‘My God, Douglas. Look what he’s doing.’
Whittaker was trying to prise Zan’s fingers from their hold, trying to make her lose her grip! Kate had never seen such determination on Zan’s face. She would hold on. She must!
‘We can see everything, Whittaker!’ Blue-eyes called up to him. ‘Leave the girl be.’
Taken by surprise, Whittaker slipped on the beam. In a second he had righted himself. He looked down. Saw them all, must have known he was done for. Then he balled his fist and brought it down viciously against Zan’s fingers.
Zan yelled and that one hand lost its grip. Everyone below gasped again.
‘Hold on, Zan!’ Katie screamed up at her.
Whittaker started edging his way back along the beam.
‘Let’s get him,’ Blue-eyes said, and without a moment’s hesitation the policemen raced into the darkness. Katie grabbed her father tightly. ‘Please, Dad. We’ve got to get Zan.’
Zan was holding on with one hand, biting her lip, her eyes clenched tight with determination.
‘I’ll get her,’ Katie’s father said.
Breathless, they watched as he climbed. Up the rickety old ladder to the platform where Zan had lived. Katie’s eyes darted from her father to Zan. She must hold on. He must get to her in time! Zan’s hand slipped just a fraction. Katie screamed. ‘Hold on, just a wee while, Zan. Please!’ Katie had never felt so helpless. Her father was astride the beam now, inching his way towards Zan. Katie could hear his soft words of comfort.
‘Just you hold on. I’m coming. You’ll be safe soon. Just a minute more. You can do it.’
But would Zan believe him? Would she trust him? Zan didn’t even like her father!
Oh, Zan, trust him, please. He’s wonderful. Just trust him!
Then he was beside her. He reached down, his hand held out to Zan, and grabbed her wrist. ‘Give me your other hand,’ he said. Zan would have to reach out to him now. He was leaning down as far as he could. Any more and he would fall himself.
Zan shook her head. ‘I … can’t …’
Everyone held their breath. Not a sound broke the ominous silence. Then the beam creaked. Her mother drew in a sharp breath. Miss Withers let out a scream.
‘Give me your hand. Right now, Zan!!!!’ Katie knew that tone of her father’s. Obey me, or else. Zan recognized it too. She threw her hand up, and he grabbed it. With all his strength he pulled. Freeing his other hand, he grabbed her jacket and pulled hard until she could scramble on to the beam beside him. A cheer went up. Zan threw her arms round Katie’s father. He hugged her close. Was Zan crying? Katie was certainly in tears.
‘We’re not out of the woods yet,’ she heard her father say. ‘Let’s get off this beam.’
This time there was no inching along. Her father got to his feet, and pulled Zan to hers.
‘How’s your balance?’ he asked her.
‘Like a monkey!’ she said at once.
‘Come on then.’ And together, hand in hand, they ran deftly along the beam to the platform.
The beam creaked again. Splinters of rotten wood began to fall from it. With one bound they jumped to the platform. Just in time.
‘It’s going!’ Miss Withers screamed, waving everyone back. ‘Get out of the way!’ Katie’s mother grabbed Katie and Nazeem and jerked them back from any danger. Katie saw Ivy throw herself to the ground screaming as the beam crashed to the floor.
Dust rose, splinters flew. Everyone began to cough.
It took a moment for it all to sink in. They were safe, her father and Zan.
Nazeem was the first to jump excitedly in the air. She began dancing around, hugging Katie! ‘They did it. They did it.’ Miss Withers and her mother hugged each other. Katie ran to the ladder. Her father and Zan were already descending.
Zan stepped off first. She looked at Katie. They didn’t say a word. They had proved a friendship beyond words. They smiled at each other, and suddenly they were hugging and crying and laughing, all at the same time. Her father stepped off the ladder. Katie ran to him now. She was so proud of him, she hugged him. Her mother ran and fell into their embrace. The three of them, a family, caring for each other. Zan took a step back.
It was Katie’s father who noticed first. He held out an outstretched arm to Zan. She hesitated, but for only a second, then she moved into his arms. A quick hug was what she probably had in mind. But Zan didn’t know her parents when they got started. Her mother joined in hugging Zan too, and Katie, never one to be left out, just held on tight. She could feel Zan shaking, the fear still upon her, and she could feel that fear abate as her father’s strength, her family’s strength, comforted her.
Zan – safe at last.
Chapter Sixteen
If only Zan could be with us for Christmas. She remembered the day she had thought that, hoped for it, prayed for it.
Now it was Christmas.
Christmas Day.
The house was gaily decorated, a welcoming fire burned in the hearth, the table looked beautiful with its red and white tablecloth and the green napkins arranged in sparkling wine glasses.
