It took Fash a while to convince me. I think that surprised him. I mean, that’s obviously why he came to me before the others, because he thought I’d be the easiest sell. But at first I couldn’t see the point. Where would we look, for one thing? And why did we have a better chance of finding Sadie than anyone else? But Fash had answers prepared for both of those questions. Which, had I thought about it, should probably have rung alarm bells at the time.
But what he said was, Sadie might still be out there. Alone somewhere, hurt maybe, and for all we knew, everyone else was looking for her in the wrong place. Why weren’t they looking in the woods? We knew Sadie liked to go walking there. We all did. When we were young the woods had basically been our playground – we’d climb trees, play manhunt, all that – and Fash’s point was, we knew them better than anyone.
And the other thing he said was, why not go? You know? Because the alternative was to keep doing what we’d been doing, and Fash made out he was as sick of waiting around as I was.
So I agreed. And Fash grinned, all relieved and that. Which should have been another clue. But at the time all I was thinking about was how long it had been since I’d last seen anyone smile. And Fash, he’s kind of funny-looking anyway. Not ugly, I don’t mean that. He’s tall and he’s dark, obviously, and he’s got nice eyes, but he’s also a bit … gangly. Like his bones are a size too big for his body, even in his face. You’ve seen him, you know. So all I’m saying is, when Fash smiles, it’s almost impossible not to smile back.
‘So what are we waiting for?’ Fash said. ‘Let’s get going.’ We were in my room, and Fash was sitting on my bed. He patted the rucksack he’d dropped on to the mattress. It was his school bag, so I hadn’t really noticed it until then. I should have, I suppose, seeing as it was still the summer holidays.
‘Now, you mean? But what about … I don’t know. Our parents. Your mum.’
Fash’s expression sort of clouded. Fash’s mum … she doesn’t hit him or anything like that. She’s not like Mason’s dad, for example, and she’s not an arsehole like Abi’s. But even so, she’s got this control over him. I mean, strict is putting it mildly. She’s protective, is what it is. If she could, she’d put him in a box, and only bring him out on special occasions.
‘I told her I’m staying the night at Mason’s,’ Fash said, and I could see how bad he felt about having lied to her. ‘And your parents are out, right? Which, the way I figure it, gives us until teatime tomorrow. And, anyway, the day after that, we’re supposed to be back at school.’
Which I’d almost forgotten about. Going back to school. Starting sixth form. Or, actually, I didn’t forget. The truth is I’d been trying not to think about it: the idea of going back to school without Sadie. Without even knowing what happened to her.
So I started packing. I did what Fash did, and used my school bag. He told me he would have brought something bigger, but chances were we’d be spotted by someone on our way out of town, and he didn’t want people to start asking questions. What he meant was, he didn’t want anyone spreading rumours. Even more rumours, that is.
That’s the problem with living where we do. When I’m old enough I’m going to move to Australia. Arizona. Some place with no rivers, no woods. No crappy fairgrounds and cheap-arse tourists. No wash-out summers. No … no frigging ice cream vans. Seriously, how many ice cream vans does one town need? No caravan parks. No caravans, full stop. No wind. Nothing above a gentle breeze. No Harvesters. No sodding Morrisons. No net curtains, either, or people who know your name. Nobody who knows your business when you don’t want them to.
No woods. Have I said that already?
Well, anyway, it’s worth saying twice.
Lots of people. Hundreds of thousands of them preferably. Millions. Or, failing that, none at all.
The population here is supposed to be, I don’t know, ten thousand or something, more in the summer obviously, and yet you always end up seeing the same faces. Literally, wherever you go. And people always end up seeing you. Watching you. They smile and they talk about the weather and the wind and the seagulls – people are always going on about the sodding seagulls – but really all they’re doing is looking for some petty scandal to fill their sad, pathetic little lives.
Anyway.
It took me about thirty seconds. Packing, I mean. I would have taken longer over it if I’d known we’d be gone for two whole nights, and if I’d known what was going to happen with the weather. But it had been dry for so long, it seemed like it wouldn’t ever rain again. Hard to believe now, right?
Next up was Abi. And I swear to God we had to stop her from packing her hairdryer. She didn’t take much convincing, though, and I remember being impressed at the time. I guessed her dad was probably on one, and she was desperate to get out of the house. Abi’s dad is always giving her a hard time about something. She’s too fat, too thin, too ugly, too stupid. He’s basically the opposite of my parents, who are so wrapped up
