Run, Zan, Run (7 page)

Later, as she lay in bed unable to sleep, she counted the growing pile of problems she had, instead of sheep. Miss Withers was one. Distrustful, blaming her for
something, watching her. Then there was Ivy Toner. She knew she was going to have to be careful where Ivy was concerned. Now she’d had a warning from the police (she could still hardly believe that) to keep away from the Posse. She wondered for a moment whether having acquired Nazeem as a lifelong friend should be considered as one of her problems, but she discounted it. That was cruel.

And the most important problem of all. Her parents didn’t trust her. And could she blame them? They knew she was lying to them, and she so desperately wanted to tell them the truth. If only she could understand why it was so important to Zan to remain invisible, not to exist at all. All she did know was that she, Katie, was all Zan had in the world, the only friend. Just as Zan, only a few weeks ago, had been the only friend Katie had had.

She would never betray her. Never!

‘What’s all this?’ Zan eyed suspiciously the case Katie had brought with her. They were together in one of the derelict properties not far from where the Posse had met their come-uppance.

Katie opened the case. ‘Shirt,’ she said, and threw Zan a green shirt. ‘Jeans.’ The jeans landed on Zan’s head.
‘Shoes.’ She turned a quizzical eye on Zan’s feet. ‘What size do you take?’

‘Size?’ Zan looked baffled.

Katie shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose it matters. You’ll fit into them anyway. And here’s a nice warm sweater and an anorak.’

‘What’s all this for? Am I going somewhere?’

‘And two packs of new knickers.’ Zan caught those deftly.

‘You think I need a change of clothes or something?’

‘I think you stink,’ Katie said, and both of them fell into a fit of giggles.

It was Sunday afternoon. Katie’s mother and father had gone for a drive. Her excuse for not going with them, extra homework. More lies.

‘My dad said I should be giving clothes to the homeless. And you are homeless, aren’t you? Go on, put them on.’

Katie watched in amazement as Zan changed. She had never seen anything like it. One half of a shirt off, the new one on. The other half off and she slipped her arm into the sleeve of the new green shirt. Same with the trousers. One leg of the new pair was slipped into before she took her other leg out of the old ones.

Zan laughed as Katie watched. ‘It’s a knack you get
when you have to change in the freezing cold.’ She started to pull on the sweater. ‘So I have your father to thank for all this.’ She said it with a sneer. Katie wished she could make her like him, love him even, as she did. ‘Is he talking to you yet?’ Zan went on.

‘You can’t blame him for being hurt. He knows I’m lying to him. And I’ve never lied to him before.’

Zan pulled the sweater over her head quickly so she could see Katie’s face. ‘You’ll tell him about me, and I’ll never forgive you. I’ll leave here so fast … and I’ll never come back.’

‘I won’t,’ Katie reassured her. ‘I promise. It’s not just that, anyway,’ she sighed. ‘It’s this police thing. We’ve never been involved with the police before. I still can’t get over them coming to give me a warning.’

‘Nothing would surprise me about the police. Did you expect them to believe you? To help you? Ha! I bet you still believe in Santa Claus!’

There was a bitterness in her voice that Katie just couldn’t understand. ‘What did the police do to you, Zan?’ she asked softly. But she knew she wouldn’t answer. She never answered any of Katie’s questions about her past. ‘Don’t ever ask,’ was all she would say.

‘Ta-Ra! There, how do I look?’

Katie gasped as Zan began to strut about like a model on a catwalk, wearing Katie’s sweater and Katie’s shirt, with Katie’s anorak draped across one shoulder.

‘Well, what do you think?’

What did she think? It was like looking into a mirror.

‘Why, Zan,’ she said at last. ‘You look exactly like me.’

Her parents were at home. She saw their car as she turned into her street. Katie had her excuses for being out all ready. She had simply felt like a walk. It was a brisk November day and her parents, who loved walking and encouraged it, would understand that.

It was only as she drew nearer to her own house that she noticed another car parked behind her parents’. A dark green Volvo, battered and old, like a tank. Menacing. The very look of it made Katie shiver.

She hurried up the path to her house and opened the door.

‘Katie, is that you?’ her mother called.

‘I went for a walk, Mum.’

‘That’s OK, dear. Come in here. There’s someone wants to meet you.’

