“I know; me neither. How was the ceremony? For your brother?”
“Terrible. Worse than I could’ve imagined. Listen, Bee...” She looked round suddenly. A man was walking towards us across the marble floor. It was her dad – I recognized him from the beach. Lizzie tensed up as he reached us. “This is my dad,” she muttered. “Dad, this is my friend Bee.”
Lizzie’s dad nodded at me, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes were the same turquoise blue as Lizzie’s, but cold. I shivered slightly, remembering what Lizzie had said earlier in the day.
“Look, I’ve got to go,” she said, throwing her arms round my neck and dissolving into tears. “Promise you won’t forget me, Bee. Promise you’ll still be my friend. Whatever happens...”
“Of course I will, and I’ll never forget you. We’ll see each other in a couple of weeks, max, and I’ll call you as soon as I get back. We might even see each other tomorrow at the airport.”
She clung onto me, her cheek wet against mine, but her dad pulled her away.
“It’s time to go, Lizzie. Come on.”
I called out to her as he dragged her towards the lift. “I’ll phone you...I’ll speak to you soon, Lizzie... Don’t forget me...” She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide. I got the strongest feeling she was trying to tell me something. Something important.
“What?” I mouthed, but she gave a last helpless shrug as they stepped into the dark of the lift and the doors slid closed behind them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was the necklace that sparked everything off. I’d hidden it in my case when I got back from my clifftop talk with Bee, but later on, after the ceremony, Mum decided to help me finish packing. She’d stopped crying, finally, and seemed to be feeling calmer, but then she turned to face me suddenly, the necklace in her hand.
“What’s this?” she said, holding it up to show me. Her face was white, her eyes huge in her face.
“Erm, someone gave it to me,” I said. My face started to burn up. I don’t know why – it wasn’t as if I’d done anything wrong.
Mum looked around to see if Dad was listening, but he was in the bathroom. He’d been locked in there ever since we got back.
“Who gave it to you, Lizzie? I want you to tell me right now.”
I stared at her. She looked scared. Why was she reacting like this?
“My friend, Bee.”
“Bee?” Mum sank down onto the bed. “Your friend Bee?”
“Yes, my friend Bee. What’s the big deal?” I grabbed the necklace out of her hand and stuffed it back in my case.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie, but you can’t be friends with Bee,” said Mum slowly.
Our eyes locked. “What are you talking about?” I said. “I am friends with her. And why are you saying it like that? As if you know her?”
“As if you know who?” said Dad, coming out of the bathroom at the worst possible moment.
“Bee,” said Mum faintly. “She knows Bee.”
“Of course I know Bee. She’s my best friend. Stop talking about her like that.”
Mum shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, Mum, please can you just talk to me without crying?”
“Be quiet!” said Dad. “I want to know exactly what’s been going on.” He grabbed my arm and yanked me over to where he was standing. “How do you know Bee? Where did you meet her?”
“Dad, you’re hurting me!” I pulled my arm away. “I met her on the beach. We’re friends, okay. We’ve been meeting up every day, but don’t worry, she’s perfectly respectable and—”
“And what about her mother and father?” snapped Dad, interrupting me. “Have you met them as well? Do they know who you are?”
I shook my head. “Her dad’s not with them, she’s here with her mum and her nan. I’ve seen them a couple of times – her nan’s always by the pool – but I haven’t met them, not properly.”
I looked at Mum. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking. “What’s going on?” I said, beginning to feel scared. “Why are you so upset?”
Dad leaned down to me so that our faces were almost touching. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d met someone on the beach? We trusted you.”
“I told Mum. She knew I’d made friends with someone, but I didn’t tell you because of this. Because you always react like this.”
Dad breathed in through his nose, as if he was trying to control himself. “You’re not to see Bee again. Not ever. You’re not to see her or speak to her or make contact with her in any way. Do you understand me?” His eyes were icy slits.
“No, I don’t understand,” I said, twisting away, tears springing to my eyes. “I don’t understand anything. Why can’t I see her again? We’re supposed to be saying goodbye later tonight. She’s coming here after dinner.”
Dad raised his hand as if he was going to hit me. I shrank back towards Mum. “She’s not coming here!” he roared. “She’s not coming. Do you hear me?”
I stepped back further and cuddled up next to Mum on the bed, trying not to cry. “Just to say goodbye,” I whispered. “Please. I won’t see her again, I swear, but please just let me say goodbye.”
Mum squeezed my hand. “We should let them say goodbye,” she said, looking through her tears at Dad. “You can go down with her. It’s not their fault. They’re not to blame.”
“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” I said, really scared now. “We’re not to blame for what? Why can’t I be friends with Bee?”
Suddenly something clicked in my brain. It was like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place.
“You’re the woman in the market, aren’t you?” I said to Mum. “You know Bee’s mum. You saw them buying the necklace.” It had to be her. There was no other explanation. Somehow she knew Bee’s mum.
Mum grasped my hand. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, I’m so sorry.”
“But I don’t understand. How do you know her? And why did she run away from you in the market?”
