Hide and Secrets

by Sophie McKenzie

  And hope.

  * * *

  We emerge from the hot and smelly underground into Liverpool Street Station. I tell Bess to stay close, but she’s already gripping my hand tightly. Neither of us have ever seen so many people packed into a single place.

  ‘I’ll get the tickets,’ I say, heading over to the ticket machine. I know how these work from the shopping trips Mum and I do to Exeter.

  Tyler rummages in his pocket and draws out a couple of crumpled notes. ‘Let me pay for mine,’ he says.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘You’re only here to help me, I should pay.’

  ‘I can manage,’ he says, firmly.

  ‘Okay.’ I shrug, turning back to the machine.

  Our train leaves in twenty minutes, so there’s plenty of time. We buy drinks and sandwiches with our leftover cash then stand, watching the noticeboard for our platform number.

  I get the sudden sense I’m being watched. I tug Bess, already huddled at my side, even closer. There are far too many people here to keep track of. It would be easy for someone to have followed us without us knowing. A shudder runs down my spine. I spin round, my eyes flickering over the people nearby. No. I’m just spooked. Imagining things.

  At least I hope I am.

  * * *

  The train to Norfolk is surprisingly empty, though our carriage is hot and stuffy. After about an hour, Bess falls asleep, her mouth open and a strand of hair sticking damply to her pale cheek.

  ‘When did you say Bess stopped speaking?’ Tyler asks, looking over at her.

  ‘Just after we found out Dad was missing…’ My mind drifts back to that terrible moment, when the police arrived on our doorstep, all serious faces and solemn voices. Even though I couldn’t hear their exact words, I knew what they were telling her. ‘Bess was worse back then,’ I go on. ‘Nowadays I sometimes think she actually wants to speak, but… but it’s like she’s stuck in a room and doesn’t know how to open the door to get out.’

  ‘I was younger than Bess when my mum died.’ Tyler’s voice – soft and low – brings me back to the swaying train carriage. I glance at him and he gives me a small, sad smile. ‘It’s hard when you’re little. You just don’t understand what’s going on.’

  ‘But you didn’t stop speaking, did you?’ I ask.

  Tyler shakes his head. ‘Everyone grieves in their own way,’ he says with a sigh. ‘That’s what Dad always says anyway.’

  I sit back, gazing out of the window at the trees and fields rushing past. For the first time since we ran away from Alexandra Palace, I feel calmer. Less anxious. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing to bring Bess with us, after all. I’m going to find – and warn – Dad at the mobile-home park. I’m sure of it. And, though I don’t know what’s going to happen when we do, maybe it will help Bess start talking again.

  And if that can happen, anything can.

  18

  The sun is shining brightly by the time we get to Norfolk. It’s almost 12.30 p.m. and we only have a few minutes to find our bus. After a panicky race across the tarmac we make it just in time. The bus itself reminds me of the ones in Devon, though everything else is very different. The roads are wider for a start, and the sky somehow bigger. Around Brockledore it’s all twisty, hedge-lined lanes over dips and hills, with farmed fields beyond. Here, the land is mostly open and flat. I’ve never seen anywhere that stretches out so far.

  Gradually, the bus empties out. By the time we reach the end of the line, we’re the only people left on board. It’s 1.30 p.m. – and we still have a long walk ahead of us. I’d allowed an hour for the three-mile hike to Saltcliff, but having Bess with us means it could easily take twice as long. Fresh butterflies flutter in my belly. We’re going to be pushing it to get back to London tonight.

  ‘Come on, Bess,’ I urge, taking her by the hand. ‘We need to get going.’

  I hurry along, checking Tyler’s phone’s map app to make sure we’re walking in the right direction. Tyler hasn’t said much during the journey, but as I hand him back his mobile, he leans in close and whispers in my ear.

  ‘You nervous?’

  His breath is hot against my skin. It makes my whole body shiver. Trying not to show how unsettled I feel by his walking so close to me, I make a face.

  ‘About possibly meeting my dead dad after a year and a half?’ I say, lowering my voice so that Bess doesn’t hear. ‘Nah, not nervous at all.’

