Trust Me Page 7

  ‘Shouldn’t you at least go to a hospital?’ I asked.

  Andrew shook his head. ‘I only lost a little blood. He didn’t do anything else to me.’

  ‘But he might try it on someone else. He might kill someone. He might have killed someone already . . .’

  ‘He won’t do anything else tonight. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.’

  We were finally down the stairs and heading out of the front door. ‘How can you be so sure?’ My head was full of all the church bells in London, pealing out like there was a royal wedding going on. I leaned heavily on Andrew, my head swimming. ‘I feel like shit,’ I groaned, holding my head.

  ‘It was the drinks Julius gave us. They were spiked.’

  ‘Spiked?’ So I had been right. Julius had wanted to kill both of us, I realized. ‘Andrew, we have to go to the police.’

  ‘No, Jayna. Trust me.’

  I tilted my head to look at him. ‘How come you’re so . . . calm about all this? Julius is a lunatic. He might have killed us.’

  ‘But you stopped him.’

  ‘I did? But—’ The rushing, roaring waterfall was back, the sound crashing through my head. With a start, I realized it was the sound of my own blood thundering in my ears.

  I almost fell over when Andrew started waving his arms about, my support gone. I was slipping away again. I vaguely remembered being unceremoniously bundled into what I presumed was a taxi. I have no idea how long we drove for, but at some stage I was bundled out again. By this time, if it hadn’t been for Andrew’s arm round my waist, I would have hit the pavement for sure.

  ‘What was in those drinks?’ I muttered.

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Do you know?’

  ‘Yeah. Julius told me. I wish . . . I wish he hadn’t,’ breathed Andrew.

  ‘He told you?’ My voice was getting fainter and fainter. ‘Did he . . . did he spike anyone else’s drink at the party?’ We made our way into the hostel.

  ‘No, just ours.’

  ‘Andrew, I feel sick.’

  ‘Hang on. All you need is some sleep.’

  ‘We should go to the police. Right now. Right—’

  ‘We can’t, Jayna.’

  ‘Why . . . why not?’

  ‘I’ll explain tomorrow. You’re in no fit state to understand tonight.’

  ‘But you’re all right?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Am I all right? That’s an interesting question.’ Andrew laughed, a harsh, grating laugh that was unfamiliar – totally unlike his normal laugh.

  Even in my semi-unconscious state, I could detect the bitterness in his voice. Bitterness, and something else. Something I couldn’t quite place. Fear? From far away, I heard Andrew explain to Luka the receptionist that I didn’t feel well. The understatement of the decade.

  ‘Just a little further, Jayna.’ His voice was retreating all the time.

  We were in our room. I fell away from him onto the bed. ‘We should go to the police. I’ll go. I’ll . . . see them. Right . . . this . . .’ I tried to stand up but failed miserably. I looked up at Andrew. He was watching me, with a look on his face that I’d never seen before. ‘Andrew, what’s going on? I feel so . . . peculiar.’

  ‘You’ll be all right. I love you, Jayna.’

  ‘I . . . I know,’ I whispered. My head rocked back. My eyes closed. And once again I checked out.

  When I awoke, I was alone. The moment I opened my eyes I knew that Andrew was no longer in the room with me. Groaning against the headache that threatened to split my skull wide open, I looked towards the window. The thin, faded cotton curtains were still drawn, but daylight filtered past them and through them, speckling the room with yellow-white light.

  I wondered where Andrew was. Was he all right? Our first stop this morning would be the nearest police station, that was for sure. The other half of the bed looked like it hadn’t even been slept in. Past Andrew’s side of the bed there was only one backpack – mine. A sheet of A4 paper sat self-consciously on his pillow. I sat up, wincing again as my head threatened to drop off – I half wished it would, to put me out of my misery. Lurching across the pillows, I grabbed the sheet of paper and sat down gingerly. No sudden movements and maybe my head would forgive me for guzzling alcohol provided by a stranger. Never, ever again. It had been beyond stupid to get into the car of a stranger abroad. I had no idea why I’d even accepted Julius’s offer of a lift to his party. I knew better than that – at least, I had thought I did. And Andrew said the drinks Julius gave us were spiked . . . or had I dreamed that bit?

