Girl, Missing (11 page)

‘But . . . look, I'm sorry, Mum.' I hesitated, trying to work out what to say to make her understand. ‘We were only supposed to be gone for a few hours. Listen. Mum, I . . . I know about Sonia Holtwood and—'

‘You don't know anything, Lauren.' Mum's voice was suddenly harsh and low.

‘Mum, she followed us,' I pleaded. ‘She tricked us . . . tried to kill us.' I shivered, remembering how I'd felt in the car and in the woods.

‘You just said you went off on your own.'

‘We did. This was later, after we'd seen Mr Tarsen.' I stopped. It was hopeless. Everything that had happened was coming out all muddled. None of it mattered now anyway. Only one thing was important. ‘Mum, you have to listen to me. Sonia Holtwood admitted what she did when I was—'

‘ENOUGH.' Mum's yell was so loud that I jerked phone away from my ear.

I sat there, my heart pounding. Slowly I brought the receiver back to my ear. I could hear Mum breathing heavily on the other end. I suddenly remembered what Sonia had said about me being worth ‘a fortune' when I was little.

Somebody must have paid her that fortune. Why else would she have let me go?

‘Did you buy me from her?' I whispered. My stomach twisted into a knot. ‘Did you pay her to take me?'

But Mum went into brisk, organised mode. ‘No more, Lauren,' she said. ‘We're coming to get you. We'll be there in a few hours.'

‘But—?'

‘We'll talk about it when we get there.'

She hung up.

I sat on the bed, hunched over my knees.

How could they have done it? There was no other explanation. Mum and Dad were evil, evil people who had paid Sonia to steal me away from my real mother.

My beautiful, kind angel mother.

No wonder they had refused to tell me anything about my adoption. I gritted my teeth, hating them with every cell of my body. I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone else.

And that's when it came to me – the only next step possible.

I went down to the Lodge's computer room and logged onto the internet.

19

Going home

An hour later I was back in my room.

I had a bath, then got changed.

Glane had somehow blagged me and Jam some spare clothes from the hotel. Stuff left behind by former staff. Mine was entirely hideous: a pair of outsize green combats, two drainingly grey sweatshirts and a pair of ancient, hotpink trainers. I tugged the tiny plastic bathroom comb through my hair, wishing I had some hair wax and a nail file. And some make-up. My skin was red raw from the cold and snow and my lips were chapped.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My heart sank.

This was not how I wanted to look when I found my real mother. She was so beautiful, she'd never believe I was her daughter.

I went down to the Lodge dining room and walked through a sea of empty tables to the one Jam and Glane were sitting at near the bar. A bottle of beer stood on the table in front of Glane, who looked like a different person.
The beard was gone, and he was dressed in dark jeans and a crisp, white T-shirt. He looked up from the menu he was studying as I approached.

‘Mmnn.' He licked his lips. ‘Buckwheat pancakes with maple syrup for me.'

I sat down. ‘Skinned rabbits not available, then?' I said.

Glane smiled. ‘No. Anyway, I only eat meat when there is nothing else. And when I've killed it myself.' He glanced sideways at me. ‘I don't see why someone else should have to skin my rabbits for me.'

I ignored this and cleared my throat. ‘I've got something to tell you.'

‘What?' Jam took a long swig of Glane's beer. I noticed he was wearing new clothes too. Much nicer than mine. Jeans and a black jumper. His hair was damp and slicked back from his face.

I hesitated. ‘Martha Lauren Purditt went missing in Evanport, near where she was born. It's in Connecticut.'

Jam raised his eyebrows. ‘So?'

‘I'm going there. Now. I've checked the internet directories. The Purditts – the family who lost her – still live there.'

Jam frowned. ‘How d'you know it's the same Purditts?' he said.

‘I looked back at the news stories from when . . . from when Martha went missing. Their names are Annie and
Sam Purditt. Bits and pieces of their address are in the different stories.' I sighed. ‘I should have done it ages ago, but there was stuff I didn't know then.'

My mother's face. Now I know her face I only have to see her and I'll know if I'm Martha or not
.

