Bet Your Life (5 page)

“Horrendous,” I agreed.

“Beth said Seb’s mum is coming over.” The tears brimmed in Petra’s eyes. “It must be serious, mustn’t it? If she’s coming all the way from France?”

“Well, she’s his mum. I’d want my mum if I was in hospital.”

Petra’s voice was a whisper. “Beth asked me what it was like. After Freya.”

After Freya died, she meant. I squeezed her shoulders, wishing I could think of something comforting to say. Grief sucked. That didn’t quite cut it.

“Which hospital is he in?”

“The big one in Exeter.”

Which meant it was serious. “They’ll look after him,” I said, hoping it was consoling.

“They said … last night—” Petra gulped. “They said his head was split open. They said his
brains
were all over the pavement.”

“Who said that?”

“Everyone.”

“Well,
everyone
obviously didn’t see him. I did. And there were no brains on the pavement, I promise you.”

“You saw him?”

“On my way home. They were just putting him in the ambulance.”

“How did he look?”

“A bit battered,” I admitted. No point in going into the grisly details, even if they weren’t anything like as bad as what she’d heard already. “He’ll be OK, Petra.”

“I hope so.”

“Try not to worry. There’s nothing you can do except wait. And be there for Beth when she needs you.”

Petra nodded and blew her nose. “I’m all right.”

“Come and help me sort out Ella’s room. I’ve got to make the bed and I think it needs dusting. The last time I was in there a giant cobweb attacked me. The spider must have been the size of my head.”

“Which room is it? The one at the top?”

“The one with the sea view.” We grinned at each other. The sea view was a longstanding family joke. When the house was built, Port Sentinel had been more or less undeveloped and the whole bay had been visible. Now, a tiny gap between houses was all that was left. It amounted to two inches of water that you could only really pick out on a bright sunny day, when it glittered. Still, it counted, and it was the only bedroom apart from mine on the top floor. I thought Ella would love it.

I was wrestling with the duvet and Petra was running a duster over the windowsill when Tilly came in. She had a vase of branches from the garden that looked like the work of a super-expensive florist. Typical Tilly to be able to make something out of nothing, but then she was a real, proper artist, painting portraits of animals that sold for mouthwatering amounts. I’d inherited my father’s logical mind rather than the Leonard flair for art, and it was that more than anything else that made me feel like an outsider, three months on from arriving in Port Sentinel.

“I thought your friend might like these.”

“She’ll love them,” I said truthfully.

“Petra, Beth is downstairs. I didn’t like to ask, but is everything OK?”

“Nope.” Petra dropped the duster and ran, leaving me to fill in the details for Tilly.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Oh, the poor darling. I must go and make something for them. Stew, or something they can reheat. Vegetarian lasagne.” She wandered out of the room, on a mission. “Moussaka…” floated back from the landing.

Tilly just loved having someone to mother, I thought, which brought me back to Will. It was no wonder she had practically adopted him. I knew she missed him too. I had never spoken to her or Mum about him, despite gentle questions from both of them separately and together. It was too painful to talk about it, and too complicated. It was my fault that Will had been sent away, when all was said and done. I couldn’t have said whether the guilt was worse than the pain of missing him. All I knew was that I’d better keep my misery to myself.

Which was a cheery thing to think about when you were fighting the most evil duvet imaginable. For roughly the hundredth time I discovered I’d put the wrong corner in the wrong bit of the cover so it didn’t fit. I ripped it out and threw it on the floor, then jumped up and down on it.

OK, so it wasn’t the most mature thing I’d ever done, but it made me feel better, briefly. And call it coincidence if you like, but when I picked the duvet up and forced it into the cover again, it ended up fitting perfectly, first time.

I’d finished tidying up there and was in my own room, lying on the bed reading, when there was a tap on the door. Petra peered in. “Jess? Is it OK for us to come in? Beth wants to talk to you.”

“Of course.” I put the book down and sat on the edge of the bed. I assumed she wanted to know what I’d seen. Mentally, I started to edit it. Less blood and bruising. No mention of Dan being creepy. I’d just downplay everything and try to sound reassuring.

