Consumed

by Abbie Todd

Genres: Young Adult; YA Mysteries & Thrillers

Synopsis

Myla used to love spending long, hot days on the beach with her sister, Asha. Until the day Asha was taken from her and the sun went out. Forever.

That was two years ago. Myla hasn't been down to the beach - or even left the house - since. Crippling agoraphobia and panic attacks keep her locked inside a nightmare of the day she can never forget. Her main contact with the outside world is online - until she meets Jamie.

Jamie is new in town and also struggles with things most people find easy. Nobody gets why it's so hard for him to eat. But, like Myla, Jamie is trapped by his fears and feels anxious, awkward and alone.

Gradually the pair begin to trust each other. Are they willing to reveal their secrets - and risk discovering the truth? Or will they let their pasts consume them for good...

Release date: April 5, 2016

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 70000

Sample

Where am I? God, where am I? 

There’s a sharp, white pain behind my eyes. I open them. It’s night. A fat moon hangs heavily above me. The star-specked sky rolls for a few moments, then stops. 

I’m cold. So cold my limbs have stiffened with it. I’m on my back, my pulse thud-thud-thudding in my ears, the taste of blood at the back of my throat. 

I turn my head. Something prickles my cheek. Marram grass. Does that mean…? I curl my fingers, feel the scratch of sand beneath my nails. I strain to hear above my rapid breaths. Then it reaches me with a roar: the sea. 

My feet are bare. Where are my shoes? 

There’s something lying in the sand. I blink a couple of times, try to focus, then squint through the moonlit gloom. A Smarties tube. Crushed in the middle. 

Asha. Asha was here. Where is she now? 

The sand around me has been rucked up. Why did she leave? 

I feel something else now, besides the cold. A throbbing in my shoulder. 

I bite my lip to stop myself whimpering. 

I have to find Asha. 

I sit up. Too fast. The dunes lurch and slip in and out of focus. I draw in a long breath, blink a couple of times. 

‘Asha!’ I yell, desperately searching for my sister in the almost-darkness. ‘Asha!’ 

There’s no response. I slam my fists into the cold sand, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. 

Then I hear it. This low, grating noise. Like rasping breaths. A crackly, wet cough. That sound. It burrows through my pores and slips into my bloodstream, turning everything to ice. 

He coughs again. 

He’s close. 

I stumble to my feet, try to grab something to steady myself, but my fingers slip through the air. 

The throaty noise is right in my ear now. Fingers claw at my clothes. No! I twist away. 

I run. The rattling wheeze is close behind me. Spears of grass slash at my skin and the sand sucks in my feet with every step. 

I reach the sea. Moonlight dances across the waves like a flame. A beacon. I plunge into the icy black, the cold stealing my breath, sending my heart into a wild canter. As I gasp and cry, I swallow gulps of water, then clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my spluttering. 

Is he following? I can’t tell. 

I wade deeper and deeper. I carry on until my feet lift and I’m swimming. 

Something grabs my ankle. I scream. Seaweed. Just seaweed. Did he hear that? Is he coming? 

I pause. Tread water. Listen. 

Asha, where are you? 

 

My eyes snap open. I’m in my bedroom, my body tangled in damp sheets. I’m screaming, screaming my sister’s name.

But she doesn’t come.

She never does.

My chin jerks up again. I yawn, shake my head. How many stops did I sleep through? The old girl opposite smiles at me. Crap. My T-shirt sleeve is damp. Must’ve been drooling.

‘You all right?’ she asks. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘Yeah.’ I look out the window so she doesn’t see me blushing.

‘Polo?’ She stretches over the table to hold out the packet.

I stare at it. ‘Nah, I’m all right, thanks.’

‘Go on, be a devil!’ She winks.

‘Um, thanks,’ I mutter, taking one.

I wait till she goes back to her iPad, then shove it in my pocket.

Outside, trees and fields and sheep blur past. It’s so empty. There’s just… nothing.