  * * *

  Jayna,

  For reasons I’ll explain when I see you, I’ve had to go home, back to London. I promise I’m fine, so don’t worry, but follow me straight home. Don’t talk to anyone and on no account go to the police. It’s very important that you don’t let me down.

  I love you.

  Andrew

  * * *

  I read the letter for a second and a third time. With each passing moment, I knew for certain that my head was going to explode, but not from a hangover.

  Andrew had gone home? He’d actually left me here and buggered off home without me? I read the letter a fourth time and still couldn’t believe it. How could he? Why did he? There had to be a rational explanation, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with one. I crumpled up the letter and threw it against the wall.

  ‘You bastard, Andrew,’ I muttered, holding my head.

  And never in my life had I felt so alone.

  13

  I WAS TEMPTED to go to the police anyway, in spite of Andrew’s wishes. Reluctantly I retrieved his letter, straightened it out and read it again. Why was he so insistent that I shouldn’t go to the police? It didn’t make any sense. What was he playing at? Why had he left me alone here? When had he left? Questions and more questions buzzed around my mind like angry wasps.

  I couldn’t believe it. It had to be a joke. Andrew wouldn’t really leave me alone and go home without me . . .? Looking around the small room, I knew I was only fooling myself. The room was still, silent. From another room I heard a cough. It made me feel even more isolated.

  He really had gone. Andrew had gone and left me here. But why? I bit down on my bottom lip. No reason in the world would be good enough to explain why he’d done it. It was almost as though he’d run away. But from what? From me?

  I couldn’t understand it. Andrew was safe. We’d been stupid and careless to let Julius get to us like that, but we’d escaped. So what was this all about?

  With a cry of exasperation, I sprang off the bed. I’d had enough. All I wanted to do now was go home. Julius was someone else’s problem. I wanted to get as far away from him and Fipoli and the whole damn country as I could. Julius was obviously several trains short of a full service. Did he often drug people, drink some of their blood, then let them go? After all, he’d let us go. Andrew had said something about us having to leave Julius’s house before Julius changed his mind – so he must have let us go.

  Yeah, I knew I should tell the police – what if it happened to someone else? But in Italy? On my own? When I could barely manage more than a few words of the language? When all I’d be doing would be proving to my mum how we had been too young to go away together without getting into trouble? Maybe we could report Julius when we were both back in London, when I’d had a chance to talk to Andrew. Right now, I had more important things on my mind – like getting home.

  I was alive. And so was Andrew.

  But he wouldn’t be once I caught up with him!

  14

  FOUR DAYS LATER I was back in England. Four whole days it took me. And with each passing moment, the rage inside me intensified until I was choking on it. The week’s events had assumed an unreal, dreamlike quality. As I got further and further away from Fipoli, both in distance and in time, I wasn’t sure which of my memories were real and which ones were the result of too many spiked drinks or too much imagination. The part where I’d pleaded
for Andrew’s life, for example. Was that real?

  One thing was certain: Andrew had dumped me. After four days of thinking about practically nothing else, I was sure that was what this was all about. He’d dumped me after my paralytic newt display and was too much of a coward to tell me so to my face.

  I told myself I was being stupid. Why would someone who professed to love me be put off by my collapsing. I hadn’t done it on purpose. And most, if not all, of that was because Julius had tampered with my drinks. But what other explanation for Andrew’s behaviour was there? After all, it wasn’t as if something like it hadn’t happened to me before. Dad had said he loved us too – Mum, me, Teegan – but it hadn’t stopped him from leaving either.

  There were no two ways about it. Andrew had gone back home, leaving me in Fipoli to fend for myself. That’s what I found so hard to forgive. I longed to see him, to tell him just what I thought of him. If it was true that he’d dumped me, I wouldn’t show him how much it hurt. I was good at that. I wouldn’t hear him laughing because I’d laugh first and loudest.

