For Caro

‘It could happen in ten thousand years’ time, but it could also happen tomorrow…’

Sir David King, former chief scientific adviser to the UK government and founder of the Centre for Climate Repair at Cambridge University warns that a mega tsunami, caused by a landslide in the Canary Islands, could hit the south coast of the UK at any time.

PART ONE INITIATION

1

I slam the car door shut and follow Mum and Parker into the large, brick headquarters of Mayes Cranston Engineering. I woke up today with that prickly, irritable feeling in my head again, the one I’ve had on and off since Dad left last summer. It’s like that sensation when you’re wearing something scratchy and uncomfortable, except you can change out of itchy clothes; I can’t seem to change my brain.

At least we’ve got the morning off school.

The January chill of the car park gives way to the warmth of the carpeted lobby. It smells of furniture polish and stale air. Mum works here five days a week as an admin assistant – though she’s also doing a big project for the company, which has taken up all her spare time since the new year. The last time I was here was on a ‘bring your kid to work’ day, nearly a year ago.

‘This is going to be sooo interesting,’ Parker whispers.

I say nothing. Interesting is not the word I’d use.

‘Hello, Christian!’ Mum says, hurriedly clipping her staff key card to her cardigan. Mum’s always in a hurry these days, thanks to the fact that she is almost constantly working.

I look up to see a square-jawed man in a crisply cut navy suit striding towards us, arms open in welcome. Mum talks about Christian a lot – he’s the head of the engineering department and gets on with everyone, or so Mum says. I vaguely remember him from when I was here last year.

‘This can’t be Hollie,’ he says, grinning broadly. ‘She’s so tall!’

‘I’m actually the average height for fourteen,’ I mutter. People always think I’m tall. It’s because I’m lanky. That’s the word my Great-aunt Louella uses for me; she says I’ll grow into my long, skinny arms and legs. I’m not so sure; anyway, I’d rather just look normal.

‘Hollie!’ Mum is smiling, but there’s a warning note in her voice. Don’t embarrass me! That’s what she’s really saying. I cross my arms, feeling awkward. I hadn’t meant to be rude, but what are you supposed to do when people make highly personal remarks? Beside me, Parker is fidgeting from foot to foot, chewing on her lip.

‘And this is Parker, Hollie’s friend. They’re doing their science project together,’ Mum explains.

Can’t she remember anything?

‘It’s not a science project, actually,’ I say. ‘It’s a project-based learning assignment.’

‘To research, identify and analyse key aspects of the upgrade to our local storm defence system at Salthaven, which was designed, tested and then installed a few months ago by Mayes Cranston Engineering,’ Parker blurts out. She has clearly memorized the outline that we – by which I really mean Parker – wrote for Miss Griffin who set the environmental studies assignment.

Christian stares at her, a smile playing across his lips. ‘That sounds ambitious.’

‘It’s basically just a report on how Mayes Cranston recently rebuilt the seawall,’ I explain.

‘I’ve already done lots of research,’ Parker says proudly. ‘The original seawall was constructed in the 1990s but degraded over the years and, with global warming accelerating, it was decided a few years ago that it wasn’t big or strong enough. A new, larger seawall, with reinforced steel embedded in the concrete was finally installed last autumn.’ She clasps her hands together. ‘I can’t wait to check out how you interfaced with the supercomputer; maybe even try out the projection mapping software? Ooh, and I’d love to see how you programmed the simulation tank.’

I roll my eyes. Parker is such a geek.

‘No worries!’ Christian laughs, revealing two rows of perfectly white, even teeth. Parker blushes the colour of a strawberry and Mum gives her shoulder a reassuring pat. How come she can respond like that to Parker being a bit anxious, but can’t handle it when I’m feeling awkward?

‘Well, that certainly sounds like a science project, Hollie!’ Mum says pointedly.

I look down at the dark red carpet. Until recently, Mum and I were really close. But since Dad left, everything’s changed. It’s not just that Mum’s always working, it’s that even when she is around, she’s distracted. She doesn’t listen properly to me – or anyone – any more. I know she’s always stressing about money now we’re living on just her salary, and I get that it’s hard for her. I really do. But she’s only in that position because Dad left.

And Dad left because of her. He told me that specifically on 30 August last year – the last day I spoke to him. ‘I just don’t want to be with your mother any more,’ he said. Of course he added ‘it’s no one’s fault’, but that didn’t fool me. Mum was always nagging at him to get a job before he went. If it isn’t her fault that she pushed him away, whose is it?

‘What about you, Hollie?’ Christian’s voice brings me back to the stuffy Mayes Cranston lobby. He’s still smiling warmly. Mum, on the other hand is frowning at me, while Parker is staring at her toes.

‘What about what?’ I ask.

Mum gives a tsk, like I’ve said something highly offensive.

‘I was just wondering what you’re interested in?’ Christian asks. ‘The supercomputer like Parker here? Or maybe the engineering process? We own a very powerful scanning electron microscope that we use to check for defects in metal alloys.’

‘Oh.’ I shrug. I care about rising sea levels and the climate crisis as much as anyone else my age, of course, but I can’t imagine I’ll find anything very interesting in the new seawall, even if I use one of Christian’s super-powerful microscopes to look for it.

Unlike Parker, who has spent the past few days reading as much as she can about storm defence systems, I’m only doing this project because I have to.

