her bolting again. If she left now I know I’d worry about her.
‘There’s no one.’ Her face darkens.
‘Look, Sophie, I’m not going to call anyone if you don’t want me to. But if there’s anything I can do to help then why don’t you just ask. If I can’t do it, I’ll say no. But you may as well ask me. What have you got to lose?’ I know I’m opening myself up to trouble here, but I don’t want to be one of those do-gooders who talk the talk and enjoy the power trip of organising fundraisers, but when someone genuinely needs help, they turn their back. I want to be better than that.
Sophie looks as though she’s having some internal struggle. Working out whether or not she can trust me. Finally, her shoulders sag. ‘You’re so nice.’
‘I have my moments.’ I give her a quick smile.
‘Okay, well, I feel really awful asking. I know it’s really cheeky, but, well, I’ve been walking all night and I’m so tired. I just need somewhere to… not to stay, just maybe to hide out for a while.’
‘Hide out?’ I’m a little shocked, and a tiny bit nervous. ‘Who are you hiding from? You said you were trying to get away from someone.’
She bows her head and twists her fingers. ‘I’m sorry, I should probably go. Sorry again for any inconvenience. Thanks for being kind.’ She obviously doesn’t want to answer any of my questions.
‘Don’t be daft. You don’t have to leave right now. You can stay a while longer. Keep me company while I make these cakes if you like.’
‘I can’t. I’m obviously getting in your way. You’re in the middle of stuff. It’s fine. I’m fine now. Much better. Thanks for the drink.’ She gets to her feet and walks towards the door.
If she leaves now and something bad happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. ‘Sophie, I mean it. Come back. You can give me a hand, if it makes you feel a bit better about staying. I could really use the help.’
‘You’re just being kind. You don’t really need any help.’
‘Honestly, you’d be doing me a favour if you helped me out with these cakes.’
‘I’m not really any good at baking.’
‘That’s okay, it’s easy, just a bit of stirring. I’ll shout out instructions.’ I give her a grin to try to put her at ease and she rewards me with a lukewarm smile in return.
Maybe I’ve been a bit foolish letting a strange person into my house, but I always prefer to trust people. To give them the benefit of the doubt. And this girl is definitely scared. She’s running from something or someone and she needs some kindness.
As Sophie washes her hands in preparation to help me make my cakes, I take a good look at her face to see if I might recognise her at all. But there’s nothing familiar about her features. She can’t be from around here. I’ve lived in Ashridge Falls all my life, so I know almost everyone, if not personally then at least by sight. And anyway, she can’t be from around here, because bad things like this don’t happen in our town.
At least not any more.
Four
Her footsteps echo down the empty corridor. Past all the empty classrooms. Past the artwork on the walls. Past the posters advertising this weekend’s regatta. It’s all exactly the same as before, but all so different. Everything is different now. She barely pays any of it attention. All she knows is she has to get out of here. She has to escape the cloying disinfected halls of this place.
Pushing open the heavy fire doors, she steps out into the playground, taking great heaving gulps of fresh air. But the fresh air and blue skies don’t help. She has the feeling that nothing will help. Not ever.
It’s silent out here. All her friends have gone home already. Why didn’t she go with them? What made her go back inside? She knows what. She knows why. She could have waited until tomorrow to get that history book, but she thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was in control. So cool and grown-up. But she’s not. She’s stupid. So, so stupid.
Tears fall hot on her cheeks and her skin burns with shame. With humiliation. What did she do wrong? How did this happen? She’s supposed to come back here next term to start at the sixth form. She was looking forward to the next