Dad walked towards me, furious. “Why did she run away?” he yelled, his face almost purple with rage. “I’ll tell you why she ran away!”
I couldn’t take it in. Dad stood there, repeating it over and over, but it couldn’t be true. It had to be a mistake. I put my hands over my ears, but he pulled them away, forcing me to listen. It was like being trapped in a nightmare. I watched his lips move but the words didn’t make any sense. I turned to Mum, pleading with her to make him stop.
I don’t know how she did it, but she somehow convinced him to let me go down to the lobby for five minutes. She said I needed to say goodbye to Bee, to have some “closure”, as she put it, but then I’d have to accept that the friendship was over. For ever.
Dad didn’t say a word in the lift, he stared straight ahead, his eyes flat. I don’t think he had any intention of letting me talk to Bee on my own, but as we were passing the front desk one of the receptionists called out to him – something to do with an alarm call for the morning. I slipped away, dashing over to the doors. There was no sign of her yet, but I knew she’d come.
She arrived a few moments later, pushing her way through the revolving doors. Her nan was with her, but she waited outside, watching Bee through the big glass windows. I glanced back towards Dad, but he was still talking to the hotel receptionist.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. Then she told me her mum was still upset about the incident in the market.
Nervously, I looked back again. Dad would be over any second.
“What’s the matter?” said Bee.
“Nothing. I’m fine, really. I just don’t want to say goodbye.” She didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on between our mums. I had to tell her. I had to explain – but it wasn’t something you could just blurt out. I heard Dad’s shoes on the marble floor. It was too late. He was coming towards us.
“This is my dad,” I muttered, as he reached us. “Dad, this is my friend Bee.”
He looked at her as if she was evil. A
s if she was to blame.
“Look, I’ve got to go,” I said, throwing my arms round her. “Promise you won’t forget me, Bee. Promise you’ll still be my friend. Whatever happens...”
She didn’t understand – how could she? I tried one more time to make her realize there was something important she should know, as Dad dragged me away.
“What?” she mouthed, but I could only shrug back. It was hopeless. Dad was holding onto me, pulling me towards the open lift. I’d just have to think of another way to let her know. Another way to tell her the terrible truth. I still couldn’t believe it was the truth, but Dad’s words were etched on my brain like an ugly tattoo:
“BEE’S DAD KILLED LUKE!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I sat up in bed for ages, too confused about everything to sleep. Why was Lizzie so scared? What had she been trying to tell me? I couldn’t bear to see her so distressed. Something must have happened at the ceremony for her brother. I had a horrible feeling she was in trouble and there was nothing I could do to help her.
Nan could see how upset I was when I came out of the hotel. I told her what had happened and begged her to go back in with me to make sure Lizzie was okay, but she said it wasn’t really our place to interfere. She said we had to leave Lizzie and her family to sort things out for themselves. But how are you supposed to turn your back on your best friend just when she needs you most?
When we got back to the room, Mum seemed a bit calmer. She gave me a cuddle and said she was sorry she’d got so cross. I asked her about the letters and the woman in the marketplace and why they’d fallen out so badly, but she wouldn’t say.
“It’s much too late to get into a big discussion about that now,” she sighed, pulling me tighter and stroking my hair. “Not when we’ve got such an early start in the morning.”
It was so frustrating. I didn’t want a big discussion; I just wanted her to tell me what was going on. I gave up in the end and went to my room.
I was so desperate to talk to Lizzie. I needed to make sure she was okay, and find out what she’d been trying to tell me. Mum might have been keeping secrets, but best friends tell each other everything.
To take my mind off things, I reached under my pillow for my literacy book. I hadn’t written a word of my poetry project yet; I’d been far too busy having fun. But suddenly I knew exactly what my theme was going to be. It was so obvious. I plugged my phone in to recharge, picked up a pen and turned to a clean page.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I thought of swapping the suitcases later that night after saying goodbye to Bee. Mum and Dad were asleep and I was sitting up in bed, writing my diary, trying to make sense of everything. I scribbled away, pouring it all out, until I was so tired it was impossible to keep my eyes open. It felt important to write down every last word – but I still couldn’t believe it was true. How could Bee’s dad be responsible for Luke’s death?
Mum had tried to explain. She said our families had been close friends and that it had been a terrible, tragic accident, but Dad wouldn’t have it. He insisted Bee’s dad was to blame – that it was murder, plain and simple. I didn’t say anything at all. I was too shocked. I tried to remember what Bee had said about her dad, something about how he never got angry, or lost his temper. He certainly didn’t sound like a murderer.
When I was too exhausted to write another word, I locked my diary and leaned down to tuck it right at the bottom of my case. I wanted to talk to Bee, to tell her what was going on, but Dad had confiscated my phone and deleted all her contact details. I had to find some way to get in touch with her. Some way to explain. And that’s when the idea came to me.