I should get off at the next stop, catch a train back to London. Go home. Imagine his face if I turned up. Thought he’d got rid of me; thought he’d have a whole summer with Mum to himself. I can see the curl of his lip, the way he’d stalk off to their bedroom and slam the door.

The pale smudge of my face looks back at me in the window. It’s thin. Thinner than the last time Ness saw me. What if she’s forgotten what I look like and I end up stuck in a creepy station in nowheresville on my own?

It was a few years ago, the last time I saw her. At someone’s wedding. Ness rocked up late, tried to slip in at the back, but caused a fuss when she stood on someone’s toe. She’s not small. Least, she wasn’t back then.

I’m about to close my eyes when the old girl pipes up again, ‘Where are you off to?’

Dunno. Can’t remember the name of the place.

I try to speak, but my voice grates out. I clear my throat. ‘Somewhere near Cromer.’

‘Stratten?’

‘Er, yeah.’

‘Me too. You’re not Ness’s nephew, are you?’

‘Yeah. How did you know?’

She beams. ‘Oh, everyone knows everyone else’s business! None of us have any blinking secrets. But Ness and I are friends so I heard all about you. I’m Lil.’

I try to smile. ‘Jamie.’

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jamie.’

I look at Lil properly. She’s got grey hair, older than Ness, but doesn’t look like your typical nan. She’s got a solid, almost square body, and her eyes are much younger than her face, which is covered with make-up – splashes of bright colour on her eyes and lips.

Lil chats a bit, tells me which chippy to avoid (apparently they refry yesterday’s fish), which beach is the best (only the locals use it) and that I should tell Mr Whatshisface at the bakery that I’m with Ness (otherwise I’ll get charged the ‘tourist price’).

Ten minutes later, Lil gets up. ‘We’re almost there. I’ve got to dash – my son’s picking me up. You’ll be all right. No doubt Ness will be late.’ She rolls her eyes, then grins. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Jamie!’

She heads off before I can say bye.

I heave my bag down from the rack. Jesus, it’s heavy! I head for the door, but almost trip over this canvas shopping bag which has fallen out from under the table. It’s got a picture of an ugly cat on the front. Lil must’ve forgotten it. I look over the heads of the people queuing in the aisle, but can’t see her. Must be at the door already.

I grab the bag, wait for everyone to get off, then try to find Lil on the platform. She’s almost at the exit so I have to run after her. I’m outta breath in seconds, shaking and sweating. Feels like everyone’s looking at me.

I catch up and tap her on the shoulder. ‘Er – Lil?’

She turns.

‘You…’ I drag in breaths between words. ‘… forgot your… bag.’

‘What a fool!’ she shrieks. ‘I don’t know. You’ll get old one day. Thank you, Jamie.’

I nod once, then watch her leave.

My stomach growls. I ignore it. In my bag, squashed against my games console, there’s a sandwich that Mum snuck in there. Found it after I’d got on the train: posh, thick slices of ham – none of that wafer-thin junk – and doorstep wedges of bread. It’s not just a sandwich, though. It’s a fat pile of guilt, wrapped up in foil and sent as far away as possible. Along with me.

She can’t just forget about me.

Can’t pretend that she didn’t choose him over me.

The station is poky – just two platforms and not even a shop. A couple of people march straight down some steps to the car park. Should I wait there, or here? An Asian bloke in a swanky suit hangs around for a couple of minutes. He looks at his watch, then his BlackBerry, then back to his watch. A brunette in a hippy sundress walks up. The businessman smiles and chucks his arm round her waist as they walk off.

That’s it. I’m alone. I sink onto a cold metal seat. Mum tried to give me Ness’s number before I left, but I wouldn’t take it. Was too busy giving her the cold shoulder. I’m not phoning Mum to ask for it. No way.

There’s the rumble of an engine in the car park, then a screech of brakes. Maybe that’s her. I get up, my stomach twisting. I dunno what to say to her.

