Read The Castle for Free Online Page B

of their own. To go to Auntie Eliza’s, I’d swiped a range of Mum’s painkillers from the bathroom cabinet. They were still in their pouch at the bottom of the backpack.
    Even though I’d only be away for one night, or two at the most, I packed the old, familiar things in the old, familiar way. Thin layers to wear – rolled, not folded. Trousers with zip-up pockets, for keeping things safe. Trainers. A windproof jacket. A hat for disguise. (This was my idea, not Dad’s, but it seemed sensible in the circumstances.) Torch. Chocolate. (This actually was Dad’s idea. Things tend to go wrong when you run out of energy.) Phone charger. Water. Photo of me with Mum and Dad at Buckingham Palace, a bit crumpled because it went with me everywhere.
    The bag was still only two-thirds full. Lacy watched me from my bed as I considered what to add.
    â€˜What?’ I asked.
    If a pet can look sceptical, Lacy did. Disloyal cat.
    Or maybe she was just being sensible. I caught sight ofmyself in the wardrobe mirror, clutching the photo frame. What was I doing? My mother’s boyfriend wanted to send me to boarding school and I’d convinced myself some ‘bad people’ were trying to kidnap me. Maybe Granny was right. If Dr Benson could see me now, he’d have a field day.
    I decided to go downstairs and have a proper chat to Granny. Maybe she could help me sort things out in my head. Also, she’d never forgive me if I ran away during Mum’s ‘special time’ with Rupert. Some things you can’t undo.
    It was dinner time and the inn was humming with activity. Chefs clattered in the kitchen; waiters moved swiftly through swinging doors, bearing multiple plates of food stacked up their arms, like jugglers, while diners laughed loudly in the restaur ant, and louder still in the bar. It was hard to track Granny down. Eventually someone told me she was signing in a new guest. I found her in Reception.
    â€˜Ah, Peta darling, do come and meet Mr Bellacqua. He’s come all the way from Rome.’
    A square-jawed man with a head of dark curls glanced up from the paperwork he was signing.
    â€˜Bellacqua. Like the—’ He cocked his head and smiled at me. His brown eyes caught mine and held them. He knew me. And because of that, I knew him.
    â€˜â€”pop star,’ I finished lamely.
    â€˜Oh yes?’ he asked.
    Yes. There was a famous pop star called Giovanni Bellacqua who was in all the charts right now with a beach song. That must be where he’d got the fake name from.
    Marco, the Range Rover’s driver. I’d seen him before, in profile, sitting next to the Wicked Queen. I felt dizzy.
    â€˜He’s writing a travel piece about the best hotels on thesouth coast,’ Granny told me happily. ‘I hope he’ll be nice about us. I’ve given him the Flaskers Suite.’
    She smiled at him coquettishly. My grandmother was flirting – actively flirting – with the man who’d been sent to get me. She was booking him into a bedroom two floors below mine.
    I pictured how the conversation would go:
    â€˜ He’s not a travel writer, Granny, he’s trying to kidnap me.’
    Big sigh. ‘Don’t be silly, Peta darling. Why would he do that?’
    â€˜Because of my power.’
    â€˜What do you mean, you stupid, deluded girl?’
    â€˜I don’t know. It’s got something to do with Dad.’
    â€˜Hello? 999? Can I have the nearest mental institution, please?’
    â€˜Hi,’ I said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
    â€˜You too.’ He held out his hand. I shook it. ‘Peta, is it? What an interesting name.’
    â€˜Yeah. Some people mistake it for a boy’s name.’
    He stared at me hard after that. I turned on my heel and went back upstairs.
    Back in my room, I was cool and calm. I added some fresh underwear and a few more practical things, ready for tomorrow. On my laptop, I looked up