  By the time the ferry had reached England, I’d convinced myself that I felt nothing but antipathy for Andrew. I’d got through the lonely train rides across Europe, the waiting in empty stations, the restless overnight stays in hostels not previously on our itinerary, the meals alone, the pitying looks – I’d got through them all, just by thinking about what I’d do when I caught up with my ex-boyfriend.

  The train crawled from the coast to central London – frustrating, to say the least. There seemed to be points and signal failures about every half-mile, and by the time I eventually reached home it was dark.

  ‘Mum!’ I shouted as soon as I stepped past my front door.

  Silence. Then I remembered that Mum and Teegan were in the Lake District and wouldn’t be back for another week. How I wished they were at home, or that I’d gone with them. This permanent concrete block sitting in my chest really wasn’t worth it. Andrew wasn’t worth it. Bastard!

  I longed for someone to talk to. I thought of Diane, then remembered that she was visiting her dad in Cornwall this week. Who else? I’d even have settled for Teegan. When that thought entered my head, I knew I was in a bad way. Fighting against the self-pity I felt, I dropped my backpack in the hall before straightening up slowly. I inhaled, taking in England and London and, most importantly, home.

  For the first time since I went on holiday, I realized just how much I’d missed it. Faint traces of Mum’s herb dumplings, her perfume and air-freshener hung in the air. I was so weary I just wanted to go to bed and curl up and not move until Mum and Teegan came back, but I had things to do. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and then it was time to leave the house.

  Mentally rolling up my sleeves, I stepped out into the night again. Alternating between running and walking, I headed for Andrew’s house. I didn’t phone him first to warn him that I was about to descend. Some things were better said face-to-face.

  At last I reached my destination. And by the time I did, I couldn’t stop my hands from clenching and unclenching. I was tempted to keep my finger on the doorbell until the front door opened, but then Mrs Harrison might open the door instead of Andrew. I didn’t want to waste even a smidgen of my anger on her. I rang the bell. Almost immediately the front door opened and I tried not to grimace. It was Mr Harrison. When he saw me, his eyes opened wide.

  ‘Hello, Jayna,’ he said, surprised.

  ‘Hi, Mr Harrison. Is Andrew at home? May I speak to him please?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Mr Harrison frowned at me. ‘Isn’t he with you? We weren’t expecting you back until next week.’

  ‘Frederick, who is it?’ Mrs Harrison emerged from her pristine designer kitchen. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Susan, Jayna is asking for Andrew.’

  ‘Andrew?’ she said sharply. ‘He’s with you.’

  In the silence that followed I could actually hear my heartbeat speed up. ‘I . . . I . . .’ Seeing the look of dawning anxiety on Mrs Harrison’s face, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘Where’s my son?’ Mrs Harrison strode to the front door, sweeping her husband aside.

  ‘Andrew left me behind in Fipoli,’ I explained quickly. ‘He left me a note saying he’d meet me at home—’

  ‘Andrew would never do that,’ she interrupted.

  ‘I’m not lying. That’s exactly what he did,’ I replied, just as angry as she was. ‘I have the note he left me if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Show me,’ demanded Mrs Harrison.

  ‘Now then, Susan, let’s all just calm down, shall we?’ Mr Harrison soothed.

  I searched through the pockets of my jeans for Andrew’s letter, before I remembered where it was.

  ‘I’ve left it in my backpack at home,’ I mumbled, annoyed, then added in a louder voice, ‘But he did leave me. He said he’d explain why when I got back home.’

  ‘He’s not here, Jayna.’ Mr Harrison frowned again. ‘We haven’t seen him since the two of you went on holiday together.’ His voice held the faintest recriminatory hint which I chose to ignore.

  ‘Did you two have a quarrel? Is that why Andrew isn’t home yet?’ Mrs Harrison’s glaring dislike battered at me like a gale-force wind.

  ‘No, we didn’t quarrel,’ I said indignantly.

  ‘Susan, calm down.’ Mr Harrison placed a restraining hand on his wife’s arm. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Andrew came home without Jayna.’

