Missing Abby (12 page)

I was still gawking at the title. How could she have made this into an
Esmerelda
game? Esmerelda was ours!

Gripping the paper, I started to read.
The Eye of Fire, a talisman of great power, has been stolen by the evil enchantress Esmerelda. A party of four adventurers have been hired to get the Eye back. After a long journey, and many hardships, they have managed to chase Esmerelda down into the dungeons under her castle. It is here that our story begins.

So she hadn't used the stories we created together after all; she had just taken the name Esmerelda. But it still felt like a complete betrayal.

I started to turn the page. Sheila's hand slapped it down again. ‘Do you mind? I'm not finished yet.’

But when she turned the page, the story part had ended. There was some description, but mostly it was stuff like this:

If the party advance without checking for/finding traps, poison spores will be released and they will lose one const. pt per round until antidote is found.

If the party decide to explore Secret Chambers 1 or 2, they find nothing. Secret Chamber 3 is open, and has 20 gp.

Pages of that sort of thing, absolute pages of it. Sheila nodded seriously as she read, like it made perfect sense to her. I struggled on, trying to picture what the actual game might be like from all of this, but I couldn't begin to.

Finally, Sheila handed the pages back. ‘Was there a map?’

PC Lavine shook her head. Her skin looked paler in the harsh office lighting, more cappuccino than milk chocolate. ‘No, we haven't found one.’

‘I don't know, then.’ Sheila's eyebrows drew together anxiously. ‘I mean, it seems really complex … a place with rooms and passageways and stuff. Unless we were supposed to just pretend a lot of it.’

My pulse quickened as I stared at her. Her words seemed to kick-start something in my brain; something that almost made sense, if I could just remember—

‘Emma, what about you?’

It was gone. I shook my head in frustration. ‘No … no, I don't know either.’

PC Lavine drew a little folder out of her pocket. ‘Girls, look – here's my card.’ She handed one to each of us. ‘Give me a ring if you think of anything else, OK? Either of you, anytime. And thanks so much for coming in with this information; it could really be invaluable.’

Sheila clutched her card. ‘Um – could we have a copy of Abby's game?’

The constable's sculpted eyebrows rose. ‘No, I'm afraid not. I can't give out copies of evidence.’

‘But – we could take it home and really study it, and—’

‘I'm sorry; it's out of the question—’ PC Lavine broke off as a constable with a grey moustache leaned in the doorway. From the busy office behind him, the sound of phones and conversation drifted in.

‘Beth, could I have a quick word? It's about the Javez case; I've got Mrs Javez on the phone.’

PC Lavine was already starting out of the room, taking Abby's game with her. ‘Just a minute, girls – I'll be back in a second to show you out,’ she said over her shoulder.

Sheila and I looked at each other. Her eyes were wide and urgent, asking a question. I swallowed, and nodded. And like we had planned it for years, I moved in front of the open doorway, blocking the view as I pretended to be checking a text on my mobile. Behind me, I heard Sheila lunge for the file on the desk.

Flap, flap, flap
as she rifled through it. I pressed some random buttons on my phone, trying to ignore the fact that there were police constables everywhere I looked. ‘Can't you hurry?’ I hissed.

‘Ah
ha –
another copy!’

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sheila turn her back to the door, folding up some pages and shoving them down her jeans. Thank god! I let out a breath and sank down onto the sofa.

PC Lavine came back just as Sheila turned around again, looking completely relaxed. ‘Right, sorry about that. This way, girls.’

The five of us sat crowded around a plastic yellow table in McDonald's, looking at the crumpled pages of Abby's game. Ski sat across from me. And even though I felt horrible for thinking about it just then, I kept stealing glances at him, remembering what Sheila had said. Once I caught him looking at me, and I flushed, taking a quick sip of Sprite to hide my face.

Rob hunched over the table as he read. ‘God, all these tunnels and rooms … where could she have had in mind for this?’

‘Maybe someone's house?’ Ski's blond hair fell across his face as he leaned forward, straining to read upside down. At the next table, a little kid was bopping her balloon against the wall, keeping time with some sad old tune from the eighties that was blasting from the loudspeakers.

‘But it would have to be one of our houses, wouldn't it? And it wasn't,’ said Gail.

