Apple and Rain (23 page)

‘RAIN!’ I shout.

I dash into the sitting room, and search every tiny space. Behind the couch. In the cupboards. Under the chairs.

But I can’t find her. I can’t find her because she’s gone, along with her coat and boots.

And the most frightening thing about it: she’s left Jenny behind.

42

I call Mum again and again and again, but every time I do, it goes straight to answerphone. I’ve no choice but to stick a note on the front door for Rain telling her to call me if she gets back before I do, and head out to search for her. I jam Jenny into a dress, strap her into the carrier and bring her with me. I can’t leave her in the flat alone – not after what I’ve done.

I close the front door behind me and pull up the hood of my coat. The streets are deserted and all I want to do is go back inside. I want to hide and pretend none of this is happening. But I can’t do that with Rain missing. Not after she was so upset. And especially not when it’s my fault.

I turn right at the end of the road then left on to the high street. The shops are closed, the shutters down. Homeless people in sleeping bags are curled up in cold doorways. A van rattles along the road, stops outside the newsagent’s, and a man throws a bundle of newspapers by the door. The bakery is dimly lit and a smell of fresh bread wafts its way on to the street.

I trek up and down the high street three times. But Rain is not here. I don’t know why I thought she might be.

A woman in white dungarees is fiddling with a key in the lock of a car door. She sees me and stares. ‘You all right, love?’ she asks. She coughs and drinks from a thermos.

‘Have you seen a little girl with curly red hair?’ I ask.

‘Is someone lost? Do your parents know you’re out in the dark?’

I swallow. ‘Yes, of course. My sister is missing. Mum and Dad have gone to the police station,’ I lie. And as I say it, I know that’s exactly where I should be: at the police station filing a missing person’s report, not jeopardising Rain’s safety by searching myself. Then I think about Mum and what would happen to her if the police got involved and I know I can’t go anywhere near the station. Not yet. I just have to look harder.

‘Thanks anyway,’ I tell the woman and take off down the high street towards the pier.

I hear the ocean before I see it – the heavy sound of the night waves roiling against the sand. I walk along the pier and it creaks under my feet. Gulls circle the navy sky. It’s still too dark to see along the full length of it. Water growls against its bones.

A few metres ahead is the silhouette of a man in a rain jacket. The figure turns my way. ‘Hello?’ he calls.

My hands sweat. My heart pounds. I walk towards him.

As I get closer, I see he has a fishing rod propped up against a bucket and a line dripping into the sea.

‘I’m looking for a little girl,’ I tell him.

‘Not seen no one,’ he says. His face is in shadow.

I turn and head back to the promenade.

‘What’s her name?’ he calls after me.

I ignore him and check my phone for the hundredth time to see if Mum or Rain have called. They haven’t, and it’s six thirty already. It means Rain has been missing well over an hour at least. I put my arms around Jenny. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.

But I might have one friend I can call on for help.

Then I’ll have to go and see Nana with the terrible news.

43

I ping pebbles at the top storey windows of Del’s house. After a few seconds he pushes one open. ‘Hey there!’ he says casually, like he was expecting me.

‘I need your help,’ I whisper.

Del opens the front door a few minutes later. He’s fully dressed in school uniform and carrying his mermaid bag.

‘You’re ready for school? That was quick,’ I say.

‘Not really. Sometimes I sleep in my uniform, to save time.’

I can’t tell whether he’s joking or not, but I’m not in the mood to quiz him. ‘Oh, Del, I kicked Jenny,’ I tell him.

‘Where’s Rain?’ he asks.

‘I
kicked
Jenny across the room. Rain’s run away and I keep thinking she must have jumped off the pier or fallen in front of a train or been kidnapped or something.’

Del chews his lips. ‘Did your mum call the police?’

‘No,’ I say. I hold my head in my hands. ‘Mum’s not been home in two days. She went to London to try to get some part in a film and we haven’t heard from her. She’s missing too. And I’m too scared to go to the police. What if they arrest Mum for neglect or something?’

