‘Is she better now?’ Ram asks.
‘Yeah. I think so. I mean, I only saw her yesterday and she said she was …’
I pause.
‘What?’ Ram says. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Being ill. You don’t think it messed with her head, do you?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘This virus. Could it have done something weird to her brain?’
Ram screws up his face. ‘I doubt it, Frankie.’
‘But how do you know that? It’s got to be worth thinking about. Jojo, who is never ill, suddenly gets really ill for like weeks on end, and the moment she’s apparently better she does the most un-Jojo thing possible and steals a baby.’
‘Only she hasn’t,’ Ram says.
‘I can’t believe you won’t accept there’s even the tiniest possibility she’s done this.’
‘I’m sorry, Frankie, but I can’t. I think you’ve put two and two together and got, I dunno, eleven billion, five hundred and twenty-six thousand, three hundred and sixty-six point nine recurring.’
‘But what if she has?’ I say.
‘She hasn’t,’ he replies, not missing a beat.
God, he’s irritating.
Time for a new angle.
‘OK, fine, let’s reverse things then. Let’s say Jojo hasn’t taken Olivia. Then why is she in some random hotel room in Swindon? And why has she lied about it? You can’t deny there’s something strange going on, baby or no baby.’
Ram hesitates, genuine worry finally flickering across his face. ‘Are you absolutely certain she doesn’t know anyone in Swindon?’ he asks. ‘No distant relatives or anything?’
‘Positive.’
‘What about online friends? There might be people you don’t know about.’
‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘She would have told me.’
‘Do you know that for sure?’
I blink in surprise. I’m offended he’s even asking this. He knows how close Jojo and I are, he’s witnessed it first-hand.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Jojo and I tell one another everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t think she might keep things from you? I’m not talking sinister stuff. I’m just wondering if there might be things she prefers to keep to herself.’
‘No,’ I say, my face hot with indignation. ‘Why would she? We’re best friends.’
‘Hey, don’t get mad at me,’ he says, holding his hands up. ‘I don’t know the answers here. I was just asking.’
I hesitate, suddenly unsure of myself. Could it be possible that Jojo’s been keeping secrets from me? The idea makes me feel sick.
‘Was there anyone else in the room when you spoke to her?’ Ram asks. ‘Did you hear anyone in the background or anything?’
‘Just Olivia.’
He gives me a sharp look. I return it with one of my own.
There’s a long pause.
‘So, are you going to help me or not?’ I ask.
Ram sighs and rubs the back of his neck. ‘Why me, Frankie? We haven’t seen each other in months and all of a sudden you’re wanting me to drive you halfway across the country. It doesn’t exactly make sense.’
‘Do you want the honest answer?’
‘Well, preferably, yeah.’
‘You’re the only person I know with a car.’
‘Aha.’
‘It’s not just that, though!’ I add quickly. ‘Jojo likes you. She trusts you. I can’t turn up with just anyone. I have no idea what I’m walking into here.’
Another pause.
Ram lets out a heavy sigh.
I hold my breath.
‘I’ll need to be get back before morning,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a shift at ten.’
Is that a yes? I think it might be a yes.
‘No problem,’ I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. ‘If we get going soon, we’ll be back in loads of time.’
‘Hang on, I haven’t agreed yet.’
‘Well, hurry up and do it then. Jojo needs us and we’re wasting time.’
Ram rakes his hands through his hair. ‘You’re certain this hotel is where she is?’
‘She was there as of just before seven o’clock. I’m guessing she’s paid to stay for at least one night so I can’t see why she’d go anywhere else until tomorrow morning at the earliest.’
He swears under his breath. ‘You’ll have to navigate,’ he says then.
‘Oh my God, thank you!’ I cry. I want to hug him but it feels like too much of an overstep so I just do a little dance on the spot instead.
‘But just to be clear,’ Ram says, as I follow him down the steps. ‘I don’t for one second think Jojo’s taken this baby, OK?’
‘OK,’ I reply.
‘That’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing it because Jojo’s all alone in a random town and might need our help. Right?’
‘Understood.’
‘OK. Good. Now, why don’t you go wait in the foyer while I collect my stuff.’
Ram has parked down a side road a few minutes’ walk away from the ice rink. Despite the dimming light, it’s still boiling. After the cool of the rink, it’s like stepping into an oven.
He’s changed out of his black ‘Skate Marshal’ polo shirt and into a white T-shirt. He looks good in white. I always used to tell him so.
‘Don’t touch the car until I’ve unlocked it,’ he says, rummaging in his bag for his keys.
‘How come?’ I ask.
‘The previous owner went to town on some fancy alarm system. It’s ridiculously sensitive. You only have to brush the car and it goes off.’
‘What, like this?’ I ask, pretending to nudge the bonnet.
‘Frankie!’ Ram scolds. ‘I mean it.’
‘Oh, calm down, I was only joking.’
‘Well, it wasn’t funny. The alarm is really bloody loud. We’d wake half the street.’
I roll my eyes as he unlocks the car. I’d forgotten what a stickler for the rules he can be.
