The Cadwaladr Quests Read online

  I must see Gladys, she thought. My mum’s bound to ground me tonight, but I hope she lets me out this weekend, she worried, not convinced she would.

  ‘Pretty much home now,’ said Jayne as they turned onto Barlow Moor Road. ‘Not going to spill the beans about today, then?’ she asked Claire with a grin.

  ‘It’s nothing really. That rat-boy Josh Drane wouldn’t let go of Becca, so I clouted31 him,’ Claire replied, being economical32 with the truth.

  ‘Wow, Claire, that was brave, but a bit risky. What if he’d hurt you? You won’t do that again, will you?’ she said with a serious shake of her head.

  ‘No,’ replied Claire. ‘I acted without thinking.’ It’s a half-truth, she thought guiltily, grimacing at the queues of traffic gassing the air.

  She thought of how she’d escaped the boy in the woods and kicked Drane so accurately. She’d not heard anyone else’s thoughts since being outside the office, and now she wasn’t sure she ever had. But what if these were her talents that Gwilym had alluded33 to? What if she could actually do those things again? Even though everything had dimmed into a hazy blur, she held on to that thought as hard as she could. Besides, even if she could tell Jayne the real story, she’d think she was bonkers.

  ‘Course I won’t do it again,’ Claire reiterated, her eyes angled downwards, looking at her twiddling fingers, which she had crossed as she spoke. She’d never been the best liar.

  They drove into Beech Road, and Claire felt sick in anticipation. Her mum would flip! Rain began to pelt down onto the roof as they indicated to pull in and stopped outside Claire’s house, Jayne’s automatic34 ignition35 switching off.

  ‘Maybe tell me all about it on Sunday after the theatre. If you feel up to it.’

  ‘That’s if my mum still lets me go,’ Claire said, flat and despondent36.

  ‘Of course she will; I’ll tell your dad what to say to her, and hopefully, there’ll be no veto37,’ said Jayne, leaning over and patting Claire’s arm.

  Reassured, Claire went to leave the car. ‘Noooo! I left my school bag at the museum. I’m gonna be in even more trouble now.’ She plonked her head into her hands, feeling wretched38. ‘I’m such an idiot!’

  ‘Go on, Claire, your mum’s at the door. We’ll sort your bag; don’t fret. Go on.’ And with a gentle tap of her arm, she nudged Claire to leave the car.

  Claire didn’t dare hug Jayne goodbye in case Dee saw from the doorway.

  ‘Go!’ Jayne mouthed, grinning as her car sprang back into life.

  Dreading the inevitable, Claire pushed open the heavy door. As she jumped down into a puddle, she balked39 at the sight of a white-faced Dee. She braced herself.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum, honestly I am. I won’t do it again, I promise, not ever.’

  Dee yanked Claire towards her and gave her such a crushing hug the air squeezed out of her lungs with a grunt. Dee didn’t let go. Taken aback40 as Dee squished harder, Claire winced, waiting for the tirade41 to hit – only it didn’t. Astounded at Dee’s reaction, she squeezed her mum back.

  ‘Has Princess Jayne and her pricey perfume driven off yet? I can smell it,’ Dee whispered into the back of Claire’s neck.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ replied Claire, looking over her mum’s wet shoulder, ‘she’s gone.’

  ‘What the heck were you thinking?’ her mum asked in her irritated but not-quite-angry voice. ‘I’ve been worried sick all day,’ said Dee before Claire could speak. ‘School phoned and said you hadn’t come in; you didn’t call for Ben; no one could find you. I thought something terrible had happened to you!’ she said, beginning to shout now and squeezing Claire even harder. ‘And this business with Becca. What’s that all about?’ Dee hadn’t stopped to take a breath yet.

  ‘I’m not sure, Mum,’ fibbed Claire. ‘Dad will have to fill you in. He’s with Becs now, and the police, I think.’

  Drenched42, she followed her mum into the house, which looked untidy as usual. Pete perched on the edge of the couch, headphones hiding his ears. His body swayed, flinching at the sporadic43, blood-curdling44 screams coming from the TV. He was busy on his Xbox, dodging and vaporising the aliens invading the giant screen.

  ‘Turn that rubbish off!’ ordered Dee, yanking his headphones off. ‘Come and see your sister; she’s home!’ she shouted at Pete.

  ‘No need to shout, Mum,’ he replied, pointing at his ears. ‘My headphones are in your hand,’ he added with an insolent45 sarcasm.

  Dee whacked him playfully with them.

