Missing Me (6 page)

Before I could say anything, Allan was across the room and talking with a middle-aged man wearing a waistcoat and a yellow tie. Hobbs didn’t look that pleased to see him, although his
manner was so stiff and formal it was hard to tell. After about thirty seconds, he walked off. Allan hesitated a moment, then left the marquee through an exit marked
Toilets this way
. I
waited, feeling self-conscious. After what felt like ages but was only really a couple of minutes, he was back. He was still smiling brightly, but there was a new look of disappointment behind his
eyes. I hoped it wasn’t because I was here, making it tricky for him to talk properly to people.

‘Are you going to be able to talk to Mr Baxter?’ I asked.

Allan sighed. ‘Not if Hobbs has anything to do with it. He was no help.’ He paused. ‘By the way, the loos are just out there.’ He pointed to the door he’d just come
through. ‘If you need to freshen up. Er, I’m going to circulate for a bit. See if I can get close to Baxter another way. I won’t be long. Will you be OK on your own for a
bit?’

‘Sure.’ In fact, I wanted to tell Allan not to leave me, but it would have sounded really lame.

I watched him fight his way through the thickest part of the crowd. I had no idea which man was Declan Baxter. Almost everybody here was taller than me and I soon lost sight of Allan in the
crowd. I walked past a stilt-walker and a man on a unicycle to where a group of acrobats swung from a row of long white rope-ribbons. Two of them were juggling with five balls. I stared,
entranced.

‘Not much of a show, is it?’ a woman walking past sneered.

‘This is just for decoration,’ the man beside her said. ‘Declan’s saving the big stuff for the show, later.’ They moved on.

Wow. There was
more
? Declan Baxter must be even richer than I’d thought. There was still no sign of anyone remotely my age. And Allan hadn’t reappeared. Grown-ups kept passing
me and staring. I was feeling more and more uncomfortable. After another minute of wandering about, I headed for the door Allan had pointed out earlier. He was obviously still trying to talk to
Declan Baxter and I didn’t fancy hanging around inside the marquee any longer. A few minutes in the bathroom would kill some time.

I left the marquee and found myself outside the main house. A makeshift
Toilets
sign had been propped on a window ledge beside the second door down. I stopped before entering to finish my
orange juice, then stood the glass on the ledge and headed inside. The building felt cool and quiet. I was standing in a wood-floored hallway, with corridors leading off on either side. There was
no further sign but the bathroom surely had to be through the only door opposite. My feet echoed round the walls as I padded over. I could hear a girl’s voice coming from inside.

‘That’s stupid.’ She sounded younger than most of the guests I’d seen so far and very posh. ‘
You’re
stupid.’

That
must
be the toilet.

I pushed the door open and walked into a big room that bent round in an L-shape. There were no windows, but the wall lights were bright and the room was bathed in a warm, yellow glow. The
shelves nearest to me were filled with books and games.

This didn’t look anything like a bathroom.

‘Hello?’ It was the girl. ‘Who’s there?’

I had no choice but to show myself.

‘Hi.’ Cheeks burning, I walked into the main part of the room. I could hear the door I’d just walked through swinging shut but I paid it no attention. All my focus was on the
area in front of me. It was huge and filled with old sofas and an array of floor cushions. A girl and a boy were sitting on the rug in the middle of the stone floor. The boy sprang to his feet
– he was tall and slim, with thick fair hair that fell in a fringe almost as full as mine.

The girl stayed sitting, but raised her eyebrows. She was strikingly pretty, with slanting dark eyes and a tumble of blonde waves cascading down her back. One look at both of them revealed they
were wearing hugely expensive designer clothes – the boy in a suit, the girl in a shimmering gold dress.

‘What are you doing in here?’ the girl demanded.

‘I . . . I was looking for the restroom.’ Damn, why did I always fall back into the American terms when I was nervous? I’d worked so hard to lose my accent in the past few
years, it was totally annoying when words from the States crept back into my vocabulary. ‘I mean the bathroom, the toilets.’

‘There’s no bathroom here,’ the girl said with a haughty sniff. ‘This part of the house is off limits to party guests. The toilet’s a separate entrance next
door.’

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘It’s f . . . f . . . fine.’ The boy smiled at me. ‘I’m Wolf,’ he said. ‘This is my friend, Esme.’

‘Esme . . . Baxter?’ I exclaimed. ‘Is this
your
party?’

