‘I THINK she knows what you’ve done,’ said Alice, drumming her heels against the underside of a bench in the playground.
‘Have you got a problem with it?’
‘It’s not for me to judge.’
‘You’ve got a problem.’
‘Well, you know, it’s Mags, right?’
‘I didn’t know she’d find out. Not as fast as she did.’
‘Listen. The word is out, from what you say. Everyone who knows anything about anything, which does not include most people and definitely not your mum and sisters—’
‘Stepmum, stepsisters.’
‘Never mind that. You told certain people what they wanted to know. That Fleet is here. And that Mags knows. Fran’s best friend.’
‘Yeah, because—’
‘Never mind because. We know where this is going now. Your dad might’ve thought it was to do with him. Your Mary Allardyce was hoping so, that’s for sure.’
‘So what’s going to happen?’
‘Who knows? Who knows what, who knows when? You won’t be seeing Mags for a while is my guess.’
‘I miss her already.’
‘You traded.’
‘You think I betrayed her?’
‘Traded. Betrayed. Yeah, I do. But I’m not blaming you. I know why you did it. You’re just the one who has to live with it.’
*
It was turning into a very hot summer. Robbie’s dad said it was the hottest he could remember. War was brewing between him and Sheila; they had reached the point where they didn’t seem to be able to agree about anything. As a result, Lucy was, for once, being friendly, and she and he and Jess rolled their eyes at each other all day long.
‘They’re going to end up like Mags’s parents, slobbing around in different houses,’ said Jess.
‘Have you seen Mags recently, Robbie?’ asked Lucy. ‘People say she’s disappeared.’
‘No.’
‘Anything wrong with her? You’d know, wouldn’t you? Where’s she gone?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.’
‘What, she just went away? I think it’s weird, disappearing like that and not talking to anyone about it.’
‘That’s my speciality.’ Neither of them took any notice.
‘Well, why should she?’
‘I said I don’t know.’
‘I reckon he does,’ said Jess. ‘Uh oh, there they go again.’
‘What are they arguing about this time?’ asked Lucy.
‘I think,’ said Jess, ‘it’s something to do with shopping.’
‘Not the Wheatsheaf, then?’
‘No, he forgot to get something she wanted from the village. So very soon,’ Jess went on, ‘Mum’ll be asking us to go and get whatever it is he’s forgotten.’
The door opened.
‘Would one of you three mind?’ It was his dad. ‘We need some spaghetti.’
‘Robbie,’ said the sisters, as one.
‘Would you?’ asked his dad.
‘Hey,’ protested Robbie, but then he considered. ‘What’s it worth?’
‘Pound?’ said his dad hopefully.
‘Five.’
‘Three?’
‘Done.’
‘Unbelievable,’ said Jess.
His dad looked pathetically grateful.
*
The store in the village was empty and cool, so he lingered a while, reading the newspaper headlines and inspecting some DVDs. Robbie could hear the man behind the counter talking, something about people starting heath fires.
‘She’s here, you see.’
The person he was talking to dropped her voice to reply.
‘Do we know who it is?’
‘Well, you never do. But it’s obvious, we think.’
‘She always gets what she wants, you know, whatever they do to try to stop it.’
‘But they’ll try.’
‘Oh, they’ll try.’
‘Spaghetti?’ Robbie’s question seemed to take them both by surprise. The man pointed to a shelf.
‘Well, as I was saying,’ continued the woman.
The man watched Robbie over his spectacles.
‘You gave us a bit of a surprise there, you know.’ The woman surveyed him austerely, her Daily Mail clutched in her hand.
‘You’re Maggie Carr’s friend, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘You haven’t seen her, have you? People are getting a bit worried.’
‘Haven’t seen her in ages, sorry. Maybe she’s got a job somewhere or something. She’s hard to predict.’
‘A law unto herself,’ said the woman.
‘Something like that. Anyway, thanks for this.’
He hurried out of the shop into the high street, but before he could turn for home he found himself faced by a mud-covered Land Rover full of the Strickland brothers and accompanying Alsatians. The doors opened and both men and dogs poured out on to the pavement.
‘We might want to talk to you,’ said Tommy, head on one side, holding back the dogs on their leashes.
‘I’m not that interesting, sorry.’
There was only one thing to do, and there was only one way to go. Up the street, up the hill, and fast.
As he ran, he could sense one of them running behind him, straining to catch up, then his brother shouted something and he fell back. Too many witnesses around.
He stayed off the pavement to avoid people, running on the side of the road to dodge oncoming cars, and then there were brown flashes either side of him, and something hit his back. It was the dogs, not moving fast enough to bring him down, but he was aware of a blur of movement around him, he could hear their panting and feel their hot breath and he knew they were going to move in on him as soon as he slowed or slipped.
He wasn’t going to be taken. He was going to take them.
He didn’t know where all this energy was coming from, he’d never run like this or felt like this. It was as if he was flying, as if the road was dissolving, melting away. He was leaving the dogs behind; he could hear them barking insanely, furious they had lost him.
About two kilometres outside the village the road cut between two cliffs into deep shade, and there he slowed. His energy had evaporated and he couldn’t take another step. His insides had been sucked out and he was all shrivelled skin and bone, like a scarecrow. There was a pain in his chest. He missed the running, now that he was spent, because for a while there he had been someone else. And it had felt so good, the air flowing past him and the endless movement, like being a rapidly flowing river, or an arrow unleashed.
He sank to the ground, head against his knees, arms balanced on top of them. He thought he might be blacking out. There was nothing moving in his head. There was just a humming, perhaps it was in his blood, echoes of his heart pounding. A humming, a thrumming, a memory of the earth far away, his hearing good enough to catch it, warning him to get out, but he was too drained. His body wouldn’t do the smallest thing he wanted it to.
The thrumming got louder. The tone changed, to an engine whine, an engine being gunned through its gears, and down the hill came the Land Rover, the sun blazing off its windscreen.