Bee and I had identical suitcases, except for one crucial difference – she had a purple label attached to hers with her name written across it in bright blue marker pen. I remember her showing it to me when I picked up the wrong case on the first day of the holiday. So if I could somehow get to the baggage reclaim area before she did when we arrived back in London, I could grab her case, remove the label, and take it home.
That was the first part of the plan, the easy part. But it would only work if she then took my suitcase home instead of hers, by mistake, just like Mum did all those years ago. My suitcase, with my diary hidden at the bottom – explaining everything that had happened and why I was never allowed to see her again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The journey home was a nightmare. Mum said she’d been up all night and even Nan seemed on edge. I was really hoping we’d bump into Lizzie at the airport, but it was so crowded and there were so many different queues, it was impossible to know if she was there or not. I thought I caught a glimpse of her dad at one point, queuing up at a cashpoint, but I hid behind Nan, scared he might turn round and see me.
I was so certain she’d been trying to tell me something the night before at the hotel. She’d been about to say something before her dad came over. If only he’d left us on our own for a few more minutes. It was awful seeing her so upset. I remembered what she’d said about him being angry all the time, ready to explode.
I tried talking to Mum again once we were up in the air, determined to find out about the woman in the market. And finally, she started to tell me. She said the woman’s name was Suzie and that they’d been best friends; that our two families had been really close. But then she started to cry.
“It’s so difficult to explain, Bee.” She reached into her bag for a tissue. “It was such a long time ago. I’ve tried to put it behind me, but this holiday, being in Spain, it’s just been so...” By then she was crying too hard to carry on.
“Leave it, Bee,” warned Nan. “You can see how upset she is.”
Mum was breathing very fast, her eyes wide with fright.
“Come on, Val, calm down,” soothed Nan. “Look into my eyes. Now, deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out.” She cupped Mum’s face in her hands, breathing with her, until Mum’s breathing slowed down.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I’d never seen Mum like this before. She’s not exactly the emotional type. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw her cry before Dad went missing and all of this started.
“I just don’t know why I came,” she said to Nan, when she’d recovered enough to speak again. “I wish I’d listened to Phillip. Why don’t I ever listen to him?”
Nan shook her head. “You just thought it was time to move on, we both did. To finally lay things to rest.”
“Lay what things to rest?” I said. “This is crazy. When are you going to tell me what’s going on? Is it the lady in the market – Suzie – is she the reason Dad didn’t want to come to Spain? Who is she really?” But Mum’s eyes filled up again and she fumbled about in her bag for a fresh tissue.
I gave up after that but I watched her carefully. This wasn’t just some row with an old friend – it was obviously far more serious than that. It was almost as if someone had kidnapped my calm, sensible mum and put this new hysterical, worked-up person in her place. I sat back in my seat, more frightened and confused than ever. But as the plane came in to land I made a promise to myself: I was going to find out what was in those letters if it was the last thing I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was chaos at the airport. I didn’t see Bee until we were about to board. She was way ahead of us in the queue, but when we got on the plane I spotted her nan lifting a plastic carrier bag into the overhead storage area right at the back. I didn’t know why they’d chosen to sit there, but hopefully it meant I’d be able to get to the baggage reclaim carousel before they did.
I couldn’t think of anything else as the plane took off. It felt weird to be so close to Bee but not say hello or talk to her or anything, especially after finding out something so shocking. I was praying with all my heart that Dad had got it wrong. Maybe there were two girls called Bee, two different families? I couldn’t bear to think of Bee’s family linked to ours in such a horrible way.
We were one of the first in the queue for passport control when we arrived in London, I made sure of that. I kept looking behind me, expecting Bee and her mum and nan to appear, but there was no sign of them. The man inside the little booth seemed to be taking ages, much longer than usual, turning each page of our passports in slow motion. I willed him to hurry up, desperate to put my plan into action.
As soon as we were through, I raced on ahead. I knew exactly where to go; I’d been there so many times before. I stood in front of the huge baggage reclaim board to see which carousel we needed. Our flight number was up there – and our arrival time – but the space where the carousel number should have been was blank. I kept my eyes glued to the board. I didn’t dare look behind me in case I saw Bee and her family approaching. Every time the board updated, my stomach lurched. Where was the number? Where was it? How could it take so long?
Mum and Dad caught up with me. Dad was distracted, on the phone to someone from work.
“I think I’ll just nip to the loo to freshen up,” said Mum. “I always feel a bit grubby after flying.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I’ll see you at the carousel.”
I felt like I was on some sort of secret mission, but swapping the cases was the only way to make sure Bee found out what was really going on. I stared back up at the board. Still blank...still blank...still blank... And then suddenly it was there. Carousel 8. I turned and raced down the escalator. Dad followed behind me, peeling off at the bottom to grab a trolley.
The bags started to come round quite quickly. It didn’t take long for Bee’s to appear – or was it mine? It was impossible to tell. A moment later, an identical case appeared. Two bright pink cases covered in big purple flowers. They were both coming round the carousel at more or less the same time. I squeezed right through to the front as the first of the two cases trundled towards me. I could see the label as clear as anything – BEE BROOKS, written in bright blue marker pen.