Scarlett - Cathy Cassidy [20]
All that walking, and I just found my way back here.
‘Not Dublin?’ I ask Kian.
‘Not tonight, Scarlett.’
When we get to the cottage, the dream is shattered. A weird kind of police car is parked outside in place of the Morris Traveller.
‘Is that the police?’ I gulp.
‘The Gardaí,’ Kian whispers. ‘The Irish version. I told you your family were worried. No need to mention me, OK? Let them think you made your own way back. I’ll see you around.’
‘Will you?’ I ask.
‘Sure I will.’
As I slip down from Midnight’s back, he reaches out and touches my hair, so softly, so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it. Then he wheels Midnight round in the lane and heads into the shadows. As I push open the gate, the door opens and Holly runs down the path and into my arms.
‘Scarlett!’ she squeals. ‘I thought I heard something! We were so worried, we thought you’d run away forever and ever.’
‘Well, I haven’t,’ I mutter. ‘Obviously’
‘Oh, Scarlett, I’m so glad you’re back!’ She clings on to me so tightly I can barely breathe, which is kind of annoying, but not as bad as you’d imagine. It’s nice to feel wanted.
‘Scarlett, thank goodness,’ Clare says, smiling from the doorway, and Holly drags me forward, towards the bright hallway. When I look over my shoulder, Kian and Midnight are gone, and there’s nothing but the quiet clack-clack of hooves on the lane, fading into the distance.
Once the Gardai have gone, we are left alone in the cottage kitchen, Clare, Holly and me. Dad has been driving around the lanes in the Morris Traveller, looking for me, but Clare called him on his mobile to tell him I was safe and he’s on his way back now, so I guess I have yet another round of questions to look forward to.
‘Better call your mum too,’ Clare says. ‘She’s been worried sick.’
‘Scared I’d turn up in London again, more like,’ I huff.
‘Scarlett, don’t,’ says Clare, dialling the number, her face all sad and anxious. She offers the phone to me, but Mum is the very last person I want to speak to right now. It’s far more entertaining to watch Clare tackle the woman who’s hated her so much, for so long.
‘Sara?’ she begins, clearing her throat and twiddling her hair with one nervous hand. ‘Yes, she’s turned up, quite safe. She walked from Kilimoor, over the hills and along the lough. She was heading here all the time!’
Well, not exactly. I planned to walk to Knock or Dublin, or else gallop across the lough to a magical land where nobody is ever sad or lonely. If Clare wants to think I was heading for home, though, that’s fine. Why should I care?
‘Yes, we’ll talk to the school in the morning. I’m sure they’ll understand. It’s a big upheaval for her, Sara, but she’ll be fine, don’t worry. She’s too tired to speak just now… I’ll get her to call you tomorrow. Bye, Sara.’
Just then there’s a noise like a tractor dragging a couple of dozen old tin cans in the driveway outside.
‘There’s Chris,’ Clare says. ‘Thank goodness. I’ll run you a bath, Scarlett, then we’ll get some dinner on. You’ll be starved!’
I manage a weak smile. I know she’s just pretending to be kind, like that witch in the fairy tale who fattens up children before she cooks and eats them. I know I shouldn’t trust her, but right now I’m too tired to fight back.
‘Come on, love,’ she says, hustling Holly out of the room. ‘Let’s give Scarlett some time with her dad.’
I’m alone in the kitchen when Dad comes in, and when I see his face, there’s a little stab of pleasure inside of me. You see, running away wasn’t just about shaking the dust of Kilimoor National School off my red-and-pink wedge heels. It wasn’t just about trying to make it back to London, to Mum. Maybe, deep down, all I really wanted was to lash out, hurt Dad the way he’s hurt me.
And I’ve done it.
Last night I had a bath and ate macaroni cheese, and Clare bandaged my ankle and Dad hugged me and told me never to frighten him again like that. Then I went to bed in the little sky-blue room with the nursery border and slept for the first time in a week, dreaming of the woods and the lough and a boy called