Gone Missing (7 page)

“They rot the teeth.”

Darcy said, “What teeth?” and we both cackled.

Honey got quite cross. She told us that we were behaving irresponsibly. She said, “This baby is
helpless
. We're supposed to be taking care of her.”

“Oh, just stop being such a bore,” said Darcy. “Me and Jade left home to get away from all that!”

It was true that at home I couldn't have gorged on doughnuts, specially not chocolate-covered ones, without Mum nagging at me. I said this to Darcy.

“This is it,” said Darcy. “You're
free
!” She pushed the box of doughnuts at me. “Have another!”

I managed four, but after that I came over a bit sick and had to stop. Darcy jeered and called me a wimp. She said, “You ain't got no stamina, girl! You'd better get your act together tonight, I got hotpot.”

“She can't eat hotpot,” said Honey. “Not if it's got meat in it. She's a vegetarian.”

If looks could have killed, then surely Honey would have dropped dead on the spot. What business was it of hers?

“You gotta be joking,” said Darcy.

“No, she is,” insisted Honey.

Darcy looked at me like I was some kind of bug-eyed alien. “Since when?”

“Since never,” I said. “It was just something to annoy Dad. He got on my nerves, you know? Always trying to make me eat stuff I didn't want.”

“You told me it was principle,” said Honey.

She was really starting to get on my nerves! Ever since she'd taken charge of the baby, she'd become all bumptious and full of herself.

“It was principle,” I said. “Principle of being allowed to decide for myself what I wanted to eat.”

Honey opened her mouth. She got as far as, “You s—” when Darcy scrunched up the doughnut box and chucked it at her.

“Never mind all that! Let's get on with the make-over. We'll do Jade first, then you.”

She made me sit on a chair in the middle of the room while she slowly walked round, studying me from every angle.

“Know what?” she said. “It's all gotta come off…all that hair! I'll go get the clippers.”

Honey looked at me, wonderingly. “Are you going to let her?”

“Course she is!” Darcy's voice sang out from the bathroom. “I know about these things.”

It was true, Darcy had always been like a sort of icon where anything to do with fashion was concerned. She came waltzing back, with a pair of clippers.

“It's a total mess, anyway,” she said, yanking at a strand of my hair. “Dunno when you last had this lot styled.”

I didn't like to tell her that Mum had always cut it. I just mumbled that it was “Ages ago.”

“Yeah, that figures,” said Darcy.

By the time she'd finished, the floor was covered in wads of hair and I was practically bald. Just a lovely sleek fuzz all over. I gazed wonderingly at myself in the mirror. Mum would never have let me shave my head! Dad would go ballistic.

 

“You look like one of those punk people,” said Honey.

“Yeah.” Darcy took a step back, admiring her handiwork. “Suits you,” she said.

It did, too! I don't mean to brag, but I'd never realised before what a nice shape head I had. Some people, you can't help noticing–like men when they have lost their hair–have heads that are lumpy and bumpy.

There are square heads, and pointy heads, and heads like big nobbly potatoes. Mine is quite small, and round, and neat. I am aware that makes me sound like a rather vain sort of person, but it just happens to be true!

“OK,” said Darcy. “Now it's her turn.”

She moved across to Honey, with the clippers. Honey shrank back, in instant alarm.

“I don't want my hair shaved off!”

“No. Wouldn't suit you,” said Darcy. “You've got the wrong sort of face. Too big. What you need…”

“W—what?” said Honey.

“You need a different colour!”

Darcy went rushing off again, down the hall. Honey curled herself up, into a corner of the sofa.

“It's got to be done,” I said. “Otherwise we'll never be able to go out.”

“Got it!” Darcy burst back into the room, triumphantly clutching a bottle. “Ever wanted to be a brunette?”

“Not really,” said Honey.

“Well, you're gonna be! C'mon!”

Between us, we marched Honey into the bathroom and set to. Ten minutes later, her hair was a deep, rich chestnut.

“What d'you reckon?” said Darcy.

“Great,” I said. “It matches her eyes.”

Honey stared doubtfully at herself in the bathroom mirror. It's funny, cos she looked a whole lot older with her hair dark. Not as striking, but definitely more like sixteen than twelve. I said this to her, thinking she'd be pleased, but she munched on her lip and muttered that, “I don't feel like me.”

I said, “That's the whole point! You're not you.
You're a new person. We both are!”

Honey went on munching. Darcy said, “It's no big deal. It only lasts a week or two. If you don't like it, you can always try something else.”

