Hold Your Breath (4 page)

‘You all right?’ he said in an upbeat voice.

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ She straightened her spine and forced herself to smile.

‘Good,’ said Beck. ‘Anyway, better go before I have to fight off packs of screaming girlies.’ He grinned and Tara saw his gaze shift to the side. She turned to see Karis,
who was smiling at Beck and sticking her chest out like some kind of overheated duck.

Tara sighed. ‘Yeah, I wonder how you make it down the street sometimes,’ she said drily.

‘You said it, sister.’ His stupid American accent made her laugh, despite herself. ‘Anyway, people to see, lunch to be eaten. Later, Tar.’

He sauntered off. Tara turned to see Karis regarding her with an expression she hadn’t seen from her before. It was a mixture of respect and envy.

Tara knew Karis wouldn’t be able to help herself so she started to walk by as though she hadn’t noticed her eager expression. It was a bit childish. But fun. She’d had a lot of
practice in dealing with fans of her brother.

‘Who’s that then?’ said Karis quickly, when she was almost past her.

Tara turned, a quizzical expression on her face as though she was miles away. ‘Did you say something?’

Karis frowned and tipped her chin. ‘Who was that?’

‘Oh, that’s my brother,’ said Tara. She turned and, quick as a flash, Karis was next to her.

‘He’s almost eighteen and, yes, of course he’s got a girlfriend, what did you think?’ said Tara rapidly.

Karis’s eyebrows shot upwards, then she gave Tara what looked suspiciously like a grin.

‘Plus,’ said Tara, feeling emboldened, ‘haven’t you already got someone?’

Karis looked confused. ‘Eh?’ she said. ‘What d’you mean?’

Tara gestured to the gates with a nod of her head. ‘Saw you with that bloke in the car a minute ago.’

Karis looked away. ‘Ah, well, he’s not mine. Unfortunately. He’s Melodie’s man, Will. He keeps hanging around, wanting to know if we’ve heard from her. He’s
being a bit of a pain, actually. He’s a bit obsessed about it.’

Melodie’s man? So who was Mr Mean And Moody by the river? Maybe he’d found out she was cheating on him with this Will. Maybe he’d done something to her in a fit of jealousy?
Maybe Melodie was lying at the bottom of the river right now . . .

Tara shuddered.
Stop it, Tara. Don’t do this.

‘So . . .’ she forced herself to say, ‘
have
you heard from her then?’

Karis’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you start,’ she said. ‘And why do
you
care, anyway?’

‘Just wondered,’ said Tara. She felt as though she were digging a horrible, deep hole with every word, but only seemed to be able to burrow further. ‘She’s all right,
then?’

‘Of course she’s all right. Why? Have you heard something?’ Karis spoke sharply.

‘No, I just wondered. You know, because she left so suddenly.’ Tara’s voice sounded strangled and weird to her own ears. ‘Seemed a bit strange.’

Karis glanced across the piazza and Tara’s eyes followed. Jada and Amber were watching them. Karis sighed.

‘Well, I’m sure she’s fine. It’s just like her to leave suddenly, if you ask me. And why wouldn’t she be fine anyway?’

‘No reason,’ said Tara. Pins and needles buzzed in her fingers as she remembered the image from the day before. The single, naked lightbulb with its sickly glow. The stone floor. And
then it was gone. She shivered and rubbed her arms, suddenly freezing.

The playground shimmered and wobbled. She was going to be sick. ‘Gotta go.’

She ran to the girls’ toilets and made it into a cubicle seconds before throwing up.

Afterwards, she gulped water from the tap and patted cold water all over her clammy face. Tara looked at herself in the mirror that was pocked with rust, feeling a thousand years old. Her green
eyes looked bigger than normal in her pale face. Everybody kept saying Melodie was fine. As Karis said, why wouldn’t she be fine?

And frankly, why should Tara even care? She didn’t even like her.

She’d been wrong before anyway. A vivid memory of a weeping, distraught face flashed into her mind and something crumpled inside. Tears stabbed her eyes as the familiar feeling of hot
shame washed over her. She scratched her arms, as if invisible bugs were working under her skin. It made her feel dirty sometimes, the guilt. Like she would never be able to wash it away.

‘Beck?’

