Then She Vanishes(85)



Dylan’s expression became more alarmed and he moved away from her. ‘I thought you were cool.’

‘Maybe I’m not. I want a career. I don’t want to be a drugs pusher or an addict.’

He laughed nastily. ‘You’re a baby. Just like your sister. A fucking prissy small-town girl with no ambition.’

‘No ambition!’ she shrieked, causing the couple in front of them to turn to look at her. ‘I’ve got more ambition than you. Heather was right about you.’

She stalked off before he could answer, heart thudding against her ribcage. When she’d calmed down a bit she stopped by a tree to catch her breath, expecting Dylan to have followed her. But he was nowhere to be seen. She felt a flurry of fear. She was alone, in London, with no idea how to get back to the coach. Calm down, she told herself. She could work it out. Marble Arch. That was where the coach had dropped them off. It would be okay. She took deep, gulping breaths, trying not to panic. As long as she was back before the coach left at five it would be okay.

Flora’s feet hurt as she took her seat on the coach. She’d spent all afternoon wandering around by herself. A kindly old man had pointed her in the right direction and she’d spent the last two hours hanging around the coach area, terrified she’d miss it if she strayed too far.

She didn’t see Dylan get on the coach, and was beyond caring if he came back or stayed in London. She sat near the front, by the window, next to a middle-aged woman who had her head in a book the whole way back. Flora clamped her headphones to her ears, so she could listen to her favourite song, ‘Martha’s Harbour’, on her Walkman. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about him ever again. What a lucky escape she’d had. There were plenty more fish in the sea, as her uncle Leo always said when one of his relationships failed, which was often.

Suddenly she longed to be at home, with her uncle and her mum, Heather and Jess. Safe and warm, away from Dylan and his druggie mates and the fair. She didn’t want to go back to the fair ever again. Behind the bright lights and the loud music there was a rotten, seedy underbelly.

It began to rain as the coach pulled into Eastville and she had to walk for fifteen minutes across town to the bus station. The rain continued to lash down and she only had her little velvet jacket to protect her from the onslaught. By the time she arrived she was drenched and shivering in her summer blouse and floaty skirt. The only sensible thing she had on were her trusted DMs. She sat on the bench trying to keep warm as she waited for the Tilby bus. Despite herself, she looked around for Dylan. Then she spotted him. He had bought himself a hot drink and was standing at the other end of the concourse, watching her. She caught his eye and he smiled, looking relieved to see her, but she didn’t return his smile. He’d left her in London. She’d never forgive him. She turned away, hardening her heart against him. It didn’t matter how sexy he was, or how he made her feel, she knew, deep in her gut, that he was bad news, and if she stayed with him he’d drag her further into his murky circle. She was sixteen, with the whole world at her feet. She’d meet someone else. Someone better. She didn’t need him.

Heather hid in the bushes, sheltering from the rain, waiting for the bus to come in. She’d been there for more than an hour and she was cold to the bone, despite her waxed jacket. Because of the sudden change in the weather, the sky had darkened even though it wasn’t yet nine. Did that mean they would miss their curfew of ‘before dark’? This used to be nine thirty but the nights were already drawing in very slightly, and the bad weather made the sky darker than usual. Either way, Heather was past caring. She needed to see Flora, to make things right between them. She was still smarting that her sister had chosen to confide in Jess over her.

The clock tower was empty. The rain was too heavy for the usual youths to hang out there tonight. The streets were wet, with only the occasional car driving past, the whoosh of water under tyres making her think of her best friend. They loved to huddle in the barn, listening to the rain and sketching.

Then she saw the bus rattling towards her, screeching to a halt next to the bus stop. She was surprised to see Dylan get off first, alone. He had no jacket on, just his thin T-shirt, and his shoulders were hunched against the rain as he walked along the street, then turned off towards the fields that led to the fair. Heather’s heart fell. Where was her sister? Why was she not with Dylan? Another couple got off the bus, holding hands and occasionally smooching, not caring about the weather as they wandered in the opposite direction towards the beach.

And then Heather saw Flora stepping daintily from the bus, her heavy DMs landing in a puddle and splashing the hem of her skirt. Her hair hung in dark tendrils and she had her earphones in, the yellow leads snaking around her velvet jacket and towards the bag on her back. Heather’s heart swelled. Her sister looked utterly miserable. A car drove past, obscuring Flora for a second, before moving out of sight.

Heather stumbled out of the bushes and into Flora’s path, making her sister jump in fright. She put a hand to her heart. ‘Shit, what are you doing?’ she hissed, pulling off the earphones so that they dangled in one hand. Her family signet ring glinted under the streetlight.

Family. They were linked, her and Flora. They shared the same blood. And that stupid little dickhead Dylan wouldn’t come between them.

‘Where have you been?’ she said, although she knew. ‘You’ve been with him again, haven’t you? Sneaking off to God knows where. What’s wrong with you, Flora? Why can’t you see what a loser he is?’

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