  ‘Hiya, Pete.’ Claire sidled46 into the lounge, a sheepish47 look on her face.

  ‘Well, get you, Eclair-girl. Kudos48. Who’s the big hero, then?’ he teased.

  ‘Don’t call her Eclair,’ shouted Dee. ‘Leave her be; she’s not a bloomin’ cake.’

  Claire raised an eyebrow at her mum sticking up for her.

  ‘Some security bloke posted a clip of someone decking49 a lad who looks just like Josh Drane, and I reckon that someone is you, sis.’ Pete wagged a finger in Claire’s face, but his eyebrows were raised in admiration.

  ‘What?’ Panic choked her. ‘Let me see it!’ she shouted, grabbing at the phone he brandished50 before her.

  ‘Hang on, Speedy.’ He held his phone above his head and pushed her away.

  ‘Is it you?’ Dee’s quizzical51 eyes narrowed at Claire, a hint of pride sneaking across her face.

  ‘Give it here! Let me see it!’ shouted Claire, managing to snatch the phone.

  Her heart hammered as she pressed play. Thankfully, no sound accompanied the clip. A vague shot of a chunky girl running towards an adolescent52 boy played out; then the screen blanked out before coming back to life to show the boy lying flat on the floor.

  ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ Pete’s eyes were alight53 with astonishment and admiration. ‘It is you!’ he said again. ‘She’d deny it otherwise, Mum. Our Claire’s too honest – it’s defo her.’

  Claire wasn’t listening; she’d crashed down onto the couch in a state of utter relief. The clip had broadcast54 nothing significant.

  ‘Is it you, love?’ Dee asked, sitting down beside her. ‘Did you do that to that boy?’

  Claire didn’t answer. She stared stubbornly up at the ceiling, contemplating55 the entire crazy day.

  ‘Claire?’ Dee nudged her. ‘Is it you in the clip?’

  ‘Might be,’ she answered defensively, her eyes now aimed at her feet.

  ‘See, I told you it’s her. I told you.’ Pete jumped around the lounge, shouting and pointing at Claire.

  ‘Jeez, Claire, you’ll be the talk of Chorlton,’ he joked.

  ‘What happened, love?’ asked Dee, moving closer. ‘What did he do to you?’

  Here goes, Claire thought, squirming inside.

  ‘I don’t know exactly, Mum. I was looking at the exhibits in the main hall, and I saw him. He had hold of Becca, dragging her. She looked terrible, Mum; something was so wrong. He wouldn’t leave her.’ Claire stalled, not wanting to upset her mum any more than she needed to.

  ‘Go on, love,’ said Dee. ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘I asked him a few times to leave her alone, nicely at first,’ she fibbed, ‘but he laughed at me, so I whacked him. I must have caught him exactly right,’ she added as an afterthought56.

  Dee and Pete gawped at her, open-mouthed. Nobody uttered a word.

  If only you knew what really happened, thought Claire.

  ‘What!’ Pete shrieked, breaking the silence. ‘My kid sister sorting out Josh Drane! You are gonna be, like, soooo famous round here,’ he boasted, proud of her. ‘Respect,’ he added, flicking his fingers.

  ‘OK, enough now!’ said Dee to Pete. ‘Claire, I’m so proud of you sticking up for Becca like that, I really am, BUT, you can’t just go around hitting people, and what’s worse is he could have killed you. I can’t abide57 that boy, and I’ve told Becs hundreds of times to keep away from him,’ she said vociferously58. ‘Maybe she’ll learn her lesson now.’

  ‘Yeah, Mum, I know.’ Clair
e looked at the floor again. ‘I don’t know what came over me really. He was hurting her; he shook her so hard I saw red. I flipped.’

  ‘Come here, you daft thing.’ Dee held her daughter close just as the doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be your dad.’ Suddenly jittery59, Dee rearranged her damp hair in the mirror, dabbing60 at her cheeks. With a strained smile on her face, she went over and opened the door.

  ‘Rebecca!’ she cried, ignoring Claire’s dad, who was virtually61 propping up their daughter. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ She grabbed Rebecca’s arm to help Vince bring her in. Rebecca wavered, her walk unsteady and weak. Between them they laid her down on the couch.

  ‘Mum,’ Rebecca said, bursting into tears.

  Claire felt so sorry for her. Rebecca looked crestfallen62 and vulnerable, the spider-lashes were smeared63 into black tendrils64 of mascara65, her hair was matted66, her clothes dishevelled67, and her discarded, scuffed68 heels dangled from Vince’s hand.

