Now You See Me (22 page)

HAND IT OVER OR ELSE. D.

As Mr Watson turns back to the front of the hall, I stuff it in my pocket. Adam bends his head to his exam paper, and I do the same, trying to focus on the question about mass and acceleration. But my mind keeps playing over the note in my pocket. The look on Adam's face when he saw it. What could it mean?

When Mr Watson finally tells us to put down our pens and collects our papers, I catch Adam up in the corridor. I hand him the note and watch his face grow pale and anxious as he reads it. And something more. A wounded look he gives me before he walks off – like I've just kicked him or scribbled all over his coursework.

“Are you okay?” I ask, going after him. Adam's quiet and clever, and his parents are well off, so that's enough to make some people give him a hard time. But surely he wouldn't think that about me?

He nods mutely, not slowing down. I'm practically jogging to keep up.

“What was the note about?”

“You mean, you don't know?” His expression almost a sneer.

“Why on earth would I?”

He stops and stares at me, then his face slumps. “I don't know. I just assumed…”

“Assumed what?”

He grips the strap of his rucksack. Checks briefly around us. “Look, sorry, Hannah,” he says in a low voice, “I know it's nothing to do with you. Don't worry about it. Forget you ever saw it, okay?”

And with that he walks away.

Adam's words linger all afternoon. Why would he think I had anything to do with that note? I hardly know him. We've probably only ever spoken half a dozen times, but when we have it's been perfectly friendly.

I think about that line. What was Adam supposed to hand over? And who on earth was D?

Then it hits me, so obvious that I can't believe it's taken me this long to catch on. D for Danny. Danny must have thrown it – he was only a couple of desks behind us after all. And that would explain why Adam assumed I knew – he must have thought Danny and I were in it together.

In what together? I'm desperate to find out. I consider asking Adam again, but I'm pretty sure he won't tell me anything. I could threaten to say something to the head of year maybe, but what good would that do? Adam had taken the note and somehow I knew he'd deny ever receiving it. By the look on his face when he read it, Adam was far more scared of Danny than of Mr Rotherford.

Leaving just one option: confront Danny. Make him tell me what
'
s going on.

But as soon as the idea occurs to me, I dismiss it. Danny, I'm beginning to realize, has plenty of secrets. And is hell-bent on keeping them.

A scream from the living room. Followed by a loud wail of protest.

I get there before Martha, in time to see Danny shove Alice backwards, hard enough that she nearly falls.

“He hurt me,” she howls, holding her wrist up to her mother, her mouth a gaping “O” of shock and indignation.

“What the hell? I barely touched you.” He swings round to face Martha. “I was just looking for my phone and she attacked me. Tried to bite me!”

Sobbing, Alice slumps face down onto the sofa.

“What's going on?” Martha looks dazed, like she's just woken up.

“I asked her where my phone is and she went mental.”

“Why would Alice know where your phone is?”

“She's always messing around with it,” Danny says, flashing a contemptuous sneer at his sister. “Changing stuff.”

“Don't!” yells Alice, her face red with fury. “DO NOT!”

“Oh, shut up,” snarls Danny, “you stupid—”

“
Danny!
”

We all spin round to see Paul standing in the doorway, his voice low and furious, his face revealing a turbulence I've never seen before. “Leave your sister alone.”

“I just want to know what she's done with my phone.”

“I don't care about your bloody phone,” Paul thunders. “I care about you talking to your sister that way.”

Danny tries to push past his father as he makes for the door, but Paul grabs his arm. “I think you should apologize.”

“Who to? Alice?” Danny fixes Paul with a look I can't make sense of. “Oh right. We're all about happy families now, eh, Dad? Shall we talk about that? Shall we talk about my
sister
.” He spits out the last word like something that tastes bad.

Paul holds his gaze, but I see him flinch. His hand trembles as it tightens round Danny's arm. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Danny just glares at him defiantly.

“Well?”