There was a stranger sitting on the sofa beside her mother, a thin man in a dark green raincoat. He stood up
as Katie came into the living-room and she was astounded at his length. His face was long and thin too, and his dark eyes were sunk deep into the sockets. She knew the old Volvo was his. It so resembled him. Menacing.

He tried a smile, but only his mouth made it. His eyes stayed sombre, watching her closely.

‘This is Mr Whittaker, Katie,’ her mother said.

‘Hello.’ She sounded more nervous than she meant to.

‘Hello, Katie.’ His voice was very soft, and very low.

It was her father who spoke next, watching closely for her reaction to his words. ‘Mr Whittaker’s a private detective, Katie. He’s come all the way from London.’ He paused, and Katie held her breath. ‘He’s looking for the girl in the cardboard box.’

Chapter Eight

‘But I tell you there is no girl. I made her up.’

Katie had been trying to convince her parents and this Mr Whittaker for the last half-hour. She had a feeling they still didn’t believe her.

‘I don’t mean her any harm, Katie.’ Mr Whittaker’s words flowed from his mouth like smooth chocolate. ‘You must believe that.’

Katie didn’t. Something about his unsmiling eyes, the low voice, something she didn’t trust.

‘Why don’t you tell us the reason you want to find her then?’

‘I’m a private investigator, Katie.’

How she wished he wouldn’t use her name in every sentence. She didn’t trust that either.

‘There is such a thing as client confidentiality.’ His eyes narrowed. She had a feeling he was trying to smile
again. ‘You understand what client confidentiality means, don’t you, Katie?’

As if she didn’t know what it meant indeed! Well, she didn’t! But she’d look it up later. For the moment she concentrated on looking intelligent.

‘Mr Whittaker has to have his client’s permission before he can tell you who they are, or why they want to find this girl,’ her father explained.

‘Can I just say this, Mr Cassidy? And I don’t think I’m breaking the trust of my clients at all when I say it, but,’ he looked again at Katie, directing his words only at her, ‘there are thousands of children disappear each year. Some of them are never found. Their parents are left not knowing what happened to them. Some of these parents spend the rest of their lives searching for their children.’ He paused, a little too much like an actor playing a part for Katie’s liking. ‘Some of them hire people like me, Katie.’

There he went with the ‘Katie’ again.

‘I know I would,’ her mother said, drawing Katie to her as if she might disappear at any moment. ‘I’d never give up trying to find my child.’

‘I have a news-clipping service,’ Mr Whittaker went on, ‘sends me any stories about girls, just about this age, begging in the streets, homeless, whatever. Then I
follow it up. I have followed so many false trails over the past few months, you wouldn’t believe.’

‘Well, that’s what this is, a false trail,’ Katie burst out. ‘There is no homeless girl living on the dump. I made her up.’ She swallowed. ‘I lied.’

Mr Whittaker’s deep sunk eyes never left her. ‘But … she keeps cropping up in other stories.’

Katie shrugged. She didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t try to tell him she was the other girl. Not in front of her parents.

‘Katie!’ Her father’s voice was stern. ‘No one means this girl any harm. It’s nonsense carrying on with this story that she doesn’t exist!’

‘I don’t know why you won’t believe me. Why would I lie about it?’ She forced herself to look at Mr Whittaker, though something in those eyes made her shiver. ‘I’m sorry, but you may as well go. You’re wasting your time.’ And she fled from the living-room and up the stairs before anyone could say another word.

‘Leave her be, Katherine,’ she heard her father say. ‘She’s not going to change her story.’

Katie listened, her bedroom door ajar.

‘Why would she lie, Douglas? She’s never lied to us before.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Whittaker,’ her father said. ‘And perhaps my wife’s right. Perhaps Katie is telling the truth. I’ve been all over this town, the derelict properties, the dump, and I’ve seen no sign of this girl either.’

Katie held her breath, waiting for Whittaker’s reply. ‘Please,’ she prayed, ‘let him go away. Let him forget all about Zan.’

Finally, Mr Whittaker answered. ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Cassidy, I’ll just hang about the town for a bit. I know it might be for nothing. But my clients wouldn’t want me to give up without making sure.’

That night Katie had yet another worry to add to all the rest. Mr Whittaker! Maybe Zan wasn’t the girl he was looking for. She couldn’t be. Katie imagined his clients, loving, caring parents – just like her own. No, he couldn’t be looking for Zan. She wouldn’t be afraid to go back if she had parents like that.