  ‘What on earth happened to you?’ said Dee.

  ‘I can’t remember, Mum,’ said Rebecca in a small voice. ‘One minute I’m in the cinema at the museum; the next thing I remember is seeing Claire and then waking up in hospital with Dad. That’s all I can remember,’ she blubbed.

  ‘The police reckon Drane drugged her,’ said Vince angrily. ‘Allegedly69, he’s been selling the stuff at school, so they’ve arrested him. The head had better kick him out now,’ he added.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum, and Dad,’ Rebecca said between sobs. ‘I swear I didn’t take any drugs. I had no idea; I wouldn’t ever do that.’

  ‘I know, love,’ Dee sighed. ‘You’re daft, but not that flippin’ daft.’ She had always drummed into her kids that drugs were not worth the risk, not ever.

  ‘Mum, can I have a drink, please?’ asked a subdued70 Rebecca.

  ‘Get her a drink, Vince,’ Dee snapped.

  ‘OK! Course,’ Vince replied, jumping to it. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Yes, please, Dad,’ said Claire. ‘Water for me, thanks.’

  Rebecca tried to sit up, but still too woozy71, she withered72 back down on the couch.

  ‘Claire,’ Rebecca managed to mutter, ‘what did you do to Josh?’ she asked. ‘What was he doing? Why did he give me that stuff?’ she asked, perplexed73.

  Unable to offer any plausible74 answer, too unsure of what to say, Claire shrugged.

  Dee stroked Rebecca’s hair. ‘Our Claire flattened that bully,’ said Dee, answering for her. ‘And I’ve told her off for it too,’ she added, realising she was condoning75 violence.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Claire smiled up at her father and took her drink.

  Rebecca sipped hers, then handed it back to Vince.

  ‘Thanks, Claire,’ said Rebecca earnestly. ‘I mean it, thanks.’

  She tried to smile, but her head lolled76 to one side, and in what seemed like one second, she fell asleep.

  Vince’s phone chimed. Fidgeting and looking uncomfortable, he glanced at the message. ‘I’d best be off now. Are we still OK to have Claire on Sunday as arranged?’ he asked his estranged wife.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Dee said grudgingly, just grateful to have Claire home.

  ‘Does that mean I can still go with Ben to his contest tomorrow?’

  ‘Don’t push it, young lady,’ her mum warned.

  But Claire could tell by Dee’s face she’d be able to go.

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she squealed, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Right, then.’ Vince cleared his throat, stood up and brushed his palms down his thighs in a final, awkward gesture.

  Her mum didn’t move; uncomfortable seconds lingered, the same way they always did when her dad was saying goodbye.

  Poor Mum, thought Claire. Her dad was going back to Jayne, and her mum would be here, lonely. Her dad’s career77 had prospered since meeting Jayne, and he looked more handsome, well-dressed and confident these days.

  ‘See you on Sunday, Claire. Let me know how Becs gets on, would you, please, Dee?’ Vince walked towards the door.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dee. ‘Claire will be all ready and waiting in her Sunday best for you,’ she added with a biting, sardonic78 ring to her voice. She yanked the door open as he said, ‘Bye,’ then slammed it closed behind him. Diplomacy79 had never been her strong suit80.

  Claire watched as her dejected81 mum walked back into the lounge. Dee wore little make-up, and her damp blonde hair fell onto her shoulders. Her casual jeans and T-shirt flattered her boyish shape. Claire adored this look, young and natural; her mum didn’t need all the garish82 make-up she’d taken to wearing since her dad had left. Her mum was inherently83 pretty, but Claire could see the lines creasing her eyes and the telltale dark shadows underneath. They confessed84 a different truth, one of fragility and sorrow.

  ‘Mum, I’m so sorry if I worried you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ replied Dee with a brave smile. ‘I’m so happy you’re here now. What do you want for your tea?’ she asked, heading towards the kitchen.

  Nothing changes overnight, thought Claire half an hour later, chewing on an overcooked, almost-inedible85 piece of chicken. Still, she was grateful to be home. Rebecca was still fast asleep on the couch, snoring, and no doubt Pete had gone out to tell all his mates of his sister’s triumph – he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘Muuuuum?’ Claire asked.

  ‘What?’ replied Dee, suspicious of Claire’s tone.

  ‘Can I go out to Ben’s for a bit? It is Friday night,’ she asked as casually as she could, pushing her luck to the limit now.

  Dee didn’t answer; she drummed her fingers on the table.

