Little White Lies (21 page)

“Anything’s better than this!” He shrugs. “Ginger, I guess. They’ve seen me with blond, black, and brown hair. What color are you going for?”

I look up. “What?”

“Lou, they’ve seen you now too. You need to keep a low profile as much as I do. Actually, you’d better wait until it gets dark,” he says. “It’ll be safer.”

I nod silently, a shiver trickling down my spine.

“I’m so sorry, Lou.” Christian’s eyes cloud over. “I wish you’d left when I asked you to. I wish you’d leave me now.”

“Don’t be silly.” I smile. “I’m going nowhere. Except to make a cuppa—two sugars, right?”

I turn to go, but he catches my hand.

“Thank you, Lou,” he says, those blue eyes so clear, so trusting. “Thank you for everything. So many people have let me down—the justice system, the police, even Joe, maybe.” He sighs. “You’re the only one I can trust now.”

I force a smile, squeeze his hand, then turn away, guilty of the worst betrayal of all.

At six-thirty we decide it’s dark enough for me to risk going out.
At last!

I hurry out of the hotel and, checking Christian can’t see me from our window, duck into a nearby phone box before I finally allow myself to cry.

You’re the only one I can trust,
he said.

Hot tears sting my eyes. If only he knew the truth... that it’s not fate that brought us together, that I tracked him down
deliberately
to make his life miserable, that
I’m
the one who’s been harassing him—the girl he broke his curfew for because she begged him to save her gran—
Gran!

I pick up the phone and quickly dial the hospital, praying that she’s recovered, that she’s not worried about me, that she’ll know what to do.

But the nurse just tells me there’s no change. She’s still unconscious, but her vitals are stable. At least she’s not any worse.

I lift the receiver and dial again, holding my breath until finally Aunt Grace picks up, her voice faint, hesitant.

“Hello?”

“Aunt Grace, it’s me.”

“Lulu! At last! I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday!” she cries. “Are you all right?”

“I’m so sorry, I lost my phone,” I tell her. “I only just saw the news....”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry—I didn’t want you to find out that way! Isn’t Mum there? Didn’t she tell you what happened? She’s not been answering her phone either.”

“No, she...” I take a deep breath. “She’s in hospital—but she’s fine.”

“What!”
Aunt Grace’s voice rises in panic. “What happened?”

“She had a mild heart attack, but she’s okay,” I assure her. “She’s unconscious but stable.”

“Oh my goodness, how awful!” Her voice splinters with tears. “First Poppy, now Mum... what’s going on?”

I wish I knew. I can’t believe only yesterday everything was normal—Gran was well, Poppy was still alive, and Christian hadn’t broken his parole. How can so much change in just twenty-four short hours?

“I wish I could come straight up there, but oh, Lulu, everything’s in chaos with the funeral tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?” I say, surprised. “How come it’s so soon?”

“Because the media’s going crazy again!” she cries miserably. “You should see the house—we’re mobbed! I can’t take weeks of this. Fortunately your aunt Harriet’s friends with a local undertaker, so they’ve managed to slot us in quickly. We’re registering the death tomorrow morning, and Reverend Foster has been very helpful. Everyone’s been so kind in rushing things through. We just need to be left alone to grieve, as a family.” Her voice cracks. “Poor Millie’s in pieces—she won’t leave the house with the press outside. Your uncle Doug’s been spoiling her rotten, giving her sweets and chocolate, but she hasn’t eaten a single one. She misses you. We both do.”

My arms ache to hug her. She sounds so lost.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I promise.

“Tonight?”

“I...” I hesitate.

“No, you’re right, it’s late, it’s a long way to travel from Sheffield, and you should stay with Mum, but... will you do a tribute?” she asks quietly. “At the funeral? It’s at three o’clock, St. Matthew’s.”

“Of course,” I tell her.

“Oh, Lulu, I can’t believe Poppy’s gone—can’t believe I’m arranging her
funeral
!” Tears gush through her words. “I never stopped hoping, you know? I really thought that one day she might wake up.”

“Me too,” I say, tears streaking my cheeks. “What happened?”

“She just suddenly took a turn for the worse,” Aunt Grace sobs. “I held her hand as they tried to stabilize her, but then her—her heart just gave up beating. It all happened so fast....”

My throat swells.

“Oh, and now that wretched man’s on the loose—did you hear?” Her voice catches.

