Gone Missing (6 page)

“So where is she?”

“She's gone and done her ankle in. I've left her in that café place down on the main road.”

“Soup 'n Sarnies? You've left her with Fat Joe?”

“Yes. Why? He's all right,” I said, “isn't he?”

“Yeah, he's just an idiot. But so's she, so that makes two of 'em!”

Earnestly I said, “Honey's not an idiot, it's just that she gets nervous and then she loses it.”

“Yeah, yeah! Whatever.” Darcy waved a hand. “So what's gonna happen to her? She staying with Fatso?”

“No, I said I'd go back and get her. You don't mind, do you?”

“I don't give a rat's bum,” said Darcy. “You're the one that's saddled with her.”

“What about your sister?”

“She's not here, she's gone off for a few days with her bloke.”

“She's left you on your own?”

“Yeah, with the baby.”

“Baby?”

I squawked it at her. Darcy gave this loud guffaw. “You should see your face!” She let her mouth hang open and her eyes go like dinner plates.
“Baby?
Not mine, you dumbo! Hers. Catch me having a baby. No thank you!”

“So she's left you to look after it?”

“Yeah, worse luck. She said it's the price I have to pay for being allowed to move in with her. It's still a darn sight better than living with my mum. You ever see my mum these days?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Got herself a new man, last I heard.”

I couldn't help feeling that it would be nice for Darcy's mum, to have a man. A
new
man. The last one she'd had had knocked her about, and she didn't deserve that. She was ever so little and thin and timid. To be honest, I never thought Darcy was that kind to her, but I didn't ever say so. It didn't seem my place.

“Well—” I hesitated. “Maybe I'd better go and check on Honey, see if she's OK. I'll bring her back with me, yeah?”

“Yeah, can't wait,” said Darcy.

I found Honey where I had left her, sitting at her table near the window, with Joe. They had their heads together and didn't even bother to look up as I appeared. Pointedly I said,
“Harriet.”
That made her jump.

“Oh!” she said. “Lucy!” And then she gave Joe this sly little look and giggled.

I said, “Can you walk yet?”

“It's all right.” Joe pushed back his hair. “I'll help her. I'll just tell my nan. Nan!” He bellowed through a doorway. “I'm off out for a few minutes.”

“She came back,” said Honey.

Joe walked with us as far as Gladstone House, with Honey hanging on his arm. I wasn't totally convinced that she needed his support, but she was obviously basking in it. I reckoned by now she'd have gone and blurted out everything, all about Darcy, and how we were at school together, and how we were going to stay
in the flat with her. She was such a blabbermouth! At least old fatso didn't come into the building with us. I think he would have done, if I'd let him, but I very firmly said that we could manage OK, now.

“There's a lift.”

“Right. Well.” He looked at Honey. What I call a soppy sort of look. “You know where I am if you need me.”

“Why should we need him?” I said, as I helped Honey across the entrance hall.

“He was just being nice,” said Honey.

He probably was, and I was being mean, but I was just so angry that we'd drawn attention to ourselves.

“If he sees us on the telly,” I said, “he'll recognise us, for sure!”

Honey looked alarmed. “We're going to be on television?”

“Our pictures will be. And he'll go straight to the police!”

“I could always ask him not to.”

“How can you ask him not to? You won't be seeing him again!” I bustled her into the lift. “We're not supposed to be talking to anybody.” Honey was so dejected that to cheer her up I told her about Darcy saying it was OK for us to be there.

“She's cool about it. No problem!”

I also told her about Darcy's sister having gone off and left Darcy in charge of the baby. Honey at once wanted to know how old the baby was, and whether it was a girl or a boy, and what it was called. I said I hadn't asked, and she looked at me, unbelieving.

“You didn't
ask
?”

“You can ask her yourself,” I said. “I'm not interested in people's babies. She wants to see it,” I said, as Darcy let us in.

“The baby? She can have it if she wants!” Darcy gave another of her cackles. “I'll sell it to you…how much you offering?”

“You can't sell
babies
,” said Honey.

“Wanna bet? It's in there.” She pointed at a door. “For God's sake, don't wake it up! It's been bawling all evening, I've just managed to get it to sleep.”

“Poor little thing! Babies don't cry for no reason,” said Honey. “What's its name?”

“Flower.”

I said,
“Flour?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Darcy rolled her eyes.

“It's beautiful,” said Honey.

