Outside Bryony’s apartment block, a hefty marmalade cat squabbled with an equally well-built black one. The music that had been pumping through the ceiling all evening had ceased and the young couple living above her had turned in for the night. All was quiet apart from some soft murmurings coming from a television set somewhere else in the block and the hissing duo currently engaged in conflict on the fence that ran along the front of the apartment block. Propped up in bed, laptop on her knee, Bryony continued to type. Her hip ached, the pain dulled slightly by the adrenaline of the day. Disregarding the throb, she read through her latest post on Searching for Hannah.
Dearest Hannah,
How I wish you’d been with me today – you’d have loved the audition for a new quiz show What Happens in... It was one of our dreams, wasn’t it? To be on a game show like Blockbusters or Crackerjack where we would have been giddy with excitement at winning a pencil. Sometimes, you made up little quizzes for me and we played our own version of a television show. You’d pretend to be the hostess and put on a funny voice: ‘Next up, we have Miss Bryony Masters from Derby. Bryony, to win a carrot: what is the name of Winnie the Pooh’s tiny friend?’ I would giggle and squirm and try to guess the answer. If I got it correct you gave me a sweet or a new colouring pencil. How I loved those games! I can still feel the frisson of excitement as the old television set came to life and we heard, ‘It's Friday, it's five to five it’s… Crackerjack!’ Your enthusiasm was infectious and I shared in it even though I was too young to respond to the questions on the show. But you, you always knew the answers, and how we laughed when the celebrities got covered in gunge for guessing incorrectly. I can still hear you yelling answers and giggling at Stu Francis saying his catchphrase, ‘I could crush a grape!’ You taught me so much and made me want to learn more. I wanted to be exactly like you – top of the class, A-grade reports, a top scholar. The teachers already had you earmarked for Oxford or Cambridge University even though you hadn’t sat your GCSEs. You really were my heroine. You’d have been amazing today. I have a decent amount of general knowledge but you’d have stolen the limelight. You always were the shining, outgoing one. So, to recap, I summoned up the courage to apply to be a contestant for What Happens in… and was invited to audition for it. We were twenty potential contestants crammed into one room. We were all a little stuffy and reserved when we first arrived but as the morning wore on we regressed and ended up behaving like schoolchildren. We completed written quizzes, and had such a laugh, participating in a crazy made up television show that would have had you in stitches. Funny, you think games are only for children but adults come alive when they play them too. I was on a team with Lewis, who I’ve written about before – the gay guy I met through Melinda – yes, it was a shock to find him at the same audition. Lewis looked very suave. He wore dark brown trousers paired with a stylish, dark brown and copper striped jumper. For the first time, I noticed his hair is not as dark as I first thought. When the light catches it, it reflects streaks of copper and auburn. He has one of those smiles that knocks you off-guard. It certainly worked on Tonya, a Brummie girl who fell in love with him as soon as she saw him. When he announced he liked eating curries, I thought she was going to rush over, drop down on one knee and propose to him. She stood out with her vibrant purple hair and matching contact lenses. Apparently, she has lenses and wigs in a variety of colours. I was glad she didn’t wear her shocking pink ones. I think that might have scared the life out of a few of the more elderly contestants. I didn’t chat to Lewis for long as he spent most of the time with an American ballet dancer called Oscar who was sweet and engaging. He has a tiny, black, pug dog that has a huge fan base on social media. Oscar was so excited he pirouetted every time he got an answer correct. At one point, it looked like he might leap into Jackson’s arms. We were asked quite a variety of questions. Lewis played it very cool. He claimed he didn’t know that France's third-biggest city was Lyon. After the audition, he told me he had visited Lyon several times and was well aware it was the third-biggest city but he decided it would look better if he played dumb, relying on his teammates to come up with the answer. It gave him the chance to rush over and high-five us. I told him he had taken a bit of a chance. If we hadn’t known, he’d have been out of the game. He gazed at me for a moment, his cognac-brown eyes searching mine, before replying, ‘I had faith in you. You’re a very clever lady.’ Purple-haired Tonya was bonkers. She got all her answers wrong although I don’t think it was on purpose. She spent most of the time pulling faces whenever we were asked a question. Afterwards, she confessed that she was only at the audition because one of her friends had dared her to apply for it. The audition attracted a variety of people. I suppose that’s because there’s been so much publicity surrounding it on television. The adverts to apply for What Happens in… have captured a lot of interest. It’s odd given none of us actually know what format the show will take. It’s all very secretive. I sat next to a woman, Daphne, who told me Anneka Rice is going to present the show when it airs, which would be amazing because I know how much you used to love her show Treasure Hunt. When it was Daphne’s turn to go in front of the camera, she froze. She couldn’t answer a single question. Her mouth flapped open and shut, in spite of prompting and help from Jackson. She left immediately after her performance. I felt sorry for her. It’s awful when your confidence deserts you like that. I should know. I’ve had more than my fair share of such moments. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I’m now waiting on tenterhooks to see if I get picked. Given they have been holding auditions throughout the country over the last month and we were the last group to be seen, I’m trying not to raise my hopes, even though I really want to be selected. You see, I’m going to use it as a platform to gain nation-wide interest in my beautiful, missing sister. The contestants who do well on each challenge, stay on the show. Imagine if I could tell everyone who watches it every day about you? I’m convinced I’d be able to track you down. I know you are out there somewhere. If you are reading this, Hannah Jane Masters, please let me know. I shall never give up hope. Even if I fail to make What Happens in... One day, somehow, you’ll find this blog and understand how much you are missed.
