‘You won’t lose me. Whatever happens. I’m still your daughter and I still love you.’
He won’t look at me. ‘Please hear me out. No one has to know about this. It’s just you, Cass and this Polly girl, isn’t it? And from what you’ve told me, they don’t want this getting out either. There are four of us, Alice. Four people can keep a secret. The police investigation is closed. No one has to know.’
‘That makes you an accessory.’ I don’t know why I’m even bothering. He’s never going to agree to this. I should just tell him about Jack. That will stop him in his tracks.
‘I don’t bloody care what it makes me! I’m your father, Alice. Some day you’ll have children and you’ll understand what it is to be a parent. That’s if you’re not banged up in some women’s prison!’ he shouts.
I’ve heard enough. I get up from the sofa and head for the stairs.
‘Alice King, you get back here right now. I haven’t finished talking to you yet!’ If I close my eyes it could almost be six or seven years ago. I can almost imagine he’s cross with me because I’ve refused to eat all the carrots on my plate.
‘Let’s talk about this in the morning. We’re both exhausted.’
He gets up and rubs his face with his hands. ‘You’re right. Come and give your old Dad a hug, will you?’
There was a time when I thought that Dad’s hugs had magical properties. They always made me feel better when I was scared or worried. They even made me feel a little bit better when I was ill.
There’s something final about this particular hug. I wonder if Dad feels it too, because he whispers, ‘I’ll always love you, Alice. Never, ever forget that.’
‘OK, Dad.’
‘Promise me?’
‘I promise.’
The last thing he says to me before I leave the room is, ‘You’re a good girl.’
I don’t know who he’s trying to convince.
50
Bruno is lying on Dad’s bed, illuminated by a shaft of light from the hall. ‘Here, boy! Come here!’ I whistle, but the sound doesn’t come out right. He raises his head and looks at me. He puts his head back on his paws and closes his eyes.
My bedroom is cold.
I turn on my laptop and search through my desk drawers while it’s booting up. There’s a photo I need to find. It used to have pride of place on my bedside table. Until I put it away because I couldn’t bear to look at it.
I find it wedged in the back of the bottom drawer. It’s slightly torn in the corner. I should have taken better care of it.
Grumps took the photo on my eighth birthday. There’s a cake on a table in the background. A cake with eight candles. I’m wearing a blue and green stripy dress and standing in front of Mum and Dad. I’m cowering and laughing because Mum has just started tickling me. No one’s looking at the camera: Dad’s looking at Mum and Mum’s looking at me and I’ve got my eyes squeezed shut from laughing so hard. It’s a bit of a rubbish photo really. The composition’s all wrong, and we’re ever so slightly out of focus. But it’s the only one I have.
There are loads of photos of me and Mum, or me and Dad, or Mum and Dad. But this is the only one I have with all three of us. I don’t know why that is. I’m sure there must be others, maybe on Dad’s computer. I wish I’d thought to look for them before.
I carefully fold the photo and put it in the back pocket of my jeans.
My ancient laptop has booted up at last. I sit on the floor with it balanced on my thighs. It takes me a while to find what I’m looking for. I don’t know how long I sit there staring at the screen.
There’s a missed call from Cass on my phone. She’s left a message, but I don’t listen to it. I send a text: ‘I’m sorry.’
The background on my phone is a picture of me and Jack. I took it myself, angling the phone over our heads. It’s a nice picture. I delete it.
Ghost Tara appears next to me. Close enough to touch, if she wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Her hands are no longer muddy and bloody. And she’s not sixteen any more. She’s Tara Chambers, my best friend. Wet hair scraped back into a ponytail after swimming. School uniform a little too big for her. Braces on her teeth.
She doesn’t say anything.
I enter a number into the phone.
My finger hovers over the call button.
I look at ten-year-old Tara and she nods. There’s a hint of a smile there too.
I press the button and close my eyes.
‘Hello? I’d like to speak to Detective Inspector Marshall. I have information about the disappearance of Tara Chambers.’
I open my eyes and Tara is gone.
I don’t think she’ll be back.
the end
Acknowledgements
Much of this book was written under difficult circumstances, so these thanks are especially heartfelt. I couldn’t have completed Torn without the help, support and total awesomeness of:
Lara Williamson, Nova Ren Suma, Liz de Jager, Kaz Mahoney, Courtney Summers, Sarah Stewart, Irene Hodgson, Michael Bedo, Non Parish, Emily de la Mare, Liz Scott, Sam Meredith and Jessica Pitcairn.
Big thanks to the utterly marvellous Victoria Birkett, the legendary Nancy Miles, and Caroline Hill-Trevor – a rights-selling superhero if ever there was one.
Thank you to Roisin Heycock, Niamh Mulvey, Talya Baker and all at Quercus.
Thanks to my Sisters: Keris Stainton, Luisa Plaja, Kay Woodward, Tamsyn Murray, Keren David, Sophia Bennett, Susie Day, Fiona Dunbar and Gillian Philip.
Thanks to the brilliant bloggers of t’interweb for being incredibly supportive, especially: Lauren, Sya, Carly, Iffath, Becky, Caroline, Jo, Sophie, Andrew, Jenny, Sarah, Sammee and Ryan.
A special thanks to Rae at St Augustine’s RC High School, Edinburgh, for letting me steal her name.
Music-wise, I’d like to tip my hat to My Chemical Romance, Imogen Heap and Owl City.
And finally, an extra-special big fat thank you to my family for being brilliant.
CAT CLARKE
entangled
‘Clarke gets brilliantly inside the head of her protagonist’ Bookseller
‘Moving, thought-provoking and truly gripping from start to finish’ Mizz
‘Entangled is incredibly poignant and thought-provoking’ Birmingham Post
The same questions whirl round and round in my head:
What does he want from me?
How could I have let this happen?
AM I GOING TO DIE?
Seventeen-year-old Grace wakes up in a white room, with a table, pens and paper – and no clue how she got there.
As Grace pours her tangled life onto the page, she is forced to remember everything she’s tried to forget. There’s falling hopelessly in love with the gorgeous Nat, and the unravelling of her relationship with her best friend, Sal. But there’s something missing. As hard as she’s trying to remember, is there something she just can’t see?
Grace must face the most important question of all.
Why is she here?
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Cat Clarke, Torn
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