“You'll get used to it,” I said.

As for me, I preened like mad the rest of the day. Every time I passed a mirror, I had to look in it. I said to Darcy that it had been worth running away, just to get a new hairstyle.

That, of course, is very shallow, and I know that I should be ashamed of ever having such a frivolous thought, especially when Mum was probably sitting at home worried out of her mind, wondering where I was and whether I was all right.

I did feel a bit guilty when I thought of Mum, but only a bit. She had never properly stood up for me. If she had just occasionally been on my side, I could have put up with Dad and his bullying ways. I hadn't
wanted
to run away. Though now that I had, it seemed they didn't really miss me. There still wasn't anything on the
TV news, which surely there ought to have been? It was over twelve hours since we'd left home! Didn't they care? Didn't they want us to be found?

I could see that Honey's mum mightn't be that bothered if she never got Honey back. I could see that my dad, because of his pride and always being convinced he was in the right, might wash his hands of me. I could even see that Kirsty might not be too broken up. But surely Mum still loved me???

Maybe what it was, Mum would have wanted to go to the police and Dad wouldn't let her. Mum would be crying and begging him. “Alec, please! We've got to get her back!” And he'd be, like, “She chose to go, she can stay gone.”

I said to Honey, as we lay in bed that night, “I bet that's what it is. I bet Mum's desperate and Dad's bullying her, same as usual.”

“What about my mum?” said Honey. “What d'you think she's doing?”

I said, “Drinking, probably.” And then, in case that might be hurtful, I added that it wasn't her mum's fault. “People can't help being alcoholics. It's something in their blood.”

“She's not an alcoholic!” said Honey. “It's for her nerves.”

It would have seemed unkind to argue with her. “Either way,” I said, “she can't help it. Let's go to sleep!”

Maybe tomorrow there would be something on the news.

There wasn't anything! Not even so much as a mention. It was like me and Honey simply didn't exist any more. They were just getting on with their lives without us.

“They don't always put things on the telly,” said Darcy. “They never did with me.”

“You didn't run away,” I said.

“Are you joking? I've run away more times than I can count!”

She didn't say it like she was boasting; just matter of fact.

“Is that why you're down here?” said Honey.

“Nah! I'm down here cos my mum said she'd had enough of me. Said she couldn't cope any more. But when I was younger I used to go off all the time.”

Honey and I were both staring at her, like mesmerised.

“Where did you go?” I said.

“Anywhere took my fancy. First time I ended up round my nan's. She used to live in Walmley. Like just a bus ride away?”

I nodded. I knew Walmley.

“They got in a bit of a flap about that, cos I was only eight. They thought I'd been abducted.”

“Did they go to the police?”

“Yeah, but then my nan rang and said I was with her.”

“So where d'you go the second time?”

“Don't think I went anywhere, really. Just had a bit of a walkabout and came back. I was only away for, like, a few hours.”

Honey said, “But what did you do it for?”

“I dunno.” Darcy shrugged. “Got the hump about something. One of my mum's blokes, prob'ly. Jack. He was a right so and so! Used to throw his weight around, think he could tell me what to do.
Me!
Like he was my dad, or something. In the end I said I wasn't standing
for it any more and I just got out.”

Eagerly I said, “Like me! That's what I did.”

“You have to. You can't let them get away with it.”

“So where did you go that time?” said Honey.

Darcy gave one of her cackles. “Went up north with a mate. Went to Newcastle and stayed with this guy we knew. We were there nearly a week before they got on to us. That was in Year 7, that was.”

I said, “I don't remember you going off!”

“Well, I did,” said Darcy.

“They never told us.”

“No, well, they wouldn't, would they? Might have got all the rest of you at it!”

I hadn't specially been friends with Darcy in Year 7; it wasn't till Year 8 that we'd started to hang out. We'd quite often bunked off school together, but only the odd day, nothing major–though Dad, needless to say, had gone ballistic when he found out. That had been another of our big rows. He'd have shot through the roof if I'd ever tried a stunt like running off to Newcastle.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd have been only too glad to get rid of me.

“You still gotta be careful,” said Darcy. “Just cos you're not on the telly doesn't mean they're not looking for you.”

“Why do other people get on the telly and not us?” said Honey.

“Like I told you,” said Darcy, “I didn't.”

