Where did you go, Len-monster?
A twig cracked. Claire’s skin prickled with goose bumps.
‘Hello?’ Had she trodden on something? ‘Who’s there?’ She swung around, expecting to see someone – had Nick come after her? – but there was no one there, just a crow flapping out of a tree above her. She shivered. It was time to go back.
She stopped again. She definitely heard something.
‘This is private property,’ she called out nervously, bending down to pick up some litter. Someone had been up here recently, she thought, gathering up the discarded food wrappers. Probably kids from the village. When she stood, she felt lightheaded, so she took hold of a tree trunk to steady herself. Looking up, the treetops spun around her as another crow, squawking and beating its wings, escaped the confines of the wood. Claire breathed deeply, gathering herself. ‘No one’s here,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fine.’ But she still walked briskly back to the farm.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Near the Beginning
Everything’s dirty and stale and, even though Mummy’s not here, I can hear her calling out to me… Clean your room, Eleanor!
I pull the wet sheet, yanking it off the mattress. It’s not really a mattress at all but a piece of yellow foam chucked on the floor with bits nibbled away as if mice have been chomping on it while I sleep. Sometimes I helped Mummy make up the beds for the boarding guests, so I know what to do. I’m not sure how I will wash the sheet though, in this tiny little house. It’s not even a house. Just a stinky room.
I think I’m going to get killed.
I bet Claire got a good telling-off for letting me go off alone to get ice cream. Mummy always warned me that I’d get kidnapped if I kept going off alone. And she was right. I’ve gone off alone a few times before by accident and Mummy always got scared and angry. But there was one time I went off and I don’t even remember because I was too little. Claire does, though, and she used to tell me the story often. I liked hearing it. She would wrap me up in a warm towel after my bath and sit me on her bed. She used to take a comb and gently untangle the mass of my wet hair after a day at the beach. ‘Didn’t you wash your hair properly, Len-monster? Look, I’ve found a starfish, an octopus and two crabs in it.’
Then I’d say, ‘Tell me the story of when I went off on my own,’ and I’d get all snuggly next to her on the bed.
Claire grinned. ‘Well, Len-monster, you’d not long learnt to walk. It was summer and you went barefoot everywhere – all around the house, climbing up the stairs and across the soft patch of lawn near the back door. You drove Mum mad with all your walking. But she knew you’d never venture out onto the drive because you didn’t have any shoes. You hated walking on the gravel because it hurt your little feet. You did it once and screamed, wailing on the stones with your arms stretched high to be picked up.’
Then Claire tickled my feet and I asked her who saved me.
‘I saved you. I came and scooped you up and picked out the gravel from between your toes.’
She was the best big sister.
‘Then what?’
‘Then Mum took you to town to buy you your first pair of shoes. They were red. You loved them. You walked faster than ever in them.’
I bounced on the bed, waiting for the big finale.
‘We were all playing in the garden, Maggie too, and Mum went inside to answer the phone. She came right back out, smiling and chatting. A moment later, she said, “Where’s Eleanor?” and she ran around and around the garden peering behind trees and bushes, calling your name until she was screaming.’
I laugh and laugh at this bit.
‘Suddenly, we heard a skidding noise further up the drive. Then we heard the crunch of gravel as Mrs Lyons carried you back down to the house with a scowl on her face. “She was halfway to freedom and beyond,” she said in her funny Mrs Lyons voice. “Lucky I’m a slow driver. Anyone else and she’d be…”’ – and we yelled this together every time she told the story – ‘“She’d be splat!”’ Claire and I both clapped our hands together as hard as we could and laughed ourselves senseless. ‘That’s when Dad first called you Len-monster, when Mum told him what had happened.’
‘Raarrr!’ I yelled with my claws out, just to prove I was still a monster.
Not really a monster any more, I think, bundling up the stinky sheet and wishing I was halfway to freedom and beyond right now.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Nick was the first to reach Maggie in the garden. He was trying to slow down her sobs with a steadying hand on her shoulder, crouching down beside her, talking softly as she shook and wept. ‘Stay calm, Maggie. What’s happened? Speak to me…’
Claire also heard the scream and ran outside, dashing up to Maggie, flinging her arms around her. She didn’t care what Callum had said any more. Maggie fell forward and flopped down onto her knees in the grass. Claire supported her as she went down. ‘Maggie, what is it? Please tell us.’
She pointed to the telephone dropped on the grass, sobbing. ‘The police have… they’ve found a pair of denim shorts.’ Her words were tissue-paper thin on the breeze. ‘And some underwear.’
‘Oh God,’ Nick said, clenching his fists and closing his eyes.
‘What else did they say?’ Claire asked. Jason and Callum rushed out, having heard the noise. ‘Let’s give her some space,’ she said, indicating for everyone to step back. ‘Did they say the clothing belonged to Rain?’
‘They think so, yes. A woman walking her dog found them wrapped up in a carrier bag. She’d heard the story on the news and called the police,’ Maggie’s lips trembled. ‘They said there was blood on the shorts.’
* * *
The day had been a scorcher, she’d never forget that. It was emblazoned on her mind as much as the growing panic and fear as she and the others charged up and down the beach. Claire was soon in tears. Nick was silent but diligent in his search and Jason, when he came back from wherever he’d gone off to do, darted about asking people if they’d seen his little sister, tearing across their spread-out towels and picnics, kicking sand over everything.
Twenty minutes later, they assembled back at their own pile of discarded towels and food. The tide had crept up and wet their stuff yet again. ‘She’s nowhere,’ Claire said through choked sobs. ‘Please, dear God, don’t let me have lost her.’ She doubled up, then stood straight again, scanning down the beach.
Then Jason started laughing – almost mockingly, she’d thought – as she’d gone back over things in her mind. ‘Listen to yourself, Claire. Lenni walked along the beach, went to the ice cream shop, most likely bumped into a friend, got chatting, got distracted, then went home without coming back to tell you. You know she’s away with the fairies most of the time.’
Claire thought about this. Relief washed through her. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. I’m being silly.’ She touched her temples, frowning, even though she knew that Lenni didn’t have any friends. ‘Why don’t you go back home on the shingle track route with Mags. Nick and I will take the long route past the shops to look again.’
Everyone agreed. She prayed one of them would find Lenni sitting on a log with ice cream dribbling down her chin, loving her new-found freedom and perhaps chatting with someone from her class. All the other kids were allowed out all over the place in the holidays, unlike cooped-up Lenni, and so the novelty of being able to hang out if she’d bumped into anyone would be too great to resist.