Esme rolled her eyes. ‘It’s
Dad’s
frickin’ party. We’re hiding out in the Den. The door to outside was supposed to be locked.’

‘OK, sorry,’ I said again. I couldn’t work out what had happened. ‘I must have read the sign wrong.’ I headed back to the door. I grabbed the handle and tried to
yank it open.

But it was stuck. I pulled again. The door wouldn’t budge.

‘Are you all right?’ The boy, Wolf, appeared beside me.

‘Can’t open the door,’ I said, my guts twisting into an embarrassed knot.

Wolf raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s have a go . . .’ He turned the handle himself, but the door still didn’t open. He frowned. ‘What the—?’

‘What is it?’ Now Esme was here too. She was barefoot but still nearly a head taller than me and model-style skinny. Jeez, were those
real diamonds
in her necklace?

Wolf turned to her. ‘The door won’t open,’ he said.

‘
WHAT?
’ Esme tried the handle herself. No movement.

She turned to me accusingly. ‘Well done!’ she snapped. ‘Whoever you are, you’ve managed to lock us in.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ I protested.

Esme paced dramatically across the room. Wolf tried the door again.

‘It’s frickin’ jammed or something,’ Esme snarled.

‘OK.’ Wolf stepped back, frowning. I followed his gaze around the room. There were no other visible exits. ‘Then we’re stuck.’

‘Yeah, thanks to her.’ Esme pointed at me. ‘You must have done something to the door.’

‘I didn’t, I swear,’ I said. ‘There must be some other way out, isn’t there?’

‘No.’ Esme shook out her long blonde hair. I had the sense that, despite her surface display of anxiety-fuelled rudeness, underneath she was enjoying all the drama.

I shrank against the wall, not enjoying it myself at all. For a start, Allan would surely have noticed I wasn’t in the marquee anymore and what would he think? That I’d run away?
Things wouldn’t improve once I was found, either. I’d only just met Allan and he’d been so nice to me, bringing me to this party, and now the daughter of the host clearly thought
it was
my
fault we were locked in this room together.

‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘If I did jam the door somehow, it was an accident.’

‘It’s not your f . . . f . . . fault,’ Wolf said. ‘And there’s no need to be so melodramatic, Esme. This isn’t the end of the world; we can just phone someone
to let us out.’

‘
I
can’t phone anyone,’ Esme said with a theatrical flourish. ‘I left my mobile upstairs.’

Wolf turned to me, his eyebrows raised in question.

‘I had to hand mine in at the door,’ I said.

‘Ah, so did I,’ Wolf admitted.

Esme glared at him. ‘But you’re my
friend
, Wolf,’ she said. ‘You didn’t have to do that. You wouldn’t normally.’

Wolf shrugged. ‘Dad m . . . made me – he said it was the polite thing to do seeing as all the other guests had to.’ He paused. ‘It’s not such a big deal, Esme.
Someone will notice when we don’t show up later. Then they’ll come looking for us.’

‘That could take
hours
,’ Esme whined. ‘We’ll miss the circus show Dad has organised.’

‘You mean the acrobats and people in the marquee?’ I said.

‘That’s nothing,’ Esme said. ‘Dad has a high-wire act lined up . . . there’s even a tiger somewhere. I saw the trainer earlier.’

‘A tiger?’ I stared at her. ‘In a private house? Isn’t that illegal?’

Esme shrugged.

‘Money buys you everything,’ Wolf said drily. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’

‘Madison,’ I said.

‘As in Madison Avenue?’ Wolf said. ‘You know, the street in New York with the ad agencies?’

‘Er, yes.’ I could feel myself blushing. Wolf was taller than me by a good few centimetres. He wasn’t outstandingly handsome compared, say, to Rory’s friend Marcus. His
nose was slightly crooked and his lips a little thin. But there was real warmth in his grey-blue eyes.

We stared at each other for a moment. I had no idea what to say.

‘Hey, guys.’ Esme had wandered across the room and was standing facing one of the big couches. ‘If you could tear yourselves away from the geography lesson, I think I’ve
found a way out of here.’

‘How?’ Wolf asked.

Esme pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a small door. ‘It’s locked,’ she said, ‘and I don’t have the key, but if we could force it open, I know it leads
to the cellars that run under the whole house.’

‘I don’t know, Ez,’ Wolf said slowly. ‘Your dad won’t like us breaking a door down, and we won’t r . . . r . . . really know which direction to head in once
we’re down there.’

