Stolen Girl (9 page)

‘Katie, you need to make a decision now. Who do you want to live with – me or Dad?’

I felt horrible choosing between them but in my heart I knew my mind was already made up; of course it would be Mum.

Now I’d seen the flat I didn’t worry about missing my old friends because I knew that I’d see them every day at school. I was so excited about my new life that I’d almost forgotten the most important person – Dad.

When I walked through the door of my old house, I told Dad my decision. But he didn’t say a word; instead he climbed the stairs and went into my bedroom. I didn’t know what to do so I followed. When I saw him sitting on my bed I thought my heart would break in two. He was hunched over, staring out into nothingness. Huge tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was clutching my old brown teddy bear in his hands. It was my favourite toy – I’d had him since I was small and he was worn and a little torn around the ears. I loved my bear but I loved my dad more.

But I’d made my decision. Dad’s heart had already been broken by Mum, and now I’d broken it just that little bit more.

‘Don’t forget this,’ he said, holding out my teddy in his hands.

But I didn’t want my bear, I wanted Dad. I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his big, strong neck. I inhaled the scent of him and tried to hold it in my memory, just in case I forgot what he looked like over the next few weeks.

‘I’m sorry…’ I began, but I couldn’t think of any words to say that would make him feel better.

Dad looked startled. He clasped his hands around my shoulders and held me away from him so that he could look into my eyes.

‘Hey, you’ve done nothing wrong, Katie. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.’

He was just putting a brave face on things but we both knew he was rubbish at it.

Mum told me to go inside and collect my things. I hated packing my clothes into a bag with Dad there but it had to be done and soon I’d have to say goodbye. I felt horrible. I’d thought of nothing else over the past three months. The truth was, I’d wanted to live with both of them but my heart was pulling more towards my mum. Dad had Andrew, Mum didn’t. Besides, Dad was struggling to hold down a job, look after us and the house. There were days when I went to school without a packed lunch, or sometimes I’d have to wear a dirty school uniform from the day before because he’d forgotten to put a wash on. I knew it would be easier living with Mum, who’d do all these things for me. It was selfish, but then I reasoned it would be easier on Dad too. He would only have half as much to do without me around.

‘Your Mum is coming to get you soon,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

‘But I don’t want to say goodbye,’ I replied, hot, frightened tears streaming down my face.

But Dad couldn’t speak. He was crying, this time in huge, deep sobs. He gasped for air as the tears came thick and fast. I’d never really seen my father cry before and I didn’t know what to do, so I cradled his head in my arms like a baby and just held
him there. We remained that way, with me holding Dad and him stroking my hair. Then I heard a familiar car horn toot in the street outside: it was time.

Dad gently prised my arms from him and led me downstairs, holding my hand the whole time. I didn’t want him to let go.

Mum was already waiting for me on the doorstep.

‘Bye, love,’ said Dad, as he held me close one last time. ‘Be a good girl for your mum.’

‘I will,’ I whispered. My voice gave way as emotion overwhelmed me.

‘Bye, Dad,’ I said, calling to him.

But he wouldn’t face me; instead he walked away into the kitchen and out through the back door. He couldn’t look back; he couldn’t watch me leave.

‘Ready?’ asked Mum, holding out her hand.

‘Ready,’ I said. With that I slammed the front door shut and walked up the garden path. I closed the rusty old red gate one last time. I vowed to myself that I’d come and visit Dad once a week. But deep down, now I’d made my choice, I knew things would never be the same again.

Turning the key in the ignition, Phil started up the car engine and soon we pulled away from the house I’d grown up in. I was leaving everything that was once so familiar far behind. I was heading forwards, off to a different and unfamiliar part of town, where we would be the new white people – the odd ones out amongst our Asian neighbours. I tried to convince myself that living in a flat above a shop would be a whole new adventure, something to relish, but as the car wound its way slowly down the street, little did I know how my life would change forever.

