Hide and Seek, page 13
“Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give this to Dad right now. No more delays. He needs to see it straight away.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat that was a ball of pure fear. “What are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.” Will paused to look up at me and his eyes were as cold as the December sea. “I’ll think of something.”
14
The next morning I went down to the Christmas market. I hadn’t planned to go there, but I drifted in that direction. The streets in the old town were deserted. Fore Street was usually thronged, but the market had drawn the tourists away. As for the locals, the great migration had begun, the wealthy residents fleeing for warmer climates. There was something bleak about the Christmas lights swinging over empty pavements, the decorations sagging in the windows. It was almost Christmas Eve, but the holiday spirit was thin on the ground.
Or maybe that was just my mood. I’d spent the previous afternoon and evening in Sandhayes, staring into space, waiting for the knock on the door that would be Dan Henderson breathing fire—justifiably for once. Or for Will to shoulder open the back door and look for my face amid the assembled Leonards, to seek me out and put his arms around me and tell me I’d been stupid but that he forgave me for it. I imagined it a hundred times, a hundred different ways, and it didn’t happen. Petra had sat near me the whole time, not talking, all elbows and knees and hunched misery. She reminded me of a cat, wanting to give comfort but not being doglike and direct about it. Instead she sat beside me at dinner, and curled up on the floor near my feet while we were watching a film later. (I hadn’t heard a word of the dialogue or followed the plot in any meaningful way.)
And I’d told her not to worry. I’d told her it was my fault. I’d promised her I didn’t blame her for Will storming out. I’d begged her not to feel bad.
Because it wasn’t her fault.
It was entirely, completely mine.
I hadn’t been walking with any particular destination in mind. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go home. I’d stayed in bed for a long time after I woke up, not wanting to face the day, but in the end my thoughts drove me out. Now the sound of the piping Christmas music drew me down to the Christmas market. The weather wasn’t helping the traders much: it was cold again, and the shoppers had mainly congregated around the hot food stands. I waved to Mum, who was leaning on the counter of the gallery’s hut, her chin in her hand. She waved back, but I didn’t go over. I knew she would know—with her magical maternal intuition—that something was wrong. I didn’t want to talk about it with her, or anyone else.
“Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” floated out across the park from the rink, sounding haunting rather than cheery. The rink wasn’t too busy, I saw—only a few people skating. I leaned on the barrier at the edge and watched a couple slipping and sliding, half hysterical with laughter as they tried to hold each other up.
“Waiting for me?” Ryan dropped an arm around my shoulders. “Wait no more. Your skating partner is here.”
“I was just watching.” I slid out from under his arm and turned to face him. It was easier to persuade him to keep his distance that way. He looked very tall and very handsome, his hair perfectly ruffled, his eyes that pure blue that made me think of summer.
“You wanted to skate, I can tell.” He gave me the full benefit of his wide, charming smile. “Come on, Jess. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“What do you think Yolanda would do if she heard we’d been skating together?”
“She wouldn’t mind.”
“Um, I think she would.”
“Why? There’s nothing romantic about it.” Ryan’s expression was a challenge. “Unless you think there is.”
“No, of course not.”
“Because we’re just friends.”
“Yes.”
“No attraction here.”
I felt the color rise in my cheeks and looked away first, annoyed with myself. He put a hand on my shoulder and ran it down my arm slowly.
“Come on, Jess. What are you afraid of? Will? Is it because he’d mind too much?”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. “Right now. We’ve done this before. You and Will are supposed to be friends now.”
“Friends.” Ryan nodded. “You’re right. So I shouldn’t be trying to steal his girl.”
“I’m not a thing to be stolen. I hope I’d get some say in it.” I frowned at him. “Why do you behave like such a Neanderthal all the time?”
He leaned down. “Because it’s fun. And girls love it.”
“Not this girl.”
He stayed where he was, his face close to mine. “I’m going to persuade you to like me one day, Jess Tennant.”
“I like you already. As a friend.” A really disturbingly attractive friend.
Ryan smiled. “I remember the exact moment I first saw you. It was on the seafront.”
“You were balancing on the railings.”
“Trying to get your attention.”
“It worked.”
“Not well enough.” He said it lightly. But then, “Every time I see you with Will, I wish I’d got there first.”
I looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Then, “How is Will, anyway?”
“Fine.” I smiled, though my lips felt stiff and it sat awkwardly on my face. I couldn’t help thinking back to the last time Ryan had seen us together, sitting on the bench by the mulled-wine stand the previous Saturday. The scene replayed in my mind: arguing, kissing, Will noticing Ryan and reacting like a wolf, with watchful but controlled aggression, while Ryan smiled and probably thought about the ifs and the maybes.
And then Max had interrupted the staring competition.
A thought occurred to me. “Why did Max have your keys?”
The change of subject threw Ryan. “Huh?”
“Max Thurston. Your car key. He had it on Saturday, didn’t he? I saw him give it back to you.”
“Oh, yeah. He borrowed the car.”