‘I’ll know.’ Esme put her hands on her slim hips. ‘Man, Wolf is
such
a bad name for you. You should have been called Chip, for Chipmunk or something, not Wolf for
. . . for Wolfhound.’

Wolfhound?
Jeez, was that his real name?

Wolf’s pale cheeks pinked. He rubbed his thick fringe off his forehead. ‘Stop it, Ez.’ He turned to me. ‘W . . . what do you think, Madison?’

I glanced at the little door, thinking of Allan. He would definitely be wondering where I was by now. I looked up. Esme was watching me, hands still on her hips. The light from the lamps around
her shimmered on the gold of her dress and lit up the white-blonde highlights in her hair. She looked haughty and beautiful and more than a little scary.

‘It’s Esme’s house,’ I said, hesitantly. ‘If she thinks it’s OK to break down the door, then that’s what we should do.’

‘Yes.’ Esme grinned and offered me her hand to high-five.

I slapped it, grinning back. Esme might be a little bit full of herself, but there was something about her I liked.

‘Fine.’ Wolf threw his hands in the air. ‘Bring it on.’

It took another ten minutes to lever the door open. In the end, Wolf broke the lock by inserting the aerial from an old-style radio between the door and the frame, then kicking at the lock.

‘Yes!’ Esme clapped her hands together. ‘Thank goodness Mum never throws anything away.’

‘Your mum’s like that too?’ I said.

Esme rolled her expressive eyes. ‘She’s the
worst.
A total hoarder.’

Wolf peered through the little door. ‘I can see steps down. It’s dark, though.’

‘Not a problem.’ Esme raced across the room and fetched a box from one of the shelves. She took out one of those fortune-telling Magic 8-balls that light up when you spin them.
‘We can use this.’ She gave the ball a shake as she crawled through the small door.

The outlook is good
, said the ball.

‘W . . . well, that’s encouraging.’ Wolf smiled. There was a gap between his front teeth. I wondered if that was what made him stammer.

‘It’s frickin’ filthy in here.’ Esme edged towards the steps.

I peered after her. It did look dusty. I glanced down at my best and most favourite top. I’m no princess about clothes, but I loved this particular T-shirt and hated the idea I might ruin
it.

‘Here, take my jacket.’ Wolf started shrugging off his suit.

‘No.’ How embarrassing that he’d seen what I was thinking. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I peered after Esme again. She was crouched low, by the top step.

‘Come on, guys,’ she said impatiently.

Wolf was still holding out his jacket. He was wearing a black top with a crew neck and short, close-fitting sleeves. His arms were as slim as the rest of him, but the muscles were well-defined.
He might not be buff, but he looked strong.

‘Esme’s dress is much more expensive than my top,’ I stammered.

‘Yeah, but Esme doesn’t value her dress,’ Wolf said. ‘And your top is . . . it’s nice.’

‘OK, thanks.’ I was still hideously embarrassed but it was easier just to take the jacket than to argue anymore. As I slid it over my bare arms, I felt the fabric. Light wool with a
silk lining. Jeez, Wolf’s suit was probably as expensive as Esme’s dress.

I crawled through the door, crept along the low-ceilinged passageway and followed Esme down the steps.

Halfway down, the Magic 8-ball’s light went out and we were plunged into darkness. I froze.

Esme shook the ball again.
Cannot predict now
, it said, its dim light glowing again.

‘N . . . not so encouraging,’ Wolf said behind me.

At the bottom of the steps we found ourselves in a large room. The ceiling here was only just high enough for us to stand up. I reached my hands up to the rough plaster.

‘This way.’ Esme padded, barefoot, across the cold, dusty floor. She led us through two more doors into two more rooms. The first was cramped, filled with wooden crates, while the
second was more spacious again, and lined with racks filled with wine bottles.

‘Wow,’ I said, looking round. ‘There must be hundreds of bottles here.’

‘Yeah, Daddy collects them,’ Esme said dismissively. She strode off, shaking the Magic 8-ball again.
Ask again later,
it said.

‘“Daddy” collects lots of things,’ Wolf whispered in my ear. ‘His favourite hobby is spending money.’ He paused, lowering his voice further.
‘Don’t let Esme f . . . f . . . fool you. She might look tough, but she was sent off to boarding school when she was ten. She’s had lots of money, but hardly any time with either
of her parents.’