I swallow. “Yes.”

“I hope they catch him soon and throw away the key!”

I hesitate. Should I tell her the truth—that he’s innocent?

“Actually, Aunt Grace, I—”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry—the vicar’s just arrived. I’ve got to go and confirm the funeral arrangements. Can I call you back? Do you have a number I can reach you on?”

“Not right now. I’m just using a pay phone. I’ll call you, though, okay?”

“Yes, please do—and let me know the minute anything changes with Mum, won’t you? Oh, Lulu, I should be there with you both!” Aunt Grace frets. “I’ll come up as soon as I can, but—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” I promise. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” I say. “Bye.” I hang up, feeling more guilty than ever.

I should be there—I should be home with Aunt Grace and Millie—they need me. And I
can’t
call Aunt Grace the minute anything changes, because Gran’s in Sheffield, I’m in London, and I don’t even have a mobile phone anymore. And what about Gran? If she wakes up, she’ll be all alone....

But I can’t abandon Christian with an injured leg and both the vigilantes and police hot on his trail... not when I’m the one who led them to his door.

Miserably, I wander down the dark street and into a twenty-four-hour convenience store. I grab anything that looks vaguely useful from the medical shelf, then add some food, tea bags, milk, and hair dye to my basket. But as I join the queue my eyes fall on the row of newspapers by the counter.

Each front page shows the same pictures: Christian’s and Uncle Jim’s mug shots... and Poppy’s school photograph. I pick one up, my eyes glued to her bright smile and kind eyes, the maple-leaf necklace I bought her for her fourteenth birthday glittering round her neck. She looks so young, so happy. So alive. I can’t believe she’s really gone.

“Miss?”

I look up sharply. The man behind me clears his throat as the shopkeeper raises his eyebrows. “Can I help you?”

I blink quickly, add the newspaper to my basket, then pay for everything before hurrying outside. I try to read the front page of the paper as I walk along, but it’s a dark night and the streetlights are few and far between, their orange glow casting strange shadows over the pavement as I pass.

Suddenly a shadow catches the corner of my eye, and my heart races as I hear footsteps behind me. The streets are practically empty and most of the shops are shut, so I shove the paper in my bag and quicken my pace. The footsteps speed up too.

Shit
!
Vigilantes
! My mind races as I start to panic. I hurry down the first street I come to, then another, and another. As the streets get dingier and more desolate I have no idea where I’m going, or who’s following me, but there’s no way I’m leading them to Christian.

The footsteps echo behind me as I hurry around yet another corner, then quickly duck down behind a bin and wait. Sure enough, my stalker follows, and as he comes into view I leap out and punch him hard in the stomach, stamp on his foot, then aim a kick at his groin, before running for my life.

I sprint blindly, choosing street after street, trying to find my way back to the main road—then suddenly I hit a dead end! My blood runs cold as the hurried footsteps grow louder behind me—it’s too late to turn back. I’m cornered.

I look around desperately for a place to hide, but there’s nothing but a tall brick wall blocking my escape.

I spin round just as the man turns the corner and walks slowly towards me.

I watch helplessly as the dark figure slowly approaches.

“What do you want?” I demand, trying to sound braver than I feel.

“
Jeez,
Titch,” a familiar voice gasps. “Where’d you learn those moves? They’re
brutal
!”

I blink in surprise as he steps into the light.

“
Kenny
?” I stare at him. “Bloody hell! What are you
doing
here?”

“Besides getting beaten up?” he asks wryly. “Rescuing you!”

“What?”

“Your text message asked for help—so here I am.”

“But... how did you find me?”

“Ah.” He smiles. “That’s the clever bit. I told you I’d be there for you
any time,
didn’t I?” He nods at my wrist.

My jaw drops. “You put a tracker in my
watch
?”

“Bingo.” He beams.

I stare at him. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you!”

He grins. “Do I get to choose?”

“Kenny!” I glare at him. “Why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“Cos I didn’t think you’d wear it if you knew,” he sighs. “And I wanted you to be safe.”

“Then why did you chase me down a dark alley?” I demand. “Why didn’t you call out?”

“Because I had to make sure you were alone!” he explains. “I didn’t want Leo to suddenly pop up round a street corner or something.”

Just then there’s the sound of running footsteps.

Kenny freezes. “That’s not him, is it?”

“It can’t be...,” I say. “He’s back at the Travelodge, he’s got a bad leg.”