“When?”
“Um…” He thought about it. “Friday evening. After school.”
“When did he ask you for it?”
“He texted me.” Ryan dug in his pocket and checked his phone. “Ten past four. But I didn’t get it straight away. I texted him back at a quarter to five to tell him where I was.”
“Did he tell you why he wanted it?”
He looked away, across the rink, trying to remember. “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t exactly keeping track of where Max went and what he did with the car, as long as he didn’t use too much gas or wreck it. I wasn’t using it, so he was welcome to have it.”
And that was like Ryan—being open-handed and generous. That was one reason why he had such a massive cohort of friends, unlike my lone-wolf boyfriend.
“So he had it all night on Friday?”
“Yeah. You saw him give me the keys back on Saturday morning, hawk-eye. You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I try not to.” I thought for a minute. “Did you notice anything strange about the car?”
Ryan shrugged. “Not really. It was filthy when he got it. Still filthy when he gave it back. I tried to get him to wash it for me, but no go.”
“Did you notice how far he’d gone?”
A shake of the head. “But I know he filled it up for me because it was full when I got it back and I only had a quarter of a tank.”
“OK,” I said. “Thanks.” I turned away, trying to work out if it mattered that Max had had a car on Friday night, or if it was just a coincidence. Ten past four: before Gilly disappeared. And then I’d seen him in the library, out of breath, hanging around in a look-at-me-don’t-look-at-me way. He hadn’t been all that subtle.
It was almost as if I’d been supposed to notice him.
“Where are you going?” Ryan asked.
“Just for a walk. And to think,” I added.
“So you’re not looking for company.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and sighed, resigned. “Fine.”
“Sorry.” I stood on the edge of one foot, feeling awkward. I hated to see him look so disappointed. It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do.
And there was a tiny part of me that wanted to prove I was my own person—that Will didn’t own me. It was the part that knew I was in the wrong about the diary—and I hated to be wrong.
“Or … we could skate?”
“Seriously?” His face lit up. “You will?”
I nodded. “But I warn you, I’m terrible. I’ve only ever skated on indoor rinks with thousands of other people, in London. This is a bit different.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ryan said. “It’s easy. At least, it’s easy if you have someone to skate with who knows what they’re doing.”
“And you do.”
“You have to ask?” He grinned. “It’s all about balance.”
“That’s not traditionally one of the things I’m best at.”
“No, but I am.” He wasn’t boasting. It was probably true. He was one of the most naturally gifted athletes I’d ever seen, good at everything he tried.
I smiled at him. “I believe you.”
“OK.” He caught the change in my mood as if it was the trailing string of a kite. Ryan was made for happiness, for adventures, for fun. He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
And it was the best thing I could have done. The lead weight in my chest that had been making it hard to breathe disappeared as Ryan joked around with the man who ran the rink. He shooed him away so he could help me lace up the hired skates.
“Too tight, too tight,” I complained.
“Sorry. They have to be tight.” He gave the laces a vicious tug. “Are they digging into your ankles?”
“Yes!”
“Good.” He pulled me to my feet and held me for a moment as I wobbled on the blades. “Easy. You’re not even on the ice yet.”
“I’d just forgotten.”
“It’ll come back.”
The man held the gate open and Ryan steadied me as we stepped onto the ice. With his arm around me, I slid forward a few meters, trying and failing to find my balance.
“Whoa there, Bambi.”
“How are you making it look so easy?” I complained.
“Skill. Talent.” Ryan let go of me and skated around me in a small circle. I grabbed him as he passed and he drew me out toward the middle of the rink, skating backward.
“Come on, Jess. You just have to trust yourself.”
I followed his lead, concentrating on what I was doing, and it was a few minutes before I realized that I was starting to enjoy it, to skate by myself, the exact movements I needed coming back just as Ryan had said they would. He whooped and cheered, rushing in to support me when I wobbled, letting me go when I could manage on my own. And once I was more confident, he skimmed to a stop in front of me and held out his hands.
“Skate with me?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
He shook his head. “Like this.”
And then I was in his arms, and we were carving a route around the ice, moving at a speed I could never have managed on my own, turning and spinning in lazy loops that sent my hair flying around my face. I was breathless and laughing when Ryan swung round in front of me, his blades cutting the ice as he stopped. He pulled me into his arms for a hug. I put my arms around his waist, holding him close, needing his support to stay upright. His head rested on top of mine for a moment, the two of us stock still in the middle of the ice.
“Jess.” His voice was soft. It came from low in his chest, and there was a tremor in it. I leaned back to see him, trying to catch my breath, to say something mocking that would remind him we were friends and nothing more, and that it was only because we were friends I was skating with him. Then Ryan looked past me and said my name again. This time there was a warning note in it. He stepped away from me and I turned, almost falling. He grabbed my shoulders and steadied me, then let go again as if I was burning to the touch.
