I wrench at her, pulling my arms away, but she’s so strong and her face is so angry, tortured, so terrifying. ‘Please – Tilly – leave me alone!’
She cocks her head to one side and there’s no skin across her cheek; just a jagged hole through the flesh. I’m going to vomit. I’m gone – and then she drops my hands, and walks right through me. Like I’m not there. My whole body is rigid with cold. I’m shaking. My breathing’s crazy and erratic.
As I spin round to see where she is, what she’s up to, there’s a flash right behind me, something hits me and I’m down.
As I wake, it takes a second to work out where I am. I’m still on the track, down near the river. I’m freezing and my head’s pounding as I try to stand up. I rub at it and feel a lump, hard and tender right on the back; it must have happened when I fell. I go to pull the hoodie around me and it’s gone. I’m just in a t-shirt and my arms are cold to touch. Then I remember her. Tilly Rose. Did she hit me? All I can remember is seeing her. But it can’t be her. She isn’t dead. She’s just missing.
I keep chanting this to myself as I run down the track, terrified of the darkness that’s sprung up and makes shadows leap along around me. Ghosts aren’t real. Tilly Rose isn’t dead. It was all just my imagination. I check my phone. I’ve been gone from the house for two hours and there are seven missed calls from Ruby. I’m in so much trouble, because how on earth can I explain what’s just happened to anyone? I’m expecting Mum to be pretty angry with me when I make it home.
It’s darker here than it is in the city, because there are no streetlights. As I walk up to our house, I sort of hope she’s pacing around with dinner burning and Dad trying to calm her down. My head really hurts and I want a bit of a circus. Some noise and fuss. Anything to escape thinking about the river and Tilly. But there’s no sign of anyone in the house. There aren’t even any lights on and when I knock no one comes. Luckily my parents have already cut me a spare key, so I dig deep and force it into the lock. The door doesn’t spring open like it did the day Dad tried it, but at least it lets me in.
‘Mum? Dad?’ It seems like no one’s home. I turn on all the lights that I can find until the only dark left is squashed into the corners. ‘Max?’
I don’t know why I keep calling out, but I’m hoping someone’s fallen asleep in the dark and they’ll suddenly spring up when they hear my voice. I creep into the kitchen, flick on the light and see a plate of food covered in foil sitting near the microwave. It’s spag bol. Is it for me? Must be. Thanks, Mum. I’m starving, so I don’t even bother heating it up. Shovelling it in, I wonder again where my family is. I look for a note, but there isn’t one. We’ve never been the sort of family that communicates on the fridge. Ruby and her mum go for days without really seeing each other, but they leave notes and messages and they both know where the other one is all the time. I was jealous for a while. It seemed so sophisticated, like living with a flatmate instead of a mother, but Ruby hates it. She always comes to my place just to have a family dinner and a conversation with adults, because she gets lonely. Except now that we’ve moved.
My head is really starting to ache. I hope it’s not concussion.
I don’t want to ring Mum, because she’ll yell. Or go quiet and that’s even worse – especially on the phone, because then you have to fill in the silences and try to imagine what she’s thinking. But I don’t have much choice. If they’re out looking for me, they’ll be worried and it’s better if they know I’m okay.
Mum’s phone is off. That’s not unusual. She often forgets to charge it and then can’t ring it to find it. Then it stays lost for days until she remembers it’s in her handbag or a jacket pocket. Once she yelled at Max and me for ages before school, because she couldn’t find her phone and she needed it before dropping us off. We could all hear it ringing, but no one knew where it was coming from. Finally Max said it sounded like it was on her. And she looked down into her knee-high boot and realised it had fallen inside and was ringing against her leg and she hadn’t felt it through her jeans. We still tease her about it now.
I try Dad. He always answers. But his phone’s off too. And Max doesn’t have one, so I can’t contact him. It’s all too much. Where would they disappear to at 7.30 at night? I’m worried something bad’s happened.
I don’t want to go upstairs on my own, but maybe they’re playing hide and seek. I climb the stairs and in the attic, the footprints have dried. There’s just smatterings of old mud and the outline of footprints like shadows. They make me shiver.
My phone rings and I snatch at it without checking who it is.
‘Lil?’
‘Rubes!’
‘Yeah. Where have you been?’
‘At the river. I think Tilly’s dead.’
‘What?’
‘I’m pretty sure I just saw her ghost.’
‘Lil—’
‘I’m okay. I’m just – I can’t find anyone. I came home and they’re not here.’
‘You sure you’re okay? You’re sort of rambling.’
‘My head hurts. I’ll call you later.’
‘Your head?’
‘I promise.’ I hang up and the phone downstairs starts ringing. I race down the stairs.
‘Lil?’
‘Mum! Where are you? I was so worried – and I didn’t know where you were – and—’
‘Honey, we’re at the Chinese – remember?’
And then I do. I remember. I’m supposed to be looking after Max, and I’m supposed to be feeding him and making sure he’s done his homework. And I’m in so much trouble.
‘Yeah, course, Mum. How’s the food?’