It should have been her best Christmas ever … Instead …
Katie sighed. She should be happy. Whittaker was safely behind bars awaiting trial. The proof of his villainy had been plain for all to see when he had tried to prise Zan’s fingers from the beam that awful night. Zan was exonerated. Katie had heard that word a lot over the past few weeks. Her innocence proved beyond doubt. It had long ago been discovered that her parents had links with a highly dangerous gang of criminals. The initial theory that Zan had to be responsible for the fire was eventually questioned when the truth about them came out. Zan had never known that, of course. Always on the run, with no reason to trust either the police or social workers, or parents for that matter.
She had trusted Katie’s dad that day. And it had seemed natural and right for her to come home with them. At least until matters were sorted out.
Katie and Zan, together, at least for this Christmas!
Yet, here she was on Christmas Day … miserable! And it was all Zan’s fault.
‘Katie, are you coming to sit down? Or don’t you want any Christmas dinner?’
Katie stuck her nose in the air and continued looking into the flames.
‘She’s still in a huff. Leave her be.’
Katie jumped from her seat. ‘I’m in a huff, am I? And why am I in a huff?’
She looked at Zan … yes, Zan … and glowered.
Zan shrugged and looked faintly amused. ‘So I used the last of the mousse. I’ll get you more.’
‘But it’s Christmas Day. All the shops are closed. And just look at my hair.’
She was selfish! There was no other word for her!
‘It looks lovely, dear. Now come and sit down,’ her mother said.
‘Not beside her!’ And she and Zan nudged each other deliberately as they passed.
‘Suits me,’ Zan said.
‘Next time, I’m buying my own mousse,’ Katie said. ‘And I’m writing my name all over it!’
Zan sat down and waved out her napkin and spread it on her knees. She had adapted well to family life, Katie thought. Sitting there, with her Christmas dress on, and her hair all cut and shiny … with her mousse!
‘All of this over some silly hair mousse,’ her mother complained.
‘You went away with the last of the hairspray,’ Zan retorted.
‘She does it all the time, Mum!’ Katie said. ‘My mousse, my deodorant, my …’
Her mother touched her hand. ‘Katie, I know it’s hard for you to get used to sharing things.’ She smiled at Zan and touched her hand too. ‘And for you too, Zan. Neither of you have ever had to share things before.’
That wasn’t going to win Katie over. ‘Well, she’s not getting a loan of any of my clothes again!’
‘I hope you remember that tomorrow night,’ Zan said smugly. ‘Christmas disco. Remember? You asked if you could wear my green top.’
Katie was horrified. ‘You promised I could have it! Mum, she promised!’
Suddenly, her mother banged the table with her fists, so hard that even her dad, who had been watching the proceedings with a fatherly, affectionate eye, jumped in his seat.
‘That’s it!’ she shouted. ‘I’ve had enough! It’s Christmas Day! Zan’s aunt will be here in a few days, and goodness knows when we’ll see her again. So I want the Peace and Goodwill to start right now!’
Zan’s aunt. Katie glanced at Zan guiltily. Zan couldn’t stay with them. How hurt and angry Katie had been when she’d first heard. She’d dreamed of them both together for ever … like sisters. She saw, too, in Zan’s bright eyes, apprehension. She didn’t know this aunt. Coming all the way from Australia to claim her, care for her. An aunt who hadn’t even known of Zan’s existence till a couple of weeks ago. So far, all she had been to Zan was a sympathetic letter, a tearful voice on the phone. Zan’s mother’s youngest sister, who had tried to escape the family’s violence, just as Zan had. A kindred spirit? Katie hoped she was.
‘Oh well,’ Zan had said when she knew there was no alternative. ‘It’ll be an adventure.’
Life with Zan, Katie thought, always would be.
Zan wanted to stay here too. Katie knew that. But it was not to be. Except for this Christmas. And here she was spoiling it, all for the sake of some silly mousse. Zan looked up at her, the same thoughts in her mind. She shrugged. ‘Have the top,’ she said.
Katie smiled back.
Her father sighed. ‘Ah, they’re smiling, Katherine. Thank heaven for that. I thought for a minute they weren’t going to eat this turkey. They were going to throw it at each other.’
Zan began to laugh, and so did Katie. And soon they were all laughing.
‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ her father said, and he held his glass high. ‘To Katie and Zan …’ He smiled at each of them. ‘Friends for ever.’
Who knew what the future held for both of them? All Katie knew now was that they would always be friends. An adventure behind them. Who was to say how many more in front of them? They would be together again. She just knew it. They’d never be far apart.
They clinked their glasses across the table. They didn’t have to say a word. Each knew what the other was thinking.
Friends for ever.
Loved Run Zan Run?
Then turn the page to find out about Cathy MacPhail and her inspiration for this gripping story
Why I wrote Run Zan Run
Run Zan Run is the book that changed my life. I had no intention of ever writing young teenage fiction. I thought I was going to be a comedy scriptwriter – I had two series on the radio and was having scripts developed for television. Then one night when my daughter, Katie, was on the way to the school youth club she was attacked by a gang of boys and girls, a lot older than her, a gang who had a bad reputation both in and out of school.