  ‘We only have her word for that,’ said Andrew’s mum.

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

  ‘No, Jayna, my wife isn’t accusing you of any such thing. Are you, dear?’ Mr Harrison said firmly. ‘We’re just worried, that’s all. You say that Andrew left Fipoli before you?’

  ‘That’s what he said in his letter,’ I replied slowly, fighting to control my temper. I hated being called a liar. ‘He said he’d see me at home so I assumed he was coming straight here.’

  ‘Where is he now then?’ Mrs Harrison asked.

  If I knew that, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you, I thought. From the way her eyes narrowed she’d deciphered my thoughts. I lowered my gaze immediately. Damn my lack of a poker face.

  ‘I’ll go to the Burger Bar. Maybe he’s there, or someone there has seen him.’

  ‘If you find him tell him to come straight home, will you?’ Mr Harrison said.

  I nodded and turned away from them.

  ‘Jayna Lucas, if anything has happened to my son I’ll never forgive you,’ Mrs Harrison said from behind me.

  ‘Susan!’ Andrew’s father admonished.

  I turned round again to look at them.

  ‘Frederick, something has happened to Andrew. I can feel it,’ Mrs Harrison protested.

  ‘Andrew’s fine, Mrs Harrison, I just know he is,’ I said.

  I’m the one who got left behind. I’m the one who had to fight my way across Europe back to London. I’m the seventeen-year-old girl who got left on her own. How could your son do that to someone he claims to love?

  ‘Mum, what’s she doing here?’ I froze at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

  ‘Andrew’s not home yet – and she is,’ Mrs Harrison replied. ‘If Andrew is not home by midnight, I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Now, Susan, you know how much Andrew hates fuss and bother,’ Mr Harrison chided.

  ‘I don’t care. My son is missing. She should know where he is, and she doesn’t.’

  ‘Where’s my brother?’ Morgan grabbed my arm, yanking me round to face him.

  ‘I don’t know – if I did, I wouldn’t be round here asking.’ I pulled my arm out of his grasp.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Morgan frowned.

  ‘Mr Harrison,’ I addressed myself to the most reasonable of the Harrison clan, ‘I’ll go to the Burger Bar and see if he’s there.’

  Andrew, thank you so much for leaving me to face your family all by myself. I wouldn’t w
ish that on my worst enemy.

  With the thoughts racing to and fro in my mind, I was surprised the air around my head hadn’t turned a deep shade of blue.

  Giving Morgan a wide berth, I walked through the open gate and began to head up the road.

  ‘I’ll be right back, Dad,’ I heard Morgan say from behind me.

  I walked faster. I heard Morgan’s heavy feet pounding behind me. Perspiration trickled down my back like rain down a window pane.

  He ran in front of me, barring my way. ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said stonily.

  ‘Shift, Morgan. I’m not in the mood for you. Not tonight.’ I tried to walk round him, but he sidestepped in front of me, blocking my way again.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ His smile sent a chill down my spine. ‘I want to talk to you, and this time Andrew isn’t here to stop me.’

  15

  I DIDN’T NEED this. I really didn’t need this.

  ‘You’re in my way, Morgan.’ My heart was hammering so loudly I wondered if he could hear it.

  Morgan regarded me, his expression hard as granite, his bottle-green eyes giving me frostbite. ‘Where’s my brother?’ he said at last.

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.’ I spoke slowly with deliberate patience.

  ‘If anything happens to him . . .’

  Anger flared through my body. ‘Look, your brother left me in Fipoli and came home without me, not the other way around. Doesn’t anyone in your family give a monkey’s about anyone but themselves?’

  ‘You’re here, my brother isn’t.’

  I breathed deeply. ‘I’m going to the Burger Bar and then I’m going home. And if I do see your brother, then I’ll have a few things to say to him myself. I’ve had more than enough of your family to last me a lifetime.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Morgan said.

  ‘You are not.’

  ‘I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. Don’t run away with the idea that I want your company.’