It was evening.

‘Yeah?’ Her brother’s gaze didn’t move from the screen. He tossed a chocolate peanut from the bag resting on the arm of the chair and effortlessly caught it between his
teeth.

Tara was curled in the big chair with a blanket round her. A cup of camomile tea sat next to her on the coffee table. She’d told Mum she felt ill and her mother had gone into full clucky
mode. She’d offered to miss Pilates but Tara said she’d be fine, even though for a moment she’d wanted to be small again, snuggled up with her mother on the sofa, watching
CBeebies. It wasn’t like she was ill. This churning inside wasn’t to do with any bug or bad food. The urge to tell someone what had happened by that locker was gnawing at her but every
time she tried to put the right words into any kind of order, they made no sense any more.

‘Nothing,’ she said wearily. ‘Giz a peanut.’

Beck promptly threw one and it caught her squarely on the forehead – the missile not only painful, but sticky too.

‘You git!’ Tara leapt up and jumped on her brother. He was strong but she was quick and she caught him by surprise so she was able to stuff a cushion on his shoulders and sit on it
before he could uncurl his long body.

There were muffled cries and then he grabbed her middle and spun her round so she was flat on the sofa. He lowered his bum towards her head. She screamed and battered at him with ineffectual
hands. He calmly flicked through television channels with the remote while she squirmed beneath him.

‘Say you submit, or I’ll do it. You know I’ll do it,’ said Beck.

Tara shuddered. She knew what he was capable of in this situation. She forced her body to relax.

‘I submit,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘I submit, god-like deity.’

‘
I submit, god-like deity!
’

He rolled away and she stumbled to her feet, hair all over the place and her face sweaty and hot.

‘I hate you,’ she said good-naturedly as she hurriedly got out of reach. ‘And deity
means
god, moron, so you just said god-like god.’

Beck aimed another peanut at her. She yelped and scurried into the kitchen. She was smiling a little now. Or at least her face was marginally less rigid than it had been earlier. She craved
familiarity tonight and wished Beck would somehow magically pick up on her need to talk. But as her brother generally had the empathy of an amoeba, this was a pointless wish.

He might not be one for deep and meaningful chats, but that didn’t mean Beck didn’t care. When everything had kicked off, Beck had never judged her or said anything critical, unlike
everyone else in the world. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t looked out of his depth, and for once he hadn’t had a joke or wind-up comment to hand. She’d caught him looking at
her a few times and then smiling awkwardly, as though he didn’t really know his little sis any more. That had almost been more painful than anything. But he knew she was hurting and that hurt
him too.

She couldn’t talk to him about this, though.

She couldn’t talk to anyone.

Tara made herself more tea and went off into her bedroom. She sat down at her desk and looked around. Her new bedroom was much bigger than the old one, but it still felt wrong. Moving house had
forced decisions about half the things she’d owned. She was too old to hang on to Furbies, Tamagotchis and ten-metre swimming certificates. But she hadn’t really wanted to throw them
away either.

Tara rested her elbows on the desk, her thick black hair swishing across her face. It fell into waves no matter how much she straightened it. She’d always longed to have blond, silky hair,
despite Mum and Dad saying hers was lovely. Blond hair like Melodie’s. An immediate mental picture of Melodie’s hair caught in weeds at the bottom of the river popped into her mind. But
it was only her imagination playing tricks, she knew that. The images had been so strong before. They were entirely different.

She gave a frustrated growl. She should leave it alone. If she started asking people about Melodie Stone, they would think she was mad. Or worse, had some kind of crush on her. She could just
imagine the mileage the Gossip Girls would get from
that.
She actually shuddered at the thought.

The ‘vision’, or whatever it was, had felt so intense though. It felt like some knowledge was gnawing inside her; a rat with needle teeth that she couldn’t ignore. Maybe she
could just put her mind to rest. But how?

Tara stared at her noticeboard, not seeing it, thinking hard.

She needed proof that Melodie was safe, well and being a bitch somewhere else.

Tara huffed out air and her fringe rippled. She picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk, trying to think. Then she started to make notes on the pad in front of her, as she always did when her
mind was unsettled.

Tell Mum??
She crossed this through so hard, the paper beaded in a tear.

