CHAPTER 39
In the caravan kitchenette, the singer Mickey McKee whistled as he stirred hot-chocolate powder, milk and hot water into two mugs for Chetna and me. He looked totally different from his poster. Rather than his gleaming gold jacket, he wore baggy jogging bottoms, a red football top, and odd flip-flops on his feet. His skin wasn’t as orange as it was on his poster, but his teeth were still bright, shining white.
None of that mattered though. He wasn’t Morag.
Chetna kept shifting in her seat and looking at me as if she wanted to say something, but I couldn’t read her mind.
What? I mouthed.
She tapped her wrist, pointing at a watch she wasn’t even wearing. I didn’t care about the time, not now. We were so close to finding Morag, I could feel it.
Mickey’s caravan was different from the others at Sunset Dunes. The walls were packed with framed photographs of pop stars and rock stars. It was only when I looked closely that I realized half the photos were of him, performing on stage in various wigs and costumes. A smoky incense stick was burning in the corner, and above the dining table was a mirror surrounded by light bulbs, as if we were backstage at a theatre or something.
“Well, I haven’t had a visitor here in a long while,” he said. His accent was from up north or something. “Not many outsiders in Normley this time of year, I must say.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I usually come here every summer with my mum. It’s quite … different now.”
“You can say that again, kid. The whole town goes into hibernation mode once summer’s over. I feel like a pet tortoise, trapped inside a shell for six months.” He banged on his caravan wall, which made a metallic clank. “Who is this Morag woman again?”
“She’s our scout leader,” Chetna said out of nowhere. “But she hasn’t been at our scout meetings for weeks. We’re all searching for her today.”
“Really, scout leader, you say?” Mickey raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe us, but he didn’t say anything. “You say she loves Sunset Dunes, eh? Is she a regular?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s her favourite place ever. She won the karaoke competition here once. Got a standing ovation and everything.”
Mickey nodded slowly. “The crowds are superb here at Sunset. Quite receptive, I find.”
He placed the two mugs in front of us, and we immediately picked them up to warm our hands.
“Show me again,” he said, motioning to Morag’s phone.
“Sure.” I held the phone out so Mickey could see.
“Nope, sorry,” he said. “Don’t know her. She looks like a good laugh though.”
“She is,” I said. “Most of the time.”
“Is there anyone else here who might have seen her?” Chetna said between sips of hot chocolate. “We are fairly sure she’s been here in Normley-on-Sea in the last few days.”
Mickey McKee chuckled and shook his head. “No, love – after summer, I’m jack of all trades. Groundskeeper, maintenance man, cleaner, you name it. Only thing I’m not doing is treading that Pavilion stage, belting my show-tunes repertoire. If anyone had been here, I would know.”
“I see,” Chetna said. “Thank you for the hot chocolate. It’s lovely.”
“No problem. You both look absolutely freezing. Did the scouts not give you any proper winter coats? They should have known Normley’s famed for its horizontal rain and gale-force winds this time of year. So much for always being prepared!” Mickey wheezed at his own joke, but I didn’t get it.
“We left our bags on the coach,” Chetna said. “By accident.”
Mickey nodded. “I see. Where’s the rest of your troop, then?”
“Checking other parts of Normley,” replied Chetna. “You know, all the sights. Speaking of which, we should probably get going, Solo. We don’t want them to worry about us.” She glared at me as she said that.
“Err, yeah,” I said, even though I didn’t want to put down my hot chocolate. Mickey had put too much chocolate powder in mine, so it was nice and thick.
“Will you keep an eye out?” I asked him. “If you see her, tell her Solo came looking for her.”
“Solo,” Mickey said, trying the name out. “Odd choice for a name, isn’t it? Definitely unique though. Has a certain star quality.”
“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t want to be a star. I only wanted to find Morag. “My mum chose it.”
“We should really get going,” Chetna said again, sounding more urgent now.