Please forgive me and come back.
She re-read her words. This was her fortieth post on the blog. Ordinarily, each was filled with cheery conversation – thoughts and hopes she’d like to share with her sister and recollections of their time together, rather than the more recent, urgent posts that were appeals for her return. She would go through this one again in the morning and make some adjustments before pressing the publish button. The statistics graph showed 185 people had visited the blog since her last post. Searching for Hannah was gradually increasing in popularity. At first, it had seemed a crazy idea to write a blog for her sister but the more Bryony had considered the idea, the less crazy it had sounded. Millions of people wrote blogs, and having an online presence was the norm these days. The odds of Hannah finding the blog were long but the ploy might yet pay off, although time was no longer on their side.
Bryony could fight her thoughts no more. She closed her eyes and allowed the memory of the day that changed everything to play out, and like a well-watched film it rolled in her mind’s eye…
As they leave the house, Rob rounds the corner and Hannah slows to a reluctant halt, grumbling, ‘That’s all I need. It’s your fault, Bryony. If I’d stayed inside he wouldn’t have dared talk to me.’
He’s wearing a beanie hat and the collar of his coat is turned up. He puts out a hand, rests it on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘We need to talk,’ he says.
‘Not now. I have to take Bryony to the park.’
‘I’ll come too and we can chat.’
‘No,’ she says, her lips pressed together as she does when she is in a stubborn, bad mood.
Rob and Hannah are going out together. Bryony is not sure what that means but when Mummy and Daddy are out at night, Rob comes over to watch television while Hannah is babysitting. Bryony likes Rob. He doesn’t laugh at her when she has one of her twitching turns. He’s kind and always brings her sweets. She likes the little cola cubes that come in a paper bag. She knows Hannah likes him because she’s seen them kissing on the settee. They didn’t see her though. She sneaked downstairs to ask for a glass of milk one night but when she saw them lying on the settee and kissing, she tiptoed back upstairs.
It’s quite chilly. Bryony is getting bored. Hannah and Rob are still talking. Rob hasn’t brought any sweets with him today and they seem to have forgotten all about her. They are talking in low voices and Bryony can’t hear what they’re discussing, but she can tell by the way Hannah is standing that it’s serious, grown-up stuff. They’re not holding hands and kissing like usual.
Bryony’s feet are beginning to get cold now and she wants to go to the park. She likes the roundabout best. She likes the way the sky spins around and around, faster and faster when she holds her head back, eyes wide open on it. She pulls her hand away from Hannah’s.
She tilts her head back and spins as if on the roundabout, arms outstretched. The clouds whirl around her head, leaving her breathless. She stops, dizzy, and spots Tubs over the road. Tubs is a small, black Labrador puppy that lives in the house opposite. It looks as if he’s escaped from his yard again. He’s always getting out and running off to find someone to play with. Sometimes he appears in their front garden and Hannah has to take him home. He’s an affectionate, happy dog. Whenever he sees Bryony he jumps up and licks her nose. She loves Tubs. She wants a dog exactly like him. He would be a good friend like Timmy the dog in ‘The Famous Five’ books she reads. Bryony does not have any friends. Children think she’s weird now. She has moments when her hands open and close for no good reason or her eye twitches or her shoulder jumps about. They’ve started to call her horrible names. If she had a puppy she wouldn’t care about the children.
At the moment, Tubs is chasing a plastic bag. The wind is propelling it down the road and he is pursuing it, tongue lolling out and ears back. Bryony stops her spinning and heads towards the bag. She will catch it and play tug of war with Tubs. She runs out into the road; the bag is not far away. She hears a scream behind her. Tubs stops chasing the bag and stares at her in wonder as she is suddenly lifted high into the air and propelled upwards towards the powder-puff clouds, weightless.
Bryony is confused. She can feel the air whooshing past her ears and wonders if she’s on a swing in the park with Hannah. And then, the sun goes out.