It was after that the real bullying started. Katie couldn’t walk along the school corridors or go beyond the school gates without them waiting for her. She hated going to school and so I wanted her to move to another school, but Katie wanted to stay where she was. What happened to Katie made me see how often teachers’ hands are tied when dealing with bullies. I was growing angrier and feeling more and more useless. Finally, I decided I was going to write a book about it. But I knew right then that I didn’t just want to write a book about bullying, I wanted to write the kind of book I like to read – a mystery and a thriller. I wanted it to have cliffhangers and build to an exciting climax. Most of all, I wanted someone in the book to help Katie because no one was helping her in real life. And that was how Zan was born. Do you know what Zan is short for? I do tell you in the book. We never do find out her real name. I love putting unsolved mysteries in my books – they make you think. The original title for Run Zan Run was ‘The Girl in the Cardboard Box’. Do you think ‘Run Zan Run’ is better? My editor told me that to have an active verb in the title gives the book a sense of pace. I have never forgotten that advice.
I have now written over thirty books and I don’t think I would have written any of them if that awful thing hadn’t happened to Katie. Isn’t it amazing how one thing can change your life. I have told Katie that it might have been the worst thing that ever happened to her but it was the best thing that ever happened to me … and she just shakes her head and says ‘Mum, you’re a sick woman.’
Meet Cathy MacPhail
Cathy MacPhail was born and brought up in Greenock, Scotland, where she still lives. Before becoming a children’s author, she wrote short stories for magazines and comedy programmes for radio. Cathy was inspired to write her first children’s book after her daughter was bullied at school.
Cathy writes spooky thrillers for younger readers as well as teen novels. She has won the Royal Mail Book Award twice, along with lots of other awards. She loves to give her readers a ‘rattling good read’ and has been called the Scottish Jacqueline Wilson.
One of Cathy’s greatest fears would be to meet another version of herself, similar to the young girl in her bestselling novel Another Me. She is a big fan of Doctor Who and would love to write a scary monster episode for the series.
Cathy loves to hear from her fans, so visit www.cathymacphail.com and email her your thoughts.
Q&A with Cathy MacPhail
What are your favourite things to do when you’re not writing?
When I’m not writing, I’m usually reading or visiting family – I love spending time with my children, turning up on their doorsteps when they least expect me! I enjoy going on cruises too because it’s the perfect way for me to visit new places. Like most people, I also love going to the cinema. I always have done.
What are your favourite films?
Oh, there are so many films I love. It’s a Wonderful Life is one of them. The hero is an ordinary man with just a few problems that are getting him down. Then he is visited by an angel who shows him how life would have been if he had never been born and he realises that his life is worthwhile after all.
Another fantastic film is The Searchers. A story set in America in the mid nineteenth-century about a man’s struggle to find his niece who has been kidnapped by the Sioux. It explores issues of racism that were common at the time.
But at the top of my list is Some Like It Hot. Two men pretend to be female musicians to escape gangsters and one of them falls in love with Marilyn Monroe! It’s so funny and it has the best last line of any film I’ve ever seen, ‘Oh well, nobody’s perfect.’
If you could be a character from a book, who would you be?
I have thought and thought about this because most books I’ve read have at least one wonderful character that I’d like to be, but I think Elizabeth Bennet has to be my first pick. She is so bright. Then there’s Cathy from Wuthering Heights. I like her passionate nature, and we share a first name! Also, both of them are admired by fantastic men! When I’m really old, I want to be Miss Marple. I will go around annoying people and solving murders.
Did I ever write stories at school?
I wrote stories all the time. I loved it when the teacher said we were going to write a story. Mine were always about beautiful Scottish girls, usually with long, red hair, who travelled the world and had adventures with handsome cowboys, Arab sheiks or titled English noblemen. I wasn’t interested in gritty reality and who, I thought, would want to read a story about a wee girl who lived with her mother and three sisters in a tenement flat in Greenock, Scotland. It took me a long time to appreciate the stories that you can find in real life.
Cathy’s Choice
My Three Favourite Books as a Child
Little Women, by Lousia May Alcott, is about four sisters and one of them wants to be a writer. I was one of four sisters and I dreamed of one day being a writer.
Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen, has to be one of my top three books. This book is about sisters and their relationships with each other. Every time I read it I find
something else I enjoy about it, whether it is the witty dialogue, the humour or the wonderful characters – and there are so many besides Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.
The Pears’ Cyclopaedia (No, honestly!). I got this as a gift for my tenth birthday and it contained so much information about everything that I was always reading it. I still find things in it that help me with my writing.
Also by Cathy MacPhail
Missing
Bad Company
Dark Waters
Fighting Back
Another Me
Underworld
Roxy’s Baby
Worse Than Boys
Grass
Out of The Depths
The Nemesis Series
Into the Shadows
The Beast Within
Sinister Intent
Ride of Death
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin, New York and Sydney
Published in Great Britain in November 2001
by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published by Blackie in October 1994
Published by Puffin Books in January 1996
This edition published in 2011
Copyright © Catherine MacPhail 1994
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
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