my name – I think.’
Billie takes hold of my arm to pull me back. ‘Rev, please, this isn’t funny.’
I shake Billie off and start to step aboard, but the second I do the bus doors slam shut.
Billie screams and my heart nearly breaks a rib it leaps so hard in my chest.
‘Christ!’ I yell.
I look at the shut door and realise that the heat and the voice have disappeared. I peer inside trying to see who closed the doors, but I can’t see anyone. I jog along the side of the bus,
jumping up to get a better look. But I can’t see anyone on board.
‘You sure you didn’t hear a voice?’ I ask her.
‘Let’s get to your mum’s. Like now.’
My mum doesn’t trust me to not lose my front-door key, so she always hides it under one of eight plant pots that sit in full bloom on our window sill – it’s
the closest we’ve got to a garden. I lift the third pot along and retrieve the key. But when I try the door, I can’t get the key to fit. It won’t go in.
‘What is this?! She’s changed the lock!’
‘Let me try.’ Billie takes the key from my trembling hand and shoves it hard into the lock. It turns easily. ‘You had it upside down.’
We burst inside and I start calling for Mum as Billie goes from room to room in the tiny two-bedroom council flat.
‘Mum!
Mum!
’ She should be home because she works evenings, waitressing in a restaurant. Money is tight, so I know it’d be unusual for her to go out shopping or to see
a friend. Most days she stays in and watches telly.
‘She’s not in,’ Billie says, coming back to where I’m standing, having searched the entire flat.
I stop in the hallway and don’t know what to do next. Our ancient answerphone on the table flashes with messages and I hit
play
. My voice echoes down the hallway ‘
Mum?
Where are you? I’m scared . . .
’
‘Dad, could you call me?
Please
.’ Billie is back on her mobile calling her dad’s office again as I look around, hoping that Billie may have missed something.
The lounge is pretty much as I left it this morning. The tiny kitchen is the same. Even the bathroom is the same.
But when I look closer I can see that the bath has been filled recently. I put my hand into it and the water is still hot so Mum must have been running herself a bath. Which makes me think she
must have been in the flat very recently.
‘Dad’s not picking up,’ says Billie. ‘There’s no service for his mobile either.’
‘It looks like Mum was going to have a bath,’ I offer quietly. ‘She was here. Can’t have been more than five minutes ago.’
‘So why didn’t she answer the phone?’
I have no idea
, I think.
‘You tried Kyle?’ Billie asks.
‘I already did. You suggested it, remember, when we were on the high street?’
‘I did?’ Billie puts a hand to her forehead. ‘I’m losing it.’
I phone Kyle again anyway, but get the same ‘
no connection possible
’ message. I try it once more just in case, but it still won’t put me through.
Billie sits down beside me on the edge of the bath. She’s in most of the top sets at school and right now we need her brains.
‘The TV!’ she exclaims.
It seems so obvious – why didn’t we think of it before? I jump up and charge into the lounge. Billie is right behind me as I grab the remote and switch it on.
Nothing. I flick through the channels, but there is nothing but static.
Billie has already started the battered computer that sits on a tiny second-hand table in the corner of the room under the window.
‘Anything?’ I ask her.
‘It’s still booting. How old is this thing?’
‘Was my dad’s.’
‘That makes it over twelve years old!’
‘Mum can’t afford a new one.’
Billie watches the screen come to life and we wait for it to make the Internet connection. I managed to hook up the Wi-Fi all by myself. Mum told me that Dad would have been very proud.
But there is nothing on the Internet either. In fact there is no Internet. The connection
Billie takes hold of my arm to pull me back. ‘Rev, please, this isn’t funny.’
I shake Billie off and start to step aboard, but the second I do the bus doors slam shut.
Billie screams and my heart nearly breaks a rib it leaps so hard in my chest.
‘Christ!’ I yell.
I look at the shut door and realise that the heat and the voice have disappeared. I peer inside trying to see who closed the doors, but I can’t see anyone. I jog along the side of the bus,
jumping up to get a better look. But I can’t see anyone on board.
‘You sure you didn’t hear a voice?’ I ask her.
‘Let’s get to your mum’s. Like now.’
My mum doesn’t trust me to not lose my front-door key, so she always hides it under one of eight plant pots that sit in full bloom on our window sill – it’s
the closest we’ve got to a garden. I lift the third pot along and retrieve the key. But when I try the door, I can’t get the key to fit. It won’t go in.
‘What is this?! She’s changed the lock!’
‘Let me try.’ Billie takes the key from my trembling hand and shoves it hard into the lock. It turns easily. ‘You had it upside down.’
We burst inside and I start calling for Mum as Billie goes from room to room in the tiny two-bedroom council flat.
‘Mum!
Mum!
’ She should be home because she works evenings, waitressing in a restaurant. Money is tight, so I know it’d be unusual for her to go out shopping or to see
a friend. Most days she stays in and watches telly.
‘She’s not in,’ Billie says, coming back to where I’m standing, having searched the entire flat.
I stop in the hallway and don’t know what to do next. Our ancient answerphone on the table flashes with messages and I hit
play
. My voice echoes down the hallway ‘
Mum?
Where are you? I’m scared . . .
’
‘Dad, could you call me?
Please
.’ Billie is back on her mobile calling her dad’s office again as I look around, hoping that Billie may have missed something.
The lounge is pretty much as I left it this morning. The tiny kitchen is the same. Even the bathroom is the same.
But when I look closer I can see that the bath has been filled recently. I put my hand into it and the water is still hot so Mum must have been running herself a bath. Which makes me think she
must have been in the flat very recently.
‘Dad’s not picking up,’ says Billie. ‘There’s no service for his mobile either.’
‘It looks like Mum was going to have a bath,’ I offer quietly. ‘She was here. Can’t have been more than five minutes ago.’
‘So why didn’t she answer the phone?’
I have no idea
, I think.
‘You tried Kyle?’ Billie asks.
‘I already did. You suggested it, remember, when we were on the high street?’
‘I did?’ Billie puts a hand to her forehead. ‘I’m losing it.’
I phone Kyle again anyway, but get the same ‘
no connection possible
’ message. I try it once more just in case, but it still won’t put me through.
Billie sits down beside me on the edge of the bath. She’s in most of the top sets at school and right now we need her brains.
‘The TV!’ she exclaims.
It seems so obvious – why didn’t we think of it before? I jump up and charge into the lounge. Billie is right behind me as I grab the remote and switch it on.
Nothing. I flick through the channels, but there is nothing but static.
Billie has already started the battered computer that sits on a tiny second-hand table in the corner of the room under the window.
‘Anything?’ I ask her.
‘It’s still booting. How old is this thing?’
‘Was my dad’s.’
‘That makes it over twelve years old!’
‘Mum can’t afford a new one.’
Billie watches the screen come to life and we wait for it to make the Internet connection. I managed to hook up the Wi-Fi all by myself. Mum told me that Dad would have been very proud.
But there is nothing on the Internet either. In fact there is no Internet. The connection