CHAPTER 32

I held Morag’s cracked phone up against the glass where the ticket cashier sat, partially camouflaged by peeling stickers and sun-faded laminated signs. On the screen was a picture of Morag, one of my all-time favourites. Normally it made me smile, although today it made me sad.

The photograph was taken on one of our treat days when Morag took me out and we did fun things together. I remembered that day so well. We caught the bus into central London and went to the Natural History Museum. I saw a real human brain floating in a tank with all the nervous system dangling down like jellyfish legs.

The brain made Morag go queasy. “Come on,” she’d said, trying to drag me to the next exhibit, but I was obsessed. “Let’s move along before I chuck up my breakfast!”

That made me laugh so much, the thought of Morag chucking up. I remember we laughed about it the whole way through the museum, all through the fossils and the cavemen and the dinosaurs and dead butterflies stuck with pins in glass cabinets.

Afterwards Morag asked me to take a picture of her in one of the red phone boxes outside. She held the phone to her ear and grinned as if she was having the most hilarious chat with someone.

“Look at me, Solo!” she’d said, laughing. “Like a proper tourist!”

I took loads of photos, pressing the button again and again and again. When I flicked through them, they moved almost like a mini film of Morag. It was as though she was here, almost.

The ticket woman scrunched up her nose. “Nope,” she huffed. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Are you sure? She comes here all the time. Normally dressed in black, like she’s going to a funeral.”

She put on her glasses to look closer, but still said, “Nope, sorry. I’ll keep my eyes peeled though, love.” She winked. “Not much gets past me. Twenty years I’ve been sat in this ticket booth and never missed a trick. Next!”

Then the person behind me in the queue pushed past, to get a return ticket to somewhere or other.

I opened Morag’s phone and deleted a few missed calls from school, probably wondering where I was. Then I dialled Chetna’s phone to check how she was doing.

“Don’t worry, Solo,” Chetna said. “Missing things are always in the last place you look, not the first.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “That’s the whole problem. Anyway, any luck at Noodle Town?” I asked. “She absolutely loves it there.”

“They weren’t open yet, so no customers,” Chetna said. “But the staff inside said they recognized her picture. They said something about an unpaid bill?”

I gulped, thinking of Morag’s little black book of money she owed people. Of course Noodle Town was in there. I hadn’t thought about that.

“Solo? Are you there? Hello?”

“Uh, yes.” I paused. “I don’t know what they’re talking about. Just ignore them.”

“They said they’d keep an eye out for her. So that’s a good thing! But we’ve only got two hours until lunch, Solo. Where next?”

“Morag loves pubs. Check any pubs in the nearby area, then let’s meet at the train station before we head back to school.”

“Pubs?” Chetna said, sounding nervous. “I don’t think I’ll be allowed in any pubs, Solo.”

“Just look through the windows then,” I said. “Or in the gardens.”

“Got it. I’ll let you know what I find. Don’t be too long, Solo. If I’m caught off school grounds, I’m dead meat. Literally.”

There was one more place I wanted to check before I met Chetna at the train station. The place that had been haunting the back of my mind like a beast creeping around in the shadows of the forest. The place where all this mess had started.

I boarded the bus that went past the Queen’s Head. The driver didn’t ask me for a ticket. He took one look at my new uniform and waved me on, thinking I had a travel card. Finally, this uniform was good for something.

I sat on the top deck, right at the front. Partly because it was my favourite place to sit, and partly because it was the best place to look out for Morag.

I scoured the streets as the bus trundled along, startling every time I saw a black leather jacket or messy brown hair. I pressed my nose against the glass to get a closer look each time, but none of them were her.

The bus stopped outside the Queen’s Head. It looked much emptier than last time I was here. If only we’d never come here, this whole mess could have been avoided.

I remembered whinging outside, “Why do we never do anything I want to do?” I wish I’d never complained about Morag. Now I just wanted her back.

I pushed the door and went in. The pub was dark and cold.

“Can I help you, little fella?” the barman said. Then his face changed. “Oh, it’s you.”