S is for Stranger (28 page)
Authors: Louise Stone
‘It’s a phone.’
‘Get lost. Girls like you are trouble.’
The image was lost as Keira presumed Zoe had dropped her phone into her pocket. Keira held the phone up to her ear, their conversation inaudible. Then, the video cut out.
Keira started a new message, her hands clammy.
R U OK?
She rose from her bed and waited for Zoe to text back. Keira looked out her bedroom window at the dusky sky, the gentle pitter-patter of rain on the glass.
Keira’s phone beeped.
DOUBLE-DARE COMPLETE. Z xx
Keira smiled and deleted the videos. She would buy Zoe her cigarettes tomorrow.
TWO
The weather had turned overnight. Keira’s cheeks tingled as the chilly air whipped against her skin. The orange-brown leaves, previously hanging onto the remnants of summer, had started to fall. The thin wheels of Keira’s bike skidded over the crunchy layer covering the ground and, minutes later, she was outside the farm buildings. The front yard was empty, the tractor standing alongside the barn. She noticed the dogs were quiet and the sheepdog was nowhere to be seen.
Unsure of herself, she dismounted and leant her bike up against the wall. She looked up toward Charlcombe Manor, the large estate that sat on the outskirts of Chilcote. As her eyes fell away from the large house and focused on the bungalow once more, Keira was sure she saw a curtain twitch. Fearing Mrs Wyre might come out again, Keira made a move to grab her bike.
Zoe’s text had read:
Come to the farm.
She wheeled her bike further away from the farmyard and caught sight of the stile Zoe had videoed yesterday. Keira leant her bike up against the stone wall, climbed over the stile and walked up the side of the field. It was surreal following in Zoe’s ghostly footsteps. The September sunshine was warm on her face and the only sound, other than the cawing of rooks overhead, was her feet hitting the dry ground.
Wheat lined the field, but it hadn’t been harvested yet. It had been an unusually wet summer and many of the local farmers were holding out a bit longer to give it an opportunity to dry in the autumn sunshine. Keira’s right hand caressed the tops of the wheat crop as she walked. The husks felt rough to the touch. The browns and yellows of wheat and rape were sewn into the land like a patchwork quilt.
After a mile or so, Keira came across a wooded area and, as she entered, the temperature cooled and the air felt damp. The sun was unable to reach through the canopy of trees and, where it had, the light was dappled. The fallen branches were covered in lichen and moss, the earth softer. Above, the rooks circled the wood. Keira watched them, a shiver running through her. As they called to one another, Keira thought how the noise resembled shrieking children.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
Keira stopped, wondering where on earth Zoe had got to.
‘Hello.’
Keira spun around and came face to face with Jerry.
‘I didn’t s-s-see you coming.’
‘I live and work here. I’m never far away,’ said Jerry.
She smiled, nervous chatter building inside her head. ‘I’m looking for my friend.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Why would she be up here?’
Keira’s mouth turned dry. ‘Not sure, really,’ she lied.
‘Yes.’ He stepped closer. ‘Not safe, these woods.’ His hooded eyes conveyed no emotion.
She glanced upward. The rooks overhead had grown in number and some sat on the highest boughs of the forest trees. A group of twelve or so circled above the forest’s awning.
Jerry pointed at the birds. ‘They’ve found it.’
Keira tensed. ‘What have they found?’
‘The deer.’
‘Deer?’
He focused on her, his eyes steady. ‘Shot a sick deer earlier. They’ll be tearing it up.’
A sour taste had developed in her mouth, its acridity lingering at the back of her throat. ‘I really had better get going.’ Keira gulped, urging saliva to travel down her throat. ‘Bye,’ she squeaked and rushed past Jerry, in the direction she had come. She smelt the stale sweat coming off his clothing, mingled with cigarette smoke. Her stomach lurched and she broke into a run. She made her way past the wheat and rape fields. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and, now, the rape did not glisten, the wheat did not appear at all idyllic.
