Contents ( 64)
- A Letter from the Author
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ONE
Just as I’m considering ringing 999, my mobile rings and I snatch it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Where are you, you nutter?’
‘Annie!’
‘Rose and I are sitting here, the hall is full, the contestants are all here … well, except you, of course. Meg, your massively important life-changing competition is about to start!
‘I know, but listen, I’ve got a problem.’ Quickly, I explain that Grandad has managed to get stuck in a hole. ‘Do you think I should call for an ambulance?’
‘No, if you get involved with all that you’ll definitely miss the competition.’
‘Annie, what sort of person leaves an old man with a head injury up on the Downs just so they can try to win a free holiday?’ My throat feels tight and I swallow to stop myself from crying.
‘Get a grip, Clark,’ says Annie. ‘Your grandad’s not an idiot. If he was that badly hurt he’d have rung for an ambulance himself. Just tell me where he is.’
‘He’s at the bottom of the old quarry, the one by Paynters Lane … Why?’
‘Because I’m going to get him out of there. Well, not me personally, but don’t worry about that. You just get to school. I can look after Elsa while you do your speech.’
‘No, he’s my grandad. I should go and find him.’
‘Meg, I’m your captain, or whatever it’s called –’
‘CAPCOM.’
‘That’s it. I’m CAPCOM Demos, and you’re going to do exactly what I say. I’m going to talk you through your launch, got it?’
I nod. ‘Got it.’
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Get your arse to school.’ Then the line goes dead.
FIFTY-ONE
‘Where have you been?’ Ms Edgecombe meets me in the foyer outside the hall. ‘And why have you brought a baby?’
‘Long story,’ I manage to say, hanging over the handles of the pushchair to catch my breath. Running with a pushchair is hard, but at least all the jiggling has sent Elsa to sleep. ‘Have you seen Annie Demos?’
‘She’s in the hall somewhere,’ says Ms Edgecombe. ‘But don’t worry about your friends, Meg. It’s about to start!’
She ushers me into the noisy, packed hall. Little brothers and sisters are darting around, grandmothers are sitting with handbags clutched on laps; there are so many people some are having to stand at the back. Up on the stage, I see a row of chairs, and in front of these a microphone with a spotlight shining down on it. My head is already spinning from the run, but I still feel a wave of anxiety sweep through me.
‘I need to speak to Annie,’ I say, desperately searching through the crowd.
Miss grips my arm. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve registered. Come with me.’
She guides me down the centre aisle, right through the heart of the audience. ‘Here’s Meg Clark,’ says Ms Edgecombe, delivering me to a table set up at the foot of the stage. ‘Better late than never!’
‘You’re just in time,’ says the woman, her eyes flicking over Elsa. She hands me a sticker. ‘You’re contestant number fifteen. Please stand with the other contestants so that we can begin.’ A group of teenagers are waiting at the foot of the stage. Most are wearing uniforms but some, like me, are wearing their own clothes. Right at the back of the group, I see Ed, in a shirt and tie of course. His arms are folded and he’s watching me curiously. He gives me a wave and I manage to smile back.