‘Come on, Hollie, this is a state-of-the-art engineering company.’ Mum gives me a gentle prod. ‘I would have given my eye teeth to be shown around a place like this when I was at secondary school.’

I roll my eyes. Mum’s always going on about how she missed out on being a top-level scientist because she didn’t go to university and how important it is for me to do well at maths and science, so I can get to uni myself.

What about what I want?

Mum frowns, her voice growing sharper. ‘Ms Somersby has been very kind to allow your visit today, Hollie, so I hope there’s something you’re interested in?’

‘Not really,’ I mumble.

The silence turns awkward. Mum lets out a frustrated sigh. Christian looks embarrassed.

‘Who’s Ms Somersby?’ Parker mouths.

‘Big Boss Lady,’ I grunt. I’ve never met Mum’s boss – she only started at the company six months ago, shortly before they started building the new seawall. However, I don’t like what I know. It’s Mum’s boss who keeps her working so hard.

‘Ms Somersby to you, Hollie,’ Mum says tersely. She turns to Parker. ‘She’s the managing director of the whole company.’

‘I reckon Big Boss Lady works just as well,’ Christian says with a grin.

I almost smile back. Maybe Christian isn’t so bad.

‘Is Ms Somersby showing us round?’ Parker asks eagerly.

‘No, that’ll be me,’ Christian says. He taps his staff key card which is clipped to his jacket pocket. ‘I think I’ve got something to show you that even Hollie will be interested in. Are you ready to get going?’

‘Not yet,’ I say quickly. ‘We have to wait for Rex; he’s in our group too.’

As I say his name, I feel the heat rising at the back of my neck and hope nobody notices.

Rex Russell started in our year at school last September and is one of those cool boys that everybody wants to be friends with. He’d barely exchanged five words with me until Miss Griffin assigned him to our group. Which, to be honest, wasn’t really fair on Rex. Every group wanted him – while nobody wanted to join me and Parker – so I guess Miss Griffin thought it made sense.

Of course it does mean that nobody got what they wanted.

Except me. Not that it’s panned out like I’d hoped. Not yet anyway. Rex and I might have talked now – but only about the outline for the project. Having said that, I think he was impressed that, thanks to Mum working at Mayes Cranston, I was able to organize a visit here so quickly. I touch my hair, feeling self-conscious. Are my dark curls behaving themselves? I wish I could check myself in a mirror.

‘So, I found out from my search that the new seawall is bigger, with steel inside the reinforced concrete, but how else is it different?’ Parker asks, phone in hand and all poised to take notes.

‘Ah, we also improved the resilience of the deadmans at the wall’s base in the seabed,’ Christian explains. ‘Not even a tsunami could get through that now! Ha, ha! We tested…’ His voice fades away as I turn towards the glass front door next to us and peer out at the drizzle.

Rex should be here by now, shouldn’t he? I offered him a lift with me and Parker, but he said he’d make his own way here.

A sleek, black car turns into the parking lot. It glides past all the other vehicles, including Mum’s battered estate, drawing to a halt just to the left of the main door where we’re standing. A uniformed security guard appears from around the corner and rushes over to open the driver’s door. A woman in heels and a cream trench coat steps out. The sharp lines of her bob swing forward as she speaks to the security guard, then bends down, clearly talking to whoever is in the passenger seat. I sense movement behind me and turn. A serious-faced youngish man is standing by the reception desk, holding a laptop and a reusable coffee cup.

‘She’s here!’ he calls to someone out of my eyeline.

I turn back to watch the woman. This must be the boss, Ms Somersby. She’s still talking to whoever is sitting in the passenger seat. The security guard strides to the front door of the building and holds it open for her.

‘Hi, Geoff,’ Mum says to him.

He nods at her. ‘Morning.’

As Ms Somersby shuts the driver-side door with a click, I glance at Mum, with her unstylish mop of greying hair and her shapeless cardigan. A horrible thought darts through my head: maybe if Mum looked as groomed and sophisticated as Ms Somersby, then Dad wouldn’t have left.

The thought evaporates as the passenger on the other side of the car gets out and strolls behind Ms Somersby towards the building.

My jaw drops. It’s Rex Russell!

2

Ms Somersby sweeps inside, Rex sauntering behind her. He catches my eye and smiles. I realize I’m gawping and shut my mouth.

‘Come on, Rex,’ Ms Somersby says impatiently. ‘We’re late as it is.’

The realization lands with a thud: Rex must be her son.

Ms Somersby glances around, taking us all in as she removes her coat. She’s wearing a silk blouse and a black pencil skirt; the blouse alone looks like it probably cost as much as Mum is paid in a month. Ms Somersby holds out her coat to Geoff, the security guard. He takes it silently, then gently closes the front door and disappears outside again.

‘Morning, Anthea,’ Christian says cheerfully. ‘As I’m sure you remember, Mrs Norris’s daughter and friends are here today for a school proj—’

‘Of course I remember,’ Ms Somersby says, an impatient edge to her voice. ‘My son Rex is in their group.’ She grips Rex’s shoulder and steers him towards us.

So much for me thinking Rex was impressed that I’d been able to organize this visit because of my mum working here, when his mum is in charge of the whole company. He must have been laughing at me over that.

‘Oh.’ Christian looks as taken aback as I am. ‘I didn’t realize.’

‘Hi, everyone.’ Rex holds his hand up in a casual wave.

‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Mum hisses at me.

‘I didn’t kn—’ I start.