‘
W
hat's your new flat like?' Lauren asked. It was school break and we were sat on the school field, basking in the sunshine.

‘It's different, I suppose,' I replied, with a shrug of my shoulders.

Lauren turned; a look of concern clouded her face.

‘No, it's cool,' I said, quickly correcting myself.

I didn't want Lauren or anyone else to know how much I missed my old house and Dad. I missed everything about it, my bedroom and my friends. I used to be able to pop round to Lauren or Megan's houses whenever I wanted to. Now, if I wanted to see them, I'd have to organise it well in advance and ask Mum's permission. Everything was wrong. My heart ached for my dad and, when I thought no one was listening, I'd bury my head in my pillow and cry bitterly, soaking it with tears. Life was bearable but only just. With all these people gone, there was
a big empty void in my life and I didn't know how to fill it. There were lots of days in the flat when I just felt bored and very alone.

Mum was there, but she was always so preoccupied with Phil and their new life that I sometimes wondered if she even realised I was there. Some nights, although my tea was on the table when I came in from school, I felt as if I was a lodger rather than Mum's daughter. They didn't mean to leave me out but that's how it felt, as if I was living on the edge of their perfect bubble – an outsider, looking in.

The walks home from secondary school were long and lonely too. When I was living at Dad's, I'd walk with Lauren and Megan and we'd chat and sing all the way home. We'd chatter so much that the time would fly and I'd be at my front gates before I even knew it. But now, even though I lived closer to the school, the journey home seemed to drag and take forever. Every time I stepped inside the flat, Mum and Phil would be snuggling up on the sofa together. It made me feel awkward and embarrassed, like a spare part.

A few weeks later, my brother Andrew came to visit. I walked upstairs to find him talking to Mum in the front room of the flat.

‘Well, I'm sure we could all squeeze in somehow,' she was saying. ‘Maybe the sofa, if that's okay with you?'

Andrew looked either side of him. He was already sitting on the settee.

‘Okay,' he agreed. ‘I'll bring the rest of my stuff around later tonight.'

I shook my head in disbelief, having heard just enough to work out what was happening.

‘But I thought he was living with Dad?' I gasped.

It was the whole reason I'd chosen to live there. Andrew stayed with Dad and I lived with Mum – that was fair, this wasn't.

‘Your brother's moving in,' Mum announced, getting to her feet.

‘But what about Dad?'

I looked at Andrew but he glanced towards the floor. Mum looked uncomfortable too. I wondered if Dad wasn't coping.

‘Your dad will be fine,' Mum snapped. ‘It's your brother who's my main priority now.'

‘Well, he's not having my room,' I insisted.

‘Don't worry. He's on the sofa for now but it's only temporary. When we've got enough money, we'll get a house that's big enough for all of us.'

‘But how long's that going to take?' I exclaimed. I missed my old life and I hated the thought of having my big brother living in the front room, sticking his nose into my business.

‘As long as it takes,' Mum snapped, beginning to lose her temper. ‘Anyway, that's enough! I don't want to hear another word. Andrew's staying here and that's all there is to it.'

My dad was heartbroken when the marriage broke up. He'd mope around the house, looking lost. He was so upset that Andrew was finding it difficult to live there. He missed Mum so it was decided he would live with us. I felt for Dad, he'd done nothing wrong yet he was always the one being punished. The thought of him living alone crippled me with guilt.

The guilt plagued me so much it was all I ever thought of on my walk home from school. One afternoon, I was so caught up in my own thoughts that at first I didn't notice an Asian lad, who appeared to be following me. He trailed the whole way home behind me. It was only when I neared the parade of
shops and he stopped to watch me from the other side of the road that I paid him any attention. The following afternoon, the same thing happened again.

I was thirteen years old and although I'd hit puberty a few years before, dressed in my uniform I looked every inch the schoolgirl. I could tell this boy was older than me and wondered what he wanted. He didn't go to the same school and he certainly didn't wear a school uniform. Judging by his hoodie and jeans, I guessed he must have already left. He was tall and well-built, like a man.

