Secret Meeting (18 page)

The minute the door closed, Annie turned on me.

“What’s the matter with you? This is meant to be a birthday treat, and you’re going and ruining it! Why are you being so horrid, when Harriet’s being so nice?”

I said, “Because—”

“Because
what
?”

“Because I don’t think it
is
Harriet!”

Annie stared at me like I’d suddenly gone mad. “What d’you mean? Of course it’s Harriet! Who else would it be?”

I said, “I d-don’t know, but—”

Annie put her hands on her hips and stood there, waiting. “But?”

“Something’s not right!”

“Like what?”

“Like – she doesn’t know things! Things she ought to know. Things she’s said—”

“She’s just forgotten!”

“She can’t have forgotten
everything.
She can’t have forgotten her own books!”

Annie frowned.

“She didn’t even know that Clover’s gran had a stroke,” I said. “She thought it was Alzheimer’s. And
Sugar Mouse
, she thought she was called that because she was mouse-like! And how could she have forgotten that
Patsy Puffball
was her very first book?”

“Well, I – I don’t know! I—”

“She couldn’t!” I said. “Nobody could forget their very first book! And that copy of
Victoria Plum
that she bought? She got it second-hand. It’s got the same name in it that’s in
Patsy Puffball.
”

“I don’t see that’s anything to go by,” muttered Annie; but I could see that she was beginning to have doubts by the way her mouth was puckering.

“There’s another thing,” I said. “Why did she keep my mobile? And why wouldn’t she let me go and get it?”

“She didn’t actually
stop
you going and getting it. And she did ring Lori!”

“If it really was Lori.”

“Well, who else could it have been?”

“Anyone!
No
one. She said it was an answerphone.”

“But she left a message! She said, ‘This is Mummy’.”

“She could just have been pretending.”

Annie’s voice quivered. “W-what would she do that for?”

“To make us believe that she was Harriet! Don’t you see?”

Annie gazed at me, doubtfully.

“She wanted to get hold of my phone.” I was remembering how just afterwards she’d ask Annie whether she had her mobile with her and Annie had said no. What would have happened if Annie had said yes? Would she have found some way of getting it off her? Like saying she had to make another call and mine had run out of money, or –

“Megan!” Annie was tugging urgently at my sleeve. “Stop it!”

“I don’t think we ought to be here,” I said. “I don’t think we ought to have come!”

“But …
I
talked to Lori. We had this long conversation! In the bookroom!”

“How do you know that it was really her?”

“Well … b-because—” Annie faltered, and came to a stop.

“You don’t!” I said. Anyone could pretend to be anyone, in a chatroom.

And anyone could look up Harriet Chance and see what had been written about her, like I had. Except that I had remembered it all; this woman hadn’t.

We heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She was coming back.

“Ask her when Lori’s birthday is,” I hissed.

“W-why? When is it?”

“New Year’s Day. See if she knows.”

I knew, because there wasn’t anything that had been published about Harriet Chance that I didn’t know.

The door creaked open, and Harriet – if it was Harriet – ducked her head and came in. Annie mouthed at me: “Ring your mum!”

“Megan, I’m so sorry,” said the woman. She wasn’t Harriet! I knew she wasn’t. How could I ever have thought she was?
She didn’t have Harriet’s hair. She didn’t know the characters in her own books. She didn’t know that she never used other people’s ideas. This person wasn’t Harriet Chance!

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “But your phone has gone dead. You must have forgotten to recharge the battery. You are a naughty girl!”

I felt my cheeks turn crimson. I was sure I hadn’t forgotten; Mum was always reminding me.

“C-could I have a look at it?” I said.

“Well, I’ve left it in the car. It isn’t any use, it’s completely dead.”

“But I need to ring my mum!” I said.

“Oh, dear! What shall we do? Your phone’s dead, and Annie and I have left ours behind. How stupid of us. Now your Mum will never know where you are.”

That was the moment when I knew for certain sure. Annie and I had made a terrible mistake. I didn’t need Annie to suddenly blurt out, “When is your daughter’s birthday?” Even if the woman had said “New Year’s Day” I still wouldn’t have believed she was the real Harriet. But she didn’t.

She stared at Annie with these strange glassy eyes and said, “My daughter’s birthday? I don’t have a daughter …
my daughter is dead. My little girl is dead! That’s why she doesn’t answer when I ring her … she’s not here any more! She’s left me!”

Cold, wet goose feet went plapping down my spine. I could feel Annie trembling beside me and I knew that she was just as terrified as I was.

“You’re not my little girl, are you?” The woman turned, slowly, to look at me. “You’re just pretending to be her.”

“No!” My voice came out in a horrified squawk. “I’m n-not! I’m not pretending!”

“You are. You’re trying to make me believe that she’s come back to me!”

I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t, my throat had gone dry. Next to me, Annie was trembling like a leaf. I knew that we were in the most horrible situation, but I couldn’t think how to get out of it. If we ran for the door, the woman would get there before us, and also it might make her angry.

The one thing I knew I mustn’t do was panic. I looked at my watch and in this very calm, controlled voice I said, “I really do think we ought to be going now, if you don’t mind.”

“Going?” said the woman. “Going where?”

“G-going h-home,” I said; and I edged desperately towards the door, tugging Annie with me. The woman at once moved across, to block our path.

“What do you mean, you’re going home? This is your home!”

“No,” I shouted, “it’s not! It’s not our home, and we don’t belong here! We’re nothing to do with you?”

“What?” The woman stopped, like someone had plunged a knife into her. She looked totally bewildered then suddenly wrenched open the door and cried, “Go! The pair of you! Go, now! Quickly!”

I didn’t wait. I grabbed Annie by the arm and dragged her out of the cottage. I didn’t dare use the road, she might follow in the car, so I dragged Annie into the surrounding woods, and together we ran. We ran and we ran, tripping over roots, falling into brambles.

Horrid scratchy things tore at us, overhanging branches nearly poked our eyes out, and still we went on running. I wouldn’t let Annie stop. She was sobbing and gasping, with tears rolling down her cheeks and blood streaking her forehead, but I forced her to go on.

It is usually Annie who takes the lead; she is the one who makes the decisions and says what we’re going to do. That day, it was me. I ran like I have never run before, with Annie stumbling after me.

I just knew that we had to get as far away from that cottage as we possibly could.

Well! so that was my birthday treat. Some treat! Not that I am blaming Annie, it was every bit as much my fault as hers. We should both of us have known better. As Mum says, “You’d been told often enough!” I still don’t know how we could have been so stupid. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. Even now, after all these months, I really don’t like to think about it. It was just so so frightening. So really scary. The most scary thing that has ever happened to me. Annie and I both had nightmares for ages
afterwards. I still do, sometimes, and I think Annie does too, though she wouldn’t admit it.