‘Did you pass first time?’ I ask as I climb into the passenger seat.
‘My driving test?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Thought so. How many lessons did you have? No, let me guess.’ I think for a moment. ‘Fifteen? No, twelve.’
‘Close. Eleven.’
I’m not remotely surprised. Ram is one of life’s golden boys – naturally good at everything. It used to impress me and drive me mad in equal measures, the way he could turn his hand to almost anything with little to no effort (at least that’s what it looked like from the outside). Of course he passed his driving test first time after only eleven lessons. Of course he did.
‘How many minors?’ I ask.
‘Three.’
‘Hmmm.’
Despite the fancy alarm system, Ram’s car is not especially posh (a second-hand Citroën) but it is immaculate. Empty, apart from one of those magic tree air fresheners dangling from the rear-view mirror, both the exterior and interior are pristine. Not that I expected anything less. His bedroom was the neatest of anyone I’ve ever met. The first time I went inside, I felt like I was stepping into one of those show bedrooms at IKEA.
‘Nice wheels,’ I say, putting on my seat belt.
‘Thanks,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re OK to navigate, right?’
‘Yeah. I’m not sure how long my battery will last, though.’
‘I’ve got a charger in my bag.’
‘OK, cool.’ I type the postcode into Google Maps. It’s further than I thought.
‘What’s our estimated arrival time?’ Ram asks.
‘Um, elevenish,’ I say, rounding down by almost an hour and angling the phone away so he can’t see the screen. The last thing I need is for him to get put off by the distance and change his mind.
‘Shit,’ he says. ‘I’m going to be driving all night pretty much. You best not fall asleep.’
‘W
hat do you mean?’ I ask, feigning innocence.
‘Frankie. The entire time we were going out I don’t think you once made it to the end of a film without conking out. And we watched a lot of films.’
He’s right. We did. Especially towards the end when it was becoming increasingly obvious we had hardly anything in common.
‘I promise I won’t fall asleep on you,’ I say. ‘Scout’s honour.’
‘Since when were you a scout?’
‘Oh, don’t be so picky. You have my word I won’t fall asleep, OK?’
Ram looks sceptical but starts the car.
As the engine roars into life, a shiver dances up my spine.
‘Ready?’ Ram asks.
‘Ready,’ I reply.
Chapter 10
Ram and I have been on the road for less than fifteen minutes and already we appear to have run out of conversation.
Excellent.
‘Mind if I put the radio on?’ I ask. I’m not very good with silences. Just a few minutes of quiet makes me feel antsy. I’d be such a bad monk.
‘Sure,’ Ram says.
I lean forward and fiddle with the buttons until I find KISS. I turn up the volume and lean back in my seat.
My phone buzzes in my lap with yet another text message asking why Jojo and I aren’t at the party. I’ve been replying to them all with the same cut and pasted response.
‘You’re popular tonight,’ Ram says as I press ‘send’.
‘I’m supposed to be at a party right now,’ I reply. ‘GCSE results day and all that.’
‘Oh shit, of course. How’d you do?’
‘Not bad,’ I say. ‘No horrible surprises. One really nice one.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah. A nine in drama.’
‘That’s wicked,’ he says. ‘Well done.’
His happiness for me seems genuine. I’d forgotten how supportive he always was, especially of my acting ambitions.
‘How’d Jojo do, do you know?’ he adds.
‘No. She never picked up her envelope, did she. Oh, it’s a left here, by the way.’
He flicks on his indicator. ‘So, what you going to do?’ he asks. ‘Stay on for sixth form? Go to college? Hey, what happened with that acting place you and Jojo used to talk about all the time?’
He means the Arts Academy.
I hesitate. The day I found out I didn’t get into the academy was one of the worst of my life. I’m not exactly in the mood to relive it.
‘I didn’t end up auditioning,’ I say.
‘Really? But you wanted to get in so badly.’
‘Yeah, I know. But the more I looked into it, the more I realized it maybe wasn’t for me.’
‘How come?’
‘Well, the commute to start with. It’s a train and a bus. And you know what I’m like in the mornings. Totally useless.’
I laugh. I think it’s pretty convincing but Ram doesn’t join in.
‘Do you still want to act?’ he asks.
‘Of course I do,’ I say indignantly. ‘More than anything. I can act anywhere, though. I don’t need to go to the Arts Academy.’
There’s a pause.
‘What about Jojo?’ he asks. ‘Did she audition?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I reply lightly, my fingers tracing the window frame.
‘And? How’d she do?’
Once more, I hesitate. I can’t exactly lie again, though. Not when we’re going to be seeing Jojo in a matter of hours.
‘She got a place,’ I say.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Wow. How many people apply again? Isn’t it loads?’
‘Thousands,’ I admit.
‘Wow,’ he repeats. ‘What an achievement. Good for her.’
‘Yeah,’ I murmur.
‘You happy for her?’ he asks.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I snap. ‘Of course I’m happy for her, she’s my best friend.’
‘Calm down, I was just asking.’
‘Yeah, well, it was a stupid question. As if I wouldn’t be happy for her. What do you take me for?’