‘Is this your daughter?’ Ms Somersby turns to me. ‘Hello, there, Mollie.’

Beside her, Rex winces.

‘Er, it’s Hollie,’ I say. ‘With an H.’

‘And this is Parker,’ Mum adds quickly. As she ushers Parker forward, Mum’s key card unclips itself from her cardigan pocket and falls to the floor. I glance around. Nobody, apart from me, appears to have noticed.

Parker gives Ms Somersby a shy nod.

‘I’m so sorry, Ms Somersby,’ Mum says plaintively. She glances crossly at me. ‘Hollie didn’t explain that the Rex in her group was your Rex.’

‘I didn’t know,’ I protest. ‘Rex never said.’

Why is Mum making out this is my fault? She’s actually frowning at me. At me! Rex is the one who didn’t explain who he was. The irritable feeling inside my head builds. I glance at Mum’s key card on the floor again, then take a tiny step sideways and cover it with my shoe. I’m going to take it with me on our tour, see if it can open any interesting doors. Mum won’t like me snooping, of course, but it serves her right for not taking my side just now.

‘Sorry,’ Rex says. ‘It’s true I didn’t mention who my mum is, it… er… it didn’t come up.’ He wrinkles his nose, as if to suggest he doesn’t understand why we’re all making such a big deal over the confusion.

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ Mum says faintly.

‘For goodness’ sake.’ Ms Somersby rolls her eyes. ‘Rex has his father’s surname.’ She stretches her lips into a thin smile. ‘I didn’t realize that retaining my own name when I married was going to have such confusing consequences.’ She makes a sound which is half laugh, half cough.

I frown. Is that her idea of a joke?

Christian appears to think so. He laughs himself, just a little too loudly, then says: ‘Well, now that everyone’s here, shall we get on with the tour?’

‘Good idea. I do hope the children find it useful. Bye, Rex.’ With a glance at her son, Ms Somersby glides across the lobby. The young man with the coffee and the laptop scuttles forward and hands her the reusable cup. A moment later they move out of sight. Streams of people are now arriving, filing through the lobby beside us.

‘I need to start work too,’ Mum says apologetically. ‘Ms Somersby asked me to do a couple of hours on reception this morning, while Priya’s at the dentist.’

‘No worries,’ Christian says. ‘I’ll have the kids back here in an hour.’

‘Great,’ says Mum. ‘I’ll organize a taxi to take them straight to school.’ She turns to me and, in front of everyone, like I’m six years old, says: ‘Now, please behave, Hollie.’ Then she scuttles away across the lobby to her place behind the reception desk.

I glance down at the floor. The irritable feeling in my head morphs into resentful anger. Mum’s key card is still under my foot. I bend down quickly, pretending to adjust the strap on my shoe, and slip it into my pocket.

‘Good to go?’ Christian asks, rubbing his hands together.

‘Okay,’ I say, standing up.

‘Sure,’ Rex says with a nod. ‘Hey, Parker, how’re you doing?’

‘Good, thanks.’ Parker smiles for the first time since we arrived.

I have to hand it to him. Whatever beef I might have with Rex, he’s good with Parker. A lot of kids at school make fun of her for being so enthusiastic about science but easy-going Rex just accepts her as she is.

He still could have explained that his mother was Mayes Cranston Engineering’s Big Boss Lady.

‘This way!’ Christian leads us across the lobby to the door next to the reception desk. He holds his key card next to the pad on the wall and the door clicks open. We follow him through and along a carpeted corridor. Rooms lead off on both sides.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about your mum?’ I ask, falling into step beside Rex.

He gives me a lazy, one-shouldered shrug. ‘Dunno, guess I didn’t think it was that big a deal.’ He hesitates. ‘I’m sorry she didn’t get your name right, though.’ A strand of his hair falls over his eyes and my stomach gives a little skip.

Feeling self-conscious, I purse my lips. ‘Whatever.’

Christian rounds a bend in the corridor and leads us past a large, glass-panelled room marked Boardroom. Other members of staff hurry by, each one smiling and saying hello as they pass.

‘This is so exciting,’ Parker trills.

‘Definitely interesting,’ Rex agrees. ‘We’re going to see how Salthaven is protected from the kind of storm surges at sea that are more and more likely to happen thanks to the ice caps melting. It’s like, the most important thing we could be doing our research on.’ He gazes down at his phone and I wonder if he’s messaging with his girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Unlike me, Rex doesn’t live in Salthaven and is, I’m starting to realize, very private. He certainly hasn’t boasted that his family are well off or let slip that his mum is a big shot here at Mayes Cranston. In fact, I’m fairly sure that nobody at school knows anything about his personal life, though lots of them would like to.

At the end of the corridor, Christian opens another door with his key card and ushers us into a dimly lit room. A double row of tall, black servers stand along one wall, with a single computer terminal at one end.

‘Is this the supercomputer?’ Parker sounds excited. ‘I read that it runs on 1.6 million processor cores and can reach speeds of up to twenty petaflops.’

Christian laughs. Rex makes a face. ‘What’s a petaflop?’

‘It means the supercomputer can perform at twenty times ten to the power of fifteen,’ Parker gabbles. ‘That’s more than a billion processing actions per second.’

‘Indeed!’ Christian sounds impressed. ‘But this is just our own bank of servers. We actually execute all our supercomputing in the cloud.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Parkers face falls, expressing a mix of embarrassment and disappointment.

