doubtful of my abilities to keep it going. I’d never felt I had anything interesting to say, and finally I’d deleted it in frustration.
“I’ve not found the time,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “Too busy with school.”
I think she sensed the truth. She pursed her lips slightly. “Umm, on the subject of journalism, have you checked your email?”
I hadn’t. I tapped at my phone with a surging sense of excitement. There was a note from her dad, thanking me for the article, and turning it down. “Nicely written, but the descriptions are a little flowery, and also overall too graphic for us, I’m afraid. Keep going, it shows promise.”
Flowery and graphic. What was that supposed to mean? I could change it, couldn’t I? I felt as if I was being politely patted on the head and told to go back to my colouring books.
“Sorry if he’s been blunt,” said Jo.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I knew it was a long shot.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Sam’s got some news, too,” chipped in Liam. “He’s a psycho-criminal maaaaadman!”
“Eh?” laughed Jo.
I wanted to forget about it, at least for now, so in telling Jo the details I emphasized how I was now thinking Liam was right, and that there may have been less to the whole thing than I’d assumed.
Jo’s response was disconcerting. “What sort of dog was it?” she said. She was being serious.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It was quite big, but it wasn’t an Irish Wolfhound, or anything like that. It wasn’t a Golden Retriever, I know what they look like. I don’t really know about dogs. Why?”
“Just a coincidence.” Jo shrugged. “At dinner last night, my dad was telling me about the running order of stories in his paper for this week. Third is a thing about pet snatchers. There’ve been several thefts in Hadlington and in the villages along the river.”
“Does your dad always run the
Hadlington Courier
’s editorial decisions past you?” said Liam.
“No, of course not. He was telling me because the lead today is about a girl I used to be at playgroup with. I think he was a bit shocked. My mum was shocked, anyway.”
“Shocked by what?” I said.
“This girl, Kat Brennan, has run away. She’s the second from Elton Gardens to do that in less than a month. The police don’t think there’s any link, but Dad says they both had boyfriends in gangs.”
“There you go,” said Liam, pointing a finger at me. “Gangs again, Elton Gardens again.”
“By the way,” said Jo, “Dad also said the cops have confirmed that the dead guy in the park had an Elton Gardens address.”
“Yeah, yeah, OK,” I said. “When did this girl go missing?”
“Oh, last weekend sometime,” said Jo.
“Not yesterday?” I said.
A scream in the night.
“No.”
“But your mum was shocked.”
“Well, yes,” said Jo, “because we know her. Or knew her, years ago. I can barely remember her myself, but Mum kept shaking her head last night and saying what a nice family the Brennans were and how could Kat have got herself into trouble like that. Mum stuff.”
I just couldn’t help instantly leaping to conclusions. The dog I’d seen – it had to be one of the stolen ones! The scream I’d heard – it had to be the missing girl!
I felt like smacking my head against a brick wall.
Don’t be a dribbling idiot
, I told myself.
Cut out the junior detective shit, life is not a paperback mystery plot!
At least I had the presence of mind not to say any of it out loud to Liam or Jo.
I wondered if I was overcompensating, because of the let-down over my article. I was looking for a story, a narrative that might be spun into a piece that
would
impress. Was I seeing connections that weren’t there and coincidences that didn’t exist, all for the sake of my ambitions? The thought made me feel even worse.
I managed to force everything to the back of my mind until the end-of-school bell went. School was harder
“I’ve not found the time,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “Too busy with school.”
I think she sensed the truth. She pursed her lips slightly. “Umm, on the subject of journalism, have you checked your email?”
I hadn’t. I tapped at my phone with a surging sense of excitement. There was a note from her dad, thanking me for the article, and turning it down. “Nicely written, but the descriptions are a little flowery, and also overall too graphic for us, I’m afraid. Keep going, it shows promise.”
Flowery and graphic. What was that supposed to mean? I could change it, couldn’t I? I felt as if I was being politely patted on the head and told to go back to my colouring books.
“Sorry if he’s been blunt,” said Jo.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I knew it was a long shot.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Sam’s got some news, too,” chipped in Liam. “He’s a psycho-criminal maaaaadman!”
“Eh?” laughed Jo.
I wanted to forget about it, at least for now, so in telling Jo the details I emphasized how I was now thinking Liam was right, and that there may have been less to the whole thing than I’d assumed.
Jo’s response was disconcerting. “What sort of dog was it?” she said. She was being serious.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It was quite big, but it wasn’t an Irish Wolfhound, or anything like that. It wasn’t a Golden Retriever, I know what they look like. I don’t really know about dogs. Why?”
“Just a coincidence.” Jo shrugged. “At dinner last night, my dad was telling me about the running order of stories in his paper for this week. Third is a thing about pet snatchers. There’ve been several thefts in Hadlington and in the villages along the river.”
“Does your dad always run the
Hadlington Courier
’s editorial decisions past you?” said Liam.
“No, of course not. He was telling me because the lead today is about a girl I used to be at playgroup with. I think he was a bit shocked. My mum was shocked, anyway.”
“Shocked by what?” I said.
“This girl, Kat Brennan, has run away. She’s the second from Elton Gardens to do that in less than a month. The police don’t think there’s any link, but Dad says they both had boyfriends in gangs.”
“There you go,” said Liam, pointing a finger at me. “Gangs again, Elton Gardens again.”
“By the way,” said Jo, “Dad also said the cops have confirmed that the dead guy in the park had an Elton Gardens address.”
“Yeah, yeah, OK,” I said. “When did this girl go missing?”
“Oh, last weekend sometime,” said Jo.
“Not yesterday?” I said.
A scream in the night.
“No.”
“But your mum was shocked.”
“Well, yes,” said Jo, “because we know her. Or knew her, years ago. I can barely remember her myself, but Mum kept shaking her head last night and saying what a nice family the Brennans were and how could Kat have got herself into trouble like that. Mum stuff.”
I just couldn’t help instantly leaping to conclusions. The dog I’d seen – it had to be one of the stolen ones! The scream I’d heard – it had to be the missing girl!
I felt like smacking my head against a brick wall.
Don’t be a dribbling idiot
, I told myself.
Cut out the junior detective shit, life is not a paperback mystery plot!
At least I had the presence of mind not to say any of it out loud to Liam or Jo.
I wondered if I was overcompensating, because of the let-down over my article. I was looking for a story, a narrative that might be spun into a piece that
would
impress. Was I seeing connections that weren’t there and coincidences that didn’t exist, all for the sake of my ambitions? The thought made me feel even worse.
I managed to force everything to the back of my mind until the end-of-school bell went. School was harder
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