Yet … if it wasn’t Zan he was looking for, why was Katie so afraid he might find her?

She was still thinking it over as she trailed her schoolbag into class next day. So lost in thought she didn’t hear the door slam behind her, or realize that she was alone in the
classroom with her arch enemy. Ivy!

‘Think you’re pretty smart, don’t ye?’

Katie jumped out of her reverie at the sound of the voice. ‘What?’

‘Don’t act the wee miss innocent wi’ me, Cassidy. You might have scared the Posse oot of their knickers, but no’ me. No’ Ivy Toner.’

No’ much, Katie wanted to say. She certainly hadn’t given Katie any trouble since Zan had scared the knickers off Ivy. The thought of it made Katie giggle. This was the last thing Ivy could stand. Her eyes bulged, her face went red. She would have lunged at Katie. Katie was even ready to make a quick getaway if she did. But just at that moment the classroom erupted with noise. The door was flung open and a group of pupils came in, surrounding the teacher. Saved in the nick of time. Ivy glared at her, and mouthed, ‘I’ll get you, Cassidy. That’s a promise.’

Ivy was going to find it hard to keep that promise, for Katie was never alone now. She was always surrounded by friends, or adoring fans, as Miss Withers sneeringly called them. It would be difficult to pick on anyone when they were always in a crowd. Wasn’t that what Zan
had said? Stick together. It was the ones who were always on their own who were at risk. The ones who were different.

It was break time and Katie and her friends stood at the bike sheds, laughing and talking. Through the crowds Katie glimpsed Ivy, heading in her direction, and she steeled herself for a confrontation.

Without Zan?

She was almost relieved when she realized it wasn’t her Ivy was headed for. It was Teresa Henderson. Teresa Henderson was always alone. No one ever bothered with her. She was dirty. She had really bad breath. There was always an unwashed smell about her, and when you touched her hand (which no one ever did willingly) it was always cold and clammy. She was standing alone in the playground. She had both hands shoved in her mouth, managing to chew ten nails at once. It was probably the only time they got washed, Katie thought, and she was angry at herself for thinking that. She was as bad as the rest. She avoided Teresa Henderson, just like everyone else. Including Ivy.

So … why was Ivy heading for her now?

Teresa looked up as Ivy stopped in front of her, and blinked nervously several times. Ivy began to talk to her,
prodding her with her finger so that Teresa stumbled back. And as Teresa listened, she cowered. Katie knew a cower when she saw one. She had cowered herself often enough when Ivy threatened her. Of course, she’d had no trouble from Ivy. But that didn’t mean to say no one else had. Bullies move on to fresh pastures. It was Teresa’s turn now. Teresa. She wouldn’t ask a teacher for help. People like Teresa expect to get bullied. People like Teresa wouldn’t ask anyone for help. Unlike amiable, happy little Nazeem, Teresa wouldn’t believe anyone would want to help her. And wasn’t it true? Not one soul in that playground, except Katie, was even glancing in her direction. Ivy could bully and threaten her as much as she wanted. It was only Teresa Henderson, after all.

‘Look over there,’ Katie said. One of the girls around her turned to see. Teresa was passing over some money now, hurriedly.

The girl laughed. ‘Ivy’s taking a chance. She might catch something!’

They all laughed at that. All except Katie. ‘You sound as if you’re on Ivy’s side.’

‘Oh, come on, Katie. It’s only dirty Teresa Henderson.’

Katie looked round them all. The look on her face
made them stop laughing. ‘It was only me a few weeks ago.’

She looked over again to where Ivy and Teresa stood. Teresa was trying to laugh now, trying to please Ivy with a smile, just as Katie used to do. She suddenly knew she had to do something.

This time she was alone. No Zan. Here, in the playground, no hope of Zan coming to the rescue. She still had to do something.

She wasn’t alone, she reminded herself. Her friends were here. She looked round them and wondered how long they would remain her friends if Ivy beat her now.

‘Are you coming?’ she asked them.

‘Over there?’

‘To help wee dirty Teresa?’

‘Are you coming, or aren’t you?’ Katie repeated. ‘If we stick together, no one can get us. Can’t you see that?’

They weren’t going to come. It was written all over their faces. They were afraid, scared still of the Ivys of this world. She was going to have to go over there herself. A little part of her began to panic. Now she’d said it, she’d have to. Why couldn’t she ever keep her mouth shut? She tried one last time.