Free Desperate Measures by Laura Summers Page A

the most clued-up kid in the world.
    I had to stay with Re and get Jamie off the train. I started to bang on the window. A man in a beige suit turned and glared disapprovingly at me. I smiled apologetically and he tutted and shook his head, muttering to a woman in a green coat. At this rate, we’d be discovered any second but I had to do something. Ignoring the man, I started thumping frantically on the window again. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and froze.
    I turned round, expecting to be confronted by the angry stationmaster, but to my relief I saw Re standing in front of me, her face blotchy and red.
    ‘Don’t ever do that again!’ I hissed, yanking her hand off my shoulder. She reeled back as if I’d hit her. Tears started to roll down her bewildered moon face.
    ‘I’m sorry, Vicky. I’m sorry.’
    She was shaking and so was I. I put my arm tightly round her and bit my lip till I could taste blood. ‘It’s OK. Don’t cry any more.’
    The guard blew his whistle as the last few passengers got on. I hurried Re on to the train and looked round for Jamie. He was standing at the end of the now crowded carriage.
    ‘What took you so long?’ he asked, staring at me accusingly.
    Most of the seats were taken so we made our way into the next carriage. Re had finally stopped crying but was hiccupping noisily. She wouldn’t let go of my hand, and in a way I didn’t want her to.
    The train was packed with half-term holidaymakers and nobody really noticed us. Eventually we found a table between four seats. A man with a beard was sitting in the far corner. In front of him, he had a little radio, which was reporting the cricket. I hate cricket, it’s sooooo boring. He must have thought so too. His eyes were tight shut and he was snoring really loudly. We sank down in the three spare seats and, for the first time that day, I allowed myself to relax.
    I looked out of the window while Re chatted happily to Jamie, her tears forgotten. We drank the water out of our bottles – it tasted disgusting but we were all so thirsty we didn’t care any more. We were on our way, whizzing out of the town, past endless fields and woods, then a river with men fishing, horses grazing and a family out picnicking.
    Gradually the countryside became wilder and craggier and bare hills loomed in the distance. The rhythm of the train seemed to be saying, ‘You’re nearly there, you’re nearly there.’ We stopped at some stations – people got off but loads more got on to replace them. Each time the train started up its reassuring chant again. ‘You’re nearly there, you’re nearly there, you’re nearly there.’
    Guiltily, I thought of Paul and Sarah. It was horriblenot knowing what was happening. Please, please, please let their baby be OK, I thought. I imagined them in the hospital, Paul sitting by Sarah’s bed waiting for her to wake up, or waiting for the doctors to come round, or encouraging her to eat something. I knew the routine. I’d done it with Mum. I hoped they were too caught up in their own troubles to worry too much about us. An uncomfortable thought struck me. Dad would know by now too. What would he be thinking?
    I forced myself to think of something else. Matt. No. Rosie? I desperately wanted to text or ring her but I’d deliberately kept my phone switched off. I knew the police could trace calls. It was much too risky.
    I shut my eyes and decided that I had to think positive. To look forwards, not backwards. When we got to Great Auntie Irene’s, she’d be surprised to see us of course but she’d give us something good to eat and tell us everything was going to be all right from now on and I didn’t need to worry any more. She might have been really old but she had all her marbles and she’d sort everything out. When we were first taken away from Dad, Mrs Frankish had asked if we had any other family who could look after us. There was only Uncle Mac or Great Auntie Irene. Uncle Mac runs a sheep farm