Dark Ride (13 page)

C
HAPTER
27

 

Gone

 

I ran over to where they’d been standing and shouted, ‘Luka!’ into the wind.

I knew it was pointless. He was gone. But my brain couldn’t accept it.

I murmured, ‘No, no, no, no,’ over and over again, gulping hot tears and then I found myself sinking down onto my knees, my arms wrapped round myself as sobs shuddered through me.

Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I thought about the moment when we’d kissed for the first time, already a lifetime ago, and the way he’d laced his fingers through mine right before our lips met. I tried to picture it all, to hang onto that moment, but all I could see was the image of him running towards Eva and out of my life.

I couldn’t believe I’d never see him again, or touch him ... it was so unfair and wrong I didn’t think I could stand it. I always thought heartache was just a figure of speech but I really had a pain in my chest and it hurt, it hurt so much.

I lost all track of time but after what could have been minutes or an hour, I noticed something lying in the grass next to me. It was Luka’s keys. I fumbled for them with my numb fingers and pressed them to my lips. Having something of his helped calm me a little and after a few moments I got to my feet and groped for a tissue to wipe my wreck of a face. As my hand went into my pocket, a horrible realisation went through me like an electric shock ...

...
Guard this with your life
...

I couldn’t feel the package. I gave out a moan as I frantically felt inside my top. But it was gone.

I ran to the main road and headed back in the direction I’d come from. I didn’t dare go all the way to the fairground as I could hear the fire engines there, but I went as far as I could, scanning the ground desperately.

Eventually I slowed to a stop, almost blinded by tears, my shoulders heaving. It was no good.

Stupid, stupid, stupid ...

After all we’d gone through to find it, it was lost.

Luka and Eva had died for nothing.

I was wet through and almost delirious with sadness and cold. I don’t even remember how I got home. But when I did, Mum was furious with me for being in such a state and kept questioning me over and over about what I’d been doing. I insisted I’d left Abbie’s and gone for a walk on the beach. I made up some rubbish about tripping over a rock.

Mum clearly didn’t believe that for a second, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. Eventually she realised I had a raging temperature and sent me off to bed where I cried quietly for ages until I eventually passed out.

I didn’t do much else but sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

When I finally woke up properly, I thought for a minute I’d died. The room was bathed in a white glow and everything was muffled and quiet. I had the mad thought that I was in heaven and Luka would be there too. Then I saw the uneaten toast and cup of cold tea on my bedside table. I got out of bed cautiously and drew back the curtain.

The world had been transformed while I was asleep. Every surface was thickly covered in snow that sparkled in the winter sunshine. It looked just like a Christmas card. Normally I would have been excited, but I hurt all over, like someone had peeled back my skin and all my nerve endings were on red alert.

I sat back on the bed. All I could think about was Luka, going over the last time I saw him, again and again. Could he really be gone, just like that? When I thought about losing the package, a sick shame twisted inside me.

I wanted to see his face badly then and started tossing all my clothes around, desperately trying to look for the jeans I’d been wearing that day. I knew I’d put the picture in my pocket that morning. I cursed Mum because I realised she’d have taken everything for the wash. Then I noticed she’d made a neat little pile of stuff from my pockets on my chest of drawers. The keys and keyring were there under some crumpled paper and the picture of Luka, right on the top in an obvious way.

I knew there would be questions about these items. She was obviously just waiting until I was better until she could interrogate me.

I curled back into bed, threading the keyring into one fist as I examined Luka’s face, wishing I could fix it in my mind. I kissed the photo and then held it against my heart, my eyes tightly closed. He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn’t be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.

I swallowed hard and absently twisted the keyring in my fingers. Luka said it was a Croatian good luck charm. It hadn’t brought him and Eva much luck, that was certain. Looking at it properly for the first time, I realised the head of the little doll unscrewed. I expected to find a smaller doll inside but when I pulled the two pieces apart I realised something else was there instead.

Something that looked like the memory card from a camera.

A smile broke across my face.

C
HAPTER
28

 

Here Is the News

 

South Kent News

Page last updated at 04:50 GMT,
Slavery Ring Found in Sleepy Kent Resort

Kent police have uncovered a ‘significant’ people-trafficking ring in the rundown seaside resort town of Slumpton. Raiding a series of businesses and construction projects, including a multimillion pound marina development, they found up to 120 migrant workers living in squalid conditions from a variety of countries including Croatia, China and Pakistan.

Passports had been confiscated on arrival to the UK and most victims were told they had to repay large sums of money to the parties who brought them here.

A local millionaire and businessman, Alexander McAllistair, and a number of senior councillors have been arrested and are being held for questioning under the Anti-People Trafficking Act 2007.

The story first appeared in local newspaper
The Slumpton Advertiser.
Senior Reporter Will Longmeadow told us, ‘I can’t reveal my sources but I received incriminating images implicating powerful local figures. I immediately went to the highest authorities.’

A spokesperson from the anti-slavery charity Project Bluebird said, ‘There is no place for slavery in the modern world and we hope to see the men behind this brought to justice.’