We both stare at the corner as a figure races into view.

“
There
you are!” she cries.

“Vix?”
I stare at her in disbelief.

“I told you to stay in the car!” Kenny scolds.

“Yeah, right,” Vix says, rushing at me in a hug. “
Lou
! Kenny told me about Christian—are you
okay
?”

“I’m fine.” I hug her tightly.

Suddenly she punches me on the arm.

“Ow!” I cry. “What was that for?”

“For not telling me what was really going on with Christian, for fobbing me off with half truths and white lies, and pretending Christian was in witness protection when you knew all along he was Leo Niles! I’m your
friend,
Lou Willoughby-White. You can trust me! When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

“It wasn’t about not trusting you, Vix,” I protest. “I’m sorry. I just thought as long as Christian didn’t know anyone knew his identity he wouldn’t be dangerous, but—”

“So you let me befriend him instead?” Vix interrupts. “A convicted criminal?”

“I...” I sigh. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Just promise me now—no more lies,” she says sternly.

“I promise,” I tell her. My gaze flicks to Kenny. “And there’s something else you should know.”

“What?” Vix says apprehensi
vely.

“I never kissed Kenny.”

She blinks.

“It was just a story he made up because you overheard us talking about that night in the office—the night Kenny and I hacked into the police system and found Christian’s address. It was a lie,” I tell her. “Kenny was never in love with me. He just helped me find Christian.”

A strange expression flits over Vix’s face. “Lou—”

“And he might find
us
if we hang around much longer,” Kenny interrupts, grabbing my arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“No, I can’t!” I protest, shaking him off. “I can’t leave him—he’s innocent!”

They both stare at me like I’ve gone crazy, so I quickly tell them what happened at Joe’s flat.

“So you see, it’s all a misunderst
anding!” I conclude. “Christian’s innocent—he was Poppy’s
friend
!”

Vix and Kenny look at each other.

“You can’t trust him.” Kenny shakes his head. “He’s a liar.”

“What?” I stare at him. “But it all makes sense!”

“What Kenny means,” Vix says carefully, “is that Christian’s been in trouble with the police before.”

My heart stops. “What?”

Kenny nods. “For
fraud
.”

“What?”
I stare at them, gobsmacked. “How come we didn’t find this out before?”

“It was wiped from his record when he turned eighteen.” Kenny sighs. “It didn’t show up.”

“But I asked around about Chri—Leo on a news forum,” Vix says. “And one of the local reporters had it on file.”

“That’s why his prints were already on record, and
that’s
why it was so easy for him to start afresh, to play a part and pretend to be someone else,” Kenny says. “He’s a con man, Lou. He tricked you. He’s not innocent.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No—what about the
Glastonbury
ticket?” I protest. “How would he
know
about that unless he’s Poppy’s friend?”

Kenny looks at me pityingly. “You said yourself that he took her bag, Lou. Couldn’t the tickets have been inside?”

My heart sinks like a brick as all my doubts come flitting back in a shoal of shadows.

“Was there anything else?” Vix asks gently. “Any other evidence that he’s telling the truth?”

I rack my brains desperately... but it was the Glastonbury ticket that had convinced me—the ticket Poppy bought me for my birthday, that Christian said she gave him because her friend turned her down. I thought that was proof—that he did know Poppy, that he was telling the truth....

But was that just wishful thinking on my part? Did my own feelings—my own incredible relief that he was innocent, combined with my guilt for letting Poppy down so terribly—skew my judgment? My head spins painfully.
What if he’s not innocent after all
? How can I have feelings for the guy who was involved in killing Poppy? But how can I just turn them off? My heart clings desperately to the hope that his story’s true, that Christian is innocent, but my head realizes that Kenny’s right. It could easily just be another lie—a convenient excuse concocted by a con man once he found the Glastonbury tickets. The tickets that would’ve been in Poppy’s bag... with her phone.

“Poppy’s phone!” I say desperately. “Christian said he texted Poppy to say he was running late, but the police never found his text on her phone. But Christian thinks they lied—that he saw Poppy’s phone in her bag.”

“Which is where?” Vix says eagerly.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “He just said he’d hidden it.”

“Leo thinks the police
lied
about having Poppy’s phone
?
” Kenny raises an eyebrow. “And that they’re tipping off the vigilantes?”