Ness meets me at the bottom of the steps. She looks flushed and a bit harassed. I manage a half-smile but don’t get a chance to say hello before she pulls me into a hug, squashing me against her chest. ‘Jamie,’ she whispers in a voice that’s frighteningly close to tears. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’m so pleased you’re here! I’ve got your room all ready.’

She lets me go and I drag in a huge breath, my face flaming. ‘Er… hi,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

I’m not really sure what else to add.

‘Let’s get you home.’

Ness grabs my suitcase as if it weighs nothing and wheels it away. She’s fast! Faster than I’d expect for… someone her size. I try to keep up as she heads off, wobbling beneath a bright, flowery dress. There’s a hole in the back of her tights and one of her shoelaces is trailing through the puddles.

Ness’s old Volvo estate is sprawled across two spaces. There’s a dent and a couple of scratches in the bumper and the rear number plate is hanging on by one screw.

A dog is steaming up the back window, which is covered with wet marks from its nose. It’s already started to bark and wag its tail before Ness opens the boot. Then it licks her arm as Ness shoves my suitcase in. It’s one of those sheepdogs and it looks – and smells – like it’s been in the sea.

‘This is Ian,’ Ness says.

Before I can help myself, I crack a smile. What the hell kind of name is that for a dog?

Ness catches my eye and grins. ‘Don’t ask!’

I open the door and stare into the footwell, wondering if I’m s’posed to tread on all the crap down there. There’s a polystyrene cup with a bit of tea still in the bottom, a tin opener, a cupcake wrapper and a rubber chicken. The seat is just as bad, but Ness sweeps everything off to join the other junk on the floor.

The rubber chicken makes a comedy squeak when I step on it. Ian barks.

‘That’s Alonzo,’ Ness says, starting the car. ‘He’s Ian’s favourite.’

Ness’s driving is mental. She’s so close to the kerb the tyres bounce off it a couple of times, and she never leaves second gear. When she brakes, she really brakes, making the seatbelt cut into my shoulder.

‘I work in the post office a few days a week, so you and Ian will have the house to yourselves. It would be great if you could walk him. He does get lonely when I’m not around.’

‘I can try. Never walked a dog before.’

Ness’s eyebrows shoot up, but she says nothing.

Damn, it’s hot. Ian is panting in the back, filling the air with doggy fumes. My stomach rolls. Am glad it’s empty.

I try to wind down the window.

‘Oh, that hasn’t worked in years,’ Ness says. She starts to wind hers down. ‘And mine always sticks about…’ It moves a couple of inches. ‘… here!’ She chuckles, then looks at me. ‘So how are you? How are you feeling?’

I flap my T-shirt away from my sticky body. ‘OK, I s’pose. Tired.’

‘Yes, but how are you feeling about coming here? Are you worried about how we’re going to get along? Wondering what you’re going to do all summer? Anxious about making friends?’

Well, yeah. All of that. But what’s with the questions? I stare straight ahead, breathing through my mouth to avoid the stink of dog.

‘Well, you don’t need to worry about the friend thing.’ Ness looks well pleased with herself. ‘My friend has a daughter: Shamyla. Half-Mauritian. Very pretty girl.’

Jesus! Sounds like she’s setting me up.

Ness carries on. ‘She gets it from Jav, her mum. Jav looks incredible. I swear you’d think she’s in her thirties, but she’s forty-three, almost the same age as me. Anyway…’ She raises her eyes and smiles, like she’s laughing at herself. ‘… I said you’d visit her.’

I scrunch my nails into my palms. ‘You said what?’

Ness shakes her head, looking dead serious. ‘That family, they’ve been through an awful lot.’ She pauses, then sighs. ‘I might as well say it now, get it out of the way.’

God, what’s she gonna tell me?

‘Two years ago, Myla’s sister was murdered.’

The car suddenly seems very cold. I swallow heavily, struggling to find the words. ‘What happened?’