Because Will was standing under the trees, watching us, and for once, all the darkness in him was visible in his face. He kept it hidden beneath a reasonable manner, but he had all his father’s temper, and more. We looked at one another for what seemed like minutes before he shoved his hands in the pockets of his long dark coat, turned, and strode off through the square.
I’d been shocked into immobility. Now I skated to the edge of the ice, not too proud to grab the hand Ryan held out to me, and hobbled over to the bench. I needed to talk to Will. I would have been running after him already if the laces of the skates hadn’t been so tight. I broke a nail and then another, sobbing as I fought with the right boot.
“Let me help.” Ryan started to work on the left boot.
“I can manage,” I said, yanking on the lace.
“Obviously not.” He unravelled the knot with infuriating ease and pulled the skate off.
I dragged the other one off, the laces still half knotted, and handed it to him. “Work your magic. I’m sorry. I have to talk to Will.”
“Jess…”
I was shoving my feet into my boots. “What?”
“Just”—he gave me a lopsided smile—“let me know how it goes.”
I ran then, heading in the same direction as Will. He’d gone out of the park by the lower gate, taking the road that led along the seafront toward the wooded headland marking the edge of Port Sentinel. It was where my cousin Freya had fallen to her death, where Will and I had argued, and come together, and almost died. I didn’t know for sure that he had gone that way, but I knew Will—or I thought I did. He would want to stay away from everyone. He would want to let his anger burn unseen until he had it under control. I would get pure ice when I saw him next, the withdrawal of affection that was so much more devastating than shouting or slammed doors.
I was out of breath by the time I reached the treeline and peered up at the sandy path that ran up to the cliffs. I couldn’t see him anywhere, and then it started to rain, a squall that had swept in from the sea. The tree trunks were black with moisture and slick when I reached out to steady myself on them. My legs were tired, the muscles complaining after the skating and running and now the steep hill. All I could hear was my own breathing and the scrape of my boots on the hard earth.
I reached the cliffs more quickly than I had expected. The bench loomed up in front of me and I grabbed onto it, remembering other times when we’d sat together, staring out to sea. Today the water was as hard and green as jade. The boom and swish of the waves far below sounded sinister. My hair hung around my face like damp string as the rain soaked through the shoulders of my coat.
I hit the back of the bench with my fist, welcoming the pain. Whoever named heartbreak got it so right. It felt as if my heart had shattered into a million tiny shards. I could feel the ache of misery building inside me, along with an edge of anger. Will could have waited to speak to me.
He could have trusted me.
I took out my phone and called his number, listening to the phone ring once, twice, and then cut off. So he wasn’t going to talk to me. Perfect. I started back down toward town, moving fast, barely keeping my balance at times when the path was steep or rutted with roots. I had to look down at my feet, picking a careful but speedy route through the hazards. The last part of the path lay round a bend, so I had no warning before I crashed into him. I caught my breath as he grabbed hold of me, and it took a second for me to realize that it wasn’t Will who held me, but his father.
15
Dan held my shoulders for a second, then let go. “Jess, what were you doing up there?”
“Looking for Will.”
“Did he go up that way?”
“I thought he did.” I was trying to breathe shallowly. Being able to see plumes of my breath in front of me was off-putting. I didn’t want Dan breathing on me and I didn’t want to breathe on him.
He frowned down at me. “Did you have a row?”
“How did you know?”
“Your eyes are red. And I’d have expected the two of you to be joined at the hip while Will’s in town. But no Will.” He tilted his head to one side. “And the two of you seem to spend most of your time fighting.”
“It was a stupid misunderstanding,” I said.
“It always is.”
I dropped my head to try to hide my face, which was flaming. I didn’t know which was more annoying—him commenting on our relationship, or him being right.
“Anyway,” Dan said icily, “that’s enough small talk. Don’t you have something you want to say to me? An apology, perhaps?”
My stomach flipped over as if I’d stepped into an unexpected hole. “You got the diary.”
“I got the diary.” When I dared to look up, Dan was staring at me curiously. “Why did you think you should have it?”
“I thought it would make more sense to me than you. I know the people she was writing about.”
“So you took it.”
I bit my lip. “Mrs. Poynter wouldn’t even let you search Gilly’s room. You wouldn’t have had it anyway.”
“I’d have got it yesterday at two, which was when we took the cottage apart. So some time ago.” Dan shook his head. “I thought you were sensible, Jess. I thought you were cleverer than that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “Will’s already had a go at me about it, if that helps.”
“It probably wasn’t so bad, coming from him.”
I shivered. “It was bad.” It had been like flying full tilt into a sheet of plate glass. The comedown from where I’d been to where I ended up was nothing short of brutal.
And now I’d made it all infinitely worse by skating with Ryan. Which … I knew it was innocent, but it didn’t look it. Even I could see that. And even I could see that it hadn’t been fair on Ryan, either.
I was starting to wish the unexpected hole had existed so that I could lie down in it and never get up again.
“Tell me about the diary,” Dan said abruptly. “You read it. I read it too. It meant very little to me. Would you care to translate it for me?”