“No, well…” Honey didn't actually say it, but I knew what she was thinking. It was what I was thinking myself. Darcy had been running away and bunking off school and getting into trouble ever since she was little; it was only what people expected of her. But me and Honey weren't like that! Honey had never been in trouble her whole life, and even I had never done anything worse than a bit of mini shoplifting. Nothing big time! It wasn't like I was a hardened criminal.

“See, it'd be different,” said Darcy, “if you were just little kids. A couple of ten year olds, they'd really pull out all the stops.”

I swallowed. “So you don't think they'll ever have my mum and dad on?”

“What, with all the guff about
Come home, all is forgiven?
” Darcy flung out her arms.
“My baby, my baby, we just want you back!”

“Yeah, well.” I tried to match my tone to hers. “Something like that.”

“What about my mum?” said Honey.

“Forget about your mum,” said Darcy. “She's a lost cause, what I hear. And your dad!” She turned, to look
at me. “Can't see him shedding any tears.”

Neither could I; not if I were honest. Dad wasn't the sort of person to break down and cry. Mum and Dad on the television, pleading for me to come home. But what was I going to do if they didn't? I hadn't made any plans! Always, at the back of my mind, I'd imagined Mum weeping on the screen, Dad with his arm around her.
We just want her back!

It wasn't going to happen; I could see that, now. Running away had been the easy part. It was what to do next that was the problem.

Darcy said, “Live for today, that's my motto.”

I thought it had been mine, too; but you couldn't just ignore tomorrow!

“Let's do something,” said Darcy. She said that now we didn't look like our old selves any more it would be safe to go out. “I'll take you up the West End. Show you the shops. C'mon!”

I was quite eager, because the one time I'd come to London, with Mum and Dad, we hadn't gone anywhere near the West End. Mum had said it was a tourist trap, Dad said it was a temple to mammon, whatever that
was. I think he meant people spending their money and having a good time. We'd gone to the British Museum, instead. Which I did enjoy, as it has some extremely interesting things in it, but I would have liked to walk up Oxford Street and see all the big stores.

Darcy promised that that was what we would do. Honey said, “What about the baby?”

“Bring her with us,” said Darcy.

“To
Oxford
Street?”

“Why not? What d'you think's gonna happen to her?”

“She might get snatched,” said Honey.

Darcy looked at me and rolled her eyes. I rolled mine back at her. Honey was as bad as my dad! I told her not to be so daft, but there was no budging her. She said she'd heard about that part of London.

“Oxford Street, Soho…the West End!”

She'd seen a programme about it on the television. It was full of muggers and drug dealers.

“It's not safe to take a baby to a place like that!”

In the end we said OK, we'd
leave her at home with the baby while we went to Oxford Street to look at the shops and get mugged.

“You shouldn't joke about it,” said Honey. “It happens all the time! People are murdered in broad daylight, just for their mobile phones.”

“Yeah, well, just don't worry about it,” said Darcy. “Nobody ain't gonna mug
me
! I dunno why you ever bothered bringing that girl with you,” she grumbled, as we closed the front door behind us. “She's definitely one slice short of a sandwich.”

“She's good with the baby,” I pleaded.

“Yeah, I s' ppose there is that,” agreed Darcy. “Saves us having to cart it around.”

I couldn't help wondering whether Darcy's sister had actually wanted a baby, or if it were just “one of those things”. I thought probably it was just one of those things, and for a moment I felt sorry for it and could understand why Honey was so protective. Why she kept saying, “Poor little thing!”

I didn't like to ask Darcy in case it seemed like I was prying or being critical. After all, it wasn't really any business of mine.

I enjoyed seeing all the shops and the people in Oxford Street, though not quite as much as I thought I would. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was Honey, putting
ideas into my head; or maybe it was the nagging thought, which was there all the time, that not even Mum seemed to care if I'd run away. I hadn't done it to make her unhappy, and I didn't actually
want
her to be unhappy, but I did want her to care!

Darcy told me to stop brooding. She said, “At least your mum never threw you out.”

“Yours didn't throw you out,” I said. “She just couldn't cope.”

“Comes to the same thing.”

“Not really,” I said. “You were pretty mean to her.”

“That's right, take her side,” said Darcy. “What do you know about any of it?”

I muttered, “Only what I saw.”

“Yeah? And what was that?”

“You treated her like she was just stupid.” A bit like Honey's mum had treated Honey. I don't know what made me bold enough to say it; I'd never stood up to Darcy before. This angry black look came over her face. She snapped, “Maybe she was just stupid!”

“She was your
mum
,” I said.

“So? That doesn't mean she can't be stupid, does it? All those jerks she used to bring home! I could have told her they were just out for what they could get.”

