Dead Romantic (14 page)

I found myself breathing a sigh of relief, like I really cared. ‘Did they get the driver?'

‘Camille!' Zoe yelled, slamming the back doors of the van and marching round to the driver's door.

‘No, it all happened so quickly. There were only us two there. I'm going to get so bollocked for missing History. Supposed to give my talk today on Hitler,' Louis rubbed his eye again. He looked tired. He'd obviously been at the hospital all night. ‘So how did it go this morning?'

History? I thought. ‘Oh, okay, you know. The usual. Boring. War, war and more war.'

He frowned. ‘No, I meant the funeral,' he said.

‘Oh,' I said and laughed, and then tried to make my face go as serious as possible. I'd forgotten about Luke Truss's funeral. ‘I couldn't face it in the end. I think . . . I pretty much said my goodbyes last night anyway, so . . .'

He nodded, looking at me. ‘So you're okay with it all now?'

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Life has to go on, doesn't it?'

He smiled like he didn't really know what to say. ‘I couldn't go cos I had to stay here with Dame but Dad rang
me and said everything went well.'

‘Good, good.'

‘So what's going on with all that stuff?' he asked, gesturing towards the back of the van. ‘Are you nicking it?'

‘Uh, kind of, yeah. We need it for an experiment,' I said. ‘Human Biology. We're just borrowing it really. For a bit. They said they don't mind.' Even
I
didn't believe that.

He laughed. ‘Me, Dame and Splodge have nicked a hospital bed before, for a charity bed push. Dame kept all the money though. He wanted new golf clubs.'

‘We haven't got time for this, Camille,' Zoe barked out of the window, starting the engine.

‘I've got to go,' I said, making to leave.

‘Wait . . . how's your nose?'

I touched it. It hurt. I thought it might bleed again but it didn't. ‘Um, okay. Purple, as you can see. And a bit achey. Otherwise, fine.'

‘Did you hear about Will Pratt from college? The whole place is in shock. It happened last night . . .'

‘Uh, yeah, yeah I did. Really sad.' My eyes wandered towards the van where William Pratt's feet were. ‘So sad.'

‘I texted Splodge to see if he'd heard about it but he hasn't answered. He was good mates with him from rugby. Could you text Poppy and find out if she knows where he is?' he said.

‘Uh, me and Poppy don't really hang out as much as we used to.'

‘Camille!' Zoe called out again, revving the engine.

‘Okay, I'm coming,' I yelled. I turned back to Louis. ‘Maybe we should swap numbers?' In case either of us
hears from them?'

‘Yeah, that's a good idea,' he said, taking his mobile out of his pocket. I did the same and we swapped phones and put our numbers in each other's contacts. We swapped back. ‘Okay, well, I'll see you later.'

‘CAMILLE, WILL YOU HURRY UP AND GET IN THIS VAN, PLEASE!'

‘Yeah, see you,' I said, suddenly feeling terribly sad.

‘Bye,' he said, walking back towards the hospital, his hands in his pockets. He looked back at me and I thought he was going to smile, but he didn't. What was he thinking? I wondered. Was he thinking of telling on me and Zoe? Telling someone at the hospital about us stealing the trolley? No, it wasn't that. It wasn't a threatening look. It was a worried look. Like he was afraid of something. Of Zoe? Possibly.

As soon as my bottom was on the passenger seat, Zoe sped towards the hospital exit.

‘About time,' she said.

I got my phone out and called Poppy's number. No answer. I texted:
Hi Pops. Hope u r OK. Hav u seen Splodge? Louis wants 2 talk 2 him. Bad things happened. DDJ bin in axident. Tlk soon. Cx

A thought flashed into my mind. A mole. A small mole on a hand. Splodge had a mole on his hand. I'd seen it the last day we were all together at college, outside the Humanities block at college. He had been eating Jaffa Cakes though, so it could have been chocolate. I wasn't sure. The hand in the cool bag had had a mole on one of the fingers. Coincidence? Or something totally else?

‘You're very quiet,' said Zoe. ‘Aren't you excited? We have nearly all the pieces now to really get going. This time next week, you will have the perfect boyfriend.'

‘Yeah,' I said. I stared at my phone. ‘I can't wait.'

Zoe stared at me, hard. Did she know what I was thinking? What
was
I thinking? Poppy not answering her phone. William Pratt dying, Damian being run over. And now Splodge's mysterious non-answering-of-a-text. That's what I was thinking.

 

 

 

 

I
had to leave Zoe at about four o'clock as Mum texted me to say Granny and Grandad Mabb were visiting and that I had to go home and see them. My heart sank. It was always the same whenever they turned up. My dad didn't even like them that much and they were his parents, but Mum said we had to be nice because they didn't have long left and she wanted their Royal Doulton crockery in the will.

They stayed for ages and I was forced to sit sandwiched right between them on the sofa, with him stinking of pee and talking about U-boats, and her stinking of attics and pinching my cheeks and asking me if I was courting. It was the boringest evening ever and it meant I didn't get to see Zoe and help with our project at all.

That night I had the most horrend dreams about Poppy and Splodge. In one dream, they were tied up in the boot of a car. In another, they were hanging upside down from the trees and being skinned like rabbits. Both times they were screaming out for help but no one could hear them except me and I was stuck in the mud, just watching. Helpless. I stopped trying to sleep at about four and played with Pee Wee.