The third night I was curious and purposefully looked out for him. Sure enough, as soon as I turned the corner, I spotted him again. My heart raced with excitement as I furtively glanced over. He looked even older than my brother – around eighteen – and when I looked up, I noticed he was smiling back at me. The hood on his top was pulled up close around his face even though it was red hot with the sun beating down. It was odd; although he was hiding from everyone else, he wanted to be seen – by me.

I felt my face flush and looked down at the pavement but as soon as I did, I had the sudden urge to look up again. I couldn't help it – this boy was interested in me. And now he was standing there, leaning against the wall, grinning over.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind: what if he was waiting for someone else? I glanced behind me but there was no one there. I walked along the street but as my step quickened, so did my heartbeat – the lad was following again.

Everything raced through my mind: what if he was a nutter? What if he attacked me? I anxiously looked back again. He'd crossed the road and now he was walking directly behind me. I stopped in my tracks and pretended to tie up my shoelace to
see what he'd do. But when I stopped, so did he. I stifled nervous laughter. I wasn't imagining it, he was following me. As I quickened my pace, so did he. By now he was trailing me by a couple of feet. I started to walk again but purposefully stopped and turned in my tracks. He did the same. This time I giggled and he did too. It was comical, as though we were playing a silly game of musical statues. Once more I quickened my pace and he copied me again. This was fun!

I still had a smirk across my face by the time I reached the front door of the flat. This time, like before, the boy hung back. Putting the key in the lock, I glanced over at him one last time and he automatically lifted up the palm of his hand to wave goodbye. It felt odd because I didn't know who he was or what he wanted from me. Yet, despite myself I momentarily lifted my hand and waved back at him. I felt my face flush so I slammed the door before he could see. Afterwards I leant up against the cold wood and I stayed that way for a moment to calm my pounding heart. The adrenalin was still pumping through my veins. Who was the strange boy and what did he want? I was intrigued.

The following day, when the boy was nowhere to be seen, I felt my heart deflate inside my chest. Maybe he'd become bored of me. It was my fault; I should have spoken to him. Maybe because I'd been so rude, I'd never see him again. I hadn't asked this boy to follow me but now that he had, I missed having him around. It gave me something to look forward to – something of my own, a new and delicious secret to keep.

I didn't tell anyone about the boy, not even Lauren or Megan. I don't know why I didn't tell them, maybe it was because I enjoyed the attention and thought if I kept him a secret I'd have him all to myself. Besides, what would I tell them – that a strange Asian boy was stalking me? They'd think that I
was making it up. After all, it did sound ridiculous. I even wondered if this mystery man was all in my head – maybe he was a way of escaping my humdrum life?

But when he reappeared the following day, my heart leapt. The sun was high in the sky as I walked through the school gates. Hitching my school bag up on my shoulder, I spotted him as soon as I turned the corner. My whole spirit lifted and I couldn't wipe the smile from my face: he was back and he was there for me. It made me feel special – important. When I coyly caught his gaze and he grinned I felt a flutter in my chest. He was pleased to see me too.

Looking down the street I walked along as normal but this time his pace quickened until I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck. I held my head high and tried to focus straight ahead but a few minutes later, without warning, the boy crossed over to the opposite side of the road. I wasn't sure what to do; I didn't know if he wanted me to cross over too. Suddenly, I felt young and unsure of myself. I tried to carry on along the street but every so often I glanced over to make sure that he was still there. Now he knew – I was interested in him too. Maybe this was a test?

As we neared the flat, he crossed over to the same side of the road as me and came to an abrupt halt. I turned back because I wasn't sure what to do. As my gaze met his, he gestured over with a simple nod of his head. His eyes were wide and expectant; his hands were thrust deep into his jeans pockets and his hood was pulled up tightly around his face again. Even so, I could tell he looked awkward. He nodded towards me and then to a dirt path which ran around the back of the shops. My heart thudded in my chest. It was obvious what he wanted – he wanted me to follow him.

