Twenties Girl

I edge away before one of the boys pulls out a gun or something and head over to the green. There’s a board with a map of the village, and I quickly locate Archbury Close. That’s what they turned Archbury House into after it burned down. If Sadie really has gone home, that’s where she’ll be.

After a few minutes’ walk, I can see the gates ahead: wrought iron with Archbury Close written in swirly iron writing. There are six little red-brick houses, each with a tiny drive and garage. It’s hard to imagine that once upon a time there was just one big beautiful house sitting in its own gardens.

Feeling conspicuous, I enter through a small side gate and start to wander around, peering in through the windows, crunching on the little patches of gravel, and murmuring, “Sadie?”

I should have asked Sadie more about her home life. Maybe she had a favorite tree or something. Or some favorite corner of the garden, which is now someone’s utility room.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, so after a bit I raise my voice a little. “Sadie? Are you here? Sa-die?”

“Excuse me!” I jump in shock as someone pokes me in the back. I turn to see a gray-haired woman in a flowered shirt, tan slacks, and rubbery-looking shoes peering at me suspiciously.

“I’m Sadie. What do you want?”

“Er…”

“Are you here about the drainage?” she adds.

“Um… no.” I find my voice. “I was after a different Sadie.”

“Which Sadie?” Her eyes narrow. “I’m the only Sadie in this close. Sadie Williams. Number four.”

“Right. The Sadie I want is… actually… a dog,” I improvise. “She ran away and I was looking for her. But I expect she’s run off somewhere else. Sorry to bother you…”

I start to walk off, but Sadie Williams grabs my shoulder with surprisingly strong fingers.

“You let a dog loose in the close? What did you want to do that for? We have a dog-free policy here, you know.”

“Well… sorry. I didn’t know. Anyway, I’m sure she’s run off somewhere else-” I try to wriggle free.

“She’s probably prowling around in the bushes, waiting to strike!” Sadie Williams is glowering furiously at me. “Dogs are dangerous beasts, you know. We’ve got kiddies living here. You people are irresponsible!”

“I’m not irresponsible!” I retort indignantly before I can stop myself. “She’s a perfectly friendly dog. I wouldn’t let a dangerous dog loose!”

“All dogs are savage.”

“No, they’re not!”

Lara, stop it. You’re talking about an imaginary dog .

“And, anyway.” I finally wrench myself free from the woman’s grasp. “I’m sure she’s not here, because she would have come when I called. She’s very obedient. In fact… she’s a prizewinner at Crufts,” I add for good measure. “So I’d better go and find her.”

Before Sadie Williams can grab me again, I start walking swiftly toward the gates. There’s no way Sadie’s here. She would have come out to watch the entertainment.

“What breed is she, then?” calls Sadie Williams tetchily. “What are we looking for?”

Oh God. I just can’t help myself.

“Pit bull,” I call back over my shoulder. “But, like I say, she’s very friendly.”

Without looking back, I hurry out of the gates, back along the road, and toward the village square. So much for that bright idea. What a waste of time.

I head to the bench on the green and sink down and take out a Twix, my gaze fixed ahead. Coming here was stupid. I’ll eat this, then call a taxi and head back to London. I’m not even going to think about Sadie anymore. Let alone look for her. I’ve used up enough of my life already. I mean, why should I think about her? I bet she isn’t thinking about me.

I finish my Twix and tell myself to dial the taxi number. It’s time to go. It’s time to put all this out of my mind and start on a new, sane, ghost-free life.

Except…

Oh God . I keep having flashes back to Sadie’s stricken face on Waterloo Bridge. I keep hearing her voice. You don’t care about me… No one cares .

If I give up after only three days, am I proving her right?

I feel a sudden surge of frustration-at her, at myself, at the whole situation. Crossly, I scrunch up my Twix wrapper and chuck it into a bin. I mean, what am I supposed to do? I’ve looked and looked and looked. If she would just come when I called her… if she would just listen and not be so stubborn…

Hang on. A new thought strikes me, out of the blue. I’m psychic, aren’t I? Maybe I should use my psychic powers. I should summon her from the underworld. Or Harrods. Or wherever she is.