“You sure, Dad?” Danny's face morphs into a smirk. “In front of everyone?”

Paul stares at his son a moment longer, then releases his arm. He doesn't look angry now. More defeated and…well…
unnerved.

Martha snaps out of her trance and sinks onto the sofa, and in that moment I understand just how bad things have become. Her expression isn't the shock and surprise I'd expect, but something like panic. I realize Martha's been putting a far braver face on it all than I ever suspected.

No one speaks. There's silence except for the sound of Alice's sobs. Danny hovers for an instant, then pushes past his father and out the room. Seconds later, the back door slams, a full stop to the explanation Danny never gave.

I can hear Martha and Paul arguing in the kitchen as I help Alice clean her teeth. Danny has been gone nearly five hours now, missing supper. Martha is insisting they go and look for him.

“He'll come back when he's ready,” I hear Paul say.

Half an hour later Martha appears upstairs, looking pale and upset. “Hannah, we're going out to find Danny,” she says, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “We need to sort this out. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

I shake my head. “I don't really know who his friends are any more.”

Martha frowns, pinching her brow between her fingers. “Well, we'll try the usual suspects. Hopefully we won't be too long.” She comes over and gives Alice a kiss on the forehead, then does the same for me. I feel an ache of concern for her. I wish I could be more help.

“Good riddance,” Alice says, as the sound of the car fades down the drive.

“What, Mummy?” I ask, confused.

“No, silly. Not Mummy.
Him
.”

I tuck Alice into bed, and my hand touches something hard under the pillow. I pull it out without her noticing.

It's Danny's phone.

I've no idea how long I've got, but I'm guessing they won't find Danny any time soon – wherever he goes these days, it's not round to Ross's or Joe's. And Danny, I suspect, will stay away until he thinks we've all gone to bed.

I wait till Alice has drifted off, then take the phone into my room and prop myself up on the bed. I wake it out of sleep mode, praying it won't be locked with any kind of code or PIN. One swipe of my finger across the screen takes me straight into the main menu.

So far, so good.

I go into Danny's contacts. I recognize a few: Martha and Paul, Dean. Alison Heppall and a couple of other girls from school. Mr Dickson, the social worker from London.

Mine, I notice, isn't on the list.

But there are several I have no clue about. They're not full names, just nicknames or abbreviations: FranB, Jul, Mat, Del, PTB. I click on FranB and feel a twinge in my stomach when I see the number. It's long, starting with 00 33. Doesn't that mean it's abroad somewhere? I look through some of the other names, find more foreign-looking dialling codes.

Who are these people?

I swap to the call log. Lots of incoming calls from Martha. A few from Paul. Dean and Alison have rung a number of times. Then I spot one of the unfamiliar names: Mat.

Who on earth is this Mat guy? I scroll through the log. See he's called repeatedly, sometimes several times a day. I check the number. Another 00 33 code. Where is that? I could look it up on the net.

I put the phone down on the bedside table and get up to switch on my laptop. A few seconds later a loud buzz behind me makes me jump. I spin round and see the phone vibrating against the wood, shifting slightly with each ring. I grab it and look at the screen.

“Mat” is calling right now. Shit.

The phone vibrates in my hands for another moment or two, then goes dead. A second or two later the voicemail icon blinks up. How do I access it? I try the three-digit number I use with my phone, but it doesn't work. Perhaps it's different for Danny's network, or maybe he's changed it to something else. I think you can.

There's only one thing to do. I stare at the phone, hesitating. Then press
Return Call
.

A long silence, followed by a series of short clicks. Then a strange
brrr-brrr
tone I've never heard before, slower than the usual one. I feel my heart beat faster. Am about to hang up when there's a pause.

Then a voice. A female voice.

“
Allo
…”

I can't speak. My hand is shaking so much I nearly drop the phone.

