The Night They Vanished, page 14
“Look,” I say, before he can start speaking, “I promise, I’m not looking for trouble. But I’m worried about my family, and something weird happened to make them leave here in a hurry. I’m just trying to find out what, that’s all.”
“You’ve seen Carrie now. You know her and Lee don’t know anything.”
“What about Owen King? Does he still live around here?”
Again, that hostile stare as he shakes his head. “He left years ago. No idea what happened to him. But you’re wasting your time, Hanna. Everyone you used to hang out with has either moved on or grown up and settled down. You seem to be the only one who hasn’t. You need to leave my family alone or I’ll have you arrested for harassment.”
“Oh, stop being such a sanctimonious little prick, Stephen bloody Hayes,” Dee snaps. “Hanna’s family is missing. Maybe you should be doing your job, as an officer of the law, instead of trying to score points because Hanna turned you down a million years ago.”
Stephen stiffens and frowns at us. He snipes something back at Dee, but I don’t hear because, for a moment, I’m right back in the corridors of school, walking past Stephen and his cronies, listening to one of the girls whisper slag and seeing Dee turn around to have a go like a mother tiger defending her cub, like she always did even then, when I was barely hanging out with her because I was so deeply involved with Jacob and my imploding party gang. I catch Adam’s eye and see that he’s trying to hide a smile. It never occurred to me to find it funny, this throwback to our teenage years, but I suppose it is. Ferocious Dee, all five foot two of her, standing there squabbling with a policeman like they’re both twelve. I watch Adam and I’m tempted to ask him right then: Have you been here before? But I think I’m scared the answer will be yes, and then I’d have to ask why.
Instead, I grab Dee’s arm and tug her away. “Come on, Dee. Your car was sounding pretty rough on the drive down here—let’s call in the garage and get it checked out.”
“Don’t you dare,” Stephen yells after us, but I don’t bother turning around. Sod it. Let him arrest me. Let’s see him try to make that one stick.
“Hey, hey, hey—little Hanna Carter.” Lee Brown comes out of the dark workshop, wiping his hands on an oily rag. It’s the way he always used to greet me, but back then it was never said in the flat, sour tone he uses today. There’s no one else around, the garage office locked up for the weekend. Lee looks the same, except his dark hair is shorter and he’s in oil-stained overalls rather than beaten-up leather. All that’s missing is the big grin that was always on his face. Until that last time I saw him, of course.
“I take it you had a call from your wife—or was it from the law?” I say, getting out of the car, motioning to Dee and Adam to stay inside. I didn’t expect a warm welcome—wouldn’t have, even without the warnings from Carrie and Stephen Hayes—but I hadn’t counted on the pang of loss I feel. We used to have fun. Me, Jacob, Carrie, Owen, and Lee. We used to have so much fun.
“What—from little Steve? That little prick,” Lee says, shaking his head. “He’s only got worse since he got the uniform. Carrie can’t stand him. I take it she told you we got married?”
“Yeah, she said. Congratulations. I’m really happy for you both.”
He stares at me. “Really? Why would you be? We weren’t exactly nice to you back then.”
“I… I understand why. I get it.”
“Do you?” he asks, looking if anything more hostile.
“Yeah—you were looking for someone to blame and—”
“We didn’t need to look for someone to blame—you were to blame. Jacob changed after he met you. And you know damned well he’d still be alive if you two had never met.”
I flinch. “I wasn’t entirely to blame. I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. So, what’s brought you back here anyway? We never thought you’d come back after what happened.”
I sigh. “I never wanted to come back, I can promise you that. But my family… there’s been some trouble and I wondered if it had anything to do with… anyone from back then.”
“Like what? Like who? Han, none of us would have gone within a million miles of your family after what happened.”