We sit on his front wall. The sun is turning the sky into a pastel orange paste.

‘Look, we’ll find her. And you can’t blame yourself. Rain’s fragile,’ Del says.

‘I know she’s fragile. So, why did I kick her doll? I’m a terrible person.’

‘No, you’re not.
I
like you, and I hate terrible people,’ Del says. ‘If you weren’t so upset and Rain wasn’t missing, I’d try to kiss you. Like on the lips.’

I stare at him. Kiss me? I’ve no make-up on and I’m dressed in a dirty jumper. My face is red from crying and my eyes are probably bloodshot with bags underneath them.

‘Don’t seem so surprised,’ he says. ‘You’re quite kiss­able. But enough of that. Let’s work out where Rain is.’

‘Oh God, I hope she’s alive. What if she isn’t?’

‘Let’s work on the assumption that she is. Right, so who does she know in Brampton-on-Sea?’

‘Jenny,’ I say unhelpfully.

‘Jenny. Yes. Who else?’

‘You?’

Del nods. ‘Well,
I
haven’t seen her.’

‘I looked everywhere I could think of. She doesn’t know Brampton at all and she doesn’t know anyone except us.’

‘Are you sure?’

I think for a second. ‘Well, she knows Nana, but if she’d turned up there, Nana would have called. She wouldn’t hide her and not tell anyone. She’s über-responsible.’

‘Good point. So, in conclusion, she knows no one and has nowhere to go. What would you do if you were her?’

‘Kill myself,’ I say.

‘Well, that’s just silly, she didn’t do that. She’s somewhere. We simply have to find her. Who do you know with a car?’

‘No one.’

‘No one?’

‘Nana, but I can’t ask her. I can’t tell her yet.’

We sit in silence. The only other person I know with a car is Egan Winters and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m the stupidest person alive. He’d never help.

‘You know someone,’ Del says, reading me.

‘I don’t,’ I say.

‘Not to be dramatic or anything, but Rain’s safety sort of depends on us finding her.’

‘Well, there’s this boy in the sixth form with a car, but . . .’

‘Where does he live?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Right.’ He looks at his watch. ‘It’s only seven fifteen. Let’s retrace your steps to make sure you didn’t miss anything, pick up a couple of croissants for breakfast, then go to school and wait for him.’ He jumps up. ‘You coming or what?’

‘I can’t ask him to drive us around. It’s complicated,’ I say.

His mouth slips into a smile. ‘What? Were you
lovers
or something?’ He kisses his own hand, biting and sucking the skin. It’s kind of disgusting but also quite funny.

‘Stop,’ I say, laughing, and because I’m laughing it means I don’t have to explain why it’s complicated with Egan Winters. Anyway, Del’s right. It isn’t complicated. Not at all. It’s just really, really embarrassing.

He takes my arm and we go the long way to the bakery for breakfast, where Del buys me an almond croissant. Then we head to school to wait for Egan.

Egan scuffs his hubcaps against the kerb and clambers out of his car. ‘All right, Egan!’ Del says, like they’ve been friends for years.

‘Who are you?’ Egan is suspicious. Then he sees me. ‘Apple. Hey. I thought you’d left the school. Everyone thought you’d gone to America with . . .’ He doesn’t finish his sentence because he doesn’t want to mention my mum.

‘Remember my sister?’ I ask.

‘No,’ he says.

‘Well, she’s missing,’ I say.

And I tell him everything about Rain and Jenny, and about Mum leaving us and going to London. ‘Basically, I don’t know anyone with a car except you. Can you help us find her?’

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He checks his phone. It’s obvious he wants nothing to do with this, but he owes me a favour after humiliating me. ‘I’ve gotta be back for orchestra,’ he says.

‘Great. Come on,’ says Del.

We pile into Egan’s Punto, which smells a bit of cheese and onion crisps. Del jumps into the back. I sit next to Egan in the passenger seat.

