The Great Ice-Cream Heist (8 page)

‘There's no need to say sorry,' Jamie said finally. ‘I'm glad you're here now.'

‘I can't stay though. My gran is expecting me back.'

‘You could stay for tea if you like?'

‘No. My dad wouldn't . . . I mean, he says I can't . . .' Eva trailed off, not sure how to tell Jamie that Dad didn't want her to talk to him.

‘I know what your dad thinks. He's made that plain. You know, you should tell your dad what you think sometime.'

‘I do!'

‘Do you? Doesn't look that way from where I'm sitting. Looks a lot like you do whatever he tells you to do, whether you agree or not.'

‘You don't understand. He needs me.'

Was this going to be another argument? That hadn't been what she'd wanted at all. Eva took a slow breath and remembered Gran's advice: be pleased people care, even if you don't like how they show it.

Eva looked up at the sky. Stray clouds floated across it, so slowly that she wasn't even sure they were moving. They looked like great cruise ships in a calm sea. ‘I wonder what it feels like to be hit by a cloud?'

‘Wet and freezing,' Jamie said. ‘They might look fluffy, but get close and it's just a huge cold shower.'

She had changed the subject, Eva knew. But Jamie didn't seem to have noticed. He just seemed pleased that they were talking again. Though Dad wouldn't like it, Eva knew. She felt her arms raise in sudden goosebumps as one of the clouds moved in front of the sun. Dad wouldn't like it at all.

Chapter 13

‘I can walk there by myself,' Eva said the next morning.

‘Absolutely not,' Dad said.

She stood by the front door, shoes on, jacket tucked under her arm, emergency coins in her purse. Dad was at the bottom of the stairs, pulling on his trainers.

‘Please, Dad. I'm old enough now.'

‘No, you're not.'

‘Well,' Eva said quietly, ‘when will I be? At sixteen? Or eighteen? Or thirty? You have to let me sometime. Why not now? It's broad daylight. The stars are all hidden. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. Dad, you have to trust me sometime.'

‘I trust
you
,' Dad said. ‘It's the rest of the world I'm not sure about.'

‘It's a five-minute walk. I'm not a baby any more.'

Dad paused. Eva could see that there were tears glistening in his eyes. He nodded slowly. ‘OK. OK. I know you're not a baby. But you're still my Bug. If I let you go alone, don't talk to any strangers. Or stop on the way. Promise? And I will call Sally to text me when you get there safely. OK?'

‘OK, Dad. And I promise.'

Eva gave Dad a tight hug and then stepped out of the front door alone. She felt a little taller, a little bolder than usual. She smiled at the street lights and grinned at the traffic. The hard tarmac of the pavements felt as soft and springy as clouds. Her feet felt as though they were bouncing her the whole way.

Until she reached the lodge.

Then the smile was wiped clean off her face as though it had never been there.

The driveway looked like a scene from a cop show. Two police cars were parked on the gravel outside. Sally stood next to a police officer. Her face was streaky with tears. None of the children who had turned up to work had gone inside. They stood around the police cars in small huddles. One or two were crying; others looked furious.

Eva felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Was someone ill or injured? She looked around the crowd – there was Shanika and Dilan, together with a few others. Heidi stood alone, looking shocked.

And Jamie?

There was no sign of Jamie.

Eva rushed over to Heidi. ‘What's going on? What's happening?'

Heidi turned slowly. Her eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing. ‘The lodge has been trashed.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Someone came in here last night. Broke in. They've smashed the place up. All the furniture is ruined. There's spray paint all over the walls. Windows broken. It's a mess.'

Eva felt her own eyes prickle with tears. ‘Why?' she said finally.

‘Who knows? Why would anyone do something like that? They've ruined our work. Who knows whether we can fix it? And, if we do, what's to stop them doing it again?'

Heidi's cheeks were flushed with anger.

Eva looked at the police officers. Another car pulled up and two people with black suitcases climbed out. Their black uniforms had four letters printed on the back. Eva tried hard to make the letters form a word, but she couldn't do it. Her brain felt thick and fuzzy.

‘SOCO,' a voice said. Shanika. ‘Scene of crime officers. They'll be looking for evidence.'

She'd sneaked up behind Eva and was now staring at her hard. Her brown eyes were full of fury.

‘McIntyres. Your friend or his brothers. They'll have been too stupid not to leave evidence behind. Fingerprints, or hair, or something.

‘Jamie?' Eva asked, her voice weak.

‘Who else? The McIntyres do stuff like this for fun – everyone knows that.'

‘Not Jamie.' Eva was certain of it. He wouldn't do this. He'd worked hard on getting the place done up. He'd painted stars so they could all think about how amazing the world was.

Then she remembered that he'd been made to paint over his stars.

And he wasn't here.

She shook her head. ‘It wasn't Jamie. He wouldn't do this.'

Shanika snorted. ‘We'll see. The SOCO people will find out soon enough.'

Eva turned to Heidi. ‘Can we go in? Can we start clearing up?'

Heidi shook her head. ‘No. We won't be allowed in until the police are done.'

Eva looked back at the lodge where Sally stood clutching a tissue. Jamie wouldn't have done this. He couldn't have. Could he?

Chapter 14

There was no point hanging around. They wouldn't be allowed in until the police had finished and Sally said that could take hours. Eva wondered if she should go over to Gran's. Dad wouldn't like her being home alone. It's what she
should
do. But Eva knew that she wasn't going to do what she should do. She needed to talk to Jamie. She needed to know that Dad wasn't right about him, that he'd had nothing to do with this. She needed answers.