I glanced up and down the street but I was new to the neighbourhood and there was no one I knew well enough to tell Mum. Apprehensively, I strode towards him. As I did so, he walked up and along the dirt path but kept turning around to check I was still there.

The more he disappeared from view, the more I wanted to follow. Everything told me to stop and run the other way but there was something – something I couldn't see was spurring me on. I wasn't sure if it was curiosity or just sheer stubbornness that wouldn't allow me to turn back. Whatever it was, I needed to know what this boy wanted from me. The dry, dusty dirt puffed up around his feet as he came to a sudden halt up ahead. As I got closer, I saw his face properly for the first time. My heart leapt. He was really good-looking. He wasn't pale and spotty like the boys at school. His skin was a warm, rich amber brown colour. It reminded me of baked sand, exotic spices and faraway lands. He was mysterious and like no one I'd ever met before. I was excited and curious. His eyes stared down at me from underneath the darkened shadow of his hoodie. They were such a deep brown, they were almost black – the colour of precious jet. They shone as, in a low, whispered voice, he began to speak.

‘I've noticed you around…' he said in a deep gravelly voice.

My heart fluttered. This good-looking older lad had noticed
me
, not any of the popular girls, just me. I was thrilled. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves. I was young and inexperienced but I didn't want it to show. I wasn't used to boys paying me attention like this.

‘
Me
?' I repeated, as though I'd misheard him.

‘Yep,' he replied.

In that split second, I studied him. Dressed in his grey hoodie,
blue designer jeans and trendy Adidas trainers, I thought how cool he looked. He was older and much more sophisticated than the stupid boys who called me names at school. But why would he notice me? I was plain; I wasn't pretty like the other girls. For a moment, I was worried it was a joke, that someone had put him up to it. But I didn't know him and I was certain he wouldn't know any of the girls at school.

‘You live in the flat above the shop, don't you?' he said as more of a statement than a question.

I nodded and swallowed hard. He knew where I lived; he must have noticed me to know something like that.

A silence hung in the air between us. I tried to think of something interesting to say but my mind went blank. I was still trying to think of something when he broke the silence.

‘I think you're fit!' he grinned.

I swallowed hard again, it was nerves. I had to stop them and look in control otherwise he'd realise how young and silly I really was. I prayed that he'd not heard me gulp. Suddenly, I felt very inexperienced, standing next to this teenager who was almost a man.

I couldn't believe he'd noticed me and not anyone else. Not one of the girls at school, the ones who always got the boyfriends. No, he'd noticed plain old Katie Taylor, the ugly duckling. The girl they called Dumbo. The girl who everyone thought was rubbish at everything. Here I was standing behind the shops, talking to a good-looking boy who fancied me! He'd followed me and had even picked me out from the crowd. I was special – and I felt it. He'd made me feel like that and I liked it.

‘Do you?' I gasped, looking up at him.

My voice sounded as young and immature as the child I actually was. I fiddled with my school tie. The fabric slipped
between my fingers as I tried to think of something to say to impress him.

‘Yeah, I think you're really fit and I want to see you. Do you want to hang out together?' he asked. He shrugged his shoulders as if I must have been asked the same question every day of my life.

‘Yeah, okay,' I answered, a little too quickly; my heart began to thud.

It didn't cross my mind to ask why this older boy would want to hang out with a thirteen-year-old girl. I was just so utterly thrilled and flattered by the attention. At last, I had someone who wanted me because they fancied me, not like my on/off boyfriend Dean – he was just a kid. This boy was cool; he was older and more grown-up. He was gorgeous and he liked me. I lifted my hand and pressed it against the side of my cheek. My face felt hot. I tried to cool it with the back of my hand – I didn't want to look like the nervous, blushing schoolgirl I was.

The boy smiled and cupped my face with his hand, it felt nice.

‘Have you got a mobile?' he asked.