CHAPTER 36

The air in Normley-on-Sea was ice cold. As soon as we got off the coach, the wind rushed in and cut right through my new uniform. My skin went into a rash of goosebumps. I clenched my teeth, trying not to shiver.

“Why is it so c-c-cold?” Chetna said through chattering teeth, as the wind flung her black hair around her head like a curtain being whipped back and forth.

I didn’t know what to say. I’d imagined Normley-on-Sea to be hot and sunny like it was the last time Morag and I had visited. I thought the air would smell like the sea and hot sugared doughnuts and coconut-flavoured sun cream. I thought I’d hear families laughing, and the music of the ice-cream van selling 99 Flake ice creams. I thought I’d hear fairground rides, fruit machines spinning, sizzling chip friers.

Instead, everything was grey, damp and deserted. Thick black clouds hung heavy in the sky like wet bed sheets on the washing line. The few people milling around were old and miserable-looking. They were wrapped up tight in padded coats, woolly hats and scarves. Across the car park, a seagull regurgitated a chewed-up chip into a puddle.

This wasn’t the Normley-on-Sea that I remembered, where I’d built sandcastles, been on my first roller coaster and had my photo taken in an old-fashioned metal diving suit with Morag. It was as though everyone had forgotten about Normley-on-Sea and left it behind, turning it into a ghost town.

It wasn’t the Normley-on-Sea where Morag went paddling and accidentally went so deep that she was waist high in the water, swimming around in her black clothes, not caring that people were looking. Where Morag had forced me to dance with her to the music the buskers played on their penny whistles – she’d laughed hysterically the whole time while I tried to slip out of her arms.

If Morag was here, she wouldn’t recognize this gloomy, sad version of Normley-on-Sea at all. Her Big Bad Reds would probably be worse than ever before.

“OK then, class,” Miss Carmichael shouted. “We’ll begin by making our way to some coastal cottages, whose foundations are slowly creeping closer to the water’s edge, thanks to erosion. The residents have kindly agreed to let us in their gardens, so I want you on your best behaviour…”

Mrs McDonald began counting us in pairs. This was our moment, before she counted me and Chetna. And that’s when I saw that Mrs McDonald had left the register on top of her bag, in front of the coach. I quickly reached over and stuffed the sheet into my trouser pocket. How would they notice we were gone without the register?

“Now,” I whispered to Chetna, jerking my head towards an alleyway that cut away from the car park.

“Now?” She looked startled. “I thought we would at least get to see a bit of the coastal erosion!”

“No time!”

I grabbed Chetna’s sleeve and we darted down the alley. We hid until the sound of chatter faded, and all we could hear was whistling wind and the crashing of the sea.

“What will we do with Morag, even if we do find her?” Chetna asked. “Won’t it be a bit weird if your mum turns up halfway through the trip and rides the coach home with us?”

“We’ll make something up. We’ll say I got homesick and she had to come and find me or something. I don’t care if it makes me look stupid.”

“Do you really think she’ll be here, Solo? It’s a bit…” She looked around, searching for the right word. “Dreary, isn’t it?”

“Well, sorry about that,” I said, offended. “Not everyone can afford to go to Disney World Florida on holiday every year. This is where we always go, Morag and me. We really like it here.”

Chetna went red. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Solo. I’m sure it’s lovely in the summer.”

“It’s just the weather,” I said. “It’s not normally like this, honestly. You’ll have to trust me. It’s Morag’s favourite place in the whole world. I should have thought of it sooner.”

“OK, OK, I believe you,” she said, trying to calm her shivering. “So where do we start?”

I dragged Chetna to the end of the alley, which overlooked the whole of Normley-on-Sea. There were rows of grey houses leading to a long, sandy beach, with loads of tourist attractions on the beachfront – and at the far end was Sunset Dunes caravan park.

“There.” I pointed towards the beachfront. “Morag loves it down there. We’ll start with the arcade, then the promenade, then the Sea View Cafe.”

The sea was churning like mucky washing-machine water. The palm trees that usually looked so tropical seemed sad, their leaves faded brown and drooping.

“If she’s not there,” I added, “we’ll try the caravan park. She might be tucked up in a caravan, watching the telly with a nice cup of tea.”

Or a nice cup of something else, I thought.

With that, we headed out into the wind.

Chetna was quiet for a while. Then she said, “Just so you know, I’ve never actually been to Disney World Florida. I object to it. My sister loves movies about princesses and fairies, but I think they give people unrealistic expectations and increase pressure for real life to be some sort of fairy tale, when it isn’t.”

I rolled my eyes. “All right, Chetna. Whatever you say.”