‘It’s interesting – not quite what we’re used to, but it’s fine. We’ll be home soon. We’re pretty much the only ones here! Can I talk to Max?’
‘Um – he’s in the shower.’
‘Really? Max?’
My brother hates washing himself and will do anything to get out of it, including pay me to have his shower for him, because he doesn’t want to waste water – but he doesn’t want to wash either. I can make a dollar without having to do anything other than stand under hot water. Easy money.
‘Have a good night, Mum. We’ll see you later.’
I hang up on her quickly, before she can ask me anything else or work out that I’m lying. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t want to completely panic, but where could he be? I know my room’s clear because I’ve already been up there. I look in the lounge, under the couch, behind the chair, just in case he’s pretending we’re still three. He’s nowhere. There’s no sign of him. He’s not in his room, his shoes haven’t been kicked under his bed and I can’t find him.
I race out onto the street, hoping to see him dawdling along with a smile on his face and I can pay him to pretend he’s been home with me all this time. But the street’s as empty as it always is, and I don’t know where to begin. When I left Max after school, he was home. So where could he have gone? Standing in the middle of the road I swing around in a circle, wondering which direction to head off in.
School is even more ominous at this time of night than during the day. I half expect Mrs Jarvis to skulk out, grab me on the back of the neck and interrogate me for hours. But it’s empty. There’s no one around. I can’t see any stray boys Max’s age down on the basketball court shooting hoops, so I keep walking. Mum and Dad will be home any second. They won’t forgive me if something happens to Max. I’ve got to walk the long way around the main street so Mum and Dad don’t see me passing the Chinese restaurant. I keep thinking about Tilly, and before I realise where I am, I’m back down near the oval. At least my headache has stopped. So it’s not concussion.
It’s eerie in the dark. Something swoops down overhead and I’m hoping it’s a bat. If it’s not, I don’t want to know. It’s crazy to come back after what happened this afternoon, but maybe Max followed me
down here earlier. I’ll find him, we’ll race home, just before Mum and Dad come home with their little doggy bag of sweet and sour pork. That’s my positive thought for the day. It might be a bit harder than that, but right now I’m not going to think about anything bad.
I just want to try something out. I close my eyes really tight and imagine Max’s face. I can sort of see him laughing at some dumb joke Dad’s told. Then I let go of my thoughts, like I’m meditating. I’ve never been very good at this, but I want to see where my mind goes if I’m not controlling it. Instead of seeing Max, though, I start to see Tilly. She flashes into my head and Max is gone. I’m hoping she’ll lead me to him. Maybe she’s like a guide or something, but then she plunges into water and all I can see are bubbles rushing up around her. Her hair tangles around her face and she’s trying to say something, but I can’t see her mouth. And then she’s gone.
I almost scream when my phone goes. It’s Ruby.
‘I’ve got to find Max. I’m supposed to be babysitting.’
‘Where is he?’
‘No idea.’
‘You sound a bit psycho.’
‘I am. Tilly’s a ghost. Honestly, Ruby. It was terrifying. She walked right through the middle of me.’
‘But I thought—’
‘I know. I thought she’d just run away. That’s what Danny said. But it’s not true. She died. And I think she’s trying to tell me something, something about the river, the place they used to go.’
‘Max wouldn’t have followed you would he?’
‘Oh. Crap. He could have. Oh. Ruby, what have I done? What if—’
‘Just go and look for him. It’ll be fine. Trust me.’
For a second I forget what I’m supposed to be doing, but then another bat flies over and squeals as it passes me and I remember Max. He’s not on the oval. But even if he was here I couldn’t see him anyway and I realise how stupid it was to race off without a torch. Away from the glow of the city lights it’s so dark, somebody could wander off down the road, disappear into the blackness and only be found in the morning.
As I head through the picnic area, at least I feel like I know my way now. I just have to pretend I’m like a shadow, and can pass through the night undetected.
‘Max?’ My voice sounds so alien in this place. ‘Max. It’s Lil. Are you there?’
I can just make out the bridge, and the water is shining in the dark, like a giant eel. The river feels bigger and stronger than it did even a few hours ago, but it must be just the dark swelling it up and blurring its edges.
‘Max?’
I edge down onto the bank. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. My feet just want to walk closer to the water. And then there’s something behind me and it bumps against me. I’m sure because I feel water on my legs and I spin round in the dark – but there’s nothing. I touch behind my knees and the material is damp. Then it happens again, something bumps my arm and I jump forward, desperate to get away from whatever it is, but it happens again. Another bump and I can feel the ground sloping away under my feet. And there’s a push and I’m bending forward, my toes trying to grip in the mud. One last bump and I’m skidding all the way down, screaming and terrified that something is sending me in.
‘Lil!’
And hearing his voice, I grab at a branch overhead and stop just before my feet hit the water.
‘Max? Max, where are you?’
There’s a scrabble in the dark, a noise like an animal or something bigger, and it’s running.
‘Lil? Help!’
‘Where are you? I can’t see.’
‘I’m down here.’
More scrabbling, a scream, a splash and I know where he is. I pull myself up so fast, and run along the bank to the splash. My feet are burning up the mud as I slide down and into the river. I see an arm go up, a leg. I grab at something – his arm – and pull. But we’re both being yanked along and his hand slips out of mine.