‘I was going to say: it would be OK if you weren’t. You’re only human, after all.’
‘Well, I am, OK? Happy for her, I mean.’
‘OK, OK. I’m sorry I asked.’
We don’t speak for another three songs.
Although it was Ms Abraham who first told Jojo and me about the Arts Academy, I was the one who sent off for the prospectus and booked Jojo and I on the open day and initiated practically all our conversations about it. Not that Jojo wasn’t interested. In her own quiet way, I believe she wanted to get in just as much as me. I know for a fact she practised her audition speech way more than I did mine. Which begs the question, why would she jeopardize her place by doing something as crazy and downright criminal as this? She’s due to start at the academy in less than two weeks. She can’t exactly do that if she’s on the run with Olivia Sinclair.
My brain hurts.
Nothing makes sense.
And yet I know my instincts are right.
Jojo has Olivia.
I just have no idea why.
‘What are you doing?’ Ram asks.
We’ve been travelling for over an hour, although it feels like much longer. It’s fully dark now, but no less stiflingly hot.
‘Googling why people steal babies,’ I reply.
Ram rolls his eyes.
I ignore him and scan the results page. ‘There are entire articles about it,’ I report, clicking on the first result.
‘And?’ Ram asks.
‘What happened to you thinking I’ve made this whole thing up?’
Ram sighs. ‘I don’t think you’ve made anything up. I just think you’ve made some pretty massive assumptions based on very little. It doesn’t mean I’m not interested. I mean, someone’s taken Olivia, haven’t they?’
I don’t answer him, skim-reading an article on a psychology website. The content is not what I was expecting.
‘OK, this is going to sound really weird,’ I say. ‘But most people who steal babies are women who are trying to keep their relationship together.’
‘Huh?’
‘I know.’
‘But how does that even work? The woman just turns up with a baby one day and expects her boyfriend or whoever not to ask any questions?’
‘Not exactly. According to this, she’ll have probably faked an entire pregnancy.’
‘But that’s insane.’
‘I know. Plus, Jojo doesn’t even have a boyfriend.’
‘You know that for definite?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘No reason.’
Apart from a three-week relationship with Christopher Wan in Year Nine, during which they exchanged maybe eleven words at the most, Jojo has always been single despite my best efforts to matchmake.
I go back to the main results page and scroll down. I click on some more links, most of which repeat the same theory, until I find something a bit different.
‘OK, here we go,’ I say. ‘This article refers to a case from 2013 where a woman abducted a newborn from a hospital, and when they delved into her history it turned out she’d had loads of miscarriages.’ I sigh. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense either. Jojo’s never even had sex.’
Ram glances over at me. ‘She hasn’t?’
I pause, suddenly aware I’ve said too much.
‘You won’t let on I told you that, will you?’ I ask.
‘Of course I won’t. It’s none of my business.’
‘Thanks. It’s just that Jojo’s kind of private about that sort of thing.’
‘I won’t say a word.’
I close down the tabs and rest my phone on my lap. ‘So, how about you?’ I ask. ‘You seeing anyone at the moment?’
There’s no evidence of a girlfriend on Instagram, but then Ram was never especially into flaunting our relationship online. I managed to persuade him to pose for a few photos but
he always did so grudgingly, the look in his eyes screaming that he had a million better things he’d rather be doing than cuddling up to his girlfriend in front of a camera lens. It was one of the many things we used to argue about.
‘It wouldn’t kill you to look like you’re having a good time,’ I’d say.
‘That’s just it,’ he’d reply. ‘I was having a great time until the precise moment you pointed a camera in my face. Can’t we just enjoy hanging out without having to document it?’
‘It doesn’t mean he loves you any less,’ I remember Jojo saying when I complained to her about it. ‘He just isn’t keen on having his private life splashed all over the internet.’
‘It’s not like I’m posting pictures of him naked or on the loo,’ I muttered.
‘I know,’ Jojo said gently, ever the diplomat. ‘But I’m worried you’re confusing him not wanting to pose for selfies with you with him not being proud to have you as his girlfriend.’
They were both being totally reasonable, of course. I knew that deep down, which was probably why I was acting like such a brat about it. The fact was, despite Ram’s explanation and Jojo’s reassurances, I still couldn’t help but worry that his reluctance to appear in photos was a reflection of his feelings towards me, and that with another girl – a prettier, cleverer, more interesting, all-round better girl – he’d behave totally differently.
I realize Ram hasn’t answered my question.
‘Well?’ I prompt.
‘No,’ Ram says. ‘I’m not seeing anyone.’
‘Have you seen anyone since we broke up?’
‘No.’
I’m surprised. And also a little pleased.
‘How come?’ I ask, unable to resist the temptation to fish.
He shrugs.
‘It’s not like you’ve not got the opportunity,’ I point out. I think of all the girls I saw giving him heart eyes tonight. He could have a different girlfriend for every day of the week if he wanted to.
‘I haven’t really had the time,’ he says.
‘If you meet someone you like, you make time.’ You did for me, I add silently.
First Day of My Life Page 6