I’d been more than a little envious of them, really, Heather and Flora. Being an only child, I’d always wanted an older sister. And they seemed so close.
They had everything – or so I thought then. Even, later, when I got to know them better, when Heather became my best friend, Flora still remained that glamorous enigma.
And then, in August 1994, sixteen-year-old Flora Powell disappeared.
9
August 1994
Flora grabbed her sister’s hand in a sudden rush of excitement. The fair had come to Tilby and it was the most thrilling thing that had happened in their boring little town all year. More amazingly still, their mother had allowed them to go. In the evening. Without her or Uncle Leo tagging along.
Different tunes clashed together so all that was discernible was the heavy beat of the drums. Lights flashed from the rides and laughter rang out in the normally empty field. The sweet scent of candyfloss was heavy in the air, mixed with something else, roasted meat, perhaps. Heather glanced at her sister, seeming unsure. Heather was only fourteen and this was the first time she’d been allowed to go to the fair at night without her mother. Unknown to her, Flora had snuck out last year when everyone was asleep. She’d been brave enough then to go to the edge of the caravan park and watch from that safe distance as the lights of the Big Wheel dazzled and the thump of music floated through the night.
But this year was different. This year Flora had turnedsixteen. She was practically an adult. Plus she wanted to meethim.
She didn’t know his name. But she’d bumped into him on the high street yesterday when she was in Gateway getting some shopping for her mum. She’d spotted the flyers attached to lampposts and nailed to fences. The Smithwick travelling fair was back for its second year. It meant the town was flooded with new blood and she, for one, couldn’t be more ecstatic. She was fed up with the boys in her year at school and it wouldn’t be any different in September, even though she’d be in the sixth form. They either followed her around trying to twang her bra strap or they hurled offensive remarks at her, words like ‘dyke’ and ‘frigid’, just because she didn’t fancy any of them. She hated walking past them where they all seemed to congregate at the clock tower, drinking Diamond White and smoking, trying to look hard. She didn’t find any of them attractive or cool.
Flora had been leaving the supermarket, the handle of the plastic carrier bag digging into the flesh of her forearm, when they almost collided. She could tell straight away that he wasn’t a local by the dark hair that touched the collar of his patterned psychedelic shirt and his tanned face. No boys in Tilby would dare to dress to stand out, scared they might get beaten up. He was older than her by a couple of years at least, and when his sea-blue eyes met hers, she actually felt butterflies flutter in her stomach.
‘Oops, sorry,’ he said, in an accent she couldn’t quite place. London, perhaps. Definitely not West Country. ‘Nearly sent you flying.’ His eyes swept over her longblack skirt with the tasselled hem, her lacy cream blouse, the many chains around her neck and her DM boots. And then he gave an audacious whistle. ‘Actually, I take that back. I’m not sorry at all. You look like a beautiful gypsy girl.’
Flora had blushed, not knowing what to say or how to react. Instead she muttered something about having to go and scurried past him down the street, but he called after her: ‘Come to the fair tomorrow night. I’m working on the Waltzers there. I’ll look out for you, Gypsy Girl.’ She’d grinned to herself as she hotfooted home, her cheeks still burning in the breeze.
And now here she was. But where was he?
She felt Heather stiffen beside her and snatch her hand away. ‘I’m not sure about this,’ she said. Her voice sounded very small and Flora could hardly hear her above the cacophony.
Flora felt a flash of annoyance towards her sister. She didn’t want to walk around the fair by herself. Why was Heather being such a baby? It wasn’t as though their mother had forbidden them to come.
But she took a deep breath, making an effort to swallow her irritation. This was what Heather was like. Quiet and unsure about trying new things. She knew she should have asked Jess along too. Jess was good at bringing Heather out of herself. Her sister was too introverted at times, closeted in her bedroom listening to too much Goth music. Flora liked The Cure as much as Heather did – although she preferred All About Eve now. The trouble with Heather was that she didn’t want to open her mind to new experiences. Flora had never beenproperly kissed, just a peck from Andy Waters back in junior school when they pretended to get married. It was her time.
‘Come on,’ Flora pleaded, trying to keep her voice light and not too desperate. ‘We’ll have fun!’ And the only bloke I’ve ever truly fancied has said he’s going to be here, she silently added.
‘I don’t really want to be here … It’s all a bit loud.’ She looked bewildered, like one of the neighbour’s sheep after it had strayed into the wrong field and got caught up in barbed wire.
It took a while but Flora eventually managed to coax her sister towards the Waltzers. The sun was going down and the sky was streaked with pink, orange and purple. It gave the evening an unreal quality and Flora’s heart quickened even more. The dance beats seemed to pulsate inside her. She just knew something exciting was going to happen for her tonight. If only Heather would stop being such a wuss. This was their father’s fault. He’d shouted and nagged and bullied them for most of their childhood. But he’d been dead for more than four years now. Yet Heather still seemed cowed by him. Flora knew her sister needed to let her hair down a bit, to stop her incessant worrying.
‘I’m not going on that,’ said Heather, her eyes wide with terror as she watched the Waltzers spin and dip as though they were dancing. ‘I’ll be sick.’
Flora wasn’t planning to go on them either. She was just there for the sexy boy she’d bumped into yesterday. Where was he? And then she spotted him jumping from one car to another, whirling them around to the squawking delights of the passengers: three teenage girls withtoo much lipstick and hairspray, she was irked to note. He was even better-looking than she remembered. Her insides actually fizzed, like a Refresher on her tongue, at the sight of him.
Then he noticed her and his face brightened. He jumped down to where they were standing on the steps, much to the obvious annoyance of his groupies in the car. ‘Well, hello, Gypsy Girl. I was hoping you’d make it.’
Flora’s cheeks flamed and she just about managed to mumble hi. She sensed Heather staring at her in disbelief. She didn’t dare look at her sister because she knew she’d see judgement and disappointment in her expression. ‘Fancy a go?’
Heather stepped back in horror. ‘Not for me, thanks. I’ve just spotted Jess,’ she said, her voice full of relief. ‘Come on, Flora. Mum said we had to stick together, remember?’
Instantly Flora felt irritated. She wasn’t going anywhere. She turned up her face to the boy, whose name she still didn’t know, and said, ‘I’d love a go, as long as you spin me.’
Heather stood for a while, watching her sister giggling and flirting with the fair hand. She’d never seen Flora act like that before. It made her feel uneasy and she turned away in disgust. She could see Jess standing at the Big Wheel holding a giant candyfloss on a stick and waving her over. She was alone. That was what Heather admired about Jess. She was brave. She didn’t worry about turning up at something like this by herself. Heather hated crowds and loud noises.
Flora was off the Waltzers now, looking a bit greenand giddy. The fair hand was holding her up, his arm snaked around her waist. He looked smarmy to Heather but she could see how much her sister fancied him. He was too old for Flora, not like the boys at school, and he walked as though he had something in his pants. Then they sashayed past her, Flora not even glancing in her direction. No, this wasn’t right. Heather stepped forward, arms folded, calling after them, ‘Where are you going?’
Flora tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. ‘Just for a walk around the fair. Dylan is on his break.’
Dylan. Of course, that would be his name, something cool and a bit different, not Peter or Mike or Paul, like the boys at school. Oh, no, bloodyDylan.‘Mum said we had to stick together …’ But her words were already lost in the hubbub and the music. Flora was too busy giggling at something Dylan was saying. She watched as they wandered off, his arm slung around her shoulders and hers around his waist.
‘Who was that?’ Jess was suddenly by her side, her lips glistening with pink sugar. The fluffy candyfloss was as big as her head.
