Invisible Girl Part 6

I rest my head on her arm and close my eyes. The smell of the flowery shampoo wafts up my nose and makes me think about Grace and her mum. I look at Henny and Tia. I listen to our hearts beating, to our gentle breathing, and wish we could stay like this forever.

"You trust me, don't you?" Henny says, leaning up on one elbow and looking at me.

I nod, trying my best to pull away from the heavy sleep monster that's chasing my eyes.

"Why?" asks Tia.

"Nothing," says Henny, stroking my hair. "Just wondering."

I'm fighting to stay awake, but keep tumbling out of dolly mixture heaven into a huge, black, bottomless well.

"Wondering what?" says Tia.

"Oh," says Henny, "it's just Kingdom's on at me again. He has this little job he wants us to do."

Tia turns over and presses her face against the wall.

"You'll help me, kitten?" says Henny, looping both arms around me, like I was a baby, and cuddling me close. "Won't you?"

"Come on," says Tia, jumping up suddenly and jolting me awake. "Time to go."

"Can't we stay longer?" I ask, longing to fold into the covers for the rest of my life.

"No!" she shouts. She shakes her head again. "Come on, we have to leave."

Outside, the sun is sharp on my eyes. We share out a packet of Haribo Tia found in her little brother's bedroom and head for Piccadilly Gardens. A few kids are there, messing about, and we lie in the sun chatting, but Henny keeps checking the time.

"I'm going to spy on my mum's house again," I say. "See if I can spot Beckett."

"You don't need to worry about them any more," Henny says. "You've got us now. We're family."

I lean in close to her and rest my tired head on her arm. "I just need to," I say. "I like you both, but I need to find Beckett. I need to start asking people if they know where he is."

"You can't ask anyone," says Henny, "because they'll get all suspicious about who you are and then pull you in."

Henny suddenly leaps up like she's been struck by lightning. She races off towards this big black car. A tinted window slides down, a hand comes out, pops some chewing gum in Henny's mouth and her head disappears inside.

"Henny's all right," says Tia, stretching a Haribo until it snaps, "but you can't trust her or anything she says."

I pull out my sketchbook and draw a road full of cars, a Mickey Mouse, a Minnie Mouse, a Donald Duck, and a tree with loads of hearts hanging from the branches like red apples. I look at Tia, pulling threads from her jeans, and sketch her bony cheeks, her dark shadowy eyes, her pointy nose. I draw her wispy hair dancing with the breeze.

"S'good," she says, peering over my shoulder. "Wish I could draw."

When Henny gets back she's all jumpy, her eyes twitching like a rabbit's. Tia makes a huffing sound; she flashes her eyes at me like she's trying to say something and wanders off. And I don't know why, but my tummy starts flipping like a fish struggling for life on the sand.

"Know what I was saying earlier?" Henny says, twiddling my hair through her fingers.

I nod and start sketching her shoes.

Henny's eyes are still twitching like mad. She sits next to me on the gra.s.s, knots a skinny arm through mine, and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm telling the truth when I say we're family," she says. "And family'll do anything for one another, true?"

I nod and swallow hard; Tia's words spin through my mind.

"I just need a bit of help," she says. "Tonight. It won't take long."

"OK," I say, "but if I help you, will you help me find Beckett?"

"Course!" Henny laughs. "Obviously! I promise!"

"Right!" says Henny. "Ready?"

I stand and face the red brick wall of these luxury apartments, the little bathroom window above me reflecting the light of the moon. I block everything else out and concentrate on Beckett. I have to do this.

"You sure you'll help me afterwards?" I say, a little knot of fear catching in my throat.

Henny nods. She chews on a fingernail. "Course, kitten," she smiles. "Trust me! And remember, as soon as you're in, scoot straight round to the back door and open it. It's all you have to do."

Henny links her fingers together and makes a cradle for me to rest my foot in. She heaves me up so I'm level with the little window that's resting slightly ajar. I wriggle my finger through the gap and pop the metal arm thing up so the window flies open. I'm trembling inside, my ears are thrumming, my tummy's full of snakes.

"OK?"

I nod. Henny lifts me higher and higher until I can just about squeeze my shoulders through the gap. I scuffle my feet up the wall, and, feeling like Spiderman, I pull my knees up on to the tiles. Careful not to clatter anything I jump down into the bath, climb out and stumble through the dark towards the door. I flick the switch and the bathroom floods with light. It's the hugest I've ever seen, with creamy tiles and soft white towels and these taps, so shiny the light bounces off of them and explodes into stars.

"Hurry!" hisses Henny. "It's really late, they'll be home any minute."

I have to quickly use the toilet and it's hard because Henny keeps hissing from outside the window. As if I'm not freaked out enough as it is, sitting on someone else's toilet in the middle of the night. But I can't help that my tummy's turned to mush. It's her fault for making me do this a not mine!

I don't have time to wash my hands because Henny's having a manic attack outside, but I make sure Blue Bunny's still tucked in my pocket for luck. Then I race through the dark hallway, my heart banging loud as a drum. I stand facing the back door. It has so many locks. I pull up a chair, undo the big bra.s.s bolt at the top and twist the grey key thing next to it. Then I undo the bottom bolt and the key next to that, then I'm stuck, staring at the keyhole in the middle that's empty.

"What's happening?" whispers Henny from the other side of the door.

"The middle key's missing!" I hiss. "I can't do it!"

"Look around then," she snaps. "Come on, kitten, use your noddle. People hang them near the door, put them in drawers, on the top ledge. Come on!"

Trembling like a jelly, I climb up and run my fingers along the ledge. "It's not there, Henny!" I say.

"Then look around!" she says.

I check around the doorframe and scuffle through the things in the kitchen drawer, my hands dripping with sweat. I need the toilet again. I can't breathe. I hunt around the curly bra.s.s hooks with mugs swinging from them and in the big flowery bowl full of fruit.

"If there's a mat by the door," Henny hisses, through the bubbly gla.s.s window, "look under it!"

I lift up the mat and the big bra.s.s key glints at me like treasure. I fumble to get it in the lock, my heart racing faster than dogs. When Henny bursts through the door I can't stop my tears from spilling over.

"We haven't got time for tears," she says. "We have to be quick!"

I sniff them back. I hold on to Blue Bunny's ear. I stroke Beckett's name.

"Look," she says, "you did good. Now wait here, OK? And shout if anyone comes!"

I wait on the step, listening hard for cars and watching out for headlights while Henny darts through the apartment gathering things and then running back and stuffing them in my rucksack. I'm jittering so much I don't think I can stand up any more. I'm scared I might wet myself. Henny's already got two laptops and an iPod and handfuls of jewellery. She grabs some credit cards from a drawer and three pa.s.sports and loads of important-looking papers.

"Why d'you need those, Henny?" I whisper.

She looks at me with these cold hard eyes I've never seen before.

"Don't ask," she snaps, "just do as I say!"

I nod, a huge balloon of fear swelling in my throat.

"Right," she says. "Now we have to do the whole thing in reverse, OK? You have to lock the door, put the mat straight with the key under it and climb back out of the bathroom window."

I want to run, to fly far away from here on black tattooed angel wings. Grace's mum's shed flashes in my eyes, her roses round the door, Kitty's soft fur nuzzling me. But the volcano is coming towards me with its hot lava splashing in Henny's cold eyes.

Quivering so much my teeth are clattering in my head, I shut the door. I twist the big bra.s.s key and slip it back under the mat. I do the bottom locks up and I'm just about finishing the top ones when Henny bangs on the door.

"Quick!" she hisses. "They're back!"

Like the wind whipping litter through the air I shove the chair back in place and snap the lights off. I grab two bananas from the flowery bowl and make a race for the bathroom. I close the toilet seat down and I'm just about to climb in the bath and struggle for the window when I hear the front door bang shut.

I freeze, cold and hot flushing in my cheeks, ice and fire, running down my legs. My heart stops beating. My ears are throbbing with blood.

"Come on, kitten!" whispers Henny. "Climb out!"

I pull myself up on the window ledge, sending a shampoo bottle skittering across the tiles.

"Sshhhhhh!" hisses Henny! "Just hurry, will you! Jump!"

I squeeze my shoulders out of the window. I wriggle the rest of my body through and fall with a heavy thud, twisting my ankle when I hit the ground. Henny grabs me and shoves us both in a bush, slinging her arm round my neck, pressing her hand over my mouth so the pulse in her fingers beats fast on my lips. The lights in the apartment flash on and flood the garden with light. It's not soft, warm, honey light though; it's sharper than icicles and stabs at my eyes. I think I might explode. Everything is jangling inside me.

A man opens the bathroom window and pokes his head out into the night.

"See anything, darling?" a woman's voice trills.

Henny and me are so quiet even the breeze stops moving through the trees. We hold our breath. Henny's grip gets tighter on my mouth. The man's head darts backwards and forwards, owl eyes shining in the dark.

"Anybody out there?" he booms.

He waits, listening, watching for the bushes to move.

"Oh, come on, darling," the woman says. "Let's go to bed. It must've been the breeze."

When the window clicks shut we stay stiller than statues, until every light is out and the garden is plunged into darkness.

"Quick!" says Henny, jumping up. "We're late!"

"Late for what?" I say stumbling up the path. But Henny ignores me. She grabs my sleeve and marches me up the road.

"Wait there!" she says, shoving me behind a skip. "And don't keep asking questions."

I shrink behind the yellow skip and lick a graze on my hand. My ankle is throbbing like mad. I pull Blue Bunny out of my pocket and snuggle into his ear while I watch Henny lean through the window of the big black car. She pulls the stolen stuff out of my bag, hands it over and comes back smiling, popping a big pink bubblegum balloon in my face.

"Come on," she smiles, snaking her arm through mine. "You did good tonight, kitten. Real good!"

We walk for ages, avoiding the CCTV cameras and the loud people spilling out of the clubs, me hobbling on my poorly ankle. I ache for my bed, for Dad, for home.

"I can't walk any further, Henny," I say, tears welling up and stinging my eyes. "My ankle hurts too much. I think I might've broken it!"

Henny laughs. "Oh, poor kitten," she says, stroking my hair. "Hang on for a little bit longer then I promise I'll take a look at it."

"What if it's broken?" I say. "How do we get to the hospital?"

"We can't go to the hospital, Gabriella," she says, gently squeezing my hand. "It's too risky. But I'll look after you, trust me."

We walk for maybe ten minutes more or an hour or a day, I'm not sure. Time in Manchester is stretching and shrinking like gum, blurring and sliding. My ankle is a hot sharp furnace of pain, waving its arms for attention. And when I can't walk any more, Henny hides me behind some bins down an alleyway.

"Stay there," she says, giving my ankle a quick rub, "and don't move. If someone from a club comes and pees against the wall turn your face away and keep very still. OK? Hungry?"

I nod, but my nod is a lie.

I feel sick. Sick with worry, sick with pain, sick with fear.

I'm sick of everything twisting and turning inside me. I pull up the leg of my jeans and touch my fingers on my big red apple ankle that's throbbing and shining in the dark. I need Beckett. I need someone bigger. I'm tired of keeping on moving.

When Henny arrives back she has a mountain of burgers and chips and two ma.s.sive c.o.kes in her hands.

"How did you get it?" I say, slurping on a c.o.ke.

She taps her finger on her nose. "Don't be nosy," she says, grinning.

Henny pulls me up and I limp through a long maze of alleyways, until we find a quiet shop doorway to sleep in. It smells of old men's wee and smoke, but we huddle up close.

I stare into s.p.a.ce, nibbling my chips, swallowing my burger. It sits in my stomach like a cold, hard fist.

When the day pours pale steely grey paint over the night and the city wakes for breakfast I scribble a quick note for Henny and slip away. My ankle is stiff and pounding, still shiny apple red and sore. I hobble along fast towards Mum's.

Rumbling thunder fills the clouds, stretching them tight like fat grey water balloons ready to burst on my head. I stop for a while to rest and draw the huge grumbling clouds inside a giant's tummy, with hundreds of stick people running for shelter. I give them tiny umbrellas and draw minuscule drops of rain lashing down. I think about Mrs Evans and wonder what art project they're working on now. I draw a big, wooden ark and an old man Noah in a cloak with a long curly beard and great waves crashing and swirling around him.

I clink the coins in my pocket and duck into the bakers to buy a warm bread roll. I head to Mum's and hide behind the fence and the bins, nibbling while I wait. I watch the dust sweep up the road and yesterday's washing tug at clothes pegs like headless people straining to run.

When the big hairy man comes out of Mum's house I freeze. He hops on his motorbike, clips up his helmet and roars away, making the ground underneath me shake. That boy Connor presses his face on the window, squishing his lips and nose, waving goodbye to his dad. I see Mum grab his arm and yank him away. Connor shouts. Mum slaps. I rub my ankle. I fidget in my pocket for Blue Bunny.

School kids in purple jumpers, swinging yellow book bags from their fists, and mums pushing babies in buggies, spill out of the houses like popcorn. I think of that song, The wheels on the bus go round and round. The Mummies on the bus go chatter, chatter, chatter. The children on the bus go play, play, play.