Nowhere Child Read Free Page A

getting harder, though.
    As it was, I couldn’t do it. I just had to get off the streets quickly after Emma saw me.
    I wanted to talk to her – to tell her why I can’t come back and explain why I left. She says she misses me, but I find that difficult to believe. I want her to understand why I ran away, though. If I hadn’t I would have been arrested for taking Ollie. So how can I go back? It’s hopeless.
    I don’t get why she’s looking for me and why she says she wants me back. I don’t know if I can trust her.
    The only person I really trust is Andy, and I’ve let him down again. I’m always relying on him to feed me and I know it’s not fair. I wouldn’t have survived this long without him, though.
    I met Andy a couple of months after I escaped – escaped from having to face my dad, the man who had betrayed me; escaped from the police, who were going to arrest me for everything I had done; escaped from the gang I had been living with for more than six years, who would kill me for grassing to the police – if they could find me. And escaped from Emma – the person who had done the least to hurt me, who I had hurt the most.
    The weeks after I left felt like the worst of my life. They probably weren’t; I’ve had my share of terrible times. But however bad things had been in the past I had always had a home – of sorts. When I walked away from my dad and Emma’s house I had nowhere to go. No place where somebody would open the door and welcome me in – or even grunt an acknowledgement that I was actually there.
    I made it to Stockport without too much bother – walking at night, keeping away from busy main roads as much as I could and finding somewhere to hide out during the day. When it was really late – the early hours of the morning kind of late – I had to dodge into gardens to hide when I saw a car coming because I knew the police would stop me if they saw me out and about at that time. But I got quite good at it. During the day I would often hide in plain sight, hanging around where there were other kids or just going to a park, and I always managed to nick something to eat from somewhere. That was the easy bit.
    The hard thing was being on my own. Even living with Rory and Donna Slater – the couple who had hidden me for more than six years after I was kidnapped – had been better than having nobody. Life there wasn’t great, but there were other kids, and we helped each other. And I’d had Izzy – my friend. Thinking about her now makes me want to cry, but if I start, I won’t stop.
    Stockport was okay – there are some caves up above the town where loads of homeless are living. They tolerated me, but I don’t think they liked me being around. I bet they were worried that if they were caught with a thirteen-year-old girl they would be accused of doing all sorts of stuff they hadn’t done. So I told them I wanted to go to Manchester. I pretended to have friends here, and one of them said he’d help me – which was his way of getting rid of me, I suppose. I’m used to that now.
    This bloke – Bartosz he was called – loved trains. He watched them all the time and he said there was a pattern to the times an inspector or guard or whatever they’re called would board the local trains to do a ticket check. He told me which train to catch.
    I was really scared, though. If I’d been caught, I’d have been done for. I bet there’s pictures of me in all the police stations, because I’m a wanted criminal. I stole a baby . I picture a poster like the ones in old films – or maybe just like the one that Emma has produced.
    The train was okay, though. I made it here to Manchester, although it wasn’t much better than Stockport after all. I was still on my own.
    I met Andy one day when the sun was shining. I remember that, because for once I felt warm. I’d just nicked some food from the express supermarket down in what I think of as the bottom end of Manchester. Where it joins on to