First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Electric Monkey,
an imprint of Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2018 Penny Joelson
First e-book edition 2018
ISBN 978 1 4052 8616 9
Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1782 3
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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For Cherry
‘There’s no one coming to look for me because no one even knows I’ve gone missing.’
Unrest (2017)
CONTENTS
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
USEFUL CONTACTS
No one sees me. I am a ghost. I am invisible. Life for me stopped still, one day – when I was not expecting it. Out there, I know that life goes on, that time moves forward, but it does so without me. I know I shouldn’t but I want to look once more – to take a peek out through the window at a world that is not mine. Do I dare?
It’s dark when I see her. I’m closing my curtains, ready for bed – and there’s a woman hurrying along our street towards the bus stop. There’s something intense about the way she’s moving. She darts like a bird. It’s as if she’s rushing to catch a bus – but there’s no bus there and no one waiting. The street is quiet. I’m not sure why I keep watching but I do. She’s skinny – with long, dark hair, maybe in her late teens, early twenties. She’s barely more than a silhouette in the darkness, but as she passes the street light, it casts her elongated shadow across the road. The glow highlights the long, thin cardigan she’s wearing. She pulls it tight around her, head bent against the chill November wind, but she goes past the bus stop without slowing down.
I see her glance round briefly as two cars pass. Now a silver car’s coming. It swerves and stops alongside her. Her head turns sharply. At the same moment, a man jumps out from the passenger side. He grabs the woman by the arm. She pulls away. They’re struggling – at least, that’s what it looks like. Within seconds, he’s opened the back door of the car and she’s in. He bangs the door shut and jumps back in the front. The car drives off, disappearing around the corner.
It happened so fast – but I’m certain she didn’t want to get into that car. The man was dragging her – forcing her in. I think he even had his hand over her mouth. I can barely believe it. I keep replaying it in my mind. My heart is thudding like a bass drum.
I’m staring out at the now empty street, still in shock, when a movement catches my eye. I look up at the house across the road, the window opposite mine. The curtain moved, I’m sure it did. Someone was looking out. Did they see what I just saw?
Should I call the police? There’s a couple in that house across the road – if one of them saw, maybe they’ve gone to call the police right now. But even so . . .
‘Mum!’ I yell, grabbing my phone. ‘Mum!’
She’s watching TV downstairs and I don’t think she heard me. Anyway, I don’t need her to tell me what to do, and I shouldn’t wait. I shouldn’t let them get too far away.
I sit on my bed and call 999. My hand is shaking. I’ve never done this before – never dealt