“I always felt sorry for your mum,” I said.

“Yeah, well, you're just a soft touch,” said Darcy.

I resented that. I wasn't a soft touch! I prided myself on being quite tough and street smart. Darcy sneered and said who did I think I was kidding? Then she started on again about Honey; about me “lugging her along like a bit of extra baggage.” She said she was useless.

“A total no-hoper!”

I said, “At least Honey doesn't leave poor little innocent babies to starve while she goes out enjoying herself!”

That did it. We had this terrible shouting match, standing on the edge of the kerb. People kept swerving to avoid us, cars and cabs swished past, almost within touching distance, and we just stood there, yelling at each other.

When it was all over, when neither of us could think of anything else to yell, I thought that Darcy would most probably flounce off and leave me. I wasn't going to flounce off and leave
her
, cos by now we weren't in Oxford Street any more and I wasn't too sure how to get back to the tube station. But I wasn't going to apologise, either! I waited for one of us to say something. It was Darcy who spoke first.

“Well, we got that lot off our chests,” she said. “Let's go back and have a gander in Gap.”

It was so extraordinary! It was like we'd never stood there on the kerb yelling at each other. By the time we'd mooched all round Gap, and several other stores, trying on various articles of clothing, we were the best of mates again. I thought it was good that we could say all those things and not bear grudges. It wasn't till we were on the tube on the way home that Darcy showed me what she had brought with her from the last shop we'd been in.

“Da-dum!”

With a flourish, she whipped something out from under her T-shirt. I recognised it at once as a Lycra top we'd both fancied.

I said, “How did you
do
that?”

“I got the knack,” said Darcy. She grinned. “Want me to teach you?”

“No!” I shook my head. I didn't care what she thought of me, I wasn't getting into that again. “Call yourself street smart?” jeered Darcy. “You ain't got what it takes, girl. You'll never be a survivor!”

“I've survived so far,” I said; but I had this sinking feeling that she might be right.

We got back to find Honey cosily chatting in the sitting room to the big slob from Soup 'n Sarnies.
Joe
. He jumped up when he saw me and Darcy, like he knew he had no right to be there. Honey ought never to have let him in! For one thing (as I somewhat crossly said to her, when he'd gone) this was Darcy's place, not hers. You don't go inviting total strangers into other people's houses. Flats. Whatever. For another thing, we were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

I read her a long lecture about it, but for once she seemed unrepentant. I mean, normally she took notice of what I said. Normally she would have been ashamed
of herself. Today she just looked me in the eye and said boldly that she couldn't see she'd done anything wrong.

“He just came to check how I was. He brought me these lovely flowers. Look!” She nodded proudly at a bunch of brightly-coloured something or others (I'm not very good at flowers) which she'd stuck into a jug. “I couldn't be rude to him!”

“You didn't have to let him in,” I said.

“But he came round specially!”

“Yeah, and that happens to be a measuring jug.” Darcy snatched at it, angrily. “You trying to poison us?”

“I'm sorry,” said Honey. She didn't actually sound sorry; she sounded more like defiant. “I couldn't find a proper vase.”

“That's probably cos we haven't got one.”

“Well, don't just pull them out, you'll kill them!” Honey took the jug back, cradling it protectively the way she'd cradled the baby. “Find something else I can put them in.”

Darcy stared, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. I couldn't, either. Nobody, but nobody, gave orders to Darcy! Specially not a no-hoper like Honey.

“
Please,
” said Honey.

“Oh, just leave them where they are!” Darcy flung herself into an arm chair, hooking her legs over the side. “What's it matter if we all go down with the green galloping gunge?”

I wasn't bothered so much about gunge. I was more concerned with what Honey might have told fat slob Joe. I said, “What did he mean, when he left?”

He'd looked at me and shaken his head and said, “You didn't have to go and do that to her.”

“What did he mean? I didn't have to go and do that to you?”

Honey blushed. “He meant my hair. He doesn't like it like this, and neither do I!”

“I told you,” said Darcy. “It'll grow out.”

I said, “Yeah, and what's it to do with him, anyway?”

“He said you shouldn't have done it!”

He had some nerve.

“I did explain to him,” said Honey.

“Explain?” Alarm bells had started to clang, loudly, inside my head. “Explain what, exactly?”

“Why you had to do it.”

“You
told
him?”

Honey munched, on her lip.

“You did,” I said, “didn't you? You went and told him! You
idiot
!”