  Tyler grins, then falls back. Bess turns, flapping a piece of paper at him. She’s clearly hankering to show him the dog drawing she did on the bus. I tell her it will have to wait until we stop and tug her after me. She resists, pulling back, and my mobile, nestling in my shirt pocket, bumps against my chest. Part of me wants to put the SIM in and call Mum. I know she’ll be worried about us. But she’ll also be mad. And likely to demand we come straight back.

  So I leave my phone in my pocket.

  ‘Come on, Bess.’

  She gives me a sulky look, but speeds up.

  The road we’re on is dusty and flat, the sun fierce overhead. For the first forty-five minutes we move briskly, Bess keeping up fairly well. Then the land rises steeply, forcing us to slow down. Even though Tyler half carries Bess up the hill, it still takes another half an hour to reach the summit. Suddenly, we’re at the top of a cliff, the sea spread out in front of us – blue and sparkling, like it’s covered with tiny stars.

  ‘Marvista,’ I say under my breath. Sea view.

  There’s no question. Dad would love it here.

  The cliff runs for miles in either direction. A few stony beaches are visible in the distance. They are all completely deserted.

  ‘You’d think there’d be more tourists,’ Tyler says. ‘I guess it’s cold, though.’

  He’s right. The wind whips at our faces, making the air far chillier than it was earlier in London.

  ‘All the more perfect for Dad,’ I murmur. ‘Come on, let’s keep walking. We must be nearly at the mobile-home park by now.’

  We follow the clifftop path for about fifteen minutes. It’s a sheer drop to the sea below and I make sure Bess stays well away from it. The wind pummels our faces and we have to yell to hear each other. We pass a huge white rock, then a series of smaller ones. Tyler, with his long strides, ends up a little ahead of us. I hang back, helping Bess clamber over the uneven ground.

  ‘Over here!’ Tyler calls.

  Bess and I look up. He’s pointing to a trailer positioned between two long fences. The word ‘Office’ is printed on the door. A tatty banner trailing across the top reads:

  SALTCLIFF SEAVIEW MOBILE-HOME PARK – LONG LETS

  This is it.

  Bess prods me, eyebrows raised. From the look of impatient curiosity on her face, it’s clear she wants to know why we’re here. I hesitate. Is it time to come clean? To let her know we’re looking for Dad? That I’m almost certain he’s on the other side of the fence, inside this mobile-home park?

  My heart beats faster. Not until I know for sure that he’s here. ‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘Not yet. Soon.’

  Bess stamps her foot, her expressive face screwed up with irritation.

  ‘What’s up?’ Tyler asks.

  ‘I’m going to see what they know in this office.’ I hurry away, leaving Bess to Tyler. I stop at the trailer door and take out my phone.

  I hesitate for a second, then put the SIM back in. Doing so means I’ll connect to the internet and Mum will be able to see where I am, but I don’t have a choice. I have to be able to show whoever’s inside a pic of Dad. The phone fires up. A bunch of missed calls and furious messages from Mum flash on to the screen. There’s also one from Rik.

  How you getting on?

  I delete them all – there’ll be time to contact Mum and Rik later, when I actually have some news – then I knock on the door.

  No reply.

  I wait a second, then try the handle. It opens smoothly. I step up and go inside.

  The trailer is cramped and gloomy. There�
�s a living area at one end and a table in the middle. Someone has attempted to make the table look like an official reception area, with a notepad, laptop computer and pot of pens.

  ‘May I help you?’ A middle-aged woman with grey hair and a yellow cardigan that hangs loosely off her shoulders appears from the bathroom at the end of the trailer. She frowns at me. ‘Mum and Dad outside?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Actually I’m looking for my dad. I called a few days ago. I think he might be living here.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ The woman sounds uninterested. From the bored tone of her voice, I’m pretty certain she’s the same person I spoke to before on the phone. She wanders over. There’s a lopsided name badge pinned to her chest. It reads Yvonne. ‘What’s your dad’s name?’

  ‘Alan Mooney,’ I say. ‘But… but I think he’s calling himself something different now.’ I wince, aware how weird that sounds.

  ‘Really?’ Yvonne raises her eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Let me show you his picture.’ I hand her my phone, a screen grab of that picture of Dad, Bess and me on the beach on the screen.

