“He’s done terrible things,” said the old lady on the phone.

Saffron was just standing in the middle of the living room, but she felt as if she was on a rolling ship, shaking her about and making her seasick.  “Who are you?”

“Listen to me, Saffron.  Years ago, he stole a girl from her parents.  I don’t know why he did it, but he hid her away and laughed in their faces.”

Saffron fell back onto the sofa.  No wonder he didn’t want to tell me about Amber before.  She looked up at the ceiling and tried to stop feeling like she was going to throw up.

“When her father died, he wouldn’t even let her go to the funeral,” the old lady continued, “That is the kind of man he is.”

Last year, Saffron’s teacher had read The Horse and His Boy to the class, and Saffron remembered the bit near the start where the boy had overheard his dad saying that he wasn’t his real father and he was going to try and sell him as a slave.  It had said in the book that the boy didn’t mind because he’d never really loved his dad properly anyway, but Saffron didn’t see how he wasn’t upset.  He was his dad.   He’d seen him every day of his life.  Even if he hadn’t been nice to him, he’d been what the boy was used to.  Wouldn’t you feel as if you’d been shaken up and put down in the middle of nowhere?  Wouldn’t you feel like you couldn’t really believe anything you’d ever been told in your life?

Uncle Christian had said, It’s Amber’s story- I can’t tell to you behind her back.  I’ll tell it when she asks, and not a moment sooner.  And even if it hadn’t been his real reason, even if she couldn’t believe anything else he’d ever said, Saffron still didn’t want to hear it behind her sister’s back.  “Should I get Amber?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit croaky.

“Excuse me?”

“Should I get Amber?  Do you want to tell this with her listening?”

“Who on earth is Amber?”

“My sister.”  Saffron frowned.  “I thought that was who you were talking about.”

“Of course I wasn’t talking about your sister!” said the old lady, in the kind of voice that made you feel stupid… but Saffron didn’t think she had any reason to feel stupid, because if the old lady wasn’t talking about Amber, then who could she be talking about?  The only other little girl Uncle Christian lived with was her, and Saffron was pretty sure she’d remember if she’d been kidnapped.

And there was something else, too.  “Wait a minute- who are you?  You never said.”  Saffron knew she should have got the answer to that a lot earlier, instead of instantly believing strange voices on the phone over people she’d known her entire life, but at least she could get it now.

There was a heavy sigh.  “The important thing is, Saffron, that right now, you have two choices.”  (She still hasn’t answered it! thought Saffron, but decided not to say anything.)  “There’s no way out for your mother and Mr Ashley.  The police will soon be at their door.  You can either wait at home and be dragged away with them, or you can get out while you still can.”  She paused.  Horrible images danced through Saffron’s head.  “If you start walking now, you can be ten miles away by nightfall.”

“They don’t arrest kids just because their mothers are in trouble,” mumbled Saffron.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” said the old lady, with such force that Saffron wanted to hold the phone away from her ear in case it happened again, “Are you really that naïve?  They’ve probably already tricked you into being part of everything they’ve done.  That will be enough for the police.  Tarred by the same brush, they’ll say.”

Saffron pictured herself and her family at the police station, being screamed at by officers as they waved spotlights and handcuffs at them.  Could Mum and Uncle Christian really have tricked her into being part of something bad?  When?  And had there been any way she could have avoided it?

“Leave the house now,” said the old lady, “Get as far away as you can.  This is your only chance to escape.”

Saffron saw herself sneaking out of the house, walking to the end of the road, and then getting herself lost on purpose.  Walking until her feet bled, and then sleeping under a bridge.  It was her only way out.  The only way to avoid the police station and the spotlights and the handcuffs.

She’s lying.  Sometimes people say things just to upset you.

But what if she wasn’t?  What if the police really were on their way?  Maybe there was a girl who’d been kidnapped, somebody Saffron had never met.  Maybe Mum and Uncle Christian really had done horrible things when Saffron and Amber weren’t around.

But that didn’t mean that she had to run off and leave them behind.  Even if there were horrible things on the way, she’d feel a lot better about facing them if she was with her family.

Saffron cleared her throat.  “Anyway, like I said, my mum’s not in right now.  You should try again later.”  And she hung up quickly, before the old lady could say anything else. “Get out of the house,” Tamsin had said, and Octavia did, because she might have taken back the knife and the mug of poison but she’d also kept Octavia’s phone so she couldn’t call the police.   Octavia ran through the streets, searching for a passer-by who might help her call an ambulance, imagining that she could feel her stomach corroding and dissolving away with every moment.  But even as she thought that, she felt a strange sense of triumph:  She’d talked her way out.  She knew it had been a fluke more than anything else- her philosophy of “no-one really knows what they’re doing” applied to herself as much as anyone else- but the euphoria was still there.  All that horrible stuff had happened, but she was still here.  And she’d still be here the next time, and the one after that.

The End