The street was strangely quiet when she got home. Of course, lots of people would be at work. But there were usually sounds of music, or radios, or playing, even in the middle of the day.

Mostly from Jamie's house, she realised with a wry smile.

Today, his house was silent.

She went and rang the doorbell. She leaned heavily against it and the sound echoed inside the house. Wills and Kate set up a loud barrage of barking.

‘Yes?' The door opened a crack and Mrs McIntyre peered over the chain. ‘Oh, it's you, love. Listen. This isn't a good time, OK? I'll tell Jamie you called round.'

The door shut again.

Oh.

Eva stood on the doorstep, feeling daft.

Then a window opened and a head leaned out.

‘Eva!'Jamie's voice called.

She looked up. His face looked weird from below; his hair fell forward, in an Elvis quiff. ‘Eva, I thought it might be you. Well, you or the Feds. Listen, I can't come down right now. Michael and Drew have got stuff they need to talk about. But I'll meet you on the shed in an hour, yeah?'

‘What stuff?' she called up.

‘Family stuff,' Jamie said. ‘They need to get their stories straight. Just in case they need to help the police with their enquiries. I can't talk now, but I'll be out soon, yeah?'

The window closed.

Eva knew what ‘getting your story straight' meant. Alibis. They needed to work out what they would tell the police about where they were last night.

And Jamie thought that was OK.

Eva felt sick, cold. She put her hand out against the front door to stop herself swaying. But she hated the sensation of touching that house.

Michael and Drew had trashed the lodge. Jamie had all but said so.

And he was helping his family to hide it.

Heidi was right. Even Shanika was right. Eva had thought she knew Jamie, but she didn't at all. He was a McIntyre through and through.

Eva stepped backwards away from the house. She felt like she was in another bad dream, where the air was too thick to run, too heavy to breathe. She felt as though she would be crushed by the oxygen sinking in her lungs.

She let herself into her own house.

She could tell by the stillness that Dad was still out at work. She'd need to call Gran soon, to tell her that she'd come home early. But she felt strangely tired, as though she didn't have the energy to lift up the phone. Eva fetched a glass of water and stood in the middle of the kitchen.

Jamie was expecting her to meet him on top of the shed.

There was no way she would be there. Dad always said not to talk to strangers and Jamie was a stranger now.

She put the glass, still full, on the worktop.

She crept upstairs, careful not to breathe too deeply. Her chest felt tight as though it was too small for her insides.

This was a feeling she recognised.

She stepped into the spare room at the side of the house. The room that was full of boxes and clutter. The things that Dad had never thrown out, though he had hidden them away. Mum's things.

The spare room looked out over the garden too. She could just see the shed. So she pulled down the blind. Now the room was darker, the sunlight through the fabric was rust-coloured.

A wardrobe stood against the far wall. Eva opened it. There was a gentle waft of perfume from the clothes that hung inside: dresses, jackets, coats, blouses and skirts. A sweet, faint smell that came whenever she opened the wardrobe door. She always worried that one day the smell would be gone, all used up. She crouched down and sat on the wardrobe floor. She pulled the doors closed behind her to stop the smell from escaping.

Now the space was dark, with a seam of light running up the centre of the doors where they didn't quite meet. Once Mum had gone to a 1940s fancy-dress party with her hair set in a victory roll. She had painted her legs with fake tan and asked Eva to draw a line on the back of her calves. Mum said they'd done that during the war to make people believe they could afford stockings. The straight, thin seam of light made Eva think about that now.

When Mum was here, they were always dressing up and putting on plays or dances to make Dad and Gran laugh. Eva had done all the silly voices and Mum had made up the steps. They didn't use scripts, because Mum knew exactly how hard it was for Eva to read and how much it hurt Eva to try and then fail. Instead, they just worked it out. And it always worked out.

Eva reached up and touched the dress above her. She couldn't tell what colour it was, but the fabric was light and summery.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing was fair.

Eva had a horrible broken-inside feeling. As if she were made of glass and something inside her had shattered. She realised that she had tears on her cheeks. She dashed them away.

Eva pulled the dress from its hanger and sat in the dimness, hugging it tight.

Outside, Jamie would be waiting for her on the shed.

He could wait. She wasn't going to join him.

She heard Dad's key in the door.

‘Eva?' he called up the stairs. ‘Are you home?'

She dropped the dress and spilled out of the wardrobe. He wouldn't like her being in there. It made him sad to remember all Mum's things hidden away in their own room. She moved quickly out of the spare room and on to the landing.

‘Hi, I'm here.'

‘I heard about the lodge – are you OK?'

His footsteps were heavy as he came upstairs.

‘Hey, Ladybug,' he said. ‘Come here.' Dad wrapped his arms round her tight. She leaned into him, her arms loose round his neck. The tears came properly now; the sobs shook her shoulders.

‘Hush, it's OK,' he whispered. ‘It's all OK. What happened was horrible, but it isn't the end. We can fix up the lodge, better than it was before. Hush, Bug.'

His hand patted her shoulder blades.

Eventually, her sobs slowed and became sniffs. How could she tell him that it wasn't the vandalised lodge that was making her cry? She was crying because Jamie didn't care that it had been.

She was crying because she didn't know Jamie at all.

‘Come on, let's wash your face and get you something nice and sugary to drink. Hot chocolate? I know it isn't Sunday, but we could have it anyway, as a special treat.'

Eva nodded limply.

Dad helped her to stand. He took her face in his hands and wiped the tear-tracks with his thumbs. ‘Right then. Go and wash your face and I'll see you in the kitchen, OK?'