‘She was abducted from Heartleas Cove, right in front of Myla,’ Ness says softly. ‘They found the body on the same beach two days later.’

I almost grab the wheel when Ness takes both hands off it to wipe her eyes.

‘The police thought Asha had been held captive somewhere before she was killed. God only knows what that poor girl went through.’

‘Did they catch who did it?’

Ness nods, her mouth set in a grim line. ‘Si Ashworth. Nasty type. Really nasty. A wife-beater. Someone found one of those phone charms behind a cushion in his house. It was in the shape of an “A”. When the family confirmed it was Asha’s, the police searched the whole place and found fingerprints and a hair. Awful business. You just don’t expect it in a place like this, Jamie.’

We sit in silence for a moment.

How do you even begin to deal with that? What would I say to her?

‘She’s very fragile, but such a sweet girl. I know you’re going to be good for each other.’

‘So, what?’ I ask. It comes out like a bark – much harsher than I meant it to. I take a breath, try not to snap out my next words. ‘I’m s’posed to cheer her up? I’m hardly the best guy for that.’

‘No. Well, yes, if you can. But really it’s to give her some company. She’s obviously very troubled. She has panic attacks and all sorts. Poor thing must be lonely.’

‘Why?’

Ness sighs. ‘She won’t leave the house. That’s why I said you’d go round. Myla hasn’t left the house for the last two years.’

‘You had no right! What do you think I am? Some kind of charity case? You’re so embarrassing!’

‘Myla, will you just stop squawking for a second and listen?’

‘Listen? Did you listen to me when I said I was fine? I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s new to the area, doesn’t know anyone. This isn’t just about you.’

I cross my arms. ‘I have friends, Mum.’

‘Do you mean your “online” friends?’

She actually uses air-quotes.

‘Yes, I mean them. And Lauren.’

Mum’s eyes soften. ‘Lauren hasn’t been round for over two months,’ she says gently.

‘She’s busy. We still text. Everything’s fine.’

Mum’s twisting a tea-towel in her hands. She won’t look at me. ‘I just worry about you, Myla.’ The towel is wound as tight as it will go, the material rigid with tension. Mum bites her lip to stop it from quivering.

I let out a shaky breath, take a step closer and put one of my hands over hers.

We stand for a moment in silence. I pretend not to see the tear that Mum wipes away. I twiddle a loose button on my jumper. Mum frowns at it. She hates sewing.

‘When’s he coming?’ I mutter.

‘In an hour.’

‘An hour!’ I yank the button clean off and smack it down on the work surface. ‘An hour.’

Mum nods meekly.

‘And what does Dad think about this?’

‘It’s fine. We’ve discussed it.’

‘Oh, I’m glad. So I don’t get a say.’

‘I’m just trying to help,’ Mum says. Then she sighs, picks up the button and leaves.

I feel a stab of guilt. She’s only doing her best. And now I don’t know who I’m more angry with: her or me.

There’s only one thing that will make this better. Cookies.

I mix the ingredients by hand, pummelling the butter and sugar together, smashing the eggs against the bowl in brisk, efficient strikes. It took me months to perfect this recipe. I made it over and over again – a little less vanilla, a couple more chocolate chips, just thirty seconds longer in the oven. It’s now the most viewed page on my blog.

I watch the chocolate soften in the oven, wishing my anger would melt away with it. I run my finger across the edge of the bowl then lick off the mixture as I stare out at the garden, wondering what this boy might be like. I don’t remember the last time I saw a boy face-to-face.

Oh, God! What if… No, surely they wouldn’t be trying to set us up. It’s just too horrific.

I need to talk to Eve. She’ll know exactly what to say. She always does.

I peer around the corner to check that Mum’s not still hovering. I don’t want another fight. She hates me talking to people online, but short of disconnecting the Internet and confiscating my laptop and phone, she can’t do much about it. Every couple of weeks, I get a lecture about Internet safety, followed by an interrogation about who I’ve been talking to and whether I’ve been sending them any photos or money.