‘How about looking at the program for the simulation tank?’ Christian suggests with a sympathetic smile. ‘I think you said you’d like to see that?’

‘Ooh, yes.’ Parker’s eyes light up again.

I exchange a glance with Rex. He’s clearly as in the dark about what they’re talking about as I am. A delicious shiver wriggles down my spine at the shared moment.

‘What’s the simul—tank thing?’ Rex asks.

‘The simulation tank, commonly known around here as the wave tank,’ Christian explains. ‘It’s what we used last year to work out the height, depth and quality of the steel we needed for the new seawall.’ He opens the computer terminal at the end of the row of servers and taps in a long password.

I suppress a yawn, my eyes glazing over.

‘I imagine you’ll be more interested in the test itself than the software, eh, Hollie?’ Christian asks, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he finds the files he’s looking for. He grins, glancing sideways at me.

‘The test?’ I have no idea what he’s talking about.

‘You mean we can do an actual test? In the wave tank?’ Parker turns to Rex and me, eyes shining. ‘It’s really cool,’ she says. ‘The computer sets up a program so the engineers can test different steels for the seawall using waves of seawater to see how effective each type is.’

‘What, with real seawater?’ Rex asks, sounding impressed.

‘And actual waves?’ I add, trying to imagine how the test might work.

‘That’s right, the steel panels and the waves are all to scale.’ Christian points across the room to a door in the corner marked Simulation Tank Room – authorized personnel only. ‘That’s where the wave tank is.’ He turns back to the screen in front of him, which is now showing a bewildering array of equations and graphs. Parker peers at it, her face lit up. ‘This is the program we used when we ran the final test. The one that we followed when deciding which steel to install in the new seawall.’

Christian’s phone gives an insistent beep. Frowning, he picks it up, then sighs. ‘Sorry, I’ve been called into a meeting. We’re going to have to take a quick break.’ He presses the ESC on the keyboard and the screen goes black. ‘Can you find your way to reception? It’s back the way we came, just past the boardroom, remember?’

‘Of course,’ Rex says.

‘Okay, thanks.’ Christian holds up his hands in apology. ‘Soon as I’m free again, I’ll show you the tank itself. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.’

‘Thanks,’ Parker says.

A moment later, Christian has swept out of the door, leaving the three of us in the dimly lit server room. Parker’s fingers drift across the keyboard. I can tell she is itching to take another look at the software program for the tank test.

Her thick, sandy-coloured hair falls over her face as she leans closer to the screen. ‘Do you think it would be okay if I had a proper look at what he showed us?’

‘How are you going to do that?’ Rex asks.

I grin. Knowing Parker as I do, I’m pretty sure I have the answer to that. ‘You memorized Christian’s password when he logged on before, didn’t you, Parker?’

She nods. ‘Do you think he’d mind if I… you know… used it to take a peek?’

I’m fairly certain Christian would rather Parker wasn’t let loose on the Mayes Cranston network. On the other hand, one of us might as well be enjoying themselves while we wait for him to come back.

‘That’s not a good id—’ Rex starts.

‘I don’t see why not,’ I interrupt. ‘Parker just wants to examine the software for the wave tank, don’t you, P?’

‘Yes, I won’t damage anything,’ Parker says eagerly.

‘Exactly.’ I smile at her. ‘It’s fine. Isn’t it, Rex?’

‘I guess.’ Rex still sounds uncertain, but Parker lets out a squeak of excitement, then starts tapping away, inputting Christian’s long password. With all her science and IT smarts, I’m certain Parker would be a brilliant hacker. But she looked appalled when I suggested it once, even when I pointed out that ethical hackers are a total thing.

Parker said she’d never break the rules.

I told her that was a waste of her skills.

‘Wow.’ Rex looks seriously impressed as the terminal flashes into life again. Christian closed it down in such a hurry that the screen opens on the tank test program he was showing us before, complete with all its mystifying graphs and equations.

I glance over at the tank room in the corner.

‘Shame we can’t go in there,’ Rex says, catching my eye. ‘Get an advance look at the wave tank before Christian comes back.’

With a surge of excitement, I remember Mum’s key card, still stashed in my pocket. ‘Let’s use this!’ I take it out and flourish it in front of him. The last vestiges of my earlier irritation vanish on a wave of adrenaline. I never imagined, just half an hour ago, that I’d be able to use today’s tour to impress Rex and annoy Mum while still doing research for our school project.

Rex’s eyes widen. ‘Seriously?’

‘Come on!’ I cry. ‘Let’s go!’

3

I race over to the wave tank room and run the key card over the pad on the door. As I walk inside, the movement triggers the overhead light. My jaw drops. The room is dominated by a massive glass box, reaching right up to the very high ceiling, way above our heads. This must be the wave tank. It’s empty apart from a series of low steel panels; each one stretches across the width of the tank. The glass walls are etched with litre markings at regular intervals, all the way to the top.

‘Wow,’ Rex says, appearing in the doorway. ‘Hey, Parker, look! It’s enormous.’

‘What exactly are the panels for?’ I wonder out loud.

Parker appears behind Rex. I can see by the expression on her face that she is torn between fascination with the tank and worry that we’re going to get into trouble for using my mum’s key card to get in here. ‘The panels are made from different types of steel, from low grade to high quality,’ she says. ‘For the tests, the engineers programmed them one by one into position, then filled the tank with waves, to see how well each panel would hold back the water. That way they were able towork out what kind of steel to use inside the concrete wall out at sea. Apparently the one they picked was the highest quality steel there is!’

