Missing Abby (15 page)

I was silent for a second, taking in the information that Sheila seemed to know Ski's mum. I played with a corner of the duvet. ‘So … is he OK?’

‘He seemed OK at school today. A bit hacked off.’

Did he say anything else about me, though? My mouth went dry. Like an idiot, I parroted again, ‘So, um, he's really OK?’

There was a pause.

‘Do you want his
number,
so you can ring and make sure?’ sneered Sheila.

My cheeks burst into flames. Thank god she couldn't see me. ‘Sure, why not?’ I said, totally offhand, like I rang boys all the time. As if I'd actually be brave enough!

When we hung up, I sat beside the bed for a long time, staring at the wall.

Nothing found anywhere. Nothing.

That night I dreamed that Abby and I were walking through the woods, dressed in grey cloaks with wrought-iron flowers at our throats. All around us, the forest leaves shone like stained glass in the sunlight.

Abby gave me an impish smile. ‘Do you remember Esmerelda?’

My veins chilled. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, it's really important for you to find her.’

I wanted to shout,
No!
I barely managed a groan, clutching my pillow, trying to fight my way out of the dream.

The forest shifted, and we were in a glade drenched with sunlight. Abby's hair poured down to her waist in a chocolate river, glistening with warm highlights.

She held the tiger-eye necklace. It shone brown and gold in the sun, winking at me.

She draped it around my neck with royal formality, and then fluffed my hair out from under its chain. ‘Keep it safe,’ she murmured, touching the stone as it lay on my chest. ‘It's yours now.’

‘Abby – Abby, please don't go.’ I grabbed her hands, holding them tightly in my own.

She smiled sadly. ‘I have to, Emma. But keep looking for Esmerelda, OK? It's all down to you, you're the only one who knows. Promise me.’

‘Yes – yes, OK, I promise.’ The wind murmured through the grass, and the sunshine sparked Abby's eyes, so alive and warm and brown, and I thought –
this isn't a dream
.

Abby kissed my cheek, her lips as light as a butterfly brushing past. ‘Goodbye, Emma,’ she whispered.

I came slowly awake, my pillow damp with tears. My stomach ached like someone had kicked me with a steel-tipped boot. It had been so
real …

The warm shape at my feet shifted as Pippin rose and stretched. He picked his way across the duvet to me, and butted my chin with his head. I scooped him into my arms, burying my face in his fur.

‘Oh, Pippin … it was like she was really there …’

I was going mad; I had to talk to someone. The dream was like Abby saying,
Don't give up.
But I didn't have a clue where to start, what to do!

I sat huddled up, rocking slightly, trying to think. Finally I opened the drawer and took out the little dragon, clutching him with his wings jabbing against my palm. A place with passageways, stairs, secret
rooms … come
on,
Abby! Where were you going? Tell me!

Pippin blinked at me, his paws tucked cosily under his orange-striped body.

He looked blissfully unconcerned that I was losing my mind.

Even though it was only Saturday, Dad insisted on doing his special brunch again, first rattling around in the kitchen for ages and then finally sweeping in and putting croissants with ham and cheese on the coffee table. ‘
Et voilà! Le petit déjeuner extraordinaire!
’

Jenny smiled at him as she pressed down the plunger on the cafetiere. ‘Mmm … looks good.’

‘Yum!’ said Nat.

Dad kissed the side of Jenny's head. ‘
Bien sér, ma chérie
,’ he said, practically gurgling the words with his phoney French accent.

I sat in the armchair, apart from everyone, and picked at my croissant. It was flaking crumbs everywhere, and I pressed them against the beige fabric, watching tiny grease stains appear.

‘Shall we go do something this afternoon?’ said Jenny. ‘Nat, watch your crumbs; you're getting them all over the carpet.’

Dad shook his head. ‘I've got that management training thing at two o'clock, remember? Over at the Reading office.’

Wonderful. He could learn how to be even bossier.

I tuned them out, frowning down at my half-eaten croissant.
Passageways, stairs, secret rooms … stairs, secret rooms, passageways …

‘Does that sound OK, Emma?’ asked Jenny.

I glanced up. ‘What?’

Jenny sat curled up in the corner of the sofa with

her coffee, smiling hesitantly at me. She opened her mouth to reply, but Dad jumped in first. ‘Jenny was just explaining that we might be able to get you a counselling appointment next week.’