Glane scratched his freshly shaved chin. ‘But your parents? The police?'

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I was sure Mum and Dad had been involved in kidnapping me in the first place.

‘Mum and Dad don't understand how important it is for me to know who I am,' I said, lamely.

A slow smile curled across Glane's mouth. ‘This seeking out of your birth family will not tell you who you are. It will only tell you if you are somebody's missing child.'

I shook my head. ‘Don't you think the family I was taken from have a right to know what happened to me?'

‘Yes, I do. But it will be hard. For everybody. You should wait. Talk to people first.' Glane paused. ‘Lauren, I think you see dreams. You are not seeing what is real. What is right under your nose.'

I stood up. ‘Right. Anyway, I'm going.'

‘How?' Jam cut in. ‘How're you gonna get there?' He took another swig of Glane's beer.

I took a deep breath. ‘I'm going to hitch-hike.'

Jam spluttered his beer on the tablecloth. ‘No way,' he
said angrily. ‘I can't believe you'd even consider that after what happened to us.'

‘Well, what else can I do?' I looked down, my face burning. ‘I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done. And that I'll pay you both back when I can.'

My hands were shaking as I walked away.

I stood at the hotel entrance, pulling on the second of my two ugly sweatshirts. The highway was a few hundred metres up the road.

My tummy rumbled. I started to wish I'd timed my dramatic exit for after I'd eaten. But even if I left now I probably only had a few hours before Mum and Dad arrived.

‘Nobody's going to give you a ride wearing those shoes,' a voice said behind me.

I spun round. Jam was staring at my hot-pink trainers. He looked up. ‘You can't do this, Lazerbrain. It's too dangerous.'

‘My decision.' I folded my arms and walked outside.

Damn, it was cold.

‘Why are you mad at me?' Jam said.

‘I'm not,' I said, walking more quickly.

‘Then why are you shutting me out like this? And what's with all that poncey “I'll pay you back when I can” crap? I thought we were friends?'

‘Really? I thought you were Glane's friend now.' I
winced, even as the words were blurting their way out of my mouth. I knew I sounded childish and stupid.

Jam grabbed my arm to stop me walking any further. He pulled me round to face him. ‘Are you jealous?' he grinned.

‘Course not.' I glared at him. ‘It's just that I know you think I'm obsessed and selfish. I was kind of assuming you wouldn't want to help me any more.'

We were at the very edge of the Lodge's grounds. The lights that marked the start of the highway twinkled up ahead. The place where Jam was holding my arm was the only warm spot on my whole body.

‘I do think you're obsessed,' he said, slowly. ‘But you're still my friend.'

I stood there, trying not to shiver in the biting night air. I felt a stab of guilt. It
was
mean of me to just walk off when he'd been so brilliant.

Jam let go of me, then took his PSP out of his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the notches in the back.

I hesitated. After all we'd been through, I didn't want to say goodbye to him like this.

‘Was your mum angry when you spoke to her?' I said.

‘You could say.' Jam rolled his eyes. ‘Apparently she told your parents about that stupid hypnotherapy session you had and now they're furious with her for encouraging you. So now she's mad at them. And mad at me for running
off. She's out here, you know. Same hotel as your parents. And she's angry about that too, having to leave my sisters with friends.'

‘What about your dad?'

‘No, he's too busy with his new family.' Jam's face set hard, like a mask. ‘Apparently he was going to come over if I didn't turn up after another week or two.'

I frowned. Mum had said my dad had flown to America as soon as I went missing – and I knew how busy he was.

‘Another week or two?'

Jam pointed to the six grooves on the back of his PSP. ‘D'you remember you asked me about these?' His voice was low, trembling slightly. ‘Back when we got in the car with Suzanna or Sonia or whatever her name was?'

I nodded.

‘My dad gave me this PSP when I was twelve. I haven't seen him since. I've scratched one mark on it for every time I've spoken to him since then. Every time he's promised to see me and hasn't.'

