Dark Ride (4 page)

C
HAPTER
7

 

Dark Ride

 

It was pitch black. The daft smile stayed on my face for a moment, even though my heart started to thrum against my ribs. This was obviously meant to be the scary bit. Well, I wasn’t giving Luka the satisfaction and resolved to remain cool as a cucumber.

I folded my arms and sat back, waiting for whatever cheesiness was about to begin, determined not to be bothered.

It was very dark though ...

The minutes ticked by. The darkness seemed to get thicker until something told me this wasn’t part of the ride.

‘Luka?’ My voice sounded small and stupid.

I’d never been anywhere so totally dark before. I thought darkness was just an absence of light, not something solid that presses in all around you like a giant cushion.

I breathed slowly, trying to stay calm.

This was just a technical hitch. Luka would get this daft thing moving any second and I could get back outside again.

IT WAS VERY IMPORTANT NOT TO FREAK OUT.

And then I heard something rustling behind me. I spun round.

‘Hello?’ I whimpered. ‘Is that you, Luka? Because this isn’t funny.’ I was going to kill him with my bare hands when I got out of here.

The rustling, scratching noise started again, nearer now.

Maybe it was a rat.

Or maybe it was a person.

A person who wasn’t Luka.

‘LUKAAAAAAAAAA!’ My stupid voice seemed to bounce around the walls of the enclosed space. I couldn’t breathe properly. Every tiny nerve in my body felt like it was shrieking. I wanted to climb out and find my way back, but the idea of stepping on something or being grabbed was worse than staying here.

Just when I felt like I couldn’t be any more frightened, something happened that made everything before seem like afternoon tea with scones and jam.

A whispering sound was seeping into the air. Then something made a damp, flapping noise and I screamed hysterically, over and over, batting my hands around my face. Something musty and animal-like filled my nostrils. The lights snapped back on, flooding the small space with a sickly yellow glow. I leapt out of the car and legged it back the way I’d come, the vampire and the dusty old skeletons suddenly not so ridiculous any more.

I almost knocked Luka to the ground outside.

‘Whatdidyoudothatfor? That wasn’t funny! That (
slap)
wasn’t (
slap)
funny (
slap)!’

Luka grabbed my wrists.

‘Calm down, okay!’ he said. ‘It only stopped for a minute! I was trying to get it going again!’

‘Oh yeah?’ I spat. ‘So why did you creep in and scare me?’

‘I did not!’ His voice went all hoarse with indignation. ‘A seagull got in there, didn’t it? A dirty great thing. I saw it fly out.’

‘Rubbish! You’re just making excuses.’ I sat back on my heels and tried to think.

A seagull? Could it have been just a bird?

But birds didn’t whisper.

On the other hand, maybe I got a little caught up in the atmosphere and imagined the whole thing. I knew I would sound like a complete loon if I said any of this out loud. I put my damp face in my hands. I was shaking all over and about as exhausted as I’d ever felt in my whole life.

‘Come on,’ said Luka kindly. ‘Let’s go and sit down for a minute.’

We walked over to the side of the carousel and sat down on the outer rim. I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself. I really wanted to believe Luka was behind what happened but I knew I’d heard something weird in there.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect the ride to get stuck, and I really didn’t come in there. It was probably just the dark playing tricks on you.’ He paused and seemed to shiver. ‘It does that sometimes.’

My hair was hanging down over my face. I saw Luka raise his hand and I had the crazy thought that he was going to gently brush my hair off my forehead. I stopped breathing for a moment. He let his hand drop and looked down at his feet instead.

‘Yeah, well ...’ I was still shaken up and felt like I wanted to hurt him. ‘Why d’you hang around in this dump anyway? Haven’t you got anything better to do?’

‘Not really,’ said Luka in a tight voice. ‘Anyway, I’m waiting.’

‘Waiting? What for, a bus?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘My mum.’

‘Where’s she gone?’ I said, wondering if it was me who was weird or this whole conversation.

‘I don’t know,’ said Luka quietly. ‘She disappeared.’

C
HAPTER
8

 

In the Café

 

The air in the café was thick with grease and sputtering steam from the big metal water heater behind the counter. I could feel sweat prickle around my hairline from the sudden heat.

I still had money from the shopping I was meant to do two days ago in my pocket. Luka said he didn’t want anything but I bought him a cup of thick orange tea, which sat, untouched, in front of him. I was facing the fogged-up window, watching drops of water race towards the finishing line.

Luka hadn’t said much when I suggested we got out of the fairground and found a café. He just shrugged and followed me.

I cleared my throat. ‘So ... what did you mean out there. About your mum?’

He looked at me with those dark eyes and I wondered for a minute if he was one of those people who makes things up for attention, like Tommy Linden in my old primary school. He claimed he was JK Rowling’s nephew and she’d based all the
Harry Potter
books on him.