My vision actually went red for a second. I had thought that was just a saying. I stood up and shoved my plate onto the wooden tray. ‘I've already told you, I'm not going.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Emma …’

‘Dad, if you'd just
listen
to me—’

He leaned forward, his black-haired forearms resting on his thighs. ‘I
am
listening. But your mother and Jenny and I have discussed it, and it's what we've all agreed is best for you. We're concerned about you, love.’

‘But—’

‘Emma, come on. Enough, OK?’

I started to slam out of the room. Dad's voice stopped me. ‘And take your things to the kitchen, if you've finished.’

I grabbed up my plate and my empty coffee cup, and resisted the urge to throw them both at him, splattering his pristine chinos and polo shirt. Stalking to the kitchen, I rinsed off the plate and cup and shoved them onto the draining board.

Voices drifted in from the front room, and my hands slowed as I strained to listen.
I'm sure it's the right thing … really difficult for everyone … just give her time …

‘Emma?’ Nat had followed me into the kitchen.

‘Shh!’ But Dad had put the TV on, and now all I could hear was a sport's commentator enthusing away about a perfect pitch. I sighed, and looked down at Nat. ‘What?’

She leaned against the counter, the top of her curly head barely reaching over it. ‘Can we play today? You said we'd finish before, and we never did. I want to know what happens to Esmerelda.’

I stared at her. ‘Yeah … that's a good idea,’ I said slowly. ‘I want to know, too. We'll play right after Dad leaves, OK?’

Nat gave a little hop, bouncing on her toes. ‘Why not now?’

‘Because it's a secret,’ I whispered, glancing towards the front room.

Dad left about an hour later, clutching the briefcase that seemed to be welded to his hand sometimes. The moment he was gone, Nat and I went out into the garden to sit under the birch tree. Pippin padded after us and stretched out on the grass, rolling on his back in the sunshine.

‘We were consulting with the mages of Ganet,’ prompted Nat, eyes shining.

‘Right.’ I looked up at the softly rustling leaves for a second, thinking. ‘Well … the mages are very old
and wise, and they tell us what we need to know. Esmerelda and Jasmine have joined forces, and they've fled to – to the castle of Colldara.’

‘Where's that?’ Nat's expression was grave, searching.

‘Far away, but the mages have a magic mirror we can walk through that will take us there. But we have to hurry, Nat! Esmerelda and Jasmine have stolen something called the Holy Eye – that's this beautiful necklace, with a stone like the eye of a tiger. It has great powers, and we can't let them use it, or they'll destroy the world.’

As well as I could from memory, I plunged into the story Abby had written. And Nat and I entered Esmerelda's dungeon, two apprentice mages who were in way over their heads. My voice lowered as I described the dungeon's twists and turns, its passageways.

‘Are you there?’ I whispered. ‘Do you see it?’

Nat's hair bounced on her shoulders as she nodded. Leaf-shaped shadows from the tree fell across her face.

My hands were tight fists. ‘Right, now – I want you to think a minute, OK? If we were going to chase Esmerelda through these dungeons for real – I mean, act the game out for real … where would we go to do it?’

Nat's eyes flew open, and she scowled at me. ‘That's not part of the game!’

I crouched on my knees beside her. ‘It
is,
Nat. Honestly. Come on, where do you think we'd go?’

‘A big basement somewhere,’ she said dismissively.
‘Now come on, she's getting away!’ I slumped back onto my heels, disappointment swelling through me.
Stupid!
Had I actually thought this would work?

The back door slid open, and Jenny stuck her head out. ‘I'm making brownies,’ she called up to us. ‘Fancy helping?’

‘We're busy playing!’ called back Nat. I winced. God, that was all Jenny needed to hear! She'd probably be on the phone to my
counsellor
any second now.

But Jenny just laughed, and pulled out a blue ceramic bowl from behind her back. ‘Are you sure? I've got a bowl here with your name on it – lots of ooey, gooey chocolate.’

So much for Esmerelda. Bouncing up with a squeal, Nat sprinted for the door. I sighed and started to stand up – just in time to see her stumble over a tree root and go flying. A second later she lay howling on the grass.

Jenny dropped the bowl with a clatter, and we both ran for her. She was clutching her arm, sobbing, and I saw that she had smashed it against one of the rocks that bordered the flowerbed. It was already ballooning up, the skin tight and angry.