She could see the stile and quickened her pace. Her bike remained propped up against the wall and, breathing heavily, her heart thundering, she jumped on and pedalled fast away from the farm.
She stopped on the edge of Chilcote and withdrew her phone from her jacket pocket. The phone rang through to voicemail.
‘Zoe, it’s me. Ring me when you get this.’ Keira forced her breathing to slow. ‘I went to the farm, went up the side of the field. I couldn’t see you.’ She paused and added, ‘Please ring me. I’m worried.’
Zoe would laugh at her when she got the message.
Worried?
She would tell Keira no one ever need worry about her. With that thought in mind, Keira headed back home, to Rose Cottage, stopping briefly to buy cigarettes from the small corner shop. The owner, Mr Rees, had no idea how old she was. He had been selling her and Zoe cigarettes for over two years.
Keira stuffed them into her inside pocket and headed home. If Zoe continued to see through double-dares, Keira thought smiling, she would have to rob a bank. No point
asking her parents for more pocket money. Ever since her dad had been asked to leave the college, they had halved her pocket money and tightened their purse strings. She would have to do Zoe’s homework instead. Hopefully, she thought, Zoe would just tell the truth.
As she rounded the corner, she was surprised to see both her parents’ cars outside Rose Cottage. They had all left the house at the same time. It had been early, the sky etched with pinks and greys. Her mother should have been at the library where she worked and, this morning, she had a meeting. Her father was out every day, looking for work – although, from the smell of whiskey on his breath, Keira was sure that he spent his days in the pub. Nevertheless, he had climbed into his beaten-up Volvo this morning and trundled off down the road.
She dropped her bike on the grass and ran inside, barely managing to stop herself colliding with her mother in the hall.
‘Keira,’ her mother said gravely. ‘Have you seen Zoe?’
‘Wh-wh-what do you mean?’ Keira drew her jacket around her, the cellophane wrapping of the cigarette packets crunching against her T-shirt, her heart quickening.
‘Cathy received a text from Zoe last night saying she was staying with us, that she had grabbed some clothes and that she’d come here.’ She put a hand on Keira’s shoulder. ‘Do you know anything about this?’
‘I was here all night. You know that.’
Her mother nodded. ‘That’s what I told her. I told her that we hadn’t seen Zoe.’ She clutched her throat with her hand. ‘Obviously, I wanted to check with you first … Seeing as she might have been here and …’
Keira wanted to finish the sentence off for her mother:
She might have been here and we wouldn’t have noticed,
because we wouldn’t notice if you came back with a nose-piercing. Ever since …
Her mother shot Keira a look of regret and Keira wished her mother would stop; she didn’t want her mother’s pity. She fixed her eyes on Keira as if she could see the fag packets under the denim of her jacket.
‘Do you have any idea where Zoe might be?’
Keira looked at the floor and thought about rule four: destroy the evidence. The videos … Her mind flitted to Jerry Wyre. He had appeared, suddenly at her side, and there had been something about him that had creeped her out. Keira shook her head.
‘I don’t know where she is,’ she said, her eyes not meeting her mother’s, and she went upstairs.
Zoe couldn’t be missing. She had texted her:
DOUBLE-DARE COMPLETE. Z xx
She had asked Keira to come to the farm …
Keira was hit by the sudden realisation that Zoe might not have sent the texts. That Zoe might never have completed the double-dare. That Zoe wasn’t on the other end of her phone.
I am enormously grateful to the following people:
Charlotte Mursell, my fantastic editor, for believing in this story and helping make it what it is today.
The rest of the brilliant team at Carina UK.
My incredibly loving and patient family. My brother, Edward, for his brilliant sense of humour and my parents, for believing in me.
Also, my gorgeous son, Finn, who provides me with laughter and love on even the most challenging days.
Last and – as the saying goes – certainly not least, to my partner in crime, Jon, whose unwavering support from the get go has been amazing and who is, quite simply, my rock.
Carina UK
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Carina UK in 2016
Copyright © Louise Stone 2016
Louise Stone asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental
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Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008189914
