I gave up demanding to be allowed out that night. There was no point arguing with my mother. You can’t win an argument with someone who refuses to have one. I left them all to it and went up to my room, furious about being treated like a child when I no longer felt like one. Nancy wouldn’t even let me read the letters from the hospital, even though they were about me. I thought about the last doctor I had seen, and how happy and cheerful he was compared to all the others. ‘Now go and live your life,’ he had said with a big smile on his face, as though there were nothing wrong with me at all. Living was all I wanted to do, so I couldn’t understand why Nancy still insisted on locking me away and treating me like a porcelain doll.
An hour or so after Nana’s birthday dinner, the tide was almost low enough for Rose, Lily and Conor to leave. They had changed into fancy dress for the annual Halloween beach party and, like always, I was going to miss out on all the fun. Whenever the three of them attended local parties, there was normally some coordination when it came to their costumes. That year they were going as the Lion, the Witch and the Pumpkin. Rose was the lion, Lily was a witch – a role she was well rehearsed in – and Conor was dressed in what looked like an orange sack.
I sat at the top of the stairs, watching them put on their coats and say their goodbyes. Then I heard the front door slam, and listened to the adults return to the kitchen and their drinks. In my fury at the injustice of it all, I stumbled into the old wicker hamper on the landing, the one that we used for dressing-up games when we were younger. I kicked it in frustration, then had an idea. I opened up the hamper, pulling out home-made ghostbuster and Gizmo costumes, along with witches’ hats and wigs, but realized none of it would be enough to change my appearance and hide my face. Then I found the old sheet from my performance as a ghost a few years earlier. I pulled it over my head, lined up the two holes with my eyes, and looked in the mirror. Then I put the sheet in my backpack and hatched a plan.
After using cuddly toys to make a me-shaped lump in my bed, I crept downstairs and let myself out of the front door. I ran across the causeway as fast as I could with the moon lighting my way, constantly checking over my shoulder to see if I’d been caught escaping. Then I scrambled up the cliff path, until my sisters and Conor were only a few metres ahead of me. They were taking the long route – which was safest when it was dark – but I knew a shortcut and reached Conor’s car before they did, just in time to climb inside the boot. Nobody ever used to bother locking their cars when leaving them behind the sand dunes back then. Things have changed so much since 1988. These days we are taught to suspect others of doing us harm at all times.
Conor had borrowed the old blue Volvo from his dad, without Mr Kennedy’s knowledge or consent. Forgiveness is easier to ask for than permission, but Conor no longer asked his father for either. The car was already as battered and broken as its owner. Since his return to drowning his sorrows, Conor’s dad had driven home drunk from the pub on more than one occasion, often driving into a wall or a tree along the way, but at a speed that luckily only dented his pride and the vehicle.
Conor had only recently passed his test – a few days earlier – and was keen to impress Rose before she went off to university. He opened the passenger door for his girlfriend, leaving Lily to help herself to the back seat. She sprayed on her Poison perfume, stinking the entire car out – she was already wearing more than enough to scare a skunk – and the smell made me want to sneeze. I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, and stayed as quiet as I could in my hiding place.
‘Nice wheels,’ Lily said unkindly, and Conor slammed his door so hard I’m surprised it didn’t fall off its hinges. As he started the engine, I wondered whether there was enough air in the boot for me to survive the journey. The car coughed and spluttered a few times before coming to life, and I began to panic. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I could feel a sneeze trying to escape my nose, which it did, but luckily Conor turned on the car stereo at the exact same time. He pushed a cassette tape inside, and a song called ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ started to play, replacing the noise of the radio. My sisters knew all the words, and they sang along as Conor pulled out from behind the sand dunes and started driving down the winding cliff road.
It was a bumpy ride and I felt carsick, but it was only a five-minute drive to the other end of Blacksand Bay where the Halloween gathering was being held. I was thirteen, but the only parties I’d ever been to before were hosted at Seaglass by Nana. The excitement I felt outweighed the fear. It was exhilarating. When we finally stopped driving, I waited for them all to get out, then I tried to open the boot. It wouldn’t budge. Conor had locked the car. I imagined them walking away and me running out of oxygen, and my sense of panic went from zero to a hundred before I could take another breath. I screamed.