Beth trailed in after my cousin, her little face puckered with woe. I marveled again at the fact that there was absolutely no resemblance between her and her half-brother. Even if she lost the glasses, she would still be sweet rather than stunning, her coloring mousy, her demeanor
Don’t look at me
. Seb was more
Why aren’t you looking at me?
She was a couple of inches shorter than Petra and very much a child in the way she dressed. Today’s top had a pink cat on it and her hair was in two long plaits.

“How are you doing, Beth?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was a whisper.

“How is Seb?”

“In intensive care. Mum brought me home. She said there was no point in us hanging around.” Beth sat down on the edge of a chair. “I’m so worried about him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Not that I knew one way or the other, but I wasn’t going to say that. “Intensive care just means he’s getting the best possible treatment.”

“He’s still unconscious. They might have to operate if the pressure gets too high in his brain.”

“I’m so sorry, Beth.”

“I mean, he’s not always the easiest person to live with, but he doesn’t deserve this.” She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and added, very quietly, so I almost missed it, “Or maybe he does.”

Petra cleared her throat. “Beth wanted to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?” I looked from Beth to Petra, waiting for one of them to tell me. It was Petra who spoke again.

“She knows about what you did—finding out about Freya. She wants you to do the same for Seb. Tell her what really happened.”

“Me? But the police—”

“The police say it was a car accident.” Beth shook her head. “How is that even possible? Petra said you saw him.”

“Just for a minute. And it was dark.” I was frowning. There was absolutely no way that Seb had got his injuries from being hit by a car.

Beth was thinking the same way. “Did you see the bruises? The marks on his arms? I can’t believe they think I’m that stupid.”

“There was glass on the road. It could have come from a car. Sometimes people get injured in odd ways, and—”

She cut me off. “Did you know he was only wearing underwear when he got to the hospital? No socks, even. Just his boxers.”

“Where were his clothes?”

Beth shrugged. “No one knows.”

“That was some car accident,” Petra said, and I was inclined to agree.

“What do your parents think, Beth?”

“Mum says I shouldn’t worry about it. Seb has never got on with her since he moved in with us, so she’s not upset about him being injured, really. She’s worried about Dad. He’s like a zombie. They said at the hospital it was shock. Inspector Henderson was talking to him about Seb and he was just staring into space, not answering. It was so embarrassing.”

I hated to disappoint the two girls. “Look, I know I found out what happened to Freya, but that was just luck. I mean, I managed to trick people into telling me how she died, basically, because I look like she did and they didn’t know me. That’s not going to happen again.”

Beth was looking stubborn. “Petra told me what a difference it made to the family to find out the truth.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to set myself up as Port Sentinel’s answer to Nancy Drew. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t know Seb. I’ve barely had a conversation with him. I don’t know his friends, for the most part, and I definitely don’t know his enemies.”

“You know Ryan,” Petra pointed out. “And you’re good at finding things out. You could ask around.”

“I could get myself in a lot of trouble.” I shook my head. “No. No way. The whole Freya situation turned into a massive drama and I can’t cope with another one.”

Beth closed her eyes for a moment and two tears ran down from behind her glasses. “Please. Look, I’m worried about Seb. I’m worried that he’s done something awful and that’s why he’s been attacked. I’m worried that even if he doesn’t die, whoever beat him up will try again.”

“You don’t think someone was trying to kill him…” I saw the look on her face. “You
do
think someone was trying to kill him. But why?”

“I don’t know.” She shivered. “Doesn’t it make you a little bit suspicious that no one wants to talk about it? Like the grown-ups know there’s something to cover up? Mum told me not to ask any questions and Inspector Henderson told me not to worry about it.”

“Dan Henderson doesn’t want any negative publicity for the town,” I said. “You know that. Tourism is everything. He covers up every little thing that might make us look bad.”

“Yes, but my parents don’t care about that. Dad cares about Seb. Mum cares about our family’s reputation. It’s got to have something to do with him. He did something awful and this is his punishment.”

“You sound so sure…” I said slowly. “What do you know, Beth? What haven’t you told me?”