‘Just that. She’s disappeared. Or been kidnapped.’

I gawped.

‘Look, I know how that sounds,’ he said, quietly. ‘All I know is that one minute she was here, and then she was gone. I can’t find any trace of her.’

I think I was probably doing a pretty good impression of a fish right then.

‘She might have ...’ I didn’t know how to say this nicely,’... just run away or something.’

Luka gave me a look like a slap. ‘She’d never have gone off anywhere without me. Never.’

I stared into my hot chocolate, feeling suitably told off. ‘Well, what about the police?’ I said at last.

He snorted, like I’d said something really stupid. ‘What about them?’

‘Haven’t you told them she’s missing?’

Luka sighed. ‘We’ve had a bit of history with the coppers round here. They wouldn’t be interested.’ He didn’t say anything else.

Maybe he was one of those teenagers you hear about, with Asbos or whatever. But he didn’t look like a criminal. He just looked sad.

‘So where do you think she might have gone?’ I said.

He ran his hands through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. ‘I don’t know. Just before she left, she kept whispering into the phone and hanging up when I came into the room. She was always staring off into the distance and snapping at me. Sometimes I’d hear her talking in Croatian, which she hardly ever does.’

There was another pause, then he sat up abruptly, drumming his hands hard against the table.

‘Okay,’ I said, trying to make sense of it all. ‘When was the last time you saw her? Did she say she was going anywhere?’

Luka turned to me and gave me the strangest look then.

‘What?’ I said. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘No, no you didn’t,’ said Luka quietly. ‘It’s just...’

‘Just what?’

He gave a deep sigh. ‘There are ... gaps. I can’t seem to remember the last time I saw her.’

I had no idea what to say to this. Was he suffering from amnesia or something? I’d heard about a bloke who banged his head and ended up living on the streets because he’d lost his memory.

I looked around the café. A waitress with dyed blond hair piled on her head was staring at me with an odd expression. I turned back to the table.

‘Luka...’

‘What?’

Where do you sleep?’

‘Here and there. Don’t worry about it.’ He frowned suddenly at something behind me. ‘Why have they got that up?’

‘What?’ I turned round and saw he was looking at the calendar. ‘What are you talking about? What’s wrong with it?’

Luka’s face seemed to go even paler than usual. He opened and closed his mouth, then he stood up abruptly. ‘Gotta go. See you around, yeah?’ He walked out of the café before I had the chance to reply.

I sat there for a few minutes, a bit dazed. I tried to imagine my mum just vanishing. Much as I sometimes wished she would, it made me shiver. Maybe Luka was mad or deluded or had lost his memory, but he was definitely lost. Like he’d been left in some dusty room like an old umbrella and someone needed to claim him.

I sighed and went to get up, then realised the waitress was watching me again.

‘First sign of madness, you know,’ she said.

‘What is?’ I said, confused.

She smiled at me. ‘You drinking that?’ She pointed at the cold cup of tea opposite me.

‘Oh, my friend didn’t want it,’ I said.

‘If you say so, dear,’ she said and patted my hand before wiping down the table.

C
HAPTER
9

 

Spider-Man
Doesn’t use Guns

 

When I pushed open the front door, a small person dressed in a Spider-Man costume leapt out at me.

‘Py-or, py-or!’ he shouted, making gun shapes with his fingers and then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he shot up the stairs. I went towards the kitchen.

A large man with a green rugby shirt was sitting at the table. Mum was at the counter shaking biscuits onto a plate with her back to the door.

‘I think it sounds very exciting,’ she said, ‘and it must be a good opportunity if it was worth moving from London.’

‘Well, we’ll see,’ said the shirt in a voice that was much deeper and posher than Dad’s. ‘I never thought I’d come back and live in this town when I left home. The local paper wasn’t exactly what I’d planned when I became a journalist! I do miss some of the buzz of working for a national. It’s all dog shows and council meetings here. But... well, it suits me to have my mother nearby now I’m on my own.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ said Mum. ‘It’s no picnic, bringing up children alone, is it? Bel! What are you doing skulking around like that?’ She went bright red.

I stared at Rugby Shirt, who seemed to fill the kitchen. He turned to me. He had blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses, a biggish nose and curly black hair.

He smiled.

I glared. ‘What’s going on?’ I said to Mum, whose eyes swooped to the man and back to me.

‘Bel, this is Will,’ she said. ‘He’s Mrs Longmeadow’s son. He came round to fix that tap for me. I mentioned to her about it being broken, and well, she said he’d come round to mend it. The tap, I mean.’ Her voice trailed off and she looked so guilty and strange I could feel my heart hardening into stone with every passing second.

