One of Us (35 page)

I need to get away before the police get here. I melt into the crowd.

Nobody will believe me.

CHAPTER 42

A
ND NOW I
feel oddly calm. I only have to do one thing. Hide. Get out of here. There are too many people pounding along this corridor. But that's good. I'm lost in the crowd. In my Brotherhood clothes.

My cheek is pressed up against a shop window, flattened against the glass so that all the clothes inside blur into colors. I edge toward the door to avoid the crush, and as the force of the crowd is suddenly gone, I fall into the sale racks by the shop entrance. I'm lucky that these shops stay open late at the weekend. It's easy to crouch under the rail and pull down a pair of pants, and a jacket. They're men's clothes, but they'll do. I put them on inside the tunnel of clothes. I yank off my skirt and stuff it into my wool bag on top of the few things I always carry with me.

When I rejoin the crowd of people, I look like a citizen again.

I'm just one of the crowd now, hurrying toward the exit of the shopping center, my eyes sweeping the faces for Oskar.

I reach the way out and see cash machines on the wall to the left. I take out as much money as I can. It doesn't matter now if I locate myself here because Oskar has already ensured that I'm on the shopping center security camera. Maybe they are checking the cameras already.

Then I walk through the back streets to the bridge and across the square to Central Station. I'm not afraid of the station now. I'm not afraid of the Brotherhood. I know I have to hurry, in case they cordon it off, looking for the bomber. Maybe they already have. I hear sirens all around. The station looks normal as I walk in.

Where can you hide if you have nowhere else to go?

I want to run as far away from Oskar as I can, but I'm not going to. I'm going to face the danger I couldn't see before. I'm tired of hiding. I'm going to make myself go to Yoremouth, where his house is. There must be something there that will help me find out why he did this. I'll just have to be very careful.

I stand in the line for the ticket office. There's a group of young men hanging about, but this evening I'm one of them, not one of Them. It doesn't take long for me to reach the window.

“Single to Yoremouth.” How clear and calm my voice sounds.

I drop the cash into the metal dish Then I go down to the platform to wait for my train. I make my body very still while I wait. I breathe on tiptoes, in and out, in and out. When the train pulls in, I get into a car in the middle. It's empty. My breath hisses out in a long sigh.

The train pulls out slowly, leaving Gatesbrooke behind. But I don't follow the thought of all I'm leaving. I stare at the window, while the train takes me away.

There are lights but no heating. I huddle into the jacket I stole from the shopping center and pull the hood over Greg's cap, which I found in my bag. Maybe, if I get out of this, I'll go back and pay for them. My mouth is so dry. I wish I'd remembered to buy—or loot—some water.

I rest my cheek against the cold glass, watching as the train slows down to pass through Limbourne. In the black glass of the opposite window my face appears, thin and pale, like a child waking from a nightmare.

The train rollicks from side to side.
You've taken everything, Oskar.
My barge, my job, my sunflower print, the new life I've been slowly building: all lost. The only thing I have left is my freedom. But for how long? A week? A few days? Hours?

My breath starts to flutter, and to calm myself I turn and stare back at the Limbourne waiting room as it gets smaller and smaller, until it's a tiny yellow cube, then a dot, then nothing. But that's a mistake, because I can't keep the memory of Greg away any longer. The pain thuds inside my ribs, like an actual blow, and I have to push it from me. If I start to cry now, I know I'll never stop.

I face forward again. In the darkness of my closed eyes I see a tiny oval picture, like a little frame with a film inside it. It's as clear as an image on a screen. It's the road outside the Meeting Hall. There's the girl in the sequined silver top. She's glaring at me, shivering in her thin clothes. She has no idea of the danger
she's in. But she isn't in any danger, because I'm carefully reversing it away.
I'm doing that, Oskar.

I did that.

Unless I'm slowly going mad. Perhaps she was in no danger at all; perhaps there was no bomb. What if there's no need to run? How would I know? There's no one to say, “Don't be daft, K, you're letting your imagination run away with you.” My only confidant is a dog! I pushed Oskar's car into the canal because of a feeling, but what if that feeling was wrong? I didn't hear an explosion. All the people rushing out of the shopping center seemed unaware of a bomb. Nobody at the station was panicking.

I open my eyes and sit up. I'm not so cold now that the heating's come on. This jacket is all right. It's a padded parka, so I'll be able to zip it right up to my chin and put the fur-lined hood up. I look at my wool bag. There's nothing much in it now, just my wallet, the paintbrush Greg gave me, my cell phone, my father's paintbox, and my mother's folding scissors and the skirt I was wearing. Tina would think it's bugged.

Tina told me to watch myself. Maybe I was right. I'm not just being paranoid.

I take everything out and put the things in the jacket pockets, except for Serafina's dear old pink cardigan and my coat, skirt, and hat. I put them all back in the bag, along with the phone Oskar gave me. Then I go into the space between the cars. I wait until the train slows down alongside a freight train, and I open the window and toss my bag into one of the carts. I watch it disappear. I can almost see Tina nodding approvingly.