“What about Owen?” My heart beats faster. “He was always getting in trouble with his temper.” I can almost see it, almost picture it. Owen unleashing that temper on my family, scaring them into running away…
He frowns. “Owen? No, he hasn’t been in trouble for years. He’s got his own business now, landscaping and gardening. Funnily enough, I had his van in a while back for some repairs. First time I’d seen him in years.”
He says the last oh so casually, but I don’t believe it. There’s something about the way his attention skitters away from me as he says it. And also, Stephen lied then, about Owen moving away years ago. They’re closing ranks, just like they did after Jacob died.
Lee watches me. “Let’s be honest, if anyone from those days was going to end up in trouble, we all would have expected it to be you. And maybe Jacob if you dragged him down far enough. Like Bonnie and Clyde.”
I glance back at the car, at Adam, who doesn’t know anything about my past, except about me leaving home at sixteen. Can he hear what we’re saying? What is he thinking, listening to Stephen and now Lee? Is it enough to put him off? When all this is done, will he start avoiding my calls, making excuses? I won’t blame him if he does.
I look back at Lee. “Look, I’m sorry. I needed to ask about my family and… I think I wanted to lay some ghosts of my own. Reassure myself I didn’t leave total destruction in my wake when I left.”
“What is this—a sudden pang of conscience after fifteen years? Come on, I’m not stupid.” He shakes his head. “But, sod it—forget it. You were just a screwed-up little kid, Hanna. We all were. But the others… Don’t stir it up again. Just go. Scuttle off back to Cardiff and stay away. You survived, we all survived.”
All of us survived except Jacob.
Wait.
What did he just say? He’s walking away, back into the shadows of the workshop.
“How do you know I live in Cardiff?”
He glances back. “You’re not the only one keeping tabs on faces from the past.”
Chapter 18
SASHA—Early December, two months earlier
I didn’t take up Ethan’s suggestion—the thought of Dad finding out was way scarier than the thought of facing Seren and Carly. And it turns out Ethan was right. Tuesday and Wednesday, I get a few snide comments, some hostile looks, and a couple of shoves in the corridor. But when I don’t react, they seem to get bored and go back to ignoring me instead. I haven’t seen Ethan to find out if he knows who sent me the messages yet, but as the days pass and Dad doesn’t come roaring in, brandishing printouts of my stupid Facebook posts, the pool of dread in my stomach gets smaller.
I think Ethan’s been avoiding me, actually. I don’t really blame him as I keep freaking out and having meltdowns in front of him, but I can’t be angry at him, not when he gave me a phone, not when he’s the only person in the world helping me out.
So, instead of sneaking on the computer, I take a different sort of risk now. Dad’s moved our leaving date forward, so we can go early January, just before the new term starts. Originally, it was going to be in the February half-term, but apparently, the current managers of the new holiday park are leaving before Christmas, and because the owners of this place are selling, they’re not bothered about the notice period, so Dad sees no reason not to move early, even though it means packing over Christmas. This way we can be there before the start of term, too—heaven forbid I actually miss a day of learning.
I don’t know—it all seems a bit weird and rushed. Dad’s still agitated, and I don’t think it’s just about the stress of the move, because Mum’s been a bit down as well. I don’t think she wants to move. I think she was given about as much say in the matter as me.
And because they’re selling the place, rather than sprucing it up for a new season, Owen has been given official notice of the end of his contract, and although Dad has told him he can stay on until Christmas, he and Ethan are going to be here less and less. So instead of sneaking into Dad’s office to use the computer at night, I find myself sneaking out of the house after school to try to find Ethan when I’m meant to be in my room doing homework. Mum and Dad rarely check on me—one of the bonuses of having an exemplary good-daughter record—so it’s actually pretty easy. Avoid the creaky stairs, carry my shoes until I’m outside, make sure Dad’s tucked away in his office and Mum is prepping dinner and I’m free.
By Thursday, I’ve done enough sneaking and spying to have figured out where Ethan hides when he wants a break, so I don’t even have to go looking for him. I’m glad Owen isn’t here much anymore. There really wasn’t enough work for two, so I’m extra glad it’s Ethan who got to stay.