‘This is my son, Dylan,’ said Will as the tiny boy shot into the room like a red bullet. ‘Or should I say, Spider-Man.’

I tried to ignore the little squirt, but it wasn’t easy because he was bouncing on his dad’s knees and shooting me again.

‘Spider-Man doesn’t use guns,’ I said, rolling my eyes.

‘Settle down, Dylan,’ said the man poshly, but gave me a look at the same time.

‘Anyway, do carry on, Will,’ said Mum with a cough. ‘It must be such an interesting job, being a journalist. I’d love to hear more.’

The man got up, the small boy hanging over his shoulder like a wriggly sack of spuds.

‘I think I’d best get off, actually,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back round tomorrow if I may, now I know what the problem is with the tap. Mum’s got some tools somewhere, I just need to dig them out. Is that okay?’

Mum pushed a strand of hair away, which had fallen in an annoyingly pretty way across her face.

‘That would be marvellous, if you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Nice to meet you, Bel.’ He held out his hand, which I shook as though it were a limp fish.

I didn’t reply, but catching the eye of the little boy, I quietly stuck my tongue out at him.

Mum went to the front door with them to see them out. She still had a sickly smile on her face when she came back into the kitchen.

‘That would be marvellous, if you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble?
’ I got the sickening whininess spot on, if I say so myself.

Mum shot me a disgusted look. ‘Oh shut up, Bel,’ she said, snatching the cup from the table and rinsing it under the tap as though she wanted to smash it. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being civil. You should try it sometime.’

I could feel my breath coming in hard bubbles. ‘So this is how it’s going to be, is it?’ I said. ‘Now Dad’s out the way?’

‘Stop being so ridiculous.’

‘I’m not being ridiculous,’ I snapped. ‘I think you fancy that Will bloke and I’m telling Dad.’

She spun round, eyes blazing at me and opened her mouth to speak. And then she stopped and just blinked. I was used to her letting off a rocket – it’s just what we do, me and Mum – but this time her face was just sort of old-looking.

‘Bel,’ she said finally in a low voice. ‘I can assure you that my only interest at the moment is getting through each day. And getting my tap mended. If I did have my eye on Will – which I don’t – I very much doubt your father would care anyway.’ And she swept out of the room, like
I
was the one in the wrong!

We didn’t speak much for the rest of the evening.

We had our dinner on trays in the living room. It has tiny, mean windows and Mum has to put on about seventeen lamps even in the daytime so we don’t crash into each other. She turned the telly onto the local news and I munched my shepherd’s pie and peas miserably, thinking about my weird day and fretting about Dad not being here for Christmas. I wasn’t really listening to the TV but something caught my attention.

‘Work on the marina is now going full steam ahead, despite a series of initial setbacks.’

A woman with long blond hair and dark red lips was standing in front of the patch of ground I recognised. The camera panned over her head and focused on two huge diggers. There were big fences up all around it now, but I could see the marina sign and the turrets of the fairground to the left.

‘The project is already eighteen months behind schedule and running over budget,’ she continued, ‘but according to a spokesperson for the developer – local businessman Alexander ‘Lex’ McAllistair – the building work has finally begun in earnest. Phase one of the project has begun on the site of the old tile factory, which once provided work to many residents of this quiet seaside town. Phase two will start on the wasteland beyond the town centre, with plans to bring down the old Sunshine Amusement Park next spring or early summer. There was some local resistance when the fairground was first closed down.’

The screen suddenly filled with pictures of people standing on the seafront with billboards that said,
No to Marina! Save our Rides!
It didn’t look like much of a protest. I wondered if Luka’s mum had been one of them. I tuned back in to the newsreader. ‘Lex McAllistair believes the marina project will be the making of this town.’

The man I’d seen at the Town Hall filled the screen.

‘What do you say to the people who think the historic fairground should have been preserved?’ asked the reporter’s voice.

‘Sometimes progress comes at a price,’ he said solemnly. He had a nasal sort of voice that didn’t seem to go with his face. ‘I grew up in this town and remember when it was a thriving seaside resort enjoyed by people from all over the South.’ He gave a weighty pause. ‘It hurts to see certain features of the old town go, but I believe that the Dolphin Marina project will bring Slumpton right into the twenty-first century. With a seafront to be proud of, we may once more be the jewel in the crown of the Kent Coast.’

I looked up and saw that Mum was watching him too. Getting a jibe in about one of her boyfriends being on telly was tempting, but I heroically resisted. I concentrated on eating my shepherd’s pie instead.

Then I started thinking about Luka and wondered what he was having to eat that night. I pictured his dark chocolate eyes and long eyelashes again and my stomach gave a little flip. I put down my fork and pushed my half-eaten plate away.