I stared at him. Glane was right. I didn't see the things that were under my nose. ‘I'm sorry,' I stammered. ‘I had no—'

‘Don't feel sorry,' Jam snapped. ‘I don't care about my dad.'

There was an awkward pause.

‘Look,' I said. ‘It's not that I want to go off on my own. But I know you think it's a crap idea . . .'

‘I never said that.' Jam sighed. ‘It's just, why do all this by yourself? The police are going to investigate everything. After what Sonia Holtwood did, they'll have to take the whole idea of you being a missing child seriously. Don't you see? It's all going to come out now, whatever anybody does?'

He was right. And that was exactly the problem.

I looked along to the highway. It was cold. And I knew it was risky to even think about hitch-hiking all the way to Evanport. But I couldn't bear the thought of other people finding my real mum. Other people telling my real family about me. All the officials getting in the way.

I shrugged. ‘I just have to do it, Jam.'

‘OK.' To my surprise a slow grin spread across his face. ‘Then come back inside for a minute,' he said. ‘I've sorted a much better way for us to get there than hitch-hiking.'

20

Evanport

I lived through so many emotions in the next twenty-four hours, that it's hard to remember how grateful and relieved I was when Jam took me back into the dining room, explaining what he'd arranged. ‘I got Glane to agree that if I couldn't talk you out of going, he'd take us to Evanport himself.'

Glane was still at the table. He looked up at me solemnly. ‘I cannot let you hitch your ride, Lauren. But I will only help you on condition you tell your parents what you're doing and we call the police as soon as you find this birth family of yours.'

I flung my arms round him. How could I ever have thought Glane was a weirdo? ‘Thank you,' I breathed. ‘Thank you for everything.'

‘Oh well,' Glane said gruffly. ‘Evanport is not so far out of my way to Boston.'

We set off as soon as we'd finished eating. I was anxious to get going now, full of butterflies in my stomach about Mum and Dad arriving and somehow stopping us.

We called them from Glane's hired truck. There was more shouting and tears from Mum. They were just about to leave Boston to come and find us.

I told her she and Dad and Carla should stay put until we called the next day, then hung up and switched off the phone. I didn't even bother to try and explain what I was doing.

Mum and Dad didn't deserve an explanation.

We stopped at a motel for a few hours sleep. Well, the others slept – I could hear Glane snoring through the thin walls. I lay awake. The idea that I might actually meet my real mother tomorrow was both exciting and terrifying.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember her face. Her voice. Her gentle smile.

Everything will be all right when I see her
.

We arrived at Evanport the next morning, Wednesday, at about 10 am. The main street in the town was crowded with cars and shoppers.

She could be here. She could be one of these people . . .

My heart thumped against my chest.

We passed little clothes shops with wooden porches, and diners with knots of high stools in the windows. The town had a big marina at one end, and lots of the stores in the nearby streets seemed to have something to do with sailing and boats. Many of them had old-fashioned tin
signs hung outside:
Yachters' Paradise. Sails at Sea. Tom's Chandlery
.

As the truck rolled slowly down the street I noticed how slim and smart most of the people strolling about were. There were a few younger people, but most of them were middleaged women with styled hair and neatly pressed tops, and men in chinos with jumpers knotted over their shoulders.

I was so nervous now I thought I was going to be sick. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

I checked myself in the rearview mirror. God I looked terrible. Drawn, ash-white face with rough, raw, red patches on the cheeks.

I wanted to tell Glane to stop so that I could buy some make-up. But I would have had to ask him for the money and, anyway, the more scared I got, the less able I felt to say anything at all.

I felt my confidence sink even further as I looked down at the combats and sweatshirt I was wearing.

‘Hey. You OK, Lazerbrain?' Jam nudged me with his arm. I leaned against him, trying to make myself breathe properly.

‘I wish I looked better,' I croaked. I wanted it to come out all light and jokey. Instead it sounded as desperate as I felt.

Jam half-turned to me, so he could whisper in my ear. ‘I think you look beautiful.'

I blushed.

‘When this is over,' he whispered, ‘there's something I want to ask you.'