‘Max!’
His head’s up out of the water and now I’ve got both his hands and almost rip them from his body.
‘Lil. Lil!’ He’s crying as I thrash sideways against the current and I grab his belt buckle, pull his weedy little body on top of me, then we slam down hard onto the bank, our feet still in the water, but we’re safe.
‘Max? You okay?’
He spits water over my shoulder. He’s shivering. His skin is freezing.
‘Lil.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I slipped.’
‘Yeah.’ And we stay like that, draped on the riverbank, our feet in the muddy water, simply breathing. And then I remember that our parents will be home soon and I pull Max up and drag him to the slope.
We must look insane, the two of us shuffling along the track. I’m still holding his arm and I can’t believe I’ve touched his skin for this long. Max and I normally avoid all physical contact unless we’re locked in an arm wrestle.
‘Did you follow me?’ I say.
‘Yeah.’
‘Why did you stay down here?’
‘I was mucking around. Wanted to see what you’d do.’
‘Don’t do that again.’ I want to rant at him like Mum would, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want all this. I just want to go back home – my real home, with Ruby – where the only things we worry about are homework and teachers and finding ways round our parents. It’s my fault that Max almost drowned and I don’t know how to explain that to him or me or anyone else.
My hand’s shaking as I try to put the key in the lock, but Max grabs it and opens the door easily.
‘I told Mum you were in the shower when she rang.’
‘I sort of was.’
‘Funny.’
‘Don’t tell her.’
‘I’m not planning to.’
‘Sorry, Lil.’
‘Hey, you know when you followed me, did you see anything? Anyone, I mean.’
‘Nah. Just you, running back home. You looked white, like you’d seen –’
‘A ghost?’
‘Yeah, I’m starving.’
‘I ate all the spag bol. Toasted cheese or toasted cheese?’
‘Tough decision!’
While he puts on something dry I cut cheese and bread and try to light the stupid gas grill. When Max comes back in, he looks more like the brother I know.
‘It’s just a cheese sandwich. Sorry – the grill won’t light.’
We sit at the little table in the kitchen and eat. The bread’s hard and stale, but it was like that when Mum bought it, because she insists on bread packed with grain that birds like more than humans, but now we have to rip into it with our front teeth before we can start to chew. Max looks up at me, his hair still wet and slick. He grins, a piece of crust in his teeth and crumbs all around his mouth. I laugh at him; that’s what he wants. He laughs back and the bread he’s chewing sprays from his mouth, and that only makes me laugh even more. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat in the kitchen and laughed together like we did when we were little, and now we can’t stop.
Without us hearing them come in, Mum and Dad suddenly walk into the kitchen and the look of them both dressed up, clutching their doggy bags, makes us laugh even more.
If I thought Gideon was a sad little place, the town of Maine is even smaller. It’s probably not one of my best ideas, but I really have to know what’s going on. Tilly’s mum will be more likely to talk to me in person than on the phone, so here I am: sweaty, tired, wondering what to say and hating the idea of riding all the way home again on my bike.
It takes about a minute to find the block of flats because they are basically the only flats in the whole town. They look small and run down and I wonder if she’s moved here because she had to. I can’t believe she’s living in number 4. What is it about that number that would make her c
hoose it again?
I knock on the door, hoping she’s not home so I can say that I tried. And I’m just about to shuffle off, as the front door opens. She looks nothing like she did in the papers. There’s no bright lipstick or styled hair. Actually she looks awful. Gaunt. Big black rings under her eyes. She’s still in a dressing gown, even though it’s like three in the afternoon.
‘Hello, Mrs Sarenson. I’m Lily Frost.’
‘Oh? Do I know you?’
‘No, you don’t, but I’m living in your old house.’
‘In Gideon? Oh. Is something wrong?’
Maybe when your daughter goes missing, you start believing things are wrong more often than not.
‘Um, can I come in?’
She looks past me, checking to see if I’m alone. Then she nods and says okay.
Inside it stinks of stale cigarettes. The house in Gideon doesn’t smell like this and I wonder if she took up smoking when Tilly went missing. The flat is basically just one room with a little kitchen at the back and a couch, a TV, dresser and a door leading off – I guess to the bedroom and bathroom. It’s a lot different from the large, imposing Gideon house. I wonder what’s brought her here.
She sits down on one end of the couch and I perch on the other. Now I’m here, I’m not really sure what I’m doing. Before I can say anything, I notice a line of photographs, framed and arranged along the edge of the dresser. They’re all of Tilly, staring into the camera, her hair long and shiny. The photo they used in the papers is there too. It’s the biggest one and right at the front. She sees me looking at them.
‘That’s my daughter,’ she says.
‘Yeah. Tilly.’
‘Do you know her?’
She says ‘do’, not ‘did’. So she must think she’s alive.
‘No.’
‘Most of them, they were taken last year.’
‘Oh.’
‘We had a photographer friend. Always said she was such a pretty girl.’
‘Yeah she is.’
Haunting of Lily Frost Page 13