3

Break-in

I remember my phone. But it’s in my bag, isn’t it? Is it wet? Is it ruined?

I wipe it on my shirt and switch it on. It powers up! I ring Mum. But there’s no signal.

I trudge back to the top of the hill. If it doesn’t work here, it won’t work anywhere.

It doesn’t connect.

So what do I do now? I could try and swim back to the mainland, but it’s way too far. I’ve never been much of a swimmer really.

I could stand on a rock and wave down a passing boat. But I haven’t seen a single one all day.

I could light a fire, maybe, and hope someone spots it. But the rain’s coming in. The sky’s darkening.

I’m going to have to get into one of the holiday houses. I try all the doors, then all the windows.

‘What’s the point?’ I yell. What’s the point in locking a place when there’s nobody here? I mean, it’s not exactly the sort of area where a gang of teenage hoodlums are going to break in and trash the joint!

I could try and find some cover in one of the tumble-downs, I suppose. I’m cold and wet. I need food and water. I need to find a phone that works, to let my folks know I’m OK. And if no one can come and get me tonight, I need a bed.

So there’s nothing else for it – I chuck a stone at one of the windows, pull away the broken glass and climb through.

I go to put on the lights but I can’t find a switch. I go all round the walls before I realise why. There’s no electricity! What sort of back-of-beyond place is this? I thought everywhere had flipping electricity these days!

I spot a torch, hanging on a nail. Phew – the battery still works. I rummage around in the drawers till I find some matches and light a few candles. I even manage to get an oil lamp going. Clever kid!

I look around. There’s no phone. I check the drawers – no mobiles. (Not that they’d work anyway.)

I run the tap. At least there’s water – though it’s probably just stuff that’s been trickling down the roof, from the look of the giant tank outside. I’m not sure how safe it is – those tiles don’t look like they’ve been cleaned in a long time – but I take a long cold drink. Beggars can’t be choosers. I hope I don’t poison myself, though – that’s the last thing I need.

Running away sure puts a hunger on you. Never mind paddling for hours (well, it felt like hours). So I look for the fridge. Oh yeah, no fridge. Luckily there’s a load of tins in the cupboard. I grab some beans, manage to light the gas and, wow, they don’t half taste good!

Now I’ve got all that sorted, it’s time to look at the real problem. How am I going to get off this stupid island? Because it’s all right for a night, maybe, but I can’t stay here forever. Mum and Dad will be up the wall already. Specially Dad, when he checks his wallet.

And here I am, miles away on a deserted island. With no way of getting off. No way of even getting a message to anyone.

Because yeah, I’ve got away from Fug and the damn Thumps. Which is good. You can’t imagine how good.

But you know what they say about out of the frying pan…?