I didn't know whether she meant the name or the baby. It looked like a pretty dead ordinary sort of baby
to me, but then I am not what you would call an expert.

“Now
she's
here,” said Darcy, nodding at Honey, “you and me could go out, yeah?”

I said, “Out where?” “Anywhere! I've got some mates live just ten minutes away. Go and see them, if you like.”

“What, and leave Honey?”

“Why not? She didn't seem to mind being left with Fatso.”

“I dunno.” I looked at Honey, doubtfully. “Would that be OK?”

Honey swallowed. I could tell she wasn't happy.

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” Darcy was an even more impatient kind of person than I was; she had what Mum calls
a short fuse.
I always used to try and keep on the good side of her. “Just forget about it! We'll leave the baby here, and we'll all go.”

“Leave the baby?” squeaked Honey.

“Yeah, it's OK, we'll only be out a couple of hours. I left it last night, nothing happened to it.”

“You can't leave the baby!”

“I just told you: I
did.
It's not gonna go anywhere!”

Honey munched on her lip.

“Look, it's all right,” I said. “Me and Honey'll stay here and babysit, while you go out and see your friends. We're pretty tired anyway, aren't we?”

Honey nodded, eagerly.

“OK.” Darcy shrugged. “If that's what you want.”

It wasn't, especially; I'd quite like to have gone out and met people. But even I could see that it wasn't right to leave a small baby, and I couldn't leave Honey. Not on our first night.

“I'll shoot, then,” said Darcy. “Help yourselves to food and stuff. I'll see you later.”

She flapped a hand, and was gone. Me and Honey were on our own…

It was kind of a weird evening. We started off by looking in the fridge, but there wasn't anything much there, just a hunk of mouldering cheese and a festering mess of something we couldn't identify in a plastic pot, so we ended up opening a can of ravioli we found in the cupboard, and did some bits of toast. I watched television while I ate, hopping madly through the channels in case there was any news about me and Honey, but there didn't seem to be. I guessed it was still too soon. I once read that you had to be gone forty-eight hours before you were officially classed as missing. I
wondered if Dad would even have contacted the police yet or whether he would be fuming at home, waiting to chew me out. Of course, he might still be at Auntie Claire's and not even know that I had gone. Honey's mum would be asleep, and even when she woke she'd just think that Honey was round at my place. I thought that perhaps, after all, Honey had been right and Sunday was a
good
day for leaving home.

Halfway through the evening the baby started up again. Honey cried, “Oh, the poor little thing!” and went rushing off in a frenzy to see to it. I went on channel hopping. Babies weren't my scene, so if Honey wanted to play nursemaid that was fine by me. Just so long as I didn't have to! A few minutes later, she reappeared, bringing the baby with her.

“I changed it,” she said.

I said, “What for? A different model?”

“Its
nappy
,” said Honey.

She sat down next to me, on the saggy sofa. I zapped to yet another channel.

“Sooner you than me.” Secretly, I thought it was quite brave of her. Catch me changing babies' nappies! I guess I would if I had to, but it wouldn't exactly fill me with joy.

“If this was my baby,” said Honey, “I wouldn't go
off and leave it.”

“People have to be allowed to get away
sometimes
,” I said.

“Not just to go off with a bloke.”

“Why not? What's wrong with it?”

“Trusting someone like
Darcy
?”

“She seems to have managed OK so far.”

Honey looked at me, reproachfully. “She went out and left it!”

“Only for a couple of hours. If people can go out and leave dogs, I don't see why they can't go out and leave babies.”

“Because babies aren't dogs,” said Honey.

“Ho! Well. That's a brilliant observation,” I said.

I zapped back again, through the channels. Honey retreated, with her bundle, to the far corner of the sofa. I'd obviously upset her.

“You don't have to get all in a huff,” I said. I leaned across, trying to think of something nice to say about
the baby. Nothing came to me. “It's not very pretty,” I said, “is it?”

“Poor little thing,” said Honey.

“It's actually quite ugly.”

“That's all the more reason for loving it!” Honey cradled it, protectively.

I shook my head and went back to my channel hopping. Honey had always had a tendency to croon. Mostly over little furry things, such as fieldmice and moles, but sometimes not so furry things, as well. She was the only person I ever knew that rescued slugs. I wished I'd hardened my heart and gone with Darcy.

After a bit the baby started to crumple its hands and cry again.

“God, what's the matter with it?” I said. “It surely can't have done something else?”

