Chapter31
Just like always
Harry
“Do you need more money? Is that what this is? More resources?” I tore my hands through my hair as I paced my living room. It had been over twelve hours since Verity had gone missing. I’d come back to the house thinking that she might turn up here. Max and Mia went back to her cottage in Dorset in case she went there, but there was still no sign of her. The only lead Sam’s team had been able to get was that a lady with an actively bleeding cut had been taken to Paddington station at around nine o’clock last night from the venue. Then… nothing.
“Not sure this is one you can buy your way out of here, mate,” put in Toby, who was sitting next to Heath on one of the sofas. I scowled at him. “They’re doing all they can.”
“I’m sorry Mr York, but as soon as she hit that station, she was smoke. No leads that we’ve been able to find,” Sam said.
“I’m sure she’ll ring you soon, Harry,” my sister-in-law said from her position perched on the arm of my brother’s chair. Everyone looked exhausted. Heath, Toby and I had had no sleep at all, and the others were too worried to sleep for long. I felt bad for Yaz as she was pregnant, but she was just as worried as the rest of us. Even Barbara had only clawed Toby once and hadn’t even shoved her butt in any of the strangers faces yet.
“Right,” Mum said as she bustled into the room with Dad in tow. Both of them were carrying trays of tea and biscuits. “This is what we all need. Tea makes everything better.”
“Tea is not a cure-all, Mum,” I snapped. “I want to know where my girlfriend is.”
“I know you do, love,” said Mum, handing me a cup of tea and staring at me until I at least put it to my lips before she moved on. “But shouting at the people that are trying to help you isn’t useful. Drinking some tea and trying to think clearly is a much better plan. Don’t you agree, Martin?”
“Always, love,” Dad said dutifully as he handed around the rest of the teas.
“Now then,” Mum said as she bent down to Heath who was sitting next to a now asleep-with-Barbara Yaz on the loveseat. She lowered her voice so as not to wake Yaz or Barbara up. “Drink up for me, sweetheart.” Heath looked a little dazed, but he did manage to accept the tea. Mum did her staring thing again until he took a small sip. “Good lad,” she said, and I would have laughed if it wasn’t such a dire situation. I doubted that Heath Markham had been called aladfor at least a decade. “Can you think of anywhere that sister of yours could have got to?”
“Mum, we’ve been over this with Heath. He doesn’t–”
“Shush now, darling,” she said, holding her hand up to me. “Let the boy have a think. Drink some more tea, love. That’s it. Now, where do you think she’d go? Where would she feel safe?”
“I’m not surprised she took a train. She loves trains,” Heath said as he frowned into the distance. “Getting on the train to go to school. Leaving that bloody house and knowing we were free for another few months. Yeah, V loves trains.”
“School,” I whispered, staring at Heath. “You guys loved school. Didn’t you?”
Heath shifted in his chair. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with loving school, mate. We’ve apologised for…”
I slashed my hand through the air. “No, I mean Verity really, really loved that school. She felt safe there. Didn’t she?”
“I don’t understand what you–”
“I know where she is.”
* * *
Verity
Tap tap tap tap. My eyelids fluttered open at the repetitive sound, and as I swam up from sleep the first thing I noticed was the smell: old leather and books – the most comforting combination in the world. Ten years ago I made a donation to the school for this library. My only caveat was that the old leather sofa would stay, tucked away where it had always been. Just knowing it was here was enough. I hadn’t been sure if I’d still fit through the window (teenage Verity was a skinnier human), or whether the lock would still be loose, but these old institutions aren’t big on change. I was able to work the lock open and crawl through the window last night. At the time I’d been so exhausted that I simply collapsed on the beaten-up leather and fell straight asleep.
The tapping had stopped now and I let my eyelids fall closed again, breathing in deeply and letting the breath out slowly like Yaz taught me. I wasn’t ready to let the real world intrude, not yet. As I drifted off, I went into a half-dream half-daydream state, going over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I felt a tear trickle across my temple and onto the soft leather, so I reached back further in my mind, looking for better memories – something to take me away from the pain of last night. Then I was back here again. Back in the safest place I knew with the comforting smell and the warmth of the sun pouring in through the window above. My mind conjured that skinny boy with a thick mop of curly hair scowling at me from across the sofa as I tucked my feet under his legs. Even through his scowl I could still see the slight curve of his lips as he suppressed a smile. The weird thing was that I could actually feel the warmth and weight of his legs on my bare feet.
“Verity?” It was his voice, but deeper. Not the voice of teenage Harry with the curly hair. I frowned and shifted on the leather, tucking my feet further under his legs. “Honey, wake up.”
“Read your book, Harry,” I muttered, reached my hand up to push the hair out of my face. A burning pain shot through my cheek when I grazed it with my fingers and I flinched, my eyes flying open.
“Shit, Verity,” not-teenage Harry’s voice said, concern threaded through his tone. “Careful of your face, baby.” I felt his large hand settle on my calf and give it a squeeze and I turned to look across at him. The curly mop was gone although his thick dark hair looked more dishevelled than I’d ever seen it in recent times. The skinny frame was bulked out, his muscular chest still evident despite the dress shirt he had on from the night before – top two buttons undone now, revealing his corded throat. Sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing his muscular forearms. His beautiful eyes had dark shadows underneath them. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. I frowned, which unfortunately caused another lance of pain through my cheek and I winced again. Harry’s eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, a flash of fury in his expression as his gaze flew to the badly applied plaster on my face.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice croaky from sleep and the fact I hadn’t drunken anything in over twelve hours. Harry’s grip on my leg tightened.
“Of course,” he said, his voice warring between concern and irritation. “Of course,youaskmeif I’m okay.”
I pushed up onto my forearms then paused as my head started to swim. Suddenly the weight of Harry’s legs on my feet was gone. Then he was there, squatting in front of me, one of his large hands on my shoulder to steady me and the other gently pushing the hair away from my eyes.