Mickey was staring at me intensely over his steaming mug. “I recognize that name, Solo, come to think of it.”
“Really?” I laughed nervously. “I’m not sure why that would be.”
Mickey rummaged down the side of his armchair and produced a rolled-up copy of The Herald. My stomach lurched as he unfurled it.
“Isn’t this you?” he said, pointing to the photo on the front page. The photo that had started all this. “And isn’t that … her?” His eyes widened as he realized the truth. Funeral Boy was sitting in his caravan.
“No,” I said. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“You’re not scouts,” he said slowly, looking from Chetna to me. “You’re scammers. I’ve read all about you in the papers, you know. Is she here too, that Funeral Mum?”
“No!” I protested. “I promise we’re not trying to—”
“Nobody pulls a fast one on old Mickey McKee. I’m calling the authorities right away. How did you even get on site? We’ve had the main entrance barricaded for weeks now.”
“We came through the beach path,” I said. “We didn’t mean to—”
“Hello, site security?” Mickey said into his phone. “Bit of a weird one, but I’ve got two kids here, apparently looking for some missing woman. One’s that Funeral Boy, off the news. All feels a bit funny, if you ask me.”
“Run, Solo!” Suddenly Chetna was on her feet, halfway out of the caravan door before I even had time to register her instruction.
I got to my feet, and so did Mickey McKee.
“No, no, no you don’t!” He held his palms out to me. “You wait here. The security guards will take care of you, don’t you worry.”
I looked between Mickey and the open door. Sheets of rain were lashing the ground. I bolted, knocking my hot-chocolate mug over as I bounded away. A lake of brown liquid spread over Mickey’s dining table.
“Sorry about the table!” I shouted as I slipped past Mickey and disappeared through the door.
Chetna was outside, and we sprinted down Starfish Crescent as fast as we would run a race. The tarmac became sand beneath our feet, and then we were scrambling up the sand dunes, grabbing wet fistfuls of sand and grass to help us climb quicker.
“Get back here!” Mickey was behind us now, struggling to chase us in his mismatched flip-flops. With him now were two security men, dressed in black uniforms with reflective strips on their jackets. “We only want to help you!”
The security guards sprinted after us, their two torch beams reaching through the darkness.
“Keep going, Solo!” Chetna cried. She had almost reached the top of the dune.
I was about to catch up with her when the sand crumbled away beneath my feet. I dug my nails and feet into the wet sand but it was no use. I slid almost halfway back down the dune, spluttering sand from my mouth.
“There!” one of the guards shouted.
My vision went white as their torchlight found me.
I turned and scrambled again, my fingers cupping the sand and my feet digging in. I was climbing, but not quickly enough. Each step I took became two steps back.
Chetna launched a frayed and stringy fishing net down from the top of the dune, and a scattering of sand came along with it. The grains covered me, sticking in my hair and eyes. The guards yelled and started spitting sand from their mouths and shielding their eyes. I gritted my teeth and felt the crunch of sand between them. As fast as I could, I hooked my fingers through the holes in the netting.
“Hold on, Solo,” Chetna shouted. “I’m going to pull you up!”
Chetna heaved, and I felt myself rising up the side of the dune. Each heave brought me higher and higher, until I could roll myself up on to the top of the dune next to Chetna’s feet.
“Thanks, Chetna,” I wheezed, getting to my knees. “You saved me. You’re surprisingly strong, you know.”
“I know,” she puffed. “Three years of netball goal attack wasn’t for nothing. Now come on – we need to get back to the coach before they send out a search party!”
We slid down the other side of the dune, our socks and trousers filling up with sand and debris as we skidded towards the flat beach. The sea was spitting salty spray, and the wind was so loud it sounded like it was groaning in pain.
“Hurry!” Chetna cried, her voice almost drowned out by the wind.
I looked behind me at Sunset Dunes. I guessed we weren’t going to find Morag now.
Chetna and I ran as fast as we could.