tried not to think about what would happen if he did, or how I’d get home if I managed to escape.
Stay calm and think positive, I told myself. Max knows where you are. He’ll tell Gran if you don’t come home soon. All sorts of panicky thoughts were running through my head as I lay crouched in the back of the car, hardly daring to breathe in case Mr Smythe heard me. What if I needed to sneeze or cough? After all, if he was ruthless enough to damage Old Joe’s cottage to make him sell, what would he do to me if he realised I was on to him? It was a relief when the car finally stopped. I lifted a corner of the rug and saw that we were in a car park, then I glanced at my watch. It was 12.30 – we’d been travelling for about forty-five minutes. I heard the door open and braced myself, beads of sweat dripping down my face. If Mr Smythe opened the boot I’d have about five seconds to throw off the rug and make a run for it. I poised myself for action and waited for Mr Smythe to get out.
Instead, someone else got in. ‘You’re late,’ a man’s voice said. ‘Have you got the bracelet?’
I dropped the corner of the rug and lay as flat and still as I could.
‘It’s in my pocket,’ Mr Smythe replied. ‘Have you told the others? Are the funds ready?’
So he had the bracelet on him. I’d gone through all this for nothing!
‘Yes, and we want you to make the old guy an offer he can’t refuse. You can go over the amount we agreed, if necessary.’
‘What if he doesn’t want to sell?’
‘It’s up to you to persuade him.’
There was a pause for a moment, then the other man continued. ‘Shame you had to move out of that B&B. It was close to the cottage, convenient to keep an eye on things.’
‘Well I couldn’t really stay there once I’d taken the bracelet, could I?’ Mr Smythe retorted.
‘I guess not. Anyway, come on, the others are waiting inside.’
I heard them both get out of the car, then the doors slammed shut. I left it for a few minutes before peeking out from the rug, just to make sure it was safe. I threw back the rug and scrambled over the back, dropping onto the rear seat. For a moment I panicked – what if there was some kind of safety lock on and I couldn’t open the door from the inside? I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle and pulled it. It opened! I jumped out, shut the door behind me and looked around to try and get my bearings.
I guessed by the Red Lion sign on the wall that we were in a pub car park. I knew I should probably make my way straight home, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to find out who Mr Smythe was meeting and what they were planning. It would also be good to know where he was staying now. I was sure he didn’t intend to go very far if he was going to be pressurising Old Joe into selling up.
I quickly sent a text to Max to let him know I’d managed to get out of the car and would report back to him later, with a strict warning not to contact me or say anything to Gran. Then I went in search of Mr Smythe. I soon found him, sitting at a table inside the pub restaurant with another couple of men and two women, one of whom was wearing the reddest lipstick I’d ever seen. I itched to get closer to them and hear what they were saying, but I couldn’t risk Mr Smythe seeing me.
‘Are you with someone?’ a middle-aged waitress asked, kindly. ‘I’m afraid children aren’t allowed in here on their own.’
‘My mum’s in the car outside. I just wanted to go to the washroom,’ I told her.
‘Washroom?’ the woman repeated, looking at me with a blank expression.
‘Toilet,’ I quickly corrected. I thought I’d mastered most of the UK–US language differences, but every now and again I still slipped up.
‘Ah. Just down that corridor on your right.’ She pointed ahead.
‘Thanks.’ I headed down the corridor.
I thought that I might as well go to the toilet while I was here. As I was washing my hands at the sink, the two women who had
Stay calm and think positive, I told myself. Max knows where you are. He’ll tell Gran if you don’t come home soon. All sorts of panicky thoughts were running through my head as I lay crouched in the back of the car, hardly daring to breathe in case Mr Smythe heard me. What if I needed to sneeze or cough? After all, if he was ruthless enough to damage Old Joe’s cottage to make him sell, what would he do to me if he realised I was on to him? It was a relief when the car finally stopped. I lifted a corner of the rug and saw that we were in a car park, then I glanced at my watch. It was 12.30 – we’d been travelling for about forty-five minutes. I heard the door open and braced myself, beads of sweat dripping down my face. If Mr Smythe opened the boot I’d have about five seconds to throw off the rug and make a run for it. I poised myself for action and waited for Mr Smythe to get out.
Instead, someone else got in. ‘You’re late,’ a man’s voice said. ‘Have you got the bracelet?’
I dropped the corner of the rug and lay as flat and still as I could.
‘It’s in my pocket,’ Mr Smythe replied. ‘Have you told the others? Are the funds ready?’
So he had the bracelet on him. I’d gone through all this for nothing!
‘Yes, and we want you to make the old guy an offer he can’t refuse. You can go over the amount we agreed, if necessary.’
‘What if he doesn’t want to sell?’
‘It’s up to you to persuade him.’
There was a pause for a moment, then the other man continued. ‘Shame you had to move out of that B&B. It was close to the cottage, convenient to keep an eye on things.’
‘Well I couldn’t really stay there once I’d taken the bracelet, could I?’ Mr Smythe retorted.
‘I guess not. Anyway, come on, the others are waiting inside.’
I heard them both get out of the car, then the doors slammed shut. I left it for a few minutes before peeking out from the rug, just to make sure it was safe. I threw back the rug and scrambled over the back, dropping onto the rear seat. For a moment I panicked – what if there was some kind of safety lock on and I couldn’t open the door from the inside? I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle and pulled it. It opened! I jumped out, shut the door behind me and looked around to try and get my bearings.
I guessed by the Red Lion sign on the wall that we were in a pub car park. I knew I should probably make my way straight home, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to find out who Mr Smythe was meeting and what they were planning. It would also be good to know where he was staying now. I was sure he didn’t intend to go very far if he was going to be pressurising Old Joe into selling up.
I quickly sent a text to Max to let him know I’d managed to get out of the car and would report back to him later, with a strict warning not to contact me or say anything to Gran. Then I went in search of Mr Smythe. I soon found him, sitting at a table inside the pub restaurant with another couple of men and two women, one of whom was wearing the reddest lipstick I’d ever seen. I itched to get closer to them and hear what they were saying, but I couldn’t risk Mr Smythe seeing me.
‘Are you with someone?’ a middle-aged waitress asked, kindly. ‘I’m afraid children aren’t allowed in here on their own.’
‘My mum’s in the car outside. I just wanted to go to the washroom,’ I told her.
‘Washroom?’ the woman repeated, looking at me with a blank expression.
‘Toilet,’ I quickly corrected. I thought I’d mastered most of the UK–US language differences, but every now and again I still slipped up.
‘Ah. Just down that corridor on your right.’ She pointed ahead.
‘Thanks.’ I headed down the corridor.
I thought that I might as well go to the toilet while I was here. As I was washing my hands at the sink, the two women who had
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