Bet Your Life Page 2

  “In a minute.” He ran a hand into my hair and held onto it at the back of my neck.

  “Hey,” I said half-heartedly. “Let go.”

  “It’s traditional to round off the fireworks with a kiss.”

  I leaned away from him as far as I could, which was not very. “I keep hearing about Port Sentinel’s traditions but I’ve never heard that one.”

  “You’re still new in town. Give it a year and you should be up to speed.” He leaned toward me and I did a quick calculation: was it more embarrassing to make a fuss or to allow it to happen?

  “Jess!”

  Saved. I wriggled free as soon as Ryan’s grip loosened. Hugo was coming toward us.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Hugo had an odd expression on his face, I noted, and could guess why. My cousin was not a Ryan fan. You didn’t have to be particularly sensitive to spot that, and Ryan was actually quite good at reading other people’s reactions. He let go of me completely and nodded to Hugo.

  “Glad you found each other.”

  “Ryan!” The shout came from across the recreation ground, where a figure stood, arms outstretched. A knot of people was milling around him but he was very definitely the center of attention. He was instantly recognizable, even to me, as Harry Knowles. His hair stood straight up from his head, adding an extra six or so inches to his already quite impressive height. “Are you coming or not?”

  “In a minute,” Ryan yelled back.

  “Don’t miss out, man. It’s going to be big.” He picked up a small witch and threw her over his shoulder, spinning around as she shrieked with laughter.

  “I’ll be there.” Turning to me, Ryan said, “There’s a party at Harry’s house tonight. Come along if you can.”

  “I don’t know Harry.” I meant personally. Everyone in Port Sentinel knew who Harry was: the wild son of a genius city trader who had made his first million of the day before breakfast, every day, until the day he’d burned out. He’d quit, taken his money, and fled to Devon. Even in a town full of rich kids, Harry was renowned for being loaded, and spoiled rotten. He was a founding member of Ryan’s group of friends, who were essentially the prettiest and richest teenagers around. And all this could have been mine as well, if I’d been prepared to indulge Ryan and go out with him.

  “You don’t need to know Harry. You know me.” Ryan grinned down at me, ignoring Hugo. “Anyway, if you change your mind, let me know. Harry’s folks are in Venezuela for half-term. He’s aiming for a party a night.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed a fraction, registering that I hadn’t said yes. “It would be fun. You don’t want to miss out.”

  “Definitely not. Thanks for asking me.”

  “Good luck with finding your coat,” Ryan said, and then, as I was just about to reply, dropped a kiss on my mouth. My lips were parted and it was startlingly intimate, even if it was quick. I stared after him as he walked away, my mouth tingling. When Hugo spoke, I jumped. I had completely forgotten he was there.

  “What were you doing with him?”

  “Nothing. Keeping warm.” I rubbed my arms, trying to generate some heat. “Have you seen my coat?”

  He unwound his scarf and handed it to me. “Never mind about your coat.”

  “I do mind. Obviously. But thanks.” I wrapped the scarf around my neck, watching him curiously. “Where were you during the show, anyway?”

  For Hugo, he was oddly slow to respond. “Looking for you. Then looking at you.”

  “How fascinating for you. I’m surprised I was enough to distract you from the fireworks. You can stare at me anytime.”

  “I can. Will can’t.”

  I was knotting the scarf but I stopped dead. “What did you say?”

  “Will can’t.” Two syllables. Perfect enunciation. Nothing confusing about it. Except …

  “He was here?” My voice was very small.

  “Yeah.”

  “And he saw me.”

  “With Ryan.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He just left.”

  “Just now?”

  “A minute ago.” After Ryan had kissed me. He didn’t have to say it. I knew.

  “Which way did he go? Hugo!” I grabbed his arm and held onto it. “Tell me.”

  “When he got to the gate he turned left, so into town, I assume.” He dragged himself free. “I wouldn’t bother, Jess. Leave it for now. You can explain the next time you see him.”

  He was talking to cold, thin air. I was already sprinting for the gate. I dodged through the stragglers who were leaving, the mud clinging to my boots as I ran. I cut between two cars and snagged my tights on the front wing of one of them, where an accident had left it buckled and bent. I lost valuable seconds freeing myself, but once I hit the road I was able to go faster and I flew down the hill in the direction Hugo had indicated, keeping to the center of the streets because the pavements were wonky and narrow, and I would definitely, certainly trip. I liked my front teeth enough to want to keep them intact, but I wasn’t going to slow down until I had to.

  There was no sign of Will down any side street or round any corner—just little groups of costumed revellers and the occasional pumpkin grinning in a window or on a doorstep, eyes flickering as the candle inside guttered. I took a chance on him heading for the city center and did likewise, hoping I’d find him there, or near where I lived. His house backed on to my family’s home, Sandhayes, so if I headed in that general direction I had a chance of finding him.

  What I would say when and if I did find him was another question.

  It was a long way to the center of town from the recreation ground and I started to feel it in my legs just around the time a wicked stitch skewered my side. I slowed and then stopped, my breathing ragged, one hand gripping my waist where the pain was worst. The chill in the air was nothing to the cold horror that was sending shivers over my skin.