Sheila had texted Gail when we left the police station, and arranged for them to meet us at the McDonald's in the town centre. And meanwhile, I had rung Jenny and
told her that the Book Club meeting had been cancelled, and that I was at McDonald's with Jo and Debbie.

She had
not
been pleased.

‘It looks like a really good scenario …’ Rob flipped the stapled pages back to page one. ‘I wish she had got the chance to run it for us.’

I looked at the neatly typed lines of print, and the feeling of frustration swept me again.
Why
couldn't I think of whatever it was?

‘Could we … um, play it ourselves, maybe?’ I suggested.

Instant silence as everyone stared at me.

‘Why would we want to do that?’ asked Sheila, wrinkling her upturned nose.

Because something about it is driving me completely mad and I don't know what.
I shrugged, squeaking my straw in and out of the plastic lid. ‘I don't know … I'd just like to play a game, and see what it's like.’

‘But
this
game?’ Gail's large face looked stricken, too pale under her crimson-red hair.

I swallowed. ‘Yeah … because it's Abby's. And because … well, it deserves to be played. I mean, if we don't play it, who will?’

Everyone sort of winced and looked down. Finally Ski cleared his throat, and picked up the scenario, glancing through it. ‘I guess I could run it as a table game. If you really want to play it, that is.’

My hair moved on my shoulders as I nodded. ‘Yeah, I'd like to.’

‘I would too,’ said Sheila suddenly. Her earrings glinted as she glanced around at the others. ‘I mean
– well, maybe we owe it to Abby, don't you think? To play her game? We could do it tomorrow night, at my house.’

Everyone started talking excitedly then, even Gail, their words crashing and tumbling over each other. But then it all went completely pear-shaped, because the door opened and Dad walked in.

Dad hardly said a word during the drive home. I hunched against the door, wishing that the car ride would just go on forever, that he'd suddenly take it into his head to drive to Athens or somewhere.

But instead of heading off to sunnier climes he just drove to Larkwood, and pulled up in front of our terraced house. He turned off the car, and I flinched, knowing what was coming.

‘Right, Emma – what exactly is going on? Jenny said you were at McDonald's with Jo and Debbie.’

‘Well – I was, only they had to go, and then I met – um, ran into Sheila and the others. You know, Sheila – from the re-enactment?’

Grim lines appeared around his mouth. ‘I'm having a hard time believing that that's the entire truth, actually. Was the Book Club meeting cancelled, or not?’

I gazed down at the rough carpet on the car's floor.

‘You don't know, do you? Did you even plan to go to it?’

‘No,’ I whispered.

‘Well? Come on, out with it. What's going on?’

‘I – went to the police,’ I gulped out.

His eyes bulged. ‘You
what
?’

So then I had to tell him the whole thing, except I didn't mention going to Sheila's house first, or that I had overheard him and Jenny talking the night before. Like I was really eager to listen to all the blustering excuses he'd come up with.
Oh, no, love, I don't think you're odd. Just regressing a teensy bit, that's all!

Besides, he looked gobsmacked enough as it was. He had collapsed back in his seat, staring at me. ‘Why on earth didn't you tell me? You didn't have to go off on your own!’

I lifted a shoulder. ‘I don't know.’

‘Emma, that's not good enough. You have to come to me or Jenny with this sort of thing, not go dashing off by yourself, lying to us about where you're going! Do you understand?’

I nodded, feeling miserable. Tomorrow night, what about that? I couldn't imagine asking him if I could go to Sheila's to play the game that Abby wrote.

Dad let out a short breath, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Look, Emma, I know how upset you must be about Abby. I think it might help if—’

‘I'm not going to counselling!’ I burst out.

His eyebrows arched. ‘Who said anything about counselling?’

‘I just thought—’

‘Jenny's suggested it, actually.’ He grimaced and loosened his tie, like the very idea choked him. ‘Well, it's there as an option for us, but I think we can get through this without it, don't you? Just so long as we
talk
to each other.’ He squeezed my shoulder, shaking it slightly. ‘You have to trust us, Emma. OK? No more lying, no more going off on your own. Promise?’

My throat clutched up as I nodded. Looking at him, sitting there so solid in his grey suit, suddenly I wanted to burst into tears and tell him everything that I had kept secret for so long. Karen, the changing rooms – every hideous bit of it.

