The Castle by Sophia Bennett Read Free Book Online

train times to London and the best way of getting to the Wahool house by Tube. It was in Eaton Square, not Eden. It looked pretty central on the map.
    An image flashed across my mind of a policeman going through my computer history later, putting together a picture of what I’d done. Well, this should give him a good indication. For good measure, I wrote an email to Mum, which they could find in my drafts folder if they looked.
    â€˜I love you. It’s OK. This is not about you. Peta xxx’
    Then I added, ‘PS, I hope you had a great holiday’, because even though that wasn’t strictly true (I liked to imagine Rupert having food poisoning for most of it), it was the right thing to do.
    Lacy watched me unwaveringly, her sceptical expression never changing. What girl pictures policemen going through her stuff and leaves messages accordingly?
    One whose would-be kidnapper is unpacking in the Flaskers Suite.
    Once Granny and Grandad were in bed, I crept to the main door of the flat and locked it from the inside. The door handle rattled twice in the night, as far as I could tell. Knowing Grandad was there was a big help, but even so, I didn’t sleep. I didn’t really expect to.

EIGHT
    T he next morning, as soon as I heard Granny and Grandad moving about, I got up and checked the contents of my bag. Everything was ready. I’d expected to feel exhausted after last night, but in fact I was buzzing. I just wanted to get to London as fast as I could.
    I skipped breakfast and pretended I couldn’t find my homework, making myself so late that Grandad had to drive me to school. Marco/Giovanni watched us leave from behind his paper in Reception. I gave him a little wave. He didn’t wave back.
    Grandad complained about my inefficiency the whole way, but got me to Collingwood door-to-door, safe andsound. I hesitated before heading through the gates. Soon I’d have to come back out again and head for the railway station. I wasn’t looking forward to walking through that coach park. Even though I was planning to get changed at school, it would be quite easy to spot me if someone happened to be, say, watching out for me from a dark estate car parked nearby.
    Today, there was a big coach parked in front of the school gates. Even that made me shiver a bit.
    My phone rang and I fished it out of my bag. Luke.
    â€˜Hi.’
    â€˜You didn’t say goodbye!’ he complained.
    â€˜Kind of in a rush . . .’
    I was lying. I hate goodbyes. I’ve done too many of them in a lifetime of moving schools. I’m great at hellos, though.
    â€˜I wanted to tell you, I did some more research last night,’ he said. ‘Have you got a moment?’
    I lurked near the coach. Lots of Year 7s milled around me, waiting to get on it. Tragically, I was only slightly taller than most of them, and shorter than the tallest boys.
    â€˜Sure.’
    â€˜I found another article about that house,’ Luke said. ‘You’ve got to hear this.’
    The coach door opened. A nervous young teacher stood on the steps, muttering stuff about the Houses of Parliament, and had they brought their fact sheets? Oh – a day trip to London. Lucky them.
    â€˜It’s got an underground swimming pool,’ Luke went on, ‘and a cinema and two kitchens.’
    â€˜Two kitchens? What on earth do they need two kitchens for?’ I tried to focus on what he was saying. But my plan was rapidly changing.
    â€˜No idea,’ Luke said.
    The nervous teacher got out of the way so the Year 7s could start boarding. He had that frightened look of supply staff and didn’t know anybody’s name. Ideal. A better plan was forming. In fact, it was beautiful.
    â€˜Sorry, gotta go,’ I said, grinning down the phone. ‘Send me the link.’
    â€˜OK. Catch you later. Call me from the train.’
    No, I thought to myself, not necessarily.
    The whole thing felt as if it was meant