‘Cool,’ Rex enthuses.

‘You mean they just kept crashing waves against different panels until they knew which steel to use for the real thing?’ I ask. Parker nods. ‘So the tank acts like… like a wave machine at the swimming pool?’

‘More like waves in the actual sea.’ Parker frowns. ‘This is supposed to be a simulation of what would happen to the seawall if the sea produces the biggest waves that could ever hit the coast, like thirty-footers. It’s all built exactly to scale.’

I stare at the glass tank, a fresh idea fizzing up inside me. I turn to the others. ‘How about we try it out?’

The others stare at me.

‘Could we do that, Parker?’ Rex says uncertainly. ‘An actual test, with real waves?’

‘Yes.’ Parker frowns. ‘It’s all set up on the terminal. But I think we should wait for Christian. He’ll be back soon.’

I look at the time, my excitement building. ‘Not for at least ten minutes,’ I say eagerly. ‘And it’ll be much better to do the test ourselves. Mr Barker’s always saying in science that the best research is when you work it out on your own. You know, when it’s em—emp—’ I stop, unable to remember the word.

‘Empirical,’ Parker says. ‘I still don’t think we should do it.’

I look at Rex. I can see from the sparkle in his eyes that he’s seriously tempted. ‘Come on,’ I plead. ‘If we start now, the test will be over by the time Christian gets back.’

I have no idea if this is true but, right now, I don’t care.

‘I don’t know,’ says Rex.

My thoughts flit back to Mum and how frustrated she got with me earlier. I can’t seem to do anything right these days. Well, she wanted me to be more interested in science. It’ll serve her right if I conduct a real-life experiment. Right here, in her workplace.

Yeah, that’ll show her.

‘We’re doing it,’ I say and before the others can stop me, I march back to the computer in the next room and press the start button for the tank test.

I look up. Rex and Parker have followed me over to the computer. Rex’s eyes are wide with shock. Parker shakes her head, but I can see the smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

‘Keep an eye on the screen, yeah?’ I say to Parker, then I hurry back to the tank room.

I stand in front of the tank. Nothing happens. There’s no movement inside the tank; no sound indicating anything starting up. A second later, Rex joins me.

‘Why isn’t anything happening?’ he asks.

‘Are you sure you pressed the right thing, Hollie?’ Parker calls from the computer terminal in the next room.

‘It was a big green button marked Start test, so yes!’ I roll my eyes.

‘Oh well.’ Rex lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Probably just as well that it hasn’t worked.’

‘No.’ The irritable feeling starts to nibble at my brain again. ‘It has to work.’ I press my palms against the huge glass outer walls of the tank.

Still nothing.

‘Maybe they disconnected the water supply,’ Rex suggests, making a face. ‘I mean, they finished upgrading the storm defence system months ago, and the tests would have been completed way before that.’

I stride over to the small glass door at the far end of the tank and pull at the handle. To my surprise it opens easily, and I walk into the huge glass box. There are grooves on the floor, at the bottom of each wall, presumably for draining the water.

Rex follows me inside and shuts the door behind him. We stroll over to the first of the three enormous steel panels. It stands at waist height above the bottom of the tank and stretches across its entire width, blocking our way.

I peer closely at the panel. Like the others, it’s marked with a code.

‘A1-135 CS.’ Rex reads the code out loud. ‘What do you think that’s for?’

I shrug. ‘Probably so they can tell which bit of steel is which; they all look the same, don’t they?’

Rex nods. I grin to myself. I had hoped I could get closer to Rex by doing this project but even in my wildest dreams I didn’t think we’d bond over some minor rule-breaking like this, and certainly not so quickly.

‘Parker said the software they use programs these panels to different heights. How d’you think they go up and down?’ Rex asks.

‘Dunno.’ I examine the smooth steel. ‘I can’t see any buttons or lev—’ A strange sucking thud sounds behind us. I spin around. ‘What was that?’

‘The door!’ Rex strides over and yanks at the handle but it doesn’t budge. He stares at me in horror. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him jolted out of his normal, easy manner.

‘It must be vacuum-sealed.’

‘You mean we’re locked in?’ I meet his shocked gaze, as a judder vibrates through the tank.

‘What the hell is that?’ Rex demands, wild-eyed.

‘Listen!’ I put my finger to my lips and we both concentrate on the strange, rumbling noise that is now coming from all around the tank.

‘Oh no!’ Rex mutters, as the steel panel in front of us extends, filling the whole width of the tank and quickly rising up, up, until it’s almost at the top.

I hammer on the glass. ‘Hey, Parker!’ I yell. ‘Let us out!’

‘It was on a one-minute delay, it’s working now!’ Parker appears in the doorway of the tank test room. ‘Oh!’ She claps her hand over her mouth as she spots us inside the tank. ‘What are you two—?’

‘Get us out!’ I shout.

Parker rushes over to the door and tries to pull it open. ‘It’s no good,’ she shrieks. ‘It must be on a timer, you know, like… like a washing-machine door when the cycle—’

‘Can you override it from the computer?’ Rex yells, pressing his palms flat against the inside wall of the tank.

‘I’ll try.’ Parker turns and races away.

The rumbling stops as the steel panel finishes its rise. It looms above our heads, a sheer, flat grey wall separating us from the far side of the tank. And then another sound begins.

The unmistakable noise of rushing water.