I pick up my phone and type my username – Saffy42 – into Messenger. Although Eve knows my real name, she likes calling me Saffy. It was Asha’s nickname for me. Sometimes it hurts to hear someone else using it. But I try to think it’s nice that it didn’t die with Asha.

I got the nickname on my tenth birthday. We had this tradition where Mum would make a biryani on special occasions. It would take her most of the day to cook the curry, bake it with the rice on top, make the whole range of garnishes. The smells were incredible – the spiced, yoghurty curry mingling with the sharp tang of burnt onions and the nutty warmth of toasted almonds.

I was in charge of the saffron drizzle to go on the top. It’s just warmed milk and saffron – nothing fancy – and is more about colour than flavour.

I’d done some research about saffron for a blog post. There’s a window of only a few weeks when the saffron crocuses blossom. They have to be harvested in the morning before they wilt, and the stigma inside the flowers must be removed with tweezers. And for all this effort, it takes 75,000 crocuses to make just one ounce of saffron.

I was weighing out the spice, wondering if all the effort was worth it, when I caught the bowl with my elbow. The yellowy liquid splattered all over my dress. I thought about all those farmers working nineteen-hour days to collect the saffron and I burst into tears.

Asha gave me a hug and helped me to clean up. She was always the level-headed one. I was the silly, emotional sister who got too caught up in things. She used to call me Saffy when she thought I was being a drama queen.

I feel like I’m always being a drama queen these days. Losing a sister will do that to you.

I shake myself, blink back tears, check my phone. Despite everything, my lips curl into a smile when I read Eve’s last message:

 

Night. Sweet dreams xxx

I type a quick note:

 

Mum’s invited this boy over. Ness’s nephew. She’s totally sprung this on me. Didn’t even ask. Can you believe her?

I put my phone on the counter and start to clear up, listening for a response. Sometimes Eve comes back to me instantly; other times it’s a couple of hours. She’s always here for me, though. Has been since —

The doorbell makes me jump. I tell myself to breathe. It’s OK. Just Ness. I brush a spattering of flour off my top, push some stray hairs from my face.

‘Myla, that’ll be Jamie,’ Mum calls as she comes down the stairs.

I don’t reply so she knows I’m still mad.

Mum opens the door and the noise of the street floods in: a car roaring past, a dog barking, someone tinging a bike bell. I gasp and shrink into the furthest corner of the kitchen.

I’m fixing Mum with my best glare as she leads the others into the kitchen, then she suddenly steps to the side as she introduces Jamie. He’s standing behind her so he gets the full brunt of my glare. Jamie’s eyes widen and he takes a hesitant step back, bumping into Ness.

Damn! I didn’t mean for that to happen. I try to catch his eye, to smile, but he’s looking away. I take a quick moment to size him up. He’s tall and pale, with red hair and freckles. Nice eyes. Really thin, though he’s trying to hide it beneath a T-shirt that totally swamps him.

‘Myla,’ Ness says, beaming. ‘This is Jamie.’ She thumps two hands on his shoulders and practically propels him into the room. I stiffen. He’s the first stranger to come in the house for ages.

Mum gives me a pointed look. I do a stupid half-wave thing in Jamie’s direction.

‘All right,’ he grunts.

I hate it when boys do that. What’s the appropriate response? Yes, I’m fine, thank you. How are you?

Mum’s pointing at my forehead and mouthing something.

‘What?’

Ness chuckles. ‘You’ve got chocolate on your face, Myla.’

Oh. Great first impression.

‘I know you two are going to get on wonderfully,’ says Ness, grinning as if she’s imagining our dark-skinned ginger-haired babies.

Jamie blushes and shuffles a few steps away from her, focusing on his shoelaces.

‘Come on in, Jamie,’ Mum says. ‘Myla has been bakin. . .