Free The Paradise Trap by Catherine Jinks

on a roller-coaster; beside him sat a giant plush panda eating ice-cream.
    ‘How did you do this?’ asked Sterling. He glanced from brochure to brochure, looking dazed. Meanwhile, Marcus was searching for Newt’s dream holiday among all the others on offer. He finally spotted a Neverending Dance Party pamphlet with her face on it.
    ‘Gotcha!’ he crowed, snatching it up. ‘Here’s Newt! That’s all of them, now!’
    ‘Sorry, guys – you’ve lost me,’ said Sterling, with a puzzled half-smile. ‘What’s the joke?’
    ‘There’s no joke,’ Marcus replied. He was inspecting Newt’s brochure, wondering if it might contain any clues to her exact whereabouts. Unfortunately there was very little text; just picture after picture of young people dancing, drinking, kissing, laughing and sprawling in great heaps on low, squashy couches.
    ‘I don’t believe it,’ Holly suddenly croaked. ‘I don’t believe it. ’ When Marcus glanced up, he saw her clutching a slightly faded brochure as if she’d found a long-lost diamond necklace. ‘Oh my God. This can’t be true.’
    ‘What?’ said Marcus.
    ‘It’s— it’s Jake.’ She whirled around, thrusting the brochure in his direction. ‘It’s Jake! Jake Borazio! It’s that kid I had a crush on! ’

19
    ‘PLEASE ENTER YOUR CODE . . .’
    M ARCUS FROWNED . ‘W HAT DO YOU MEAN ?’ HE SAID .
    ‘Don’t you remember? I told you about Jake.’ Holly pointed at the brochure in her hand. ‘That’s him there. And that’s the rockpool where we used to hunt crabs. And that’s the old kiosk.’ Holly’s voice broke; she had to swallow before adding, ‘This is Diamond Beach the way it used to be, twenty-five years ago.’
    Marcus scanned the pictures in front of him. He saw a dark-haired kid of about his own age, wearing board shorts and zinc cream. He saw a marshy lagoon; a rundown shack with ‘Snack Bar’ painted on it; a modest cluster of caravans and tents; an almost deserted stretch of white sand.
    ‘ Diamond Beach Paradise ,’ he read.
    ‘You don’t think Jake’s down here somewhere, do you?’ Holly faltered. And Marcus shrugged.
    ‘I dunno,’ he replied. ‘Maybe. Mrs Huckstepp recognised our caravan – she said it used to belong to a little old lady called Miss Molpe.’ Squinting at the sign above the lift, he murmured, ‘I wonder if she’s got anything to do with this?’
    ‘Hey,’ said Sterling. His tone, though mild, was also plaintive. ‘Could someone please tell me what this is all about? It’s very clever but I’m not sure what you want me to do.’
    Holly didn’t seem to hear. She was mooning over the Diamond Beach Paradise brochure.
    Marcus sighed.
    ‘This place looks like the control room,’ he informed Sterling. ‘We must have got in here because Prot doesn’t have a dream holiday. Now we just need to find a way into Mrs Huckstepp’s spa.’ His wandering gaze settled on the desktop. ‘Do you think that phone works?’ he wondered aloud.
    Holly was muttering to herself. As Marcus trudged over to the desk, Sterling examined the brochure he’d been given. ‘It doesn’t say here where the spa actually is, ’ Sterling announced. ‘I can’t see a map or an address or anything . . .’
    Marcus lifted the phone receiver. It was heavy and old-fashioned. When he put it to his ear, there was an audible click at the other end of the line. Then a recorded female voice said, ‘Please enter your code number.’
    Code number? Marcus scowled. ‘What code number?’ he demanded.
    ‘Please enter your code number,’ the recorded voice intoned again. ‘Please enter your code number . . .’
    ‘They want a code number,’ Marcus informed Holly.
    ‘Who does?’ she asked.
    ‘I dunno. It’s a recorded message.’
    ‘Can you dial out?’ was her next question, which puzzled Marcus. Why would she want to know that?
    ‘It’s not very magical, is it?’ he observed, confused by all the technology. At which point Sterling remarked,