‘Look!’ Rex shrieks. I follow his pointing finger to the wide round holes at the end of the tank.

Water is gushing through them, already lapping at our ankles.

‘Parker!’ yells Rex.

‘Hurry, Parker!’ I shout. I splash over to the door and yank at it myself.

It refuses to open. The water swills around us, almost at our knees now. My school trousers are cold and heavy against my skin.

‘How high will it get?’ I shriek.

With a jolt the water surges, hard against our thighs. I look across the tank. A small wave is building, heading straight towards us. With a crash it breaks against our stomachs. I stumble sideways, my clothes clinging to me, weighing me down.

‘It’s the wave test!’ I shriek.

Rex and I exchange a look, then together we yell out: ‘Help! Parker, help!’

‘I’m trying!’ she yells back. ‘The system is locking me out!’

Another wave slams against our chests. This time I’m knocked off my feet, the cold wet dragging me under. I scrabble about, trying to find the right way up.

A hand on my arm and Rex helps pull me into air. I gulp it down, treading water. I can no longer touch the bottom of the tank with my feet.

‘We need to swim away from the panel,’ he splutters, as another wave breaks over our heads.

My hair is plastered to my face. I brace myself, trying to move against the push of the waves.

‘This is like the rip tide when I was in Australia,’ Rex gasps.

I close my eyes as yet another wave batters us. I’ve never been on holiday anywhere that far away, but I’ve grown up here, in Salthaven, and I know how strong the sea can be. I claw at the water. The further I swim, the closer the panel seems to get. One slam against that steep, hard steel wall could knock you out. I imagine losing consciousness in this watery cold, then drifting down, under the waves. I shudder, kicking out. A metre or so away Rex is panting for breath, trying to stay above the surface too. I can see the panic in his eyes.

‘Come on!’ I splutter, trying to tug myself forward again.

Another much bigger wave catches me, hurling and twisting my body. Again. Again.

I’m exhausted. My limbs aching, my eyes stinging, my body numb with cold. Fighting the force of this water is impossible. I let my arms stop moving, just making small kicks with my feet.

‘Parker! Help!’ I try to yell again, but my words are swallowed up in the crash of the waves. They keep coming, each one stronger and faster and heavier than the one before. Water splashes into my mouth and I cough it out. Across the tank, out of the corner of my eye, I can just make out Rex, his head almost under the surface.

And then the biggest swell of water yet smashes over me and I squeeze my eyes tight shut as I’m plunged down and around. Arms and legs flailing, I don’t know where the sides of the tank are any more. Panic surges inside me, rising like the waves.

4

I claw desperately at the churning water, but I no longer know which way is up. The cold waves smash against me. I need to breathe; I can’t last much longer without breathing. Lungs burning, I manage one last kick, driving as hard as I can and hoping I’m heading towards air.

To my surprise, I shoot upwards, breaking easily through the surface of the water. I open my eyes to find the glass wall of the tank in front of me. I take in a deep lungful of air. The water is stilling, the rocking of the waves lessening, slapping gently now against the high steel panel that runs across the width of the tank.

Rex swims towards me. As he comes to a halt, his face etched with relief and exhaustion, I realize that an alarm is sounding.

‘Hollie!’ It’s Parker. She’s standing on the other side of the wall just next to us. The water is draining now. I can already find the bottom of the tank with my feet.

‘Are you okay?’ Rex asks.

I nod.

‘I couldn’t override it,’ Parker shouts, her palms pressed flat against the glass. ‘Christian came and put in an emergency code that stopped it – and started the alarm.’

Christian? Oh no.

‘Are you two all right?’ My head jerks round. Mayes Cranston’s head of engineering is at the end of the tank, watching us, his arms tightly folded. His voice might be expressing concern, but I can tell from his expression that he’s furious.

‘We’re fine,’ I yell over the alarm, wading to the door of the tank. The water sloshes around my knees. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too. It was an accident,’ Rex starts, squelching after me. ‘We—’

‘Let’s get you out of there before we talk,’ Christian interrupts. ‘The door will unlock automatically once the water has drained away.’ He presses his lips together in a thin, angry line.

At that moment the alarm stops. Geoff, the security guard rushes into the room, quickly followed by Mum.

My heart sinks.

‘Hollie! What on earth?’ Mum’s jaw drops as she takes in the tank, with me and Rex still inside it.

I can’t look at her. Once she knows what I’ve done, she’ll be furious; the last thing she said before we started on this morning’s tour was ‘behave’. Which is exactly what I meant to do, but… My heart sinks. Why does this keep happening? I intend to do the right thing, but then an idea grabs me and before I know what’s happening, I’m in deep trouble.

The last trickle of water drains away, and the tank door gives a click. I push the handle and trudge out, Rex at my side. My clothes are as heavy as my thoughts, my school uniform sodden against my skin. I shiver, hugging my chest.

Parker rushes over, her face as pale as the walls.

‘I was so scared,’ she says. ‘I thought that… that you…’ Her voice cracks.

‘Are you both all right?’ Mum dashes over, arms outstretched.

I nod. Now I’m safe, I suddenly feel very shaky and want nothing more than to hurl myself into Mum’s arms. But something I can’t explain stops me and, instead of collapsing into her hug, I hang my head, as the angry, irritable feeling that vanished when I got excited earlier surges back.

Geoff, the security guard, appears. He silently hands Rex and me a foil blanket each, then leaves the room. We wrap them around our shoulders. I’m still cold, but at least I’ve stopped shivering.