  ‘Mmmm ...’ Dee enjoyed prolonging86 Claire’s agony. ‘You can,’ she answered, ‘BUT, take Becca’s phone with you and be back in an hour, no more. Do you hear me, young lady? One hour, then you’re back.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ squealed Claire, springing up and flinging her arms around Dee’s neck.

  ‘Help me clear up first though,’ Dee bargained87.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Claire chirped, scooping up the dirty plates and putting them into the sink. She grabbed the packet of bread from the table and opened the bread bin. The lonely fossil of a doughnut was still there, now showing early signs of a blue mould.

  She laughed to herself as she hooked the doughnut out of the bread bin and threw it into the bin. She grabbed her coat and Rebecca’s phone, and shouted, ‘Bye, Mum. See you in a bit.’ Slamming the door shut behind her, she sprinted straight to Gladys’s house.

  16. Finding Gladys

  Red-faced and sweating, Claire contemplated Gladys’s closed curtains. Doubled over, nursing a painful stitch1, she was panting hard, resting her hands on her burning thighs for support. She’d sprinted past Ben’s, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted.

  Gladys’s house looked exactly as Claire had left it that morning. Knocking on the front door, she thought it was unlikely Gladys would be home if she’d been in Anglesey only a few hours earlier. She crossed her fingers, chewed her lip and waited in hope for Jack’s usual greeting. None came. Deflated2, she knocked again.

  Maybe they’re in the backyard, she thought.

  Pressing her nose to the window, she peeked through a gap in the curtains, but there was no sign of life. She concluded Gladys really wasn’t at home.

  Desperate to speak to someone, she toyed with going to Ben’s, then decided against it. What could she tell him? She didn’t want to lie to him either. She’d sleep on it and meet him in the morning, as they’d arranged yesterday.

  Despondently she walked back towards the shops and decided to have a snoop3 of Rebecca’s phone. Anecdotes4 about Becca and Drane were already circulating on social media5; none of it was the truth, all of it overblown6, exaggerated hearsay7. She tutted and switched the phone off, carrying on past the trendy8 cafes and bars, up past the newsagents and then the chippy.

  It was early Friday evening now, and already busy. Outside the pub, workmen he
ld frothy9 pints, debating football. Further along, friends chatted gregariously10 at tables, laughing as they sipped wine and ate tapas11.

  Crossing the road, she passed the bustling12 playground. Dogs yapped outside the railings, and carefree children kicked their legs high on the swings, their joyous13 chuckles accentuating her sudden feeling of loneliness. Seeing the dogs made her pine for Jack’s wiry14 white face and his soft black-and-tan ears. One of the dogs was barking so loudly Claire stopped and investigated the playground; everything seemed fine, just a kid digging in the sand. As the dog’s barking increased, she checked the playground again, but realised the sound was coming from behind her. Turning around, she walked back a few metres towards the road and the newsagents. There, further down the street, tugging on his lead, pulled a determined Jack. He was barking incessantly, yapping and yanking poor Gladys towards the park – he’d seen Claire.

  ‘Gladys! Gladys!’ she shouted, bombing15 across the side street, narrowly missing a passing car. ‘Gladys, wait!’

  Claire ran towards Gladys, flinging herself at her and Jack in turn. ‘Why’s Jack on the lead?’ panted Claire. ‘You never use a lead.’

  ‘Slow down, Claire; you nearly got yourself run over,’ Gladys said, ticking her off. ‘He’s found a liking for his lead after you took him out on it. Forever bringing it to me in his teeth. He’s a cheeky lad; drops it at my feet every five minutes. That’s why we’re here, on an errand16 to buy my lottery17 ticket,’ she laughed, looking down at Jack.

  ‘Oh, Gladys, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve got to be home soon; can I come around to yours for a bit to talk, please?’ Claire asked, dancing about on the spot, anxious for her to agree.

  ‘Of course. Come on, I’ll put the kettle on.’ And at that, the three of them trotted off.

  Five minutes later they were in Gladys’s hospitable18 kitchen. Wherever Gladys was, there was sure to be tea.

  Claire stroked Jack’s velvety ear between her fingers. The soft texture19 was such a contrast to the rest of his bristly coat. She thought of Lady, the pony; convinced she could still smell the faint horsey scent lingering on her hands. The memories seemed long ago, not earlier on that day. It all sounded so ludicrous20, so unreal, that she felt awkward broaching21 the subject with Gladys. She fiddled with her finger, poking it through a hole in the tablecloth.