  Will had been there.

  Will had seen me with Ryan.

  Will had seen Ryan kiss me.

  Will would have the wrong idea.

  Will might even care.

  The very thought jolted me back into action. I moved forward at a pace that was a long way from a sprint, limping and wincing, so wrapped up in my own misery that I turned down a narrow lane and saw a flashing blue light irradiating the side of some buildings in the distance and didn’t even think that it might be something to concern me. I was closer to it when I started to hear the radio squawking, and another joining it, and a low throaty roar that was an engine turning over. I hurried round the corner into St. Laurence Square, a tiny paved space in the heart of town in front of an old church. There was an oak tree in the center with a bench circling its trunk. In the summer it was a nice place to sit. Now, on a cold dark autumn night, the tree was shedding leaves with every breath of wind. An ambulance was parked beside it. Beside that, there were two police cars. Beside that, another car I recognized. It had a blue light on the top that swung and swirled and caught me in the eyes, but not before I’d noticed the figure on the ground, under a blanket, and the spreading pool of blood around his head. He was young, my age or so, and his face was battered beyond recognition. I stared for a long, horrified moment—short dark hair, and he’d be tall if he was standing—before a paramedic knelt down beside him and blocked my view. I went forward on wobbling legs, really, truly terrified that, somehow, it was Will who was lying on the paving slabs. As I edged sideways to see him, the boy on the ground moaned, and I felt a sting of relief as I realized it wasn’t Will. I felt guilty for being glad.

  Two policemen in uniform were crouching by a drain, trying to reach something that had been dropped in it, while another unrolled blue-and-white tape to cordon off the crime scene. I stood, unobserved for the moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy on the ground.

  “It’s all right,” one of the paramedics said, holding his head steady while the other one prepared to put a neck brace on him. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll look after you.”

  The boy groaned again and lifted a hand, as if he meant to push them away. His wrist was ringed with a red mark that was bleeding a little where the skin had been rubbed away. One of the paramedics gently pushed his arm back down by his side. The effort seemed to have exhausted the boy and he lay completely still while they treated him. If I hadn’t seen him move and heard him moan, I’d have thought he was dead. His skin was bleached white where it wasn’t marked with purple bruises or streaked with darkening blood.

  The paramedics were talking in low voices, scrawling notes on the backs of their gloves as they assessed him. They were obviously worried about his condition and in a hurry to get him into the ambulance. I made myself concentrate on his face and realized, with a shiver, that under the blood, despite the swelling around his eyes and mouth, I recognized him. I had met him before.

  The next minute I jumped out of my skin as someone grabbed my arm and held onto it, tightly enough to hurt.

  2

  “What are you doing here?”

  The voice didn’t sound friendly, which wasn’t a surprise, since it belonged to Dan Henderson, Port Sentinel’s police inspector.

  Will’s dad.

  Not my biggest fan.

  “I was just—” Looking for Will. The truth, but I couldn’t say it. It would be like throwing petrol on a bonfire. “Can you let go of me, please?”

  “Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

  “I was walking home from the fireworks. I took a short cut this way.”

  “On your own?” Dan frowned at me. His hand was still on my arm but his grip loosened a little. “What happened to your friends?”

  “I don’t know.” Mind your own business.

  “Did you see anyone you know at the fireworks?”

  “Lots of people.” I knew where this was going.

  “Did you see Will?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” I tried to pull my arm back and he held onto it for a second longer, his thumb stroking my skin, very lightly. Dan wasn’t stupid. He was standing between me and everyone else who was there so they couldn’t have seen it. I felt like throwing up.

  “You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you, Jess? You’re going to leave him alone.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before,” I said, and used my other hand to peel his fingers off me. “I don’t think we need to have it again.”

  “As long as you understand I won’t tolerate any sneaking around.” His eyes were bright with malice. He was enjoying this. “You know I’d find out. You know what would happen, and you know how that would make Will feel. If you really care about him—”

  “What if I don’t really care? What if I keep my distance from him because the whole thing bores me to tears?” I glared at him. “You’re the one who’s made this into a big deal. Just because you’ve spent years pining for my mother, you seem to think the two of us are head over heels in love. Newsflash: we’re not. There are plenty of boys who don’t come with so much drama.”

  “I thought that was part of the attraction.”

  “Not for me.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted and it was a cruel reminder of something Will did, a trick he had of almost smiling when he was just about to kiss me. A tiny shudder went through me.

  “Cold?”

  “A bit.” I stepped back, wanting some more air between us. “What happened to him?”

  “What happened to who?”

  “That guy on the ground—”

  “Is going to hospital.”

  “Did someone hit him?”

  “So it seems.”

  “Why?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know. We’ll look into it. I can’t spend any more time on you tonight, Jess. Get going. Go on. Go home. Quick as you like.” He was crowding me, his arms stretched out, herding me toward the narrow lane I’d walked down.