‘What were you doing in here?’ Mum asks.

‘They were taking advantage of my absence to wreak havoc with the wave tank,’ Christian snaps.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ I protest.

‘We just wanted to see how the test worked!’ Parker exclaims, blushing scarlet.

‘We didn’t mean to end up in the test,’ Rex adds.

Mum frowns. ‘You ran a simulation?’ Her face hardens.

‘I clearly didn’t shut down the terminal before I left the room.’ Christian’s voice is ice cold. ‘Though I hardly imagined you three would take advantage of my carelessness to start the test before I got back.’

I catch Parker’s eye. Clearly it hasn’t occurred to Christian that she might have noted and memorized his entire passcode. Parker opens her mouth, planning – I’m certain – to confess. I shake my head to indicate she shouldn’t, and she presses her lips together, her face consumed with guilt.

‘But how did you get into this room, Hollie?’ Mum demands.

I pull her soggy key card from my trouser pocket.

‘You stole my pass?’ Mum sounds horrified.

‘No,’ I protest, ‘I just saw you’d dropped it and…’ I wince, knowing there’s really no excuse for not handing it back to her. ‘When we knew the tank was in here, we just wanted to take a look. We didn’t mean any harm.’

‘We didn’t realize we’d get stuck in there,’ Rex adds. ‘I’m really sorry that we frightened everyone and caused so much trouble.’ He offers Mum and Christian an apologetic smile.

‘I’m really sorry too,’ Parker says softly. She sounds like she’s almost in tears. ‘I was so eager to try out the software… I got carried away.’

I want to join in, to say that I’m sorry as well. But the words are stuck in my throat. Mum glares at me.

‘Do you realize how dangerous it is to run a test like that without any planning or supervision? Let alone get yourself trapped inside the tank?’ Christian’s tone is withering. ‘You could have been killed.’ He shakes his head. ‘There will have to be consequences. Possibly even the police.’

I look down at my feet. Rex and I are creating a puddle on the floor around us. A knot forms in my stomach. I should own up that I led the other two into doing the tank test – it’s not fair on Rex and Parker if I don’t.

I open my mouth. ‘It was my id—’

‘We decided to do this together,’ Rex says quickly.

‘That’s right,’ Parker adds, stoically. ‘It was all of us.’

Christian blows out his breath. ‘We’ll see what Ms Somersby wants to do.’

I glance gratefully at Rex. I’m certain he’s making a point of sharing responsibility because his mum is less likely to call the police if her own son is in the firing line.

‘Please rest assured, Christian,’ Mum snaps, ‘that Hollie will definitely be receiving a very severe punishment for today. In the meantime, we should get her and Rex into some dry clothes.’

Christian nods. ‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Follow me.’

We all head into the corridor. As Christian bustles us along, we pass a couple of members of staff hurrying in the opposite direction. They stare at us, curious expressions on their faces.

‘I can’t believe you did something so dangerous, Hollie,’ Mum hisses. ‘And how dare you steal my key card?’ She ushers me and Parker along a corridor to the right, while Christian disappears to the left, with Rex.

Mum takes us into the women’s toilets. She doesn’t speak, other than to order us to ‘stay here’, but the rigid set of her mouth and the glint in her eyes signal how angry and upset she is. She stomps out of the room.

I stand shivering for a moment, clutching my foil blanket around me.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the test,’ Parker says.

‘I’m sorry I got you to start it,’ I say, removing my trainers and peeling off my sodden socks.

A minute later, Mum returns with an oversized navy sweatshirt bearing the purple, helix-shaped Mayes Cranston logo.

I change quickly. It’s a relief to be out of my damp clothes. Mum puts them – and my shoes – into a plastic bag, then hands it to me to carry. I roll up the sleeves of the sweatshirt. It’s an extra-large size that nearly reaches my knees. I grab a paper towel and try to squeeze the worst of the water out of my hair.

‘Let’s go,’ Mum says sharply.

Parker and I exchange a grimace as we follow Mum back to reception. Across the lobby, a small group of workers have gathered. They stare at us, open-mouthed. Great, I think, now everyone can see me with lank hair plastered to my head and my skinny legs sticking out from under a sweatshirt.

Rex and Christian are waiting by the reception desk. Rex’s hair, unlike mine, is already almost dry and, instead of a Mayes Cranston sweatshirt, he’s wearing his football kit.

He looks annoyingly neatly dressed and handsome.

‘I had my football gear with me, for later,’ he said. ‘Imagine how cringe if I hadn’t—’ He stops, catching sight of my expression.

‘Yeah,’ I say gloomily. ‘Imagine.’

‘Mum says I have to go straight to school,’ Rex says, his cheeks reddening slightly. ‘But she’s too busy to take me.’

‘I’ve called a taxi for you,’ Christian says. ‘I’ve called one for Hollie and Parker, too.’

I look at Mum. She nods. ‘You and Parker should go straight to our house, change into fresh school uniforms – Parker can borrow one of yours – then go on to school.’

We wait in silence for a few minutes. Christian disappears briefly, then comes back just as the taxis are pulling up. He’s holding a folder, which he hands to Parker. ‘Facts and figures on the entire storm defence upgrade,’ he says. ‘Ms Somersby is furious about the tank test, so another tour is out of the question, but this should help with the project.’ He pauses. ‘We’ve agreed that there’s no need to involve the police on this occasion.’