“I think it's hungry,” said Honey. “Look!” She stuck a finger in its mouth and it immediately started sucking. “It is, it's hungry! Poor little thing. It needs its bottle.”

“It can't do,” I said. “Darcy would have told us.”

Honey said, “
Her
? What would she know?”

“More than we do! She's the one that's looking after it. Where are you going?”

“I'm going to feed it,” said Honey.

She headed off towards the kitchen. I sprang up from the sofa and raced after her.

“You can't feed someone else's baby!”

“Yes, I can,” said Honey.

“You can't, you don't know what to give it! You might give it the wrong stuff, you might–
what are you doing
?”

“Take her.” She thrust the baby at me. “And stop calling her
it
.”

“It's what you've been calling her!”

“Only cos you have. But it's not right!”

I watched in growing apprehension as Honey bustled about the kitchen.

“I'm going to go back in the other room,” I said.

I took the baby, still crying, and sat stiffly with it in front of the television. I wondered if Honey had gone mad. I wasn't used to her being all bossy and overbearing; she was usually so meek.

When she came back, she was holding a bottle.

“Is that milk?” I said.

“No, it's washing-up liquid. What d'you think?” She took the baby from me and put the bottle to its mouth. Its lips closed over it, greedily. I can't bear this, I thought. This is someone else's baby!

In despairing tones, I said, “I didn't think you could give babies ordinary cows' milk.”

Honey stayed silent.

“Not tiny babies,” I said.

More silence. Growing desperate I said, “Did you sterilise the bottle? I'm sure you have to sterilise the bottle!”

“I picked it out the rubbish bin,” said Honey. “And I told you, it's not milk, it's washing-up liquid.”

Oh, God! Now she was being sarcastic.

I said, “All right, you don't have to come off your hinges.”

“Well, but honestly! What d'you take me for? An idiot?”

Humbly, I said I hadn't realised she knew so much about babies. I said, “How come? Where'd you learn all this stuff?”

“It's just something you know,” said Honey.

It wasn't anything I knew, and I had a sister. Not that I could really remember Kirsty as a baby, but Honey didn't have anyone; she was an only child. I looked at her with new respect. This was a side of her I'd never seen before.

The baby settled once it had had its bottle. Honey took it back to its crib while I went on with my channel hopping. Anxiously, as she came back, Honey said, “Have they shown us yet?”

“No, it's too early. They might not even know we've gone! I can't remember what time Mum and Dad were coming back from my Auntie's, and your mum's probably still in a drunken stupor.”

Honey flushed. “She was asleep.”

I said, “Yeah, well. Whatever.”

Honey would never admit that her mum drank too much; she was incredibly loyal. I'm not sure I would have been, though I suppose you can't really tell until it happens to you. Honey curled up next to me, on the sofa.

“How long do you think we'll have to stay here?”

“Dunno. Until things work out, I guess.”

“Work out how?”

How would I know how? “Just…wait and see what happens.”

“I thought we had a plan!”

“We had a plan for getting away. After that—”

“What?”

“I don't know. Stop keeping on! I've got us here, haven't I?”

“But what about money?”

“We'll get some!”

Honey opened her mouth to say “How?” I knew she was going to say how. I thought, “I shall scream!”

“We'll get jobs,” I said.

“How?” said Honey.

Very slowly, I counted up to ten.

“I could get a job,” said Honey. “I don't think you could, at your age.”

The cheek of it! I was far more competent than she was.

“I can always pretend to be older,” I said. “I could pass for sixteen any day! You're the one that's likely to have difficulties…trying to buy a
children's
ticket!”

The minute I'd said it, I felt mean. After all, she was the one who'd taken care of the baby.

“Look, just don't worry,” I said. “I'll ask Darcy. She'll know!”

I couldn't ask Darcy that night because she didn't come in. At eleven o'clock me and Honey got tired and
went to bed. We couldn't decide whether to sleep on the sofa or in the single bed in the baby's room. The bed obviously belonged to Darcy's sister, and we were a bit worried in case she might not like two strange girls sleeping in it; but as I said, “She's not here, so she needn't ever know.” And as Honey said, “The baby might wake up and need something.”

We'd only been asleep about an hour when there was a banging at the front door. I sprang up, in alarm. Honey clutched at me.

“Don't answer it!”

“But s'ppose it's Darcy?” I said. “She might have gone without her key.”

I opened the door just the tiniest crack, keeping the chain on. Two hoodies stood there. A big black one and a weedy white one. They wanted to know if Sharleen was in. I couldn't immediately think who Sharleen was, and then I remembered she was Darcy's sister. In quavering tones I said that she was away, and stood, heart pounding, waiting for the door to be
battered down. Instead, after mumbling at each other in their hoods, they said OK and went off again. I closed the door, with trembling hands. Honey, who had been anxiously peering over my shoulder, said, “We could have been murdered!”

It was no more than I had been thinking myself, but one of us had to show some backbone. Very firmly, I told her that that was nonsense.

“Just because one of them was black…you're being really prejudiced!”

Honey said it was nothing to do with being prejudiced. “They were wearing
hoods
.”

“Yeah,” I said, “it's a fashion statement.”

“But it's midnight!” wailed Honey. “Who comes knocking on people's doors at midnight?”

I said, “You're not very streetwise, are you? This is London! They do that sort of thing in London. It's the way they live. It's
different
down here.”

“But what did they want?”

“I don't know! They probably wanted to go clubbing, or something.”

Honey muttered again about it being midnight. “And Sunday!” I thought pityingly that she had no idea. As we clambered back into bed, she said, “Do you think they'll have discovered we're gone yet?”

“Bound to, by now,” I said. People in London might still be wandering round at midnight, but not in Steeple Norton. Especially not teenagers. My curfew was ten o'clock, tops, and that was Fridays and Saturdays. Sunday I was meant to be in by nine thirty. We'd had so many rows about it, I'd lost count. But midnight was unheard of, even for me, so I reckoned Mum and Dad would be pretty sure I'd gone. They'd be asking themselves, “Where can she be?” and “Why did she do it?” Mum might even be crying. Dad—

I couldn't picture what Dad would be doing. He certainly wouldn't be crying. Would he even be worried? Or would he just say, “Good riddance!” and lock the door?

He'd have rung Honey's mum, to check whether I was there–or, more likely, Mum would have rung her. They would have woken her from her stupor and she would have reported that Honey, too, was missing. Maybe Dad would have got into the car and driven round a bit, looking for me. Maybe Mum would have found Marnie's number and tried ringing her. I wondered what Marnie would have said. Would she have told Mum about the boys from Glasgow? Would Dad have rung the police? I could just hear him, bawling them out. Yelling at them to “Shift yourselves
and do something!” Dad always came on heavy; he didn't seem to realise he put people's backs up. Maybe he just couldn't help himself.

Darcy must have come back some time during the night, cos when we woke up next morning she was there, in her bedroom, asleep. The baby was crying fit to bust, but Darcy didn't stir. Honey, very indignant, said, “Just as
well
we're here. Poor little thing!” I left Honey to look after her and went to wake Darcy. I bounced myself down on to the bed.

“Hey!” I prodded at her. She groaned, and opened an eye.

“Wozzamadder?”

I said, “The baby's crying.”

“Oh, God!” She rolled over, on to her back. “Can't you see to it?”

“Honey is, but I just thought you ought to know.”

“Why? What do I want to know for?”

I said, “It's your baby!”

“It's not
my
baby.”

“Well, your sister's. Two men called last night,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Midnight. I told them she wasn't here.”

“Right.” Darcy hauled the duvet over herself.

“Neither were you,” I said. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened, I just stayed on a bit. It's half term! You don't have to look at me like that, I wouldn't have gone out if you hadn't been here. I told you, I never leave it more than a couple of hours. OK?”

I said, “OK,” though I didn't really think it was. I thought that Honey was right, and if I had a baby I wouldn't trust it to someone like Darcy. But I didn't want to get on the wrong side of her.

There wasn't much for breakfast; just a bit of stale cereal and a couple of crusts of toast. Darcy said that was all right, she wasn't hungry.

“I never eat breakfast.” She said she'd go down the shops later on and stock up. “You two had better stay here, you don't want people recognising you. Let's see if you're on the telly!”

We still weren't. I didn't know whether I felt more disappointed or relieved, but Darcy said it was good.

“Longer they leave it, the better.” She said that when she came back from shopping she would do something to change our appearances. “Do something with your hair…give it a make-over!”

We had some fun, that first morning. Darcy came back from the shops with a load of chocolate-covered doughnuts, which we sat and consumed straight away. Darcy said, “See if the baby wants some,” but Honey wouldn't. She said that doughnuts weren't good for babies.