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They’re pets and they’re being so kind, carrying my bags and making sure I’m drinking enough water. Julian is obsessed with staying hydrated. He’s the director. We chatted for hours on the plane, and then we watched the same movie at the exact same time – this funny old comedy called
Groundhog Day
– so we could both laugh together and not feel like idiots. Hang on a second… People are starting to stand up. I think they’ve just called our flight. Yep, the boys are waving at me. I’ll see you very soon.”
    “In three weeks,” I say.
    “Must dash, darling. Be good for Nan now, won’t you? Love you lots. Kiss, kiss.” I can hear her lips smacking against the phone.
    And then she’s gone. I walk back into the kitchen.
    Nan looks up from the table. “Are you all right, Mollie? Such a shame about Paris.”
    “What about Paris?”
    Nan shifts awkwardly. “Didn’t Flora tell you?”
    “Tell me what?”
    Her lips go so thin they almost disappear. “Oh, Flora,” she murmurs.
    “What’s going on?” I’m starting to get a bad feeling.
    “Sit down, child.” Her voice has gone all low and serious.
    “I don’t want to sit down. What is it? Just tell me.”
    “I asked your mum to break the news to you herself. But clearly she didn’t.” Nan sighs deeply. “Her plans have changed, sweetheart. You can’t go to Paris with her. She hadn’t actually asked anyone about it until today. She talked to her director and he said the production company won’t allow it. Something to do with their insurance. I’m sorry.” Nan puts her hand on my arm, but I shake it off.
    “No, you’re not,” I say. “You don’t care about me. You’ve only just met me. I am going to Paris with Flora − she promised.”
    “I’m so sorry, child. I don’t know what to say. Flora shouldn’t have promised without checking first.”
    “You’re a liar!” I say. “I know she’s coming for me. And I’m not a child.” I dash out of the kitchen, sprint out of the front door and keep running down the dark, muddy track until my lungs are bursting. At the end of the lane I turn left and run down the road, towards the harbour.
    When the stitch in my stomach becomes unbearable, I stop and bend over, sucking in big gulps of air. The worst thing is I know Nan is telling the truth. Flora’s always doing daft things like this. I feel so let down.
    “Are you sure no one minds me tagging along?” I’d asked her one evening when we were talking about what clothes I’d need for Paris.
    “Why would they, Mollie Mops? It’s not like you’ll be any trouble. No, it’s all hunky-dory,” Flora had reassured me.
    I never dreamed that she hadn’t even asked them! How could she be so stupid?
    Nan must think Flora’s a right fool. And there was such pity in her eyes. Poor Mollie − nobody wants her. Not even her own flaky mum.
    I crouch down at the side of the road, wrap my arms around my legs and press my eye sockets against my knees. I’m so angry and upset. When I’ve caught my breath, I stand up. It’s creepy out here on my own. I’m sure I can hear rats or something scuttling in the hedgerows. It’s cold too, and the only light is from the moon. Why aren’t there any streetlights? Stupid island!
    I know I’ll have to go back to Nan’s house eventually − I don’t have any other option − but right now I can’t face her. I shouldn’t have shouted at her like that and run away. The Paris thing isn’t her fault. I could go down to the cafe, but it’s probably closed by now and, anyway, it’s the first place Nan would look for me. There’s a rusty old gate beside me that leads into a field. Past the field I can just make out a dark shape hidden in the trees. It’s Red Moll’s castle. The perfect place to hide.
    I climb the gate and walk through the field, my Converse boots squelching on the wet grass. I clamber over a low wall and walk through the mossy old trees. The air smells of rotting wood and damp leaves.