‘Mummy, I hurt it, I hurt it!’

‘You sure did,’ murmured Jenny, white-faced. She put her arm around Nat and carefully helped her up. ‘Right, let's get you to the hospital … we need to get that X-rayed. Emma, you'll be OK here?’

I nodded, and stooped down to peer into Nat's face. ‘Listen, Natty, don't cry – if you've broken it,
they'll give you a really trendy cast, and I'll sign it when you get back, OK?’

Nat nodded, trying to look brave but failing. Jenny slowly ushered her through the house and into the car, and a few seconds later I heard them drive off.

I drifted back into the house and cleaned up the chocolate that had splattered on the carpet, rubbing at the stains with a damp cloth. A big basement … I sighed and dropped the cloth into the bowl. Thanks, Nat, that's just hugely helpful.

I went to dump the bowl in the kitchen, and as I was washing my hands, the memory hit me full-blast. I stared out the window with the water still running over my hands.

‘Oh, my god …’ I whispered.

It was at the Family Fun Fayre. The last one we went to before we started secondary school at Balden, and everything went so wrong.

We had been playing the Esmerelda game, poking around the empty office buildings. And afterwards, we had run down an embankment to the outside fence of the plant, and started following it around, heading back to the Fun Fayre. It had been a scorching day, and I remember Abby heaving out a sigh, blowing a strand of black hair off her face. ‘The heat is a device of Esmerelda's, no doubt.’

The fence curved around the plant, and suddenly there was a large garden shed in front of us, built against the side of the slope.

‘Hey, what's this?’ Abby went up to the door. The
sign on it said RESTRICTED ACCESS
,
but the knob turned when Abby put her hand on it. She creaked open the door and peered inside. ‘Emma, come see!’

I glanced around, but there was no one to catch us nosing about. The fence was set back a little ways from the road, with a small wood shielding us on the other side.

So I moved through the long grass to join Abby at the shed, looking over her shoulder, and felt coolness brush against my skin. A cement floor, and stairs that led downwards, disappearing into a tight, close darkness.

‘What do you think?’ Abby had whispered, her brown eyes gleaming. ‘Shall we risk it for a biscuit?’

My heart pummelled as I turned off the water. We had only gone down there for a few seconds, just long enough to make out concrete corridors lined with dozens of pipes. We didn't have a torch, so we couldn't explore it properly. And anyway, I think we were both too scared.

But maybe Abby had taken a torch and checked it out for herself at the next Family Fun Fayre.

Maybe she had even found a way to get into the plant.

I clutched the edge of the sink, head wheeling. Sheila! I had to talk to Sheila! I dashed to my room, scooping up my mobile and dialling her number.

It rang about ten times, and then kicked into her voice-mail. ‘Sheila, it's Emma! Ring me as soon as you get this,
please –
it's really, really important!’ Then I rang Directory Enquiries and got her home number, and stood tapping my fist against my bureau as it rang.

No answer.

Maybe they weren't even home. Maybe she hadn't even taken her mobile with her, wherever she was! My message could be sitting in her room for hours, waiting. And I didn't have hours. If Abby were down there—

I burrowed frantically in my bag for PC Lavine's card. I had this moment of panic where I thought I had lost it, and then found it tucked into my wallet.

Her mobile clicked into voice-mail instantly. ‘Hello, this is Police Constable Elizabeth Lavine. Please leave a message, and I'll ring you back as soon as possible. If this is urgent, please ring Hampshire Police Department on
…’

‘Um, hi,’ I said when I heard the beep of the voice-mail. ‘This is Emma Townsend. I need you to ring me, please – it's really important, I think I might know where Abby went.’

My voice sounded strangled. Just for good measure, I rang the number for the Hampshire Police, too. A woman's voice answered.

‘Hello – um – may I speak to PC Lavine, please?’

‘What is this regarding?’ She sounded brusque, like I was her zillionth call of the day.

‘Just – I need to talk to her. Is she there, please?’

‘I'm sorry, I need to know what this is regarding.’

‘Please, can I just—’

‘PC Lavine isn't in today,’ broke in the bored voice. ‘Can I direct your call somewhere else?’

I hung up without thinking and stood there shaking, pressing my hands against my head. What
was I going to do? Abby could be down there right now! She could have fallen and hurt herself—'