“
Allo
…”

Christ, what am I doing? I should cut off the call…

“
Je sais que c'est toi, chéri. Je vois ton numéro. Pourquoi tu ne me parles pas…?
”

I press the
End Call
button, my palms sweating. Then check the number I just dialled.

It's her. It's definitely “Mat”. And not a boy at all.

My mind runs through the possibilities. Maybe the phone is faulty or this girl has got the wrong number. What, dozens of times? And my French is good enough to know what she just said.

Mat could see who was ringing. Danny's number. She recognized it.

I put the mobile back on the table and sit on the bed, my legs wobbly, mind racing. How does Danny know a French girl? And well enough for her to call him “
chéri
” – “darling”.

I press my hands between my knees to stop them trembling. Danny has secrets all right, I think, and this is obviously one of them.

But that's not what's making my heart race and my head spin.

The thing is, I'm certain Danny didn't know anyone in France before he disappeared. He'd never been there. He couldn't go on the Year Seven trip to Paris because he had a swimming contest.

And I can't imagine he's met this girl since he came home – after all, this isn't exactly the kind of place foreign tourists bother with.

No, there's only one conceivable way Danny could know her – from the time he was away. He turned up in France, after all.

It only adds up to one thing: Danny is lying. He hasn't forgotten everything from the years when he was missing.

Nor has he left it all behind.

“Croissant?”

Martha holds the tray out to Paul, who shakes his head then disappears back behind the Saturday supplement. Danny takes one without even looking at his mother. A glimmer of something flits across her face before she erases it with a smile.

I watch Danny out the corner of my eye. He seems perfectly at ease, tipping back in his chair with a casual air, a mug of coffee balanced on his knee. With his other hand he's punching text into his phone, which I left last night on the kitchen table, along with a note saying I'd found it down the back of the sofa. Enough to get Alice off the hook.

I take another croissant and peel the crisp flaky skin from the top and place it on my tongue, savouring the buttery sweetness while I try and work out what this is all about. Did I just imagine yesterday's argument? Danny storming off and staying out half the night?

Because Martha is acting as if nothing ever happened, and Paul confines himself to the occasional wary glance at his son. Though from Alice's quiet, furious expression, and the way she won't even look in her brother's direction, I can tell it's far from dead and buried for her.

Is Danny really going to get away with it so easily? I wonder, remembering how he grabbed his sister's arm. As if in answer he looks straight at me, treating me to a wide grin.

But I'm not fooled, not any more. This kind of smile has more to do with challenge than friendship.

I stuff the last of my croissant into my mouth and wash it down with a gulp of orange juice. It lies heavy in my stomach, like silt. Nothing feels normal any more, I can't help feeling. All the rules have clearly changed.

Martha suggests a trip to the shops, but I cut out, pleading revision. Yet as I help strap Alice into her booster seat and say goodbye to Martha and Paul, I get a flutter of unease and almost change my mind.

I push it away. Take myself upstairs, grab my biology notes and flop back onto my bed. Danny's still here, I know, but I reckon there's a good chance he'll go out soon. He spends most weekend days out the house. I may as well try and study till he leaves.

But it's hopeless. I can't take anything in. My stomach feels greasy and queasy, my mind buzzing with questions. Who is Mat? And those other people listed in his phone?

I lie back and stare up at the ceiling, running through the possibilities. What is Danny hiding? Was he involved with some kind of gang? Maybe they kidnapped and brainwashed him. That might explain how much his behaviour has changed.

Or maybe Danny just fell into it, that other kind of life. But it must be bad, mustn't it, because why else would he hide it from us? Why else would he pretend to have forgotten everything?

The more I think about it, the more anxious I feel. I can't banish the conviction that I'm missing something. Maybe everything.

I sit up, feeling an emptiness inside, like homesickness. I'll phone Dad, I decide. Tell him what I've found, my suspicions, the lot. He'll help me make sense of everything, help me unravel the truth.

Then I remember it's still early in Chicago and Dad will be asleep. I feel a surge of disappointment – somehow these days we're always out of sync.