‘Oh, that’s very kind of you, Christian,’ Mum says. She nudges me.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘Yes! Oh, yes, thanks so much,’ Parker adds.

Mum takes Rex, Parker and me outside. Rex gets into his taxi and drives off.

As Parker scrambles onto the back seat of our cab, I hesitate. Mum’s face is still tense with anxiety. Suddenly I feel overwhelming guilt for having made such a mess of our visit and the apology that stuck in my throat earlier bursts out of me.

‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ I say, suddenly close to tears.

She nods, still grim-faced, then her expression softens slightly. She squeezes my shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. It must have been scary in the tank with those waves.’

‘It was,’ I admit.

‘We’ll talk more tonight,’ Mum says with a sigh.

She means talk about the ‘very severe punishment’ she promised Christian she’d be doling out.

Great.

That evening, Mum, as promised, sits me down for a solemn talk about how growing up means taking responsibility for your actions.

‘And, as the adult responsible for you at my workplace,’ she explains very seriously, ‘I’ve been given a written warning over your behaviour.’

I open my mouth to tell her that isn’t fair, but then close it again without speaking. Better not to argue right now.

Mum stresses that I need to understand the enormity of a written warning and how much she needs her job. I nod in all the places I know I’m supposed to, but mostly I’m just listening out for my punishment. The longer Mum takes to build up to it, the worse it’s likely to be. Sure enough, after speaking for a full ten minutes, Mum finally lands the blow: I’m grounded for a whole month.

I gasp. That’s too much, the biggest punishment I’ve ever had. I protest, but Mum is adamant.

‘No outings of any kind,’ she says. ‘Just to and from school.’

‘What about going to Parker’s?’ I plead. I often go to her house at weekends, it’s just fifteen minutes outside Salthaven, up the hill on the outskirts of town – and Parker’s parents are rarely there during the day.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Definitely not,’ she says.

Great. I subside into a sullen, sulky silence. I’m certain that if Dad were still here, she wouldn’t punish me so harshly.

Dad was always on my side when I messed up, defending me whenever I got into trouble. Like the time at the start of last year when there was scaffolding on one of our school buildings and I climbed up it and onto the roof, with some other people from my class. Mum was furious and wanted to stop me from going out for the rest of term, but Dad talked her into simply grounding me for the next two weekends. ‘She’s just a teenager with too much energy,’ I remember Dad saying. ‘What she did was dangerous and there have to be consequences for that, but we should be grateful she has the confidence to climb things rather than getting too angry over her breaking the rules.’

The next day, Friday, I discover that, despite Ms Somersby emailing Parker’s parents, explaining that she behaved inappropriately in setting up the test tank, Parker isn’t receiving any direct punishment. Rex has mostly got away with it, too. Although Ms Somersby is clearly cross enough to increase his tutor time, he isn’t grounded like I am. I’m glad for them, of course, but it makes my own punishment feel even more unfair.

The angry feeling in my head starts to build again.

5

It’s early that same Friday evening. I’ve been home from school for two hours and have spent almost all that time staring miserably at pictures on my socials of people getting ready to go to Nina Podolski’s party tonight.

I wander, listlessly, into the kitchen. Mum asked me to get dinner prepped for when she brings Alfie home from swimming but as I gaze down at the bag of potatoes she left out for me to peel, all I can think about is how I’m stuck in our kitchen when I should be choosing an outfit for Nina’s party. It’s not fair. Parker won’t be going either, of course, but that’s just because she hates parties; she’s not grounded like me. Rex is going. Sigh. And he’s bound to get loads of attention from all the people in our year who have a crush on him.

I pick up the peeler, then set it down again. Perhaps I’ll see if Louella would like a cup of tea. Louella is my grandmother’s sister – my great, great-aunt – who has lived with us since I was little. She’s like another mum to me, really, even though she’s super old now and needs a stick to walk anywhere.

I wander next door to the living room. It’s overflowing with clutter, as usual. Piles of ironing and paperwork are spread across the carpet, while a selection of coats and scarves plus Mum’s work laptop, Alfie’s spare swimming towel and a model of a boat that he made recently from toilet rolls, take up the entire table and half the sofa. The TV is blaring – one of those makeover shows where people come and redecorate your house while you’re away. Our dog, Cruffin, is curled up asleep in front of our two-bar electric fire; Mum only puts the central heating on when it gets really cold. Louella is in her usual armchair and intent on her sketch-pad, her sharp, dark eyes fixed on the paper as she draws. She always has a picture on the go; she likes making pencil drawings of people and several of her best portraits are on the walls.

‘Would you like a cuppa, Louella?’ I ask from the doorway.

Louella’s head turns and she fixes me with one of her penetrating stares. She claims to get occasional visions of the future. Mum has pointed out that these premonitions of hers only ever come to light after the event she predicted, like the time she said she’d foreseen that Uncle Andrew’s fiancée would ditch him at the altar, but then Mum’s all about facts and science. I don’t know what I believe but whether or not Louella can really see into the future, she has this amazing knack of being able to see inside my head. It’s kind of unnerving, though Louella never makes me feel like she’s judging me.

‘What’s the matter, lovey?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows. ‘Fed up with staying in?’

I nod. ‘There’s a party and I can’t go,’ I explain.

Louella’s wrinkled face creases further with a sympathetic smile. I smile sadly back. It’s so easy to talk to her. She just listens, whereