Missing Me (7 page)

I glanced round at him as we followed Esme through the next door. What was Wolf’s relationship with Esme, I wondered. He’d introduced her as his ‘friend’. Was that, like,
posh-kid speak for ‘girlfriend’? They didn’t act like they were going out together. In fact, Esme had been quite rude to him. Still, how would I know what was normal behaviour?
The closest I’d ever got to having a boyfriend was a totally embarrassing date in year ten with Samuel Jones, a gorgeous boy from the year above me at school. He’d spent the whole time
talking about a band he was into and how great they were live. When he finally stopped speaking, I couldn’t think of a thing to say to him. As usual. After our date, Samuel had promised to
call me, but he never did.

‘Is your full name really Wolfhound?’ I whispered as we crossed the next room. I had the strong sense we were walking uphill now and the air was definitely cooler than before.
Hopefully we were near a way out.

‘No,’ Wolf sighed. ‘But the truth isn’t any better.’

‘Go on.’

Wolf threw me a sideways glance, as if to check I wasn’t making fun of him.

‘I’m interested,’ I said.

‘OK, my full name is Wolfgang William Alexander Manville Yates.’ Wolf paused. ‘Go ahead and laugh, everyone else does.’

‘Whoa,’ I said. Up ahead Esme was struggling with the next door. ‘That’s a lot of name.’

‘You’re telling me,’ Wolf muttered.

We caught up with Esme, just as she managed to open the door. We traipsed through, into another draughty, dusty room. This one was just as dark as the others – though with a higher ceiling
– and filled with a strange smell, something sour and musty.

‘Pooh.’ Esme turned to face me. She wrinkled her nose. The 8-ball cast a spooky glow across her face. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘God knows,’ Wolf said. ‘Are we nearly out?’

‘Sure,’ Esme said. ‘We’ve come right round the back of the house. We’re near the big tent in the back garden.’

‘But the tent . . . the marquee . . . that was out front,’ I said.

‘There are
two
tents.’ Esme swept off across the room.

Wolf and I followed. A second later, the 8-ball light went out again. A soft padding sound echoed across the room behind us.

‘What was that?’ I hissed.

Esme shook the 8-ball. It lit and spoke:
My sources say no.

I turned around, peering into the shadows behind us. I could make out empty floor and the door. Nothing else.

And then a low growl filled the room.

Esme grabbed my arm. ‘Look.’ She pointed the 8-ball light at the door we’d just walked through.

I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. An animal was watching us, its eyes yellow in the dim light, pacing past the door.

‘Oh my God,’ Wolf said hoarsely. ‘It’s the tiger for the circus show.’

A piercing scream filled the air, nearly bursting my eardrums. It was Esme. Wolf slapped his hand over her mouth.

‘Ssshhhh,’ I hissed.

Esme’s scream ended as suddenly as it had begun. The tiger stopped padding. It was looking in our direction, its eyes like orange discs.

‘Don’t run,’ Wolf whispered. ‘Walk slowly away.’

Nodding, I started backing away. The tiger was still watching us.

‘Nice kitty, good kitty.’ The breathless whisper tumbled out of my mouth. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear myself speak.

I glanced over at the others. Wolf was holding Esme’s hand now, tugging her backwards with him. Esme’s eyes – huge and terrified – were fixed on the tiger. It
hadn’t moved.

Yet.

As we walked, I wondered how many seconds it would take the tiger to reach us. From the look of those sleek, muscular legs, not many. I looked around. In the dim glow of the Magic 8-ball light I
could just make out an iron gate a couple of metres ahead. It was one of those concertina types that you can pull across and push back and was fastened with padlocks to iron bars on the walls
either side.

This metal gate stood between us and escape from the tiger.

‘What’s that doing there?’ Esme whispered. She had followed my gaze and was staring, shocked, at the iron bars.

‘I imagine it’s keeping the tiger in,’ I said softly.

‘So how do we get past those padlocks?’ Wolf whispered.

We looked up and down but there was no way through.

‘It’s wall to wall,’ Wolf said. ‘There’s no gap.’

‘Oh, frickin’ hell,’ Esme breathed. ‘Frickin’ frickin’ hell.’

The tiger was still watching us. Totally motionless. Unbelievably sinister. It was preparing to leap. I could
feel
it. But how on earth could we get away? The metal gate was impassable,
while the tiger stood between us and the door we’d come through earlier.

‘We’ll be fine.’ Wolf sounded convinced, but I could see in his eyes that he was as terrified as I was.

I looked up at the gate. It went right to the ceiling. No, there was a small gap. Right at the top. It didn’t leave enough space for a tiger – or a grown man – to crawl over,
but there was surely enough for me, Wolf and Esme.

‘Climb,’ I ordered.

‘What?’ Esme breathed.

‘She’s right,’ Wolf said. ‘Hurry.’ He put his foot in the latticed metal of the gate, about a metre off the ground, and hauled himself up.

I looked at the tiger. It was still watching us, standing without moving in front of the door we’d walked through. It felt like hours had passed since we’d seen it, but it was only a
few seconds.

‘Come on,’ Wolf urged.

As he spoke, the tiger moved. It was padding towards us.

‘AAAGH!’ Esme screamed again. She dropped the 8-ball. It landed with a clunk on the stone ground.

The outlook is good.

The tiger roared. Sped up. Wolf, Esme and I turned and flung ourselves at the metal mesh. Clawing at the bars, I hauled myself up. Hand over hand. Foot over foot. Panting, I climbed. I
didn’t look down until my hands gripped the top of the gate. The metal bit into my palms. Now I looked down, just as the tiger reared up. Its paws swiped at the gate, just centimetres below
my feet.

‘Madison!’ Wolf was right beside me, straddling the gate. He just fitted between the highest metal bar and the ceiling. ‘Move!’ He held out his hand.

I glanced down again. Again, the tiger swiped at my leg with his paw, missing me by centimetres. I scrambled higher. Beyond Wolf, Esme was almost over the gate. As I reached the top, there was a
ripping sound. A strip of Esme’s dress hung from the metal bars but Esme herself was over. Another rip as she dropped to the ground. Wolf was waiting for me. I balanced on one leg, shifting
my weight and moving the other leg through the gap. I found a foothold on the other side.

‘You OK?’ Wolf asked.

‘Sure.’ My whole body was trembling as I climbed fully over the gate. I took a couple of steps down. The tiger was right on the other side of the bars. Its low, rumbling growl made
the metal vibrate.

Wolf was climbing down beside me. His feet were perilously close to the tiger’s raised paw.

‘Jump away from the fence,’ I gasped. ‘Jump now!’

‘Together,’ Wolf said. ‘One, two . . . three!’

We jumped. Landed on the hard ground with a jolt. I put out my hands to steady myself. Wolf grabbed my arm. And then Esme was there and the three of us were holding on to each other, hugging and
laughing and crying all at once.

The tiger roared. We all jumped. But we were safe. And then we hugged and laughed and cried again.

The light from the 8-ball – still on the other side of the gate – went out and we were plunged into darkness.

Esme squealed. But there was no real terror in her scream now.

‘We’re nearly out,’ she said. ‘The next door leads to the side passage opposite the kitchen.’

She held my hand, Wolf on her other side. We felt our way to the wooden door. It was locked. Wolf battered it with his palms.

‘Hey!’ he yelled.

‘All of us together,’ Esme commanded. ‘Go!’

The three of us hammered on the door, yelling at the tops of our voices. I don’t know how long we did that for – I’d completely lost track of time since we’d got into the
first cellar.

At last a voice sounded on the other side. ‘Wait a minute. Wait, let me get the key.’

We stopped slamming our fists against the door and stood, waiting. A few moments later, a key fumbled in the lock. The door opened, revealing the bright light of the passage and Baxter’s
man, Hobbs, in his waistcoat and yellow tie.

‘Esme?’ he said. ‘Wolf?’ His eyes glanced over me. ‘What . . .?’

We stepped into the light, as Esme explained what had happened to us. All three of us were filthy. Wolf’s face was smeared with dust and his shirt was torn, while the bottom of
Esme’s beautiful gold dress was in tatters. I looked down at my own clothes. Wolf’s jacket was covered in dirty smudges but my T-shirt underneath didn’t seem to have a mark on it.
In fact, my jeans weren’t too bad, either – just a bit dusty. I wiped my face with my hands, wishing I had a mirror.

‘Let me fetch Mr Baxter,’ Hobbs said at last.

‘No, Daddy will just get cross,’ Esme said.

I suddenly remembered Allan – and the bizarre circumstances under which I’d come here. ‘I need to get back to the marquee,’ I said.

‘I’ll show you the way,’ Wolf said.

‘I must insist on fetching Mr Baxter,’ Hobbs repeated. ‘Or taking you to him. He has to know what has just happened. Apart from anything else, I need his authorisation to go
down to the basement and check on the animal.’

Esme hesitated. ‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘We’ll all go.’

She leaned down, grabbed the torn hem of her dress and ripped the jagged edge off. Her dress now skimmed her knees at the front, a little lower at the back. It still looked stunning.

‘Wow,’ I said, impressed.

Esme gave a shrug, then led the way through the house. We entered a large kitchen – three times the size of mine – with two sets of double sinks and the biggest refrigerator
I’d ever seen.

As I followed Esme through a very formal dining room with a long central table, I wondered how Allan would react when he saw me. I shucked off Wolf’s jacket and handed it back to him. Wolf
slipped it on in silence. His lips were pressed together and his forehead creased in a frown, as if he were worried about something.

Esme led us along a corridor, past several closed doors and out into the garden through a side exit. The front garden marquee was straight ahead. As we headed towards it, I glanced along to the
door with the toilet sign beside it.

The door was there, along with my empty glass on the window ledge where I’d left it, but there was no sign. I peered again. Definitely no toilet sign. Had I imagined it?

‘After you,’ Wolf said. He was standing back, waiting for me to go inside the marquee.

I followed Esme inside. She was already drawing horrified gasps and astonished looks from the adults she passed. They were all still standing around with drinks, chatting loudly, just as they
had been when I’d left. I could only have actually been gone about twenty minutes, but it felt like weeks had passed.

Esme headed for the thickest part of the crowd. People parted as she approached. I followed in her wake, with Wolf and Hobbs behind us. The party chatter stopped, as Esme walked up to a man in
an expensively cut suit in the centre of a group. He was tall with thick grey hair and piercing eyes. This must be Declan Baxter, the party’s host.

‘Esme?’ he said. He didn’t smile.

‘Daddy, we got trapped with the tiger,’ Esme said, making her voice small and babyish.

Her father curled his lip. For a second he looked embarrassed, then concern filled his face.

‘Darling, how awful,’ he said, reaching forward to pat her shoulder. ‘How on earth did it happen?’

‘We were in the Den,’ Esme went on, her lips trembling slightly, ‘and then the door stuck after
she
came in.’ She pointed at me.

Everyone turned to look at me. My face felt like it was on fire. I looked down.

‘We went down to the cellars to try and find another way out,’ Esme said. She was still making her voice all little-girly. ‘We came through loads of doors and the tiger was
behind one of them.’

‘Goodness,’ said one of the women standing in the crowd. A gasp ran round the others. There were loads of people watching us now.

‘As luck had it, Mr Baxter, I heard them,’ Hobbs said. ‘They were hammering on the door of the shed that was built where the stable used to be.’

Declan Baxter nodded thoughtfully. The man beside him – shorter, with a mean look in his eye – shook his head.

I looked around. There was no sign of Allan.

‘Go and check the door to the Den, Hobbs,’ Baxter ordered.

His gaze flickered from his daughter to Wolf, then his eyes rested on me.

‘And you are?’ he demanded.

I gulped. Mr Baxter exuded an aura of absolute power. I could totally see where Esme got her scary manner from.

‘This is M . . . Madison, sir,’ Wolf butted in. ‘She was great, actually, really h . . . helped when we were t . . . trapped.’

‘Yes, she practically saved my life,’ Esme said. ‘Unlike Wolf . . .’ she smiled, her voice returning to normal. ‘Wolf screamed like a girl.’

What?
I stared at her, shocked to my core. Wolf had been fantastic earlier. If anything, Esme was the one who had screamed. Esme was still smiling, as if the whole thing were a joke.

‘There’s a surprise,’ the mean-eyed man standing next to Baxter said sarcastically. ‘My son, rescued by a girl . . . two girls . . .’ He glared at Wolf. ‘What
do you have to say to that? Is it true?’

Wolf went bright red. ‘N . . . n . . . no, sir . . .’ he stammered. ‘W . . . w . . . we all h . . . h . . . helped.’

I felt myself blushing in sympathy. Wolf’s stammer was ten times worse around his father. No wonder he’d looked worried about coming in here earlier.

His dad sneered. He had the same high cheekbones as Wolf, but his mean eyes and hard, cold demeanour were a million miles from Wolf’s friendly manner. Wolf looked down at the floor.