU???
I sit on the edge of the bath, nibbling on my thumbnail, waiting for her to reply. For some reason, I feel really nervous. What if she thinks I shopped her to the police? What if she doesn’t ever talk to me again? Keeping her secrets is stressful enough, but being on the outside of them is unthinkable.
Barely a minute after I send the message, my phone lights up with an incoming call and I jolt with relief. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi! It’s me!’ Bonnie’s voice is bouncy and cheerful, which is completely not what I was expecting. ‘What’s with all the caps? I can read lower case just fine, you know.’ When she says this, she laughs, like it’s an ordinary conversation on an ordinary day.
‘What happened?’ I demand, trying to keep my voice quiet.
‘The police almost got us,’ she says.
‘Yeah, I know that bit. But what happened to you? And how did they find out?’
I hear her sigh on the other end of the phone, like this is already an old, boring story. ‘Well, we were staying in this cottage in Tenby, right? It’s a holiday home that Jack’s friend owns, and Jack had stayed there before, so he knew the key-code. It wasn’t booked out, so it seemed like the perfect place to lie low for a bit while we figured out what to do next.’
‘Okaaay . . .’ I say.
‘Like, there was no reason why anyone would suspect we were there. But Jack’s friend must have got suspicious or something, because he rang the house. We didn’t pick up or anything – we’re not stupid – but Jack says no one else would have the landline for the property. That was yesterday morning. Anyway, Jack got spooked, said if Rob thought there was even a chance we were there, he’d tell the police, because he’s that kind of guy. So we left.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yeah, Jack doesn’t like to hang around when he makes a decision. Lucky, otherwise we’d probably be caught by now.’
Lucky. I make a face at the bathroom tiles. ‘Where are you now?’
‘Somewhere in Yorkshire.’
I pause, waiting for more, but she doesn’t elaborate. ‘Somewhere in Yorkshire?’ I repeat.
‘Yeah, I don’t know exactly where. It’s green, very quiet. Super pretty.’
‘Why Yorkshire?’
‘We wanted to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible,’ she says. ‘We drove all the way here and then slept in the car last night. They don’t even know how we’re getting around, right? So distance is key.’
Distance is key? I think but don’t say. This is so clearly a Mr Cohn phrase that it makes me wonder how much of anything she says is actually coming from her.
‘And it’s so pretty here!’ she adds, her voice picking up again. ‘Jack’s going to find us somewhere to stay today.’
‘How?’ I ask, the question coming out more like a demand. ‘Do you even have money?’
‘Yeah, of course. Just cash, though, so we have to be careful.’
I don’t understand how she can be so laid back about all of this. Bonnie, who’s never been laid back about anything. ‘Have you given up on Ireland?’
‘Oh, that. No, it’s just on hold for now. We might head to Scotland in a bit. Jack says it’s easy to get lost in the Highlands.’
‘You could just come home,’ I say, trying for casual and missing.
There’s a pause. ‘I haven’t gone through all of this just to give up,’ she says. ‘I thought you understood all this? That I’m happy?’
‘I do,’ I say quickly. I don’t. ‘I just miss you.’
Another brief pause, and then she’s back, cheerful again. ‘I miss you too! Hey, how are you, anyway? How’s Larking?’
‘I’m OK,’ I say, because the truth is, I don’t actually know how to answer a question like that at the moment. ‘And Larking is just Larking. Bon, the police are coming here this morning to talk to me.’
‘What?!’ Her voice is suddenly panicked. ‘Why? I thought they spoke to you already?’
‘I don’t know, do I? Probably something about Wales.’
‘You’re not going to tell them anything, are you?’ I can hear the paranoia in her voice, like Oh, shit, probably shouldn’t have mentioned Yorkshire. She’s probably wishing she’d saved this conversation for later in the day.
‘No, Bon, of course not. I promised, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah. OK, sorry.’ She’s silent for a moment, and then I hear her sigh. ‘God, I really miss you.’
‘I miss you,’ I say. ‘Everything’s so crazy here, and I keep thinking I want to talk about it with you, and then I remember that the crazy bit is you.’
She laughs a little. ‘Right. I’ve never been the centre of anything before.’
‘Well, you really went for it.’
‘Yep. Go heavy or go home.’
‘There’s so much I want to talk to you about. Properly, I mean. Not all secretive.’
‘We’ll talk properly soon, OK? We’ve just got to wait for all the crazy to blow over.’
‘What makes you think it even will blow over?’
‘It has to eventually.’
‘You think your family is just going to stop looking for you?’
‘No, but I’ll be sixteen soon, and by then all the press people will have got bored and stopped covering it. I can deal with Mum and Dad then.’
‘Bonnie!’ I can’t believe this. ‘You’re going to wait until July to talk to your parents?’
‘If I have to, yeah. Don’t you get it yet, Eeds? I love Jack. I’ll do anything to be with him.’
I put my fingers to my forehead and press down, trying to sort out my thoughts into something coherent that will make her realize what she’s doing. What comes out is: ‘Bon, this is crazy.’
‘Love is crazy. Look, I should go. I’ll speak to you later, OK?’
‘OK.’
‘Good luck with the police. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
I sit there for a few minutes on the edge of the bath aft
er we’ve both hung up, thinking. I still can’t quite make the link between this Bonnie and the Bonnie I’ve known for eight years. The meticulous, responsible girl with this lovestruck, reckless runaway. Has she had both versions of herself inside of her all this time and I just didn’t know?
It’s the not-talking-to-her-parents-until-July thing that’s really getting to me. How can she do something like that? How can she act like her parents don’t matter to her? How can she not care about giving up her family like this? Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is to have had it? The security and safety of family? No questions in the back of her head about belonging, about blood vs choice. None of the confusion of having and loving another mother when your ‘real’ one is still living and breathing somewhere else. No feelings of responsibility for her little sister’s life and happiness, because that’s what parents are for.
Everything I’ve ever lost has been chosen for me. I never had a say.
And she’s chosen to throw it all away, like it’s nothing. The thought comes into my head, unbidden and a shock: I will never forgive her for this. The thought frightens me and I push it away. That is a thing that can’t be.
It’s getting close to 10 a.m., so I slide my phone back into my pocket and go to the sink to wash my face. ‘I don’t know where Bonnie is,’ I whisper to my reflection. ‘I don’t know where Bonnie is.’
11
The two police officers I find waiting for me in the kitchen when I go downstairs are the same ones who spoke to me on Saturday, one man and one woman. They are sitting at the table while Carolyn fusses about tea or coffee and do you want biscuits too and isn’t it a lovely day. She’s nervous, and it’s catching. I sit down opposite them both and cross my hands in my lap so they won’t see if they start to shake.
DC Delmonte – ‘Milk and no sugar, thank you, Mrs McKinley; a custard cream would be lovely’ – does most of the talking, while DC Doyle – ‘Just a black coffee for me, please’ – takes notes.