I smile when I look out of my window and see him disappearing behind the first row of caravans. Dad’s in his office and Mum’s at one of her church meetings, so I get to raid the biscuit jar before skipping off up the hill to find him.
There’s a row of caravans at the back of the site that don’t get rented out—they’re too old and dilapidated, moss-covered and leaky. It’s like a caravan graveyard, and they’re all too damp and bug-filled to actually go inside them, but the advantage is that no one ever goes up there and they can’t be seen from the house, so this is where we meet.
I should have checked the car park before coming up here, though, because when I skip around the corner, it’s not just Ethan hovering there, it’s Owen too, sitting on the steps of one of the caravans. And he looks about as pleased to see me as I am to see him.
“What are you doing up here? Are you trying to get us in trouble?” he says.
“Of course not,” I mutter. I hold up the bag I’m carrying. “I brought some biscuits.”
Owen rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Jesus—what the hell is wrong with you? Have you got the schoolgirl hots for older men and ex-cons? You know this could get us both fired, right? If your dad caught you here?”
“I’m sorry, I…” My voice trails off as he gets up off the step and stalks toward me.
“You’re sorry for what? Does it give you a thrill going behind Daddy’s back? Is this your little rebel moment—hanging out with us? Just like your damn sister?” His voice rises with every question and I hate how scared he makes me feel, how I’m standing here actually quaking in front of someone who works for my dad, so should be treating me with respect. Because he’s right about one thing: I could get him fired. And hang on, what did he just say?
“Do you know Hanna?” I ask.
“For fuck’s sake, Owen—leave the kid alone,” Ethan says, shaking his head and pushing himself off the caravan he’s leaning against. “Look at her: you’re scaring her to death. She’s just brought us some biscuits, for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh, come on, Ethan, don’t even try to pretend she’s not—”
“Back off,” Ethan says, and he gets between me and Owen and shoves him back, two hands on his boss’s chest.
Owen staggers back a step and I cringe, expecting him to launch himself at Ethan, and I’m ready, poised on the balls of my feet, ready to run back down to the house to get Dad to stop them from fighting.
But Owen just shakes his head. His hands are clenched into fists, but he doesn’t go to hit Ethan. “Get the fuck out of here,” he says.
I don’t know whether he’s saying it to me or to Ethan, but we both walk away, in the same direction.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” I say, all in a rush. My hands are still shaking. “Will he fire you? I can talk to my dad—I can get him to hire you direct.”
Ethan looks at me and frowns. “Calm down, Sash—why would he fire me?”
“Because… he’s your boss. And you pushed him…”
He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe if I’d punched him… but me and Owen are fine. You caught him on a bad day, that’s all; he’s got a lot going on. It’s probably best if you go home now, though.”
“Can I see you later? I just wanted to ask…” I must sound so needy and pathetic, but it works because he gives that reluctant sigh again and nods.
“Come and find me tomorrow—Owen won’t be around then.”
I wonder, as I walk away, why Ethan is so confident Owen won’t fire him. And I wonder again why he was in prison. Does it have something to do with why he’s so sure Owen won’t do anything?
It’s cold and windy the next day when I head out after school, particularly bitter up on the exposed hill, so Ethan is sitting on the steps round the side of one of the caravans, collar up and a wooly hat on his head. He’s frowning down at his phone and doesn’t look up, even when I’m standing in front of him.
“Can’t hang about too long today, Sash—we’ll bloody freeze to death.”
“That’s fine,” I say, all fake casual, like I haven’t been watching the clock all day, waiting to meet him. “I’ve got loads to do anyway.”
“Cool,” he says and gets up as if to leave right away.
“Wait,” I say. “I wanted to ask you…” I don’t know what I want to ask. I just want to talk to someone. No one’s talked to me at all today, other than a couple of questions from teachers and one remark about homework from Dad on the way home from school.