  I was walking backward as slowly as I dared, leaning to see round Dan’s bulk. He was wearing a big high-visibility jacket, neon yellow with POLICE on the front and back, as if he could be anything else. The light from the ambulance headlights flared on it as the paramedics turned their vehicle, now fully loaded, and headed away. “Is he going to be OK?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.” Massive disapproval from Dan; he hated me asking questions. His eyes were dark gray, and even in the orange glare of the streetlights I could see they were as hard as flint. “I could do without it, tonight of all nights. We’ve got enough trouble with Halloween mischief without having to deal with a mystery. And we don’t even know who he is.”

  “I do,” I said. “His name is Sebastian Dawson.”

  “Jim Dawson’s son? From West Hill Road?” Dan reached into his coat for a notebook and started scribbling.

  “I think so. I know him from school. I think he lives around West Hill Road, though, now that you mention it. But didn’t he have ID on him? Or a phone?”

  I thought he was going to answer me, but instead he sighed. “I’ll say it again. Go. Home. Or do you want me to drive you?”

  The last time I’d been in a car with Dan Henderson alone, I’d been seriously worried for my safety. It was among the top five experiences I wanted never to repeat. “No need. I’m going.”

  I turned and walked off, feeling his eyes on me as I headed down the street. Chips of broken glass crunched under my boots and I tacked sideways to avoid the worst of it. I was almost out of range when he called after me.

  “Jess.”

  I turned.

  “You remind me of your mother in that dress.”

  Yuck. “It’s Tilly’s, actually.”

  “It looks good on you. But you should have a coat.”

  I didn’t answer him, but I thought my response loudly enough that he could probably have heard it if he’d been listening.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  I trudged on toward home, still looking for Will but knowing he was long gone. Laughter and singing hung on the night air as Halloween parties started to get underway in earnest. The fireworks were just the curtain-raiser. I didn’t regret turning down Ryan’s invitation to Harry Knowles’s house, but I did wish I had somewhere to be, among friends. As I walked down a narrow street with darkened houses on either side, a loud scream made me flinch. A girl reeled out of an alley on my right, her eyes staring. Her dress clung to her body because it was soaked in blood. Her hair hung in rat-tails around her blood-streaked face and she reached out to me with hands that were like claws, whispering, “Please…”

  I would have screamed myself, but terror made me mute. I stood still, unable to move. The girl dropped her hands to her sides. Her voice was flat when she spoke.

  “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  Imogen Hinch, Immy to her friends, of whom I was not one. I recognized her at the same time as I realized the blood was fake. I felt my heart begin to slow down from all-out gallop to a more sustainable canter. Shock made me angry and I snapped, “What was that?”

  “Just a bit of fun.” She reached up a languid hand and rearranged her hair. “Not that I would expect you to recognize it.”

  “What’s fun about pretending you’ve been attacked?”

  “It makes people scream.” Another girl emerged from the darkness, tall and gangling in a black onesie with bones printed on it. Her face was painted chalk-white and she had drawn black circles around her eyes, a black triangle on her nose and vertical lines across her lips. It was the skull-face from earlier, I realized, and now it made perfect sense that she’d threatened me. Claudia Carmichael was still loyal to Natasha Watkins, her best friend, the once-upon-a-time princess of the social scene. She was viewing what she’d filmed on her phone. “You were rubbish. Not even funny.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Claudia.”

  “Well, we’re not surprised. You spoil everything.” She came and stood beside Immy, the two of them effectively blocking my path.

  “This again,” I said softly. “You still blame me. I didn’t make anyone behave the way they did. I wasn’t even here when it happened. And Natasha—”

  “Don’t talk about her. She didn’t deserve what you did. Or the consequences.”

  “All I did was find out the truth. She thought she’d got away with what she did. She bullied Freya and set her friends on her and Freya died. I just made sure Natasha had to take responsibility for it. Most people think she got off lightly,” I said.

  “Most people don’t matter.” Claudia leaned in. “You don’t matter. And Natasha will be back.”

  “Bigger and badder than ever.” I sighed. “OK. Fine. I’ll look forward to it. Now can I go?”

  “I wish you would,” Immy said. She watched a group of girls walk past on the other side of the street. They were giggly and a little bit drunk, and Immy’s face was sullen as she stared at them. “They would have been perfect.”

  “Too bad.” I made as if to walk off, but Claudia put out her hand to stop me.

  “Natasha asks about you and Ryan, you know, every time we speak. What should I tell her?”

  “Tell her to get over it.”

  “Are you with him or not?” Claudia demanded. “I saw you at the fireworks.”

  “Everyone saw you at the fireworks.” Immy smoothed her hair again. “Next time, get a room.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I saw exactly what it’s like. Natasha is going to freak out.” From the way Immy said it, she was looking forward to telling her.

  “I’m not interested in him.” Their faces didn’t change. Why was I wasting my time?

  Because I was annoyed beyond belief that no one could accept that I didn’t fancy Ryan. Because it would make my life a little bit easier if Natasha wasn’t trying to take revenge on me for something I hadn’t even done. Because I was sick and tired of being a punch line.

  “Look, Ryan’s just not my type.”

  “Are you saying he’s not good enough for you?” Claudia demanded.

  But he’s good enough for Natasha … I avoided the trap without too much difficulty. “No, I’m not. I’m saying I don’t want to go out with him. And I’ve said it to him too. He just doesn’t like that I turned him down.”