After stealing some frying sausages out of the pan for breakfast, me and Pee Wee raced up to Zoe's house that Saturday morning to find Zoe just coming out and locking the front door behind her. She was carrying the cool bag.

‘Sorry I couldn't come over last night; my grandparents came round and I couldn't get away . . . Where are you going?'

‘Out,' she snapped. ‘To get the next piece for the project.'

She was tetchy. I could tell she was tetchy cos no one says ‘Out' before they say ‘Hello'. So I knew I had to be careful. Normal Zoe was odd enough, Tetchy Zoe might be dangerous. ‘Which piece are we going to get?' I asked her, following her up the drive.

‘The head. And after that he will be ready for the most important piece: the brain. I have a train to catch.'

‘Cool beanies,' I said. Pee Wee trotted beside us, looking adoringly up at me. I think he really loved me. Then I realised he could smell the sausages in my coat pocket. I let him have one.

We walked in step, all the way down the snaking bends of Clairmont Road, which overlooked Madeira Cove and the jetty, where we caught the electro bus. It was always
driven by a crotchety old man called Alf. We had to stay on it all the way to its final stop, the train station. The name ‘electro bus' made it sound quite exotic but it wasn't. It clattered, the seats were uncomfortable and its top speed was ten miles an hour. Zoe took the window seat. Pee Wee curled up in my lap.

‘This is nice, isn't it?' I said.

‘Yes, isn't it just,' Zoe sighed. ‘There's nothing quite like a daytrip to London to steal a severed head. Shall we start singing?'

I giggled, more than a little unnerved. ‘No, I don't think so. But at least it gets us out of Hoydon's Bracht for the day.'

‘Thank Darwin,' she said.

We passed the Mercedes showroom and saw Damian and his dad standing next to a massive silver car, talking to some salesman.

‘Oh look, there's Damian and his dad,' I said, not really thinking.

‘Why would I be interested?' she sighed.

I shrugged. ‘I don't know. I was just making conversation.'

‘Can't see any conversation to be made there,' she said, staring ahead like a statue.

I couldn't say anything without her making some spiky comment, so I concentrated on chewing a piece of banana bubble gum and watching a chocolate football roll up and down the aisle of the bus, trying not to speak at all.

We went past Holy Trinity. The vicarage was behind it, where Poppy lived.

I didn't like silences and the longer ours went on, the more I thought I'd done something wrong. So I decided to speak just to test the water, see if I really had done something. ‘I still haven't heard from Poppy,' I said. ‘Louis hasn't heard from Splodge either. We're both quite worried about them.'

‘And?' said Zoe, still staring straight ahead.

‘She is still, sort of, my friend. I'm worried something has happened to her.'

‘Why? She's evidently not in the least bit worried about you, or she wouldn't have dumped you, would she? Wouldn't have gone off with that Splat moron.'

I blew a yellow bubble and it popped, sending a light spray of banana rain over my face. ‘Splodge,' I said. ‘His name's Andrew, actually . . .'

She looked at me, her eyes as dead as coal. ‘I. Don't. Care.'

‘Sorry,' I said.

The cool bag she had brought along slid out from under our seat as the driver braked hard for some old people shuffling across the road. She tucked it back underneath. It amazed me how Zoe took up so little room. My stuff always seemed to be spread out all over the place. She was neat; I was messy. She wore black; I wore dresses and pink pumps. She liked reading surgery magazines or her weird dictionary of organs; I preferred my romance novels.

I thought about Poppy. She still hadn't texted me back. It wasn't like her at all. I kept my phone up the sleeve of my arm warmer, hoping at any moment I'd feel the little vibration and see the words on the screen:
Hi Babes, soz
havnt called. Bin soooo bizi. Me n Splodge doin so much kissy stuff!!!
But it didn't come. Nothing came at all. Where was she? Where was Splodge? It was too much of a coincidence for them both to go missing. I was sure something had happened to them.

I scrabbled around in my rucksack for some more bubble gum. I managed to pull out everything in my bag I didn't need – my 3D glasses, lip gloss, a couple of romance novels, Pee Wee's tennis ball and poo bags – before I accidentally nudged Zoe's arm and she got all cross.

‘For goodness' sake!'

‘Sorry.' I found one Banana Bubba at the bottom and popped it in my mouth.

My phone buzzed in my hand. It said
Louis Burnett
.

‘It's from Louis,' I told Zoe, cos I always think it's a bit rude if you're with someone and you answer a text from someone else and you don't at least say who it's from. Zoe stared out the window. The text said:
Hi Camille, hope u r OK. Still nothing from Splodge. Anything from P yet?

I texted back:
Hi L. No not yet. I'll let u know don't worry. I'm sure they r fine
.

He texted back:
Thank u. C u soon
.

I wondered whether or not I should text back again and add a little smiley face, but then I thought perhaps not. We were both worried; it was no time for smileys. Then I thought I could do a worried smiley, to show him I felt like he did. So I texted back:
Yeah. Keep your chin up

And five seconds later another text came back: a worried smiley on its own.

I always had to wait ages for texts from Lynx or Poppy, but Louis was straight back every time. I liked that. I hated waiting for texts. I always thought in the meantime they'd found another friend and forgotten about me.

‘Louis seems nice, doesn't he?' I said out loud. ‘I don't think he'll tell on us for stealing the hospital trolley.'

Zoe said nothing and still stared out the window.

‘Well, he's nicer than Damian, anyway.'

She looked round at me, slowly, like her head was going to twist all the way. ‘Seems nice?' she said quietly.