 

I didn’t get to look at what was on the memory card. I took a chance that something important had to be on there, for Eva to hide it like she did. And I was right. She had photographed everything, including Lili’s letter. Will never actually knew who his source was because I sent it all anonymously, with carefully altered handwriting. There was no other way. I shuddered at the very thought of explaining it all to Mum. And how would anyone ever understand about Luka?

What Will found on the memory card was like a stick of dynamite in the middle of Slumpton. Not long after the story was on the news, McAllistair was on bail, waiting for his criminal trial. A local policeman and a couple of town councillors were also found to be part of the smuggling ring.

I never found out what happened to Lili. I liked to imagine that she was back with her family again and no longer so scared and timid. But maybe she would never get over it.

The worst bit was knowing that the truth about what happened to Luka and Eva would probably never come out. There was just nothing to prove their part of the story. It seemed desperately unfair that McAllistair and his men wouldn’t be charged with murder. Because that’s what it had been. But at least we’d stopped them ruining anyone else’s life.

There was a silver lining though. I saw something in the local paper about how some photographs of the fairground had been found and it seems they’ve gone to the local museum. They’re going to be used as part of an exhibition about the town’s history.

So Eva got her exhibition after all.

Luka would have been so proud.

Luka...

Every time I thought about him walking away into the rain, I went through that goodbye all over again.

I would have done anything to be allowed to see him one last time.

C
HAPTER
29

 

Spring

 

Five months later

‘Bel! You’d better get a move on, or you’ll be late on the first day back!’

‘I’m
coming!’

I finish off tying the David Stafford tie. (Still purple. Still horrible.)

I look at my reflection in the mirror and make a face, before heading off down the stairs.

I see Mum at the hall mirror, her mouth stretched into a square as she applies her lipstick. She often wears lipstick these days, and she’s just had her hair cut and coloured. She doesn’t have that pinched look any more either.

‘Now, you know I’m going out tonight, don’t you?’ she says.

‘How could I forget?’ I reply. ‘You’ve been going on about it all week.’

‘Oi, missy, watch it,’ she says and tries to smack me on the bum as I duck into the kitchen.

A bowl of cereal later, I’m out the door, off for the first day of the second half of the summer term.

The sun isn’t exactly cracking the pavement and I still can’t imagine anyone ever actually sitting on the beach, but the trees are all bunchy with blossom and the air smells nice. Slumpton seems only averagely rubbish these days, rather than the worst place in the world.

There have been quite a few changes since everything that happened at Christmas.

Dad lives in Newcastle now. And that’s all right. It took me a while, don’t get me wrong. Eventually I agreed to visit but said I didn’t want anything to do with his other woman and he respected that and kept her out of the way. By the third visit, I decided it was time to put him out of his misery. Can’t say I adore her. But she’s all right. I’ll live.

Mum’s seeing Will properly. He has turned out to be okay. He got promoted after breaking that story. Sometimes I feel like asking for a commission.

There’s even talk about bringing back the fairground now the marina project has been scaled down.

I don’t think I’ll be going though. Too many memories there for me.

I think about Luka all the time. I still miss him so much and sometimes I get the shivers so hard I have to sit down. I wonder, ‘Why me?’ Why was I the only person who could see him? I guess I’ll never really know.

I’ve even wondered whether I really
did
meet a ghost boy at all or if I had some kind of nervous breakdown, brought on by the stress of moving here and my parents splitting up.

But I know that’s not true. And I only have to look at the photo to remember how it felt to be in his arms, to kiss him, to see his face light up as he smiled at me.

If I think about it all too much I get a bit dizzy and worry I’ll turn into some sort of nutter. It’s time to concentrate on the living.

Abbie’s waiting at the end of the street so we can walk to school together and I give her a wave. She casually waves back. She’s not one to get excited about anything much. Her laid-back attitude makes me laugh and makes me a little bit envious too. She probably wouldn’t blink if I told her the truth about what happened at Christmas.

But I know I never will.

As I’m walking towards her, an ice-cream van goes by and all the hairs on my arms stand up. It’s playing the tune I heard on the carousel the day I met Luka.

I stare after it for a moment and wonder ...

Stop it, Bel,
I think.
He’s gone.
I swallow deeply and, for a second, a pain in my chest makes me gasp.

‘Hey,’ says Abbie, with a grin.

‘Hey,’ I say back, giving myself a shake.

‘Ready for the shiny new term?’ She raises an eyebrow in that clever way she has.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Bring it on.’

Acknowledgements

 

I’d like to thank the following people:

Helenanne Hansen and Michele Kirsch for being early readers of
Dark Ride
and giving me the encouragement and courage to stick with it.

Suzy Greaves for her stubborn belief this would happen for me one day.

Luisa Plaja, Emily Gale, Alexandra Fouracres and Sam Tonge for mopping me up a million times and providing the best writerly support a girl could ask for.

My dad, George Green, for giving me the writing gene in the first place.

Paul Donohoe from the real ‘Project Bluebird.’ Antislavery is a charity that fights against people trafficking and slavery worldwide. Donations can be made via their website
www.antislavery.org
.

Everyone at Piccadilly Press but especially Anne Clark for rescuing me from the slush pile and being the kind of editor I always dreamed of working with one day.

Finally and most importantly of all, thanks and love to Pete, Joe and Harry for being there through thick and thin.

piccadillypress.co.uk

 

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