“What?” He sounds irritated.
“What were you in prison for?” I blurt it out and straightaway want to snatch the words back. He finally looks at me, but I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or offended at my question. He just looks sort of blank.
“Nothing exciting. Nothing cool enough for you to go bragging to your mates about your new crim friend, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
I won’t ask again. I’ll let him evade the question same as I’ll let him believe I have friends to brag to. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s all a load of crap anyway. I didn’t do it. I should never have gone to prison.”
Is that true? Is he really innocent? Or is that just something all ex-prisoners say?
He finally glances up at me and drops the scowl. “Sorry I’m so grumpy. I’m not pissed off with you. Someone is hassling me.” He holds up his phone and, as if on command, it dings with an incoming message. “There’s a woman out there who just won’t leave me alone.”
He says it all lighthearted, like it’s a joke, but when his phone dings again, then rings, he switches it off and practically throws it down onto the steps behind him. I chew on my lip. “You should go to the police. If someone’s hassling you—it’s like stalking.”
He laughs. “Oh, yeah—they’d definitely believe me, wouldn’t they? Forget it—it’s nothing.” His smile disappears and he sighs. “It’s just I’ve got that, and Owen nagging at me for completely different reasons. Still,” he says, shrugging, “it’s not all bad. I’ve actually liked working here. I was lucky to have a mate like Owen prepared to give me a job. Your dad’s promised me a good reference, so even if Owen doesn’t keep me on, I’ll probably get grounds work somewhere else.”
“And is that… is that what you want to do?”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah, sure. It’s all I’ve dreamed about since I was a kid. Being an odd-job man on a crappy holiday camp. But I haven’t got a lot of choice.”
All Dad’s bitterness at being manager here when he wants to be something more academic sounds so petty now—Ethan’s situation is way worse. “You deserve better. You should be able to get a job doing what you want.”
He laughs. “You think companies will be lining up to employ an ex-offender?”
“But it’s not fair. Especially if you’re innocent. Even if they don’t believe you, you’ve served your sentence. You wouldn’t do anything wrong again, would you?”
“You’re a good kid, Sasha.” He says it with a smile, but I notice he doesn’t answer my question, that one or the one about why he was sent to prison. But I answer it for him in my head. No, even if he’s not telling the truth about being innocent, of course he wouldn’t do it again—he made a mistake and got sent to prison. He wouldn’t risk that again.
“My criminal connections are useful for some things, though,” he says, picking his phone up again. “My mate has found out some info about your mysterious Facebook messages.”
“You’ve found out who’s sending them?” My heart sinks a bit. I haven’t been back on Facebook; it’s been nice just pretending the whole thing didn’t happen, to be honest. I’d been kind of hoping Ethan had forgotten about it.
“Well, we can’t exactly give you a name and address—he’s not that good. But he got the IP address, so we know it’s a mobile phone and he’s working on getting hold of the number. If we know the number, we might be able to track down who it is.” He pauses. “You should know—because I had to log in to your account for my mate to trace it, I noticed there were some more messages.”
I want to put my hands over my ears and carry on pretending. “What did they say?”
“Do you really want to know?”
No, not really. But…“Yes. Otherwise I’ll only imagine worse than they probably are.”
He sighs. “I took screenshots. I’ve noticed that whoever it is, they’re careful to delete the messages once they see that they’ve been read.”
He gets out his phone and shows me the messages. They’re similar to before, vaguely threatening. The last one makes me shiver: Don’t think by ignoring me you won’t be punished for what you’ve been doing. I know where you live.
“It’s bullshit,” Ethan says, watching my reaction. “They’re just making shit up to scare you.”
“Well, it’s working.”
“Don’t worry. My friend will get the number, we’ll find out who it is. If it’s one of those kids from school, you can go straight to the head teacher, they’ll get the parents in.” He pauses. “You could probably even get the police involved—cyberbullying’s officially a crime these days.”