Now it's just me and the clothes I'm standing in. I go back into the car and curl up on the seats.

Tomorrow I am going to hunt for Oskar. I will find out why he's done this.

I start to feel warm. I hold tight the thought that I stopped Oskar's bomb, and I say good night in my head to the girl in the silver top, who is still on this planet, and then I let myself fall asleep.

CHAPTER 43

W
HEN I WAKE
up, the train is still. Outside, I see the Yoremouth platform. Everything surges back and I feel absolutely certain that I made a mistake. Of course there was no bomb. The sky is lightening to gray. I must have slept here all night. My legs shake when I step down from the train.

I see a cafe ahead of me, and even though it's not even seven yet, it's open. I'm so thirsty. I go in and order toast and tea. It's surprisingly busy inside. I find a table at the back in the corner. Just like Jeremiah. I should have made him tell me what was wrong before it was too late. I wolf down the toast and pour myself another cup of tea.

That's when I see the newspaper rack on the back door. I go and get two newspapers and bring them back to my table. I need to look. Just in case.

It's on the front page:
ATTEMPTED BOMB AT GATESBROOKE SHOPPING CENTER.
I skim through the article:
After an anonymous tip-off to police . . . mystery car crash in canal basin . . . triggered remotely but failed to detonate under water . . . police
want to talk to unknown caller . . . below average height, slim build, Brotherhood clothing, long black hair . . .

I look at the blaring tabloid headlines next:
HOOD ATROCITY FOILED! . . . What Price Reconciliation Agreement Now? . . . WHAT WILL THEY DO NEXT?

I rake my hands through my hair. My long, Brotherhood hair!

Nobody was hurt.

Oskar tried to blow me up. Now I know it for sure.

They're hunting me already. The police. Oskar. I have to get out of here. I make myself get up slowly and walk casually back onto the platform.

I
NEED TO
do something about my hair. I almost sob with relief when I see the ladies' bathroom. I slip inside, and a wild-eyed figure stares at me from the metal mirror. I already look like a fugitive. It won't be long before they catch me.

I take my mother's scissors out of my pocket. Greg would be proud of me for being so well-prepared. I push away the thought of Greg. What will he think of me when he sees the morning papers?

I unfold the scissors. The sharp metal edges press into my finger and thumb as I hack my hair off in spikes. After a while I don't look like a Brotherhood girl anymore. I don't look like me. My face is as spiky as my hair, pinched with cold, eyes with huge black pupils in this dim light.

I scoop up the cuttings into a bundle and shove it into my pocket. Then I wash the stray strands down
the drain and go outside. At the entrance to the park that runs alongside the railway line there's a compost bin. I drop the ball of hair inside it and stir it into the mulch with a stick.

I
WANT TO
search Oskar's house. Maybe he's destroyed all my old papers, but if there's a chance I can prove who I really am, perhaps I can explain all this. Prove Oskar was using me. I think of Jeremiah and Tranquility Sound, the flimsy “evidence” that sent him there. I walk briskly through the streets like a person going somewhere. I'm pretty sure Oskar won't be there, though if he got wind of my movements he's had more than enough time to drive back. I'm banking on him staying in Gatesbrooke to look for me. But his housemate Col might be in. The thought of Col makes me shudder. I'll have to be careful. But I also have to be quick.

All I have to do is keep walking. I turn left at the seafront and head for the cottage. I need to lean forward against the wind just to keep moving. The sea seethes around the pier supports, white foam endlessly pouring itself on to the land. Although it thrashes so angrily, it can't mean harm. Not like Oskar. I follow the prom under the castle and around to the other bay. The waves unfold to the sky in an expanse of gray. Nothing would last long in there.

Seagulls wheel above the castle. The wind soars around the angles of the rooftops. I see the cottage where I stayed with Oskar in the spring, and my
feet falter and stop. But I make myself keep going.
I'm coming after you, Oskar.

I slow down as I pass the windows. The front room curtains are open, and I can't see anyone inside. The curtains upstairs are open too. That's good. It looks like nobody's in.

I turn down the next street to find the alley behind the houses. It comes out into a small yard, and I can see the shadows beyond the kitchen window. I peer into the empty kitchen. There are dishes in the sink. One bowl, one mug, some cutlery. One person's dishes. I listen, but I can't hear anything. The key is still where it was in the spring, under an upturned pail near the back door. I unlock the door and put the key back. Then I go in and shut the door softly behind me. I stand still for a moment, absorbing the sounds of the house and the silence after the wind.

I go upstairs, stopping on the first landing to listen again. I check the bedroom there first: Oskar's room. My heart starts beating faster, with the hope that I might find something and the fear that somebody will come home before I do.

I look systematically through the desk drawers, under the bed, in the wardrobe, on top of the wardrobe. Then in all the pockets of the clothes. It's clear that Oskar has been living here recently, because in the bin there's a coffee receipt from last week. But there are no papers or letters anywhere.