She wriggled. “I don’t know if this matters or not, but a couple of months ago his phone was ringing and ringing when he was in the shower and I picked it up to switch it off, but I didn’t really know what I was doing and I must have connected the call instead. It was a girl and she was crying. She said she’d never forgive him for what he’d done.” Beth’s face was so white it looked green. “I could hardly hear her, she was so upset. And I made my voice really gruff and said, ‘Who is this?’ but she just hung up. Her number wasn’t stored in the phone and I didn’t recognize her voice.”

“Did you ask Seb about it?”

“He’d have killed me for touching his phone,” she said. “But I did try to listen to his next conversations, just to see if she called him again.”

“And?”

“I don’t think she ever did. It was just him talking to his mates.”

“Apart from her, do you know anyone else who dislikes him?”

“Not really, but that doesn’t mean much. He doesn’t let me spend much time with him. I can try to find out.”

“Great,” I said faintly, wondering when exactly I’d agreed to help. It was just that Beth seemed so convinced that I would come to the rescue.

And I wanted to know too. I was curious. It would annoy Dan Henderson. It gave me something to do with my week off school, to take my mind off Will being back in town. All good reasons to do what they were asking.

Almost immediately, Petra came up with a reminder of why I shouldn’t get involved. “It might help to talk to his friends. Ryan might know what he’s been doing lately.”

“Is there anyone else I could ask?” I didn’t even bother trying to hide my dismay.

“Harry Knowles is one of his best friends,” Beth said. “And I think he hangs around with Guy Tindall.”

Neither of whom I knew. I’d have to call Ryan. And he would
definitely
take it the wrong way.

“Is there any chance you could get hold of Seb’s mobile phone for me? If the police don’t have it.”

“Inspector Henderson gave it back to Dad this morning. He said they’d recovered it from the scene of the accident and they didn’t need it for their investigation into the car crash that never happened. The last time I saw it, Dad had it in his jacket pocket. I’ll have to wait until I can get hold of it without Mum or Dad noticing.”

“OK.” It wasn’t as if I was desperately keen to get my hands on it. “Even if you do get it, we’d need to know the password.”

“I know that. Six nine six nine.” She looked unimpressed. “He said it was easy to remember.”

“Classy,” I commented.

“I don’t get it,” Petra said, and Beth grinned.

“You’ve been reading all the wrong books, Pets. I’ll lend you my Jilly Coopers.”

Not so young and innocent after all, I thought, with an internal grin that quickly faded. I wasn’t sure that I was doing the right thing. It wasn’t that I went looking for trouble. Trouble had a knack of finding me.

And I had a feeling that it was about to come knocking again.

4

I sat in Miss Lemon, staring out resignedly as Hugo swore and thumped the steering wheel. Never was a car better named. He turned the key in the ignition again, his lips pressed together as the engine coughed and spluttered.

“Sounds promising,” I said.

“Shut it. I’m only doing this to be nice.”

“Don’t flood it.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

He was right, but I didn’t admit it. “How much did you pay for Miss Lemon again?”

“On a cost-per-use basis, an unacceptable amount.” He shook the steering wheel. “Don’t think I won’t trade you in, Lemon. I’m giving you one more chance, and if you don’t start, it’s the knacker’s yard.”

“It’s sweet that you think she can understand you,” I said, then laughed as the engine roared into life. “No way.”

Hugo grinned at me. “Works every time.”

“I’m not complaining. But let’s go.” I tapped the clock on the dashboard. “I’m assuming this works. If it’s right, we’re late.”

“Oh no. I’m going to have to drive really, really fast,” Hugo said happily, and tore out of the gate in a shower of loose gravel. I just about managed to text Ella a promise that we really
were
on our way before I gave myself up to complete terror, bracing one hand on the dashboard and the other on the door handle. I was past caring that Hugo laughed at me every time I squealed in fear. After the return journey, I promised myself, I was never going to get into a car driven by Hugo again. Ever.

We were only about three minutes late for the train but the car park was full. Hugo stopped to let me out by the station entrance.