I lift my face to the warmth of the sunshine. It’s peaceful here. The house is owned by Helen Bonaparte’s daughter, Sasha, another doctor and her husband Mark, a Torch operative who monitors the news and tells us what’s really happening. They’re looking after us until we’re, as Helen calls it, ‘back on our feet’. I was suspicious at first. I felt like I couldn’t really trust anyone, not even them. But Helen says they would never have hurt me before. They just wanted to know what they were up against and never would have done anything without my consent. I’m choosing to trust them.
Let’s face it, I have to start somewhere. I open my eyes and look across fields that stretch into the distance. It feels as though nothing has really changed for centuries. There are fluffy blobs of sheep here and there and the stone walls make patchwork of the fields.
Something black and white shoots past me and I smile. Sasha named the cat Humphrey. He’s in heaven here on the farm, chasing mice and sleeping in the sunshine.
A shape moves into my eye-line by one of the walls. Squinting into the sunlight, I realise it’s Kyla. She lifts her hair up from around her neck and effortlessly twists it into some sort of knot. She dips her head again, wiping hard at her eyes. I’m just about to get up and go back inside again and then I hesitate. I can’t avoid her for ever.
I miss her. I miss Jax too. Every time I think about his goofy grin it’s like someone knifes me in the chest. I look at the girl sitting on the wall now, her knees drawn into her chest and her arms around them as though she’s holding herself in one piece.
Jax has gone but Kyla is still here.
I take a few deep breaths and then walk slowly down the hill towards her. She turns when she hears me and her eyes fill with tears.
Neither of us speaks. I stand there, feeling useless as I always do around her, while she slowly gets to her feet. She wipes her face and our eyes meet.
‘Hey you,’ I say quietly.
‘Hey you, too,’ she says and manages a small smile.
‘Kyla, I . . .’ I feel like someone stole all the words. I’m tongue-tied and feel helpless. But there are really only two words that matter.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say and gulp as tears blur my vision.
Her eyes go misty and her face crumples. She holds out her arms and we come together like magnets are pulling us close. We just hold each other for ages and ages. It’s a long time before she speaks.
‘It’s not your fault, Matt. Oh, I don’t think I can get used to calling you Cal!’
We bend so our foreheads are touching. I’ve never been this close to her before. Apart from when we slept on that sofa.
‘Kyla . . . You’re not going to be alone. I’m not going to let you go this time.’
I don’t allow myself to think about it. I just tilt my head and kiss her gently on the lips. We stop and then smile at each other. Her eyes sparkle with tears and she looks over my shoulder and then takes a step back from me, giving me a gentle push.
‘Later,’ she says. ‘I think there are some people who want to see you right now.’
I spin round the other way. I can see two middle-aged people: a woman with red hair and a familiar green coat, and a slightly overweight man in jeans and a checked blue shirt. They’re both walking quickly up the hill and looking a bit out of breath.
I hear the woman shout. ‘Cal?’ She clutches the man’s arm and runs forward. ‘Cal!’
‘Go on,’ whispers Kyla. ‘Hurry!’
I don’t need to be told twice.
I start running down the hill.
The year 2011 was a big one for me because Dark Ride was published, I had to finish Cracks and I moved house all within the space of a few months. I owe a massive debt to my editor Anne Clark at Piccadilly Press who was such a calming voice of reason during my many headless chicken impersonations and for her work in helping to shape this story. Huge thanks also to Melissa Hyder for all her excellent suggestions on the text.
I’d like to give profuse and heartfelt thanks to Luisa Plaja, Emily Gale and Alexandra Fouracres for providing immense quantities of support, laughs and virtual tea. My agent Catherine Pellegrino has also provided invaluable support, for which many thanks.
Finally, Pete, Joe and Harry Lownds are owed so much in so many ways that I haven’t the space to list them all. I am so lucky to have you guys.
Also by Caroline Green:
A shiver crawled up my spine. It felt like the loneliest place in the world. For a second I thought I caught a snatch of music in the air, but it was just the wind whistling through cracks in the fairground hoardings.
My instincts screamed, ‘Run away, Bel! Run away and never return!’
But instead my fingers closed around the ticket in my pocket.
ADMIT ONE.
Bel has never met anyone like Luka. And the day she follows him into the abandoned fairground, she is totally unprepared for the turn her life is about to take . . .
Winner of the RNA Young Adult award Longlisted for the Branford Boase award
‘Full of tension, mystery and real-life drama, Dark Ride is not to be missed.’
Chicklish
‘An impressive debut . . . almost impossible to put down.’
Goodreads
Gil is on a collision course with his father, and when he meets Jude, a passionate activist, things soon reach crisis point.
As Jude’s plans become clear, Gil is faced with a devastating dilemma that goes right to the heart of his own identity.
A fast-paced and thought-provoking thriller.
‘Riveting story.’
Irish Examiner
‘Totally gripping.’
Inkscratchers
‘Gil is a great character and you can really feel his emotions. You will love this book, especially if you are into action stories.’
Bookbabblers
Chris needs to talk, but he can’t. He lost the power of speech completely when his best friend, Declan, died in a car crash.
As months pass, school friends give up on him and only eco-freak, Ariel, and a suspiciously friendly new boy, Will, are left. While Will encourages increasingly dangerous ways for Chris to forget Declan, Ariel realises her silent friend is hiding something.
But what is Chris’s terrifying secret? And will he find his voice before it’s too late?
A moving thriller, by the acclaimed author of comin 2 gt u and The Bex Factor.
‘A terrific, gripping and multi-layered story.’
National Literacy Association on comin 2 gt u
Cracks Page 18