“Lou, your
uncle’s
a policeman,” Vix says quietly.

“Exactly!”
I cry. “I’m not saying they’re all corrupt, but perhaps some of his colleagues think the courts were too lenient on Christian and decided to seek their own form of justice—or just stepped back and allowed it to happen? How else did the vigilantes find Christian—
twice!
Once straight after he broke his curfew, and then immediately after Kenny called the police with Joe’s address. It can’t be a coincidence. I might have orchestrated the other stuff that happened to Christian, but I didn’t get involved with any mobs—I never wanted to
hurt
him!”

“But Leo thinks
Joe
might have tipped off the mob,” Kenny argues.

“Well, yes,” I concede. “But—”

“However they found him,” Vix interrupts, “the important thing is to determine if Christian’s innocent or not. And prove it.”

I nod. “We need to find Poppy’s bag. I’ll ask Christian where it’s hidden.” I turn to go.

“No
,
” Kenny argues, grabbing my arm. “Lou, you can’t go back to him. Whatever he’s said, he’s still a convicted criminal—he could be dangerous.”

“And he could be
innocent,
” I argue. “Besides, if I don’t go back soon, he’ll know something’s wrong and he’ll flee—if he hasn’t already. We might never find him again!”

Kenny frowns. “Where are your car keys?”

“What? I left them in the hotel room, why?”

He nods. “He’s probably long gone, then.”

I stare at him. Christian wouldn’t take my car... would he?

But I remember how reluctant he was for me to come with him this morning, how he begged to take the car then, but I wouldn’t let him....

“Well, if you’re right, and Christian has fled, there’s no danger, is there?” I pull free from Kenny’s grip. “And if he hasn’t... maybe he is telling the truth.”

Kenny hesitates, his expression troubled.

“I’ll be fine,” I say more gently. “And you can track me, right? So you’ll always know where I am.”

Vix’s gaze flicks from me to Kenny anxiously.

“Okay,” he sighs finally. “But give me your room number—the tracker’s not so great with multistory buildings.”

“Two hundred seventy-three.”

“And we’ll be just round the corner,” Vix says. “We’re booked into that big Premier Inn, so we can be with you in an instant if you need us. So just call if you’re in trouble, or worried about anything—call us anyway to let us know you’re all right, okay?”

I nod. “There’s a phone box near the Travelodge. I’ll tell Christian I need to ring the hospital tomorrow morning and let you know what I’ve found out—I need to think of an excuse to go to Poppy’s funeral too.”

“But what if you can’t get to the phone box?” Vix frets. “What if you’re in trouble? Where’s your mobile?”

“Christian made me get rid of it,” I confess. “That’s why I texted Kenny on Gran’s phone, but it’s out of battery now.”

“Well then, borrow mine,” Vix offers, pulling out her mobile.

“I can’t—how would I explain it to Christian if he found it?” I argue. “He already caught me with Gran’s, he knows I alerted the police. I can’t do anything else to make him suspicious.”

“But what if something happens? You need a phone!” Vix insists.

“No, you don’t,” Kenny says. “Lou, you see the yellow button on the side of your watch? If you hold it down for three seconds, it’ll send a distress signal to my phone and we’ll know you need help.”

“Great.” I smile, relieved. “If only I’d known that at Joe’s!”

“Sorry,” he says. “Mea culpa.”

“So you’ll call us tomorrow?” Vix says, grabbing me in a hug.

“Promise,” I say, squeezing her back.

“And don’t forget your car keys whenever you leave the room,” Kenny reminds me.

“I won’t,” I tell him.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” he says gently, his eyes filled with concern. “You could walk away now, come back with us.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I have to know. I have to know the truth.”

I have to know how to feel.

He hugs me tightly. “Be careful, Titch.”

“I’ll be fine.” I smile. “Don’t forget my ‘brutal moves.’ ”

Kenny rubs his sore stomach. “As if I could!”

They walk me back to the main road, but as I leave them and return to the Travelodge I don’t feel quite so brave, or so sure.

My head spins. Christian’s a
con man
? I koew he was lying to me about everything before Joe’s flat... but is he
still
lying? Maybe it’s another misunderst
anding—perhaps he can explain. But then how could I believe him? It could just be another lie.

I hold my breath as the hotel door swings open, half expecting to find an empty room. But there he is, sitting on the nearest bed, wearing nothing but a towel. I look away quickly.