Egan stalls the car a couple of times before pulling away.

‘When did you pass your test?’ Del asks. He pokes his head between the seats.

‘It’s a sticky gearbox,’ Egan says to explain his bad driving.

‘Ah,’ Del says. ‘Anyway, the best way to do this is if Egan drives and we hop out to look. That’ll save us time trying to find parking and whatever.’

‘Seat belt,’ Egan barks.

Del sits back.

I scan the map on my phone. ‘Let’s try the streets near my house first,’ I say.

‘Did she pack a bag? We should think about what was going through her head when she left,’ Del says.

‘I didn’t check,’ I admit.

‘That’s OK, we’ll find her,’ Del says confidently.

Egan glances in the rear-view mirror and frowns. ‘We’ll try our best,’ he says.

Rain isn’t on any of the roads near our house. She isn’t in the corner shop. She isn’t at the library. No one in the bus or train stations can remember seeing her. Del and I search the arcades too, checking by the fruit machines and grabby hands. Then we trawl through every park in town.

After a few hours, we’re out of ideas. Egan pulls into the drive-in McDonalds where he pays for three Happy Meals.

‘You’re going to miss orchestra,’ I tell him.

He sucks on his straw. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says. His mouth is covered in mustard. I look away. I hate mustard. Even the smell of it makes me sick.

‘What about the swimming pool?’ Del asks from the back seat.

I shake my head and turn to him. A thick belt of sunlight is drawn across his face. His eyes are glittery and bright. Even compared to Egan Winters he’s quite good looking, maybe even a bit pretty. ‘She doesn’t have a swimming costume, I don’t think.’

Del smacks a hand against his head. ‘How could we have forgotten? The ice rink!’ he says.

‘Oh, Del, yes!’ I say. ‘We have to go to the rink.’

‘Let me grab a McFlurry quickly,’ Egan says.

‘We haven’t got time for McFlurries,’ Del says bossily. I smile. He’s something else, Del Holloway – something really special.

We speed up Beckett Hill and Egan pulls the car to a juddering halt outside the rink. Del and I hop out. Hope fizzes in me as I imagine Rain in a pair of thick blue skates, wobbling on the ice. She has to be here. It’s the last pos­­sible place.

But almost as soon as I start to feel hopeful, I’m deflated again. The rink is empty. The café’s not even open. No one has seen a girl that matches Rain’s description.

The corners of my eyes prickle, but before I cry, Del has his arm around me. ‘Don’t get all weepy, you. It’s not helpful.’

‘What if . . .’

‘Don’t even say it, Apple.’

‘What if she’s dead?’ I splutter.

‘Oh, shut up!’ Del shouts and points an accusing finger at me. ‘If you think she’s dead, we might as well go home.’

I hold Jenny against me and squeeze. ‘What’s so bad about pretending a doll’s a real baby? It was weird, but Rain wasn’t hurting anyone, and it made her happy,’ I say. I’m not sure Del can understand a word I’m saying through the choking tears.

‘It made her happy?’ Del looks doubtful. He pulls me towards him and wipes his arm across my face to get rid of the snot. ‘Apple?’

‘Yeah?’

‘When I met you, you were a bit of a grump, but it was like the grumpiness was an act or something. I don’t think it’s an act now, is it?’

A rock hits the pit of my tummy. ‘No,’ I say. The grumpiness isn’t an act. Sometimes I feel like I’m full of hard music and spikes. ‘It doesn’t matter about me. We have to find Rain.’

Del takes a deep breath. ‘We haven’t tried your nan’s house,’ he says. He puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘She can’t be angry. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘You don’t know her,’ I say.

I knock and knock and knock at Nana’s door but the only thing I manage to do is make Derry howl and snuff at the letterbox. I take out my phone and dial Nana’s number. It rings then goes to answerphone.

Del is at the gate. ‘Well?’ he asks.

‘She’s missing too. What’s
happening
?’ It’s like I’m in some awful dream, running after people and unable to find any of them.