Speak to Mr Ford?

She quickly crossed this through too. He’d look at her with those concerned eyes and be annoying about whether she was ‘settling in’.

Ask Karis for Melodie’s address?

Nope. Bad idea.

Find the boy she was cheating on?

Tara’s pencil hovered over this and she started to doodle around the words. Maybe he really had done something to Melodie. Her heart lurched. You heard about stuff like that all the time
in the news. Should she tell someone? But there wasn’t anything to tell. And as far as the whole world was concerned, Melodie Stone was perfectly okay. It was just Tara who had the burning,
horrible certainty that she had never been less okay. She was going to have to research this herself. And then maybe she would be free of it.

She concentrated hard on remembering what the boy looked like. She had a good memory. Sometimes too good. It made some things hard to forget.

Anyway, she could see him in her mind’s eye: the dark eyes, the muscled arms and arrogant swagger. The T-shirt that clung in all the right places. Then she opened her eyes. The T-shirt had
something written on the back.

Lifeguard.

It wasn’t much to go on. But it was a start.

I
t was a half day for most of the school because of a careers event in the Sixth Form, so Tara had a free afternoon.

She stuffed a towel and the bikini she’d eventually found at the back of her knicker drawer into her school sports bag. They were only props. She had no intention of actually getting into
the water.

When she’d got to the big leisure centre in town she was relieved to see a spectators’ gallery above the Olympic-sized pool. Rows of plastic seats reached almost to the high ceiling,
giving her a good vantage point to watch the pool.

It was loud and hot, the air heavy with chlorinated moisture. Tara spent twenty minutes watching young children splashing about and adults joylessly totting up lengths. But there was no sign of
the boy. Then she realised none of the lifeguards even wore a T-shirt like his. Instead, theirs were yellow with the leisure centre logo on them. Annoyed at herself for not realising this straight
away, she got up to leave.

She bought a drink from the vending machine and sipped it, feeling flat about her wasted afternoon. It was all pointless anyway. Melodie bloody Stone. Instead of being here Tara could be . .
.

. . . where, exactly?

She searched her mind for what she might be doing and, finding nothing, felt a sharp kick of loneliness.

Tara decided she might as well be thorough now she’d got this far. She wandered over to the information desk. A girl not much older than herself with blond hair extensions in a long, tight
ponytail was texting, head down. Her long nails were painted silver with tiny black cats on them.

‘Um, excuse me?’ said Tara.

The girl’s head shot up, her high ponytail bouncing. ‘Yeah?’

‘Is this the only pool around here?’

The girl nodded.

Tara sighed. ‘Okay, thanks then.’

‘Don’t be silly, Jasmine. Have you forgotten about the lido?’ An older woman bustled out from a door at the back with a stack of leaflets in her arms.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said the girl, Jasmine, making a disapproving face.

‘Lido?’ said Tara. ‘What’s that . . . like an outdoor one?’

‘Yes,’ the woman said with a smile. ‘Lovely old place really. I learnt to swim there. Bit too cold for wimps these days though,’ she said and batted the girl’s arm
with the leaflets.

‘Urgh,’ said Jasmine with feeling. ‘Nasty old dump. Wouldn’t catch me there.’

Tara thanked them and, armed with a map the older woman had given her, set off to walk across town to the lido.

Thick white cloud blanketed the sky, oppressive and low. She slipped in her earbuds and turned on her iPod, hoping to drown the sensible voice in her head. It kept saying things like,
‘You’re not going to find him,’ and ‘What would you even say, if you did? “Hello, have you kidnapped Melodie Stone?”’

She marched on through the centre of town and out past several large housing estates, before crossing the ring road and heading towards where she knew there was a large woodland area and park.
This was where the woman had said the lido was located, although Tara hadn’t remembered seeing it when she and her family had gone for a walk that way shortly after moving in.

She realised she’d walked round in a circle after a while and was close to giving up when she saw an entrance to the park across the road. Tara looked crossly at the crumpled map in her
hand. She’d somehow missed the main entrance and walked almost to the top end of the park, adding to her journey. Her sandals were hurting now and her T-shirt clung with dampness to her back.
It was warm, despite the heavy cloud. Everyone kept saying it was the warmest October in a hundred years.