Thank you reviewers! You're all great support! XD
News Most Foul
There are two members in the chatroom: Amy/Tom
Tom: Did I offend you last night?
Amy: No. Not really. Were you joking when you asked me out?
Tom: I wasn't screwing with your mind, leading you a merry dance, pulling the wool over yours eyes... Can't-think-of-any-other-phrase-ing you, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't do that – you know me.
Did she? Amy sat back on the seat, staring helplessly at the laptop that was perched on her lap. Tom seemed genuine enough, but Amy had never allowed herself – or been allowed – to talk to boys; Andrew had always made sure of that. The words of her stepfather rang in her mind – she was a demon child, evil, too morally vulnerable to allow to remain in the company the young men who would tempt her to drop her guard.
Tom: Amy? Are you still there?
Amy looked at the flashing screen, then bit her lip. She wasn't in London any more. Andrew wouldn't know about her feelings for Tom if she didn't tell him. Her screen flashed once more.
Tom: Please? Wuv you? Come on, I am a guy - these lovey-dovey words are hard for me to choke out at the best of times!
Amy snorted with laughter, clasping a hand to her face as she stared at the words on the screen in front of her. He was trying to convince her – why shouldn't she give in? The Devil? Hell? Eternal damnation?
Amy: Tom, I'll go out with you. Just please don't tell me this is a joke.
Tom: It isn't! Aw, thank you! I can't tell you how happy I am!!!!!!!!
Amy glanced up as Aunt Tilly entered the room. Her face was white, pale, even in the dim light of the living room. Behind her in the hall, Amy could hear the vicar talking on the phone to someone; his voice was urgent, low, as though not wanting to be fully overheard.
"Amy, dear, could you come off that computer a moment? There's... Something's happened, my dear."
"All right, of course."
Amy: I have to go, Tom. Talk to you tomorrow?
Tom: KK, bye. Love you!
Amy has logged off.
"What's wrong?"
"My dear, put that laptop down." The vicar appeared in the doorway. He swapped a concerned look with his wife, while Amy slowly lifted the laptop off her lap and onto the tabletop in front of her. "Amy, your brother...Liam... Barring's Estate called your stepfather Andrew---"
Amy's throat tightened. "What's happened to Liam?"
"He's... Amy, your brother's run away. He's missing."
What? Amy's mind swam. Liam, missing? From Barring's Estate?
"The police, they'll find him---"
Aunt Tilly's voice was painfully gentle. "They haven't yet, my dear. He went missing Monday evening."
"But he called me last night!" Amy cried, unable to believe what the woman was saying. "That was Tuesday night!"
The vicar's head shook. "It would seem as though that call came from his mobile. He wasn't in the Estate when he called you. Your...your stepfather told the police that you would know where your brother was – they're coming to see you in the morning."
"But I have no idea---"
"Hush, my dear!" Aunt Tilly begged, as Amy half stood, eyes wide with horror. "Look, just sit down and I'll make you a nice cup of cocoa! Everything will be all right, I promise."
Amy felt her world slip out of proportion as the vicar's wife rushed from the room, still begging her to keep calm. Liam was missing. The only person to care about her, to care when no one else cared that their mother was dead and Andrew was a filthy, violent cad. And now that final piece of comfort – a comfort that had been torn from her once before – had vanished into the ether, and in a time of war! Where could he be? And Andrew was claiming that she knew where Liam was! She would have asked how and why he would say such a thing, but it was the type of snide thing that her stepfather would have done.
Oh God, Liam, where are you? Amy thought desperately, unable to keep the tears held back any longer. Where are you? Why have you run? Why, damn you, why?
The ticket master peered over his glasses at the youth before him, as the boy painfully counted out the change on the counter in front of him. The youth's moves were slow, sluggish; he barely seemed awake.
"How much was it, sir?" the youth asked again, frowning.
"£19.45," the ticket master repeated, then glanced at the watch above the boy's head. It read 11.23am. "Isn't it a little late for you to be buying rail tickets, lad?"
The youth shrugged and pushed the money across to the man's hands. "Can I have the ticket or can't I?"
Grumbling under his breath about the arrogance or youth, the man ripped a ticket and passed it to the youth. He nearly snatched the ticket from the old man's house, stuffing it deep into the pockets of his hoody. "The train don't come through 'till 1:00am. Don't you have a place to sleep?"
"Yep," the youth replied merrily, the faked a courtly bow. "The ol' bench out on yonder platform shall be where I rest my weary head tonight, sir."
"Get out of here!" the ticket master snapped, as the youth turned and tugged the hood of his jumper up and over his head. "Go on, before I change my mind and call the police and report you for nuisance."
Liam pushed his way out of the door and onto the platform, wincing as the bitter night air whipped at his face. Absently, his fingers toyed with the money that jangled in his pockets: he had a pitiful total of £25 left. How that would get him to London, Liam had no idea.
But first, he had to sort out that wanton boy who was harassing his baby sister.