  Yvonne sits heavily at the seat behind the table. She wrinkles her nose as she peers at Dad’s picture. ‘No, I don’t recognize him.’ She taps her fingers against the table, then looks up at me. ‘If he was here, he left before I arrived back in May.’

  Is she telling the truth? It’s impossible to know.

  ‘You’ve had a wasted journey, I’m afraid,’ she says, a hint of sympathy creeping into her voice.

  ‘Can I just go into the mobile-home park and look around?’ I point to the door opposite the one I came through, marked ‘caravans this way’.

  ‘Sorry, love, but that’s against health and safety.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No unaccompanied minors allowed,’ Yvonne says briskly. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.’ She peers out of the window. ‘Is your mum with you?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ I lie, feeling crushed. I can’t believe that I’ve come all this way, only to fail at the final hurdle.

  I retrace my steps away from the office trailer, to where Tyler and Bess are waiting back at the big white rock.

  Bess glares at me, clearly still furious that she has no idea what we’re doing here.

  ‘What happened?’ Tyler asks.

  I draw him to one side, so Bess can’t hear us. ‘There’s a woman inside who says she doesn’t know Dad from his picture, but I can’t tell if she’s lying. She could be covering for him… or maybe Dad changed his appearance.’ I hesitate. ‘Or maybe she’s right and he isn’t here. Either way, I need to take a look in the trailer park, find out for sure. I just don’t know how to get past her and through to the actual mobile homes.’

  ‘Mmm, maybe we don’t have to get you past her,’ Tyler says slowly. ‘Maybe we just get her out of your way.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’

  Tyler grins. ‘We just have to work as a team.’

  19

  So much for working ‘as a team’. My getting into the mobile-home park depends on Bess playing along with Tyler’s plan and, so far, she’s refusing. Her combo of sulky shrugs and accusing glares make it clear she’s going to have nothing to do with his (admittedly crazy-sounding) idea until I tell her why we’re here.

  I crouch down so we’re level with each other and gaze into her dark eyes. Sometimes Bess’s eyes are soft, like chocolate. Right now they are hard, like conkers.

  ‘I promise I will tell you soon,’ I say. ‘I just want to make sure before I say anything.’

  She purses her lips.

  ‘Please, Bess,’ I say. ‘It will so be worth it in the end, it’ll be the best thing you could imagine.’ I smile at her, ignoring the worry that twists in my guts.

  Her eyes brighten. She points to her drawing book, at her latest puppy picture.

  ‘Better than a dog,’ I say, grinning. ‘The most brilliant surprise ever.’

  Bess shrugs, but I can see the excitement building in her eyes. I stand back and let Tyler explains what he needs her to do. He goes over it a couple of times, in that calm, patient way of his that is so like Mr Tuesday’s.

  ‘I think we’re ready,’ he says, looking up at me with a smile.

  I stare anxiously at Bess. ‘Are you sure you know what to do?’ I ask.

  Bess rolls her eyes at me, then gives Tyler a cheeky grin.

  Tyler chuckles. ‘I think she’s got it.’

  Bess nods furiously.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, still feeling a little reluctant. To be honest, I’d rather not have to involve Bess or Tyler – even though he’s helped to get us this far – but I can’t see another option. ‘Okay, I’ll see you both back here.’ I point to the big white rock beside us. ‘Don’t forget.’

  Bess stamps her foot again. Tyler chuckles. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Bess and I know. Now… get in position, okay?’

  I give Bess a swift salute, then hurry away. My breath is rapid and shallow as I make my way along the cliff path. Around the bend and the office trailer comes into view again. There’s no sign of Yvonne at the window. Moving as fast and as quietly as I can, I scuttle across the dry, compacted earth and crouch down at the side of the trailer. From here, I’ll be able to see Yvonne coming out, but she won’t see me.

  It’s a sheltered spot, between the high fence and the trailer, the air hot and still. It’s quiet too, just the occasional clank from inside the mobile-home park and a couple of squawking seagulls overhead. I wait. Several long seconds pass. And then, exactly as planned, Tyler and Bess appear. Tyler glances around to check I’m in the right place, then leads Bess to the opposite side of the trailer. As if on cue, Bess drops to the ground, clutching her ankle. Tyler says something to her that I can’t hear and Bess starts rocking to and fro. I catch sight of her face, her mouth twisted in what looks like agony. Apart from the fact that she’s making no sound, her pretend injury looks completely convincing.