I licked my lips, and took a breath. ‘Dad—’

He didn't hear me. He was reaching in the back seat for his briefcase. ‘So those were Abby's friends, were they? That gang at McDonald's?’

I blinked. ‘Oh – yeah.’

‘Mm.’ Dad shook his head, and his mouth twisted ironically, like –
yep, just as I thought. Weirdos.

It felt like he had drenched me with a bucket of Arctic water. And I knew I couldn't tell him anything after all.

Jenny was ‘caring and concerned’ all through tea, obviously trying to draw me out. I felt like informing her that I wasn't in the mood to be practised on for her future cases, thank you very much, but I shoved the words down and played along with it.

‘Yeah, I guess I should have told you both … I just sort of panicked, I guess.’ I concentrated on cutting up my chicken.

Jenny shot Dad a pleased look. I could see them both relaxing, thinking that OK, they had had a bit of a blip on the odd-front, but now I was back to being
normal and mature
again.

‘Never mind, what's done is done,’ said Jenny. ‘And the really important thing is that the police have the new information you gave them.’

I nodded. Swallowing a bit of chicken, I glanced across the table at Dad. ‘Um, listen … is it OK if I go to Debbie's tomorrow night?’

He stopped eating to look at me, his eyebrows knotted together. ‘No, I don't think so, Emma. It's a school night, and I'm not happy about it after what happened today.’

‘But Dad, this is really important! Debbie's going to be making her outfit for the fashion contest over the weekend, so she wants Jo and me to go around for dinner tomorrow night, and then help her with the pattern and cutting out the material and all that … so can I go,
please
?’ I held my breath.

‘Oh, why not? It sounds like it would fun for her,’ put in Jenny. Like we were allies as usual, ganging up on Dad. I didn't look at her.

Dad dabbed his lips with a paper napkin and sort of smiled. ‘Since when can you sew?’

‘Mrs Traner is going to help. Come on, Dad, please?’

‘All right, I suppose it's OK. What time do they want you there?’

Thank god! I breathed out. ‘Around six … I can just take the bus, or—’

‘Don't be silly, I'll drive you.’

No-o!
Never mind, stay calm; I'd figure it out later. ‘OK. Thanks.’

When I went upstairs, I leaned against my door
for a long time, staring at my room and thinking that the only things in it that really had anything to do with me were my ‘post-ironic’ Darth Vader clock, and the dragon from Abby's room. Which wasn't even mine.

Is that sad, or what?

I almost rang Dad about a dozen times from school, to tell him that the plans had changed and that I was just going home with Debbie that afternoon. But I couldn't do it; I was too afraid that he might ring Debbie's mum to check. Besides, I had forgotten to bring my D&D book with me, and didn't have a change of clothes.

We had a library period that afternoon, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept pulling books out, glancing at them and jamming them back on the shelf again. I peeked over at Jo and Debbie. They were leaning against a shelf in the paperback section, their heads bent over a Jacqueline Wilson book.

A painful twinge tugged in my chest. Maybe I was just being stupid. Maybe I should just
talk
to them.

My hands felt clammy. I rubbed them on my skirt and started slowly towards them, squeezing past a gang of boys who were clustered around the CDs. Jo and Debbie didn't see me; they were totally engrossed in the book.

But when I got closer, I saw that it wasn't the
book
they were engrossed in at all. They were using it to hide Debbie's mobile.

‘What should I say?’ whispered Debbie. Her thumb was poised over the keys.

Jo's face twisted as she considered. ‘How about – “sounds great, we'll see you then. Pretty freaky, all right!”’

I stopped in my tracks as an avalanche of panic pounded over me. Karen, they were texting Karen!
What had she told them?

Before they could look up and see me, I dashed back behind the shelf, grabbing a book and staring down at it blindly. I stood like that, completely frozen, until the bell rang.

I don't even know what I was reading.

I tried to act normal during the drive to Debbie's that night, but as we got closer and closer I felt like diving under the seat and biting off all my nails. How exactly was I going to pull this off? Sheila's house was in the exact opposite direction! Not to mention that Debbie was the last person in the universe who I wanted to see right now. Except maybe her mate,
Karen.