Page 93 of From Now On

‘Hey! You don’t have to—’

‘But her mum could never lay anybody out with one punch.’ Duke grinned at Charlie, suddenly feeling better. Wherever Nina had gone, whatever she had run away from, Charlie would make it better.

Duke had piled his favourite things onto his bed along with his school uniform, which definitely wasn’t one of his favourite things. It was difficult to know what to take not knowing when Charlie would be back. He’d laid out his wand and his cape just in case he had to go to the end-of-term show from Evie’s house although he hopes that a missing sister will be enough to get him out of it. He wonders if Charlie can write him a note?

Dear Miss Greenly

Duke’s sister has run away and he is too sad to do magic.

Would that work?

Duke sits at his desk and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen. It’s nice paper – left over from when Mum made him write thank you notes after Christmas, thick and not the normal boring white but a creamy colour, which is funny because it’s made of elephant poo,which Mum said was better for the trees. It’s not the colour of poo, and it doesn’t smell like it so Duke doesn’t mind using it. He has almost finished his letter when Charlie pops his head around the door.

‘I’ve spoken to Shannon, Evie’s mum. She’s looking forward to you going. If we hurry, you won’t be too late for school.’

‘Okay.’ Duke carefully folds the paper and tucks it inside an envelope. ‘Can you give this to Nina, please?’ He hands it to Charlie.

‘Of course. Try not to worry, Duke. It will all be okay.’

‘Will you be back for my show tomorrow night?’

‘I’ll try to make it.’

‘But you might not be?’

There’s a pause before Charlie says, ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll be there, Duke, I’m sorry. Sometimes… sometimes if you think you might not be able to keep a promise it is, perhaps, better not to make it in the first place and then you don’t betray a trust.’ Charlie’s voice breaks.

Duke wraps his arms around his brother and gives him a hug.

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. The show will be rubbish anyway. I can always do my bit for you and Nina when you’ve found her,’ he says to try and make Charlie feel better but, for some reason, this only makes his big brother begin to shake.

Duke thinks that he might be crying.

Chapter Forty-Four

Nina

Ten and a half hours. It has taken ten and a half hours to get to Colesby Bay.

Nina had hoped hitch-hiking would be like in the movies – not the horror ones, of course, where the driver turns out to be an axe-wielding maniac – but from one of those feel-good stories where a family picks up a stray on the side of the road and takes them to both their destination and their hearts. In films, the hitch-hiker and the driver end up sharing lemon sherbets and confidences, healing from past hurts before singing along to bright pop songs on the radio.

It hadn’t been like that at all.

The first car that stopped had been full of teenage boys. She had tentatively stepped forward when the driver had wound down his window but when she smelled the alcohol on his breath, heard the cry of ‘Show us your tits’ from the backseat, she had scuttled away from the road and hid in a bush until they’d gone. That wasn’t even the lowest point. There was the salesman with the creepy moustache who’d told her he could get a discount on the mattress of her dreams and tried to put his hand on her knee.There was the middle-aged woman she had assumed she’d be safe with but who had ranted about her ‘fucking husband’ who stuck his ‘fucking tiny penis’ into her ‘fucking best friend’ and how she wanted to burn her friend’s house to the ground while they slept, and did Nina think that was a good idea? Nina hadn’t been sure if she’d been serious but when she’d opened the glove compartment to fetch the crying woman a tissue she had seen a new pack of three disposable lighters and she’d asked to be dropped off at the next lay-by. Finally, she’d been picked up by a lorry driver who had ignored her for hours as he’d munched his way through a six-pack of sausage rolls, the flakes of pastry settling on his comedy moustache, but at least he hadn’t tried to touch her knee, see her boobs, or implicate her in a murder. He had dropped her off at an industrial park on the outskirts of town and she had trudged the rest of the way on exhausted legs, the morning sun already belting out heat.

Now she is here she isn’t quite sure what to do, but she’s hungry. Not one person had offered her anything to eat or drink.

She checks her purse. She has £11.27 pence on her. Mentally she runs through what she might have in her savings account; she bought that black top last week and splashed out on a Mac lipstick the week before, diving into the Christmas money that she hadn’t felt like spending earlier this year. Could she risk using a cashpoint? In films the police always seem to trace missing people from their bank cards or mobile phone signal. Is that true? Hitchhiking wasn’t exactly like in the movies but then Nina supposes she hasn’t seen enough films to know. That’s what comes from growing up without a TV. She thinks she’s safe to use her cashcard. No one has probably noticed she’s even missing yet and, if they have, Charlie will likely think she’s at Maeve’s.

The memory of what happened there last night springs humiliated tears to her eyes.

Nina, what the hell are you playing at?Sean had snapped but Nina hadn’t been playing.

It was not a game.

But is it love, this ache in her heart? She is questioning what a few scant hours ago felt unquestionable.

Real.

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