  Tyler straightens up. ‘Help!’ he shrieks. He races over to the trailer door and pounds hard. ‘Help! My sister’s hurt. Help!’

  I hold my breath. Two seconds pass. Three. Four. Five.

  Tyler bangs on the door again.

  It opens slowly. Yvonne appears, frowning as she peers over at Bess. ‘Help, she tripped!’ Tyler is gabbling. He sounds totally panicked. ‘I think she might have broken her ankle.’

  Leaving the trailer door open, Yvonne hurries over to where Bess is now writhing on the ground. Bess needs to pull back a little. She’s on the verge of overdoing it. As if she’s heard my thoughts, Bess checks her movements. Yvonne reaches her and bends down. She gently presses Bess’s ankle. She’s speaking. I can’t hear the words, but her low murmur is gentle and soothing.

  She’s taken the bait. It’s time for me to move.

  I slide out from my hiding place and creep round the front of the trailer. Yvonne has her back to me. Tyler is talking now. I catch the words ‘doesn’t speak’, then I slip inside. I’ve done it! I hurry over to the door on the other side of the office that says ‘caravans this way’ and tug at the handle.

  The relief that washed over me just seconds before now vanishes.

  The door is locked.

  Heart pounding, I look wildly around. There’s no sign of the keys on the desk. Has Yvonne taken them outside with her? I glance through the window. Yvonne is nodding, Tyler still talking. The plan is for him to urge Bess to try putting a little weight on her ankle. Soon it will become clear Bess isn’t badly hurt. She and Tyler will then leave and Yvonne will return to the trailer.

  I need to move fast.

  I gaze at the kitchen shelves and the settee covered in clothes and the pile of magazines on the floor. Yvonne wouldn’t have had much time to put the keys anywhere after locking the door. If they are here, they can’t be far away.

  I try to focus. Where do people put keys? They hang them on pegs, but there aren’t any here.

  And they put them in drawers. Of course. I hurry aro
und the other side of the desk. Pull open the top drawer.

  There. Lying on top of a well-thumbed accounts book is a keyring with three keys. They clink as I snatch them up. My heart is in my mouth as I hurry round the desk and fit the first key in the door. Then the second. Neither fits.

  Yvonne’s voice echoes towards me. ‘I have some arnica cream in the trailer,’ she’s saying.

  She’s on her way back here. Her footsteps sound on the steps just outside. My fingers fumble as I try the third key in the lock. Yes. It turns smoothly.

  Pulse racing, I slip through the door, pulling it shut behind me.

  20

  I gaze around the mobile-home park. The trailers are spread out in fan-shaped rows. It’s quiet, nobody in sight. I glance anxiously back at the office door. Yvonne must be back inside now. Hopefully Tyler and Bess are already on their way to our meeting place.

  I hurry away. As soon as I’m past the first caravan I start to see people: a man in a tracksuit hanging out some washing to the left; a woman with a toddler sitting on a rug and a bunch of rusty-looking cars are parked over to the right. In front of them a cluster of loungers are arranged with a view of the sea beyond the cliff edge. They’re occupied by three grey-haired women, all with their backs to me. Maybe one of these ladies will know Dad.

  As I scurry past the outer circle of caravans, I realize that there’s a wire security fence at the cliff edge. The air is freezing, in spite of the sun, and the salt wind whistles around my ears. The mobile homes themselves are old and grubby-looking, but the sea beyond is sparkling and beautiful.

  I reach the knot of elderly ladies. They’re still sitting with their backs to me, chatting away. I move within view and one of them looks up. She has bright, twinkling eyes and greets me with a cheery smile.

  ‘Hello, there, you all right, pet?’

  I nod, hurrying over. ‘I’m just wondering if you know my dad?’ I ask, taking out my phone. ‘I think he lives here.’

  I hold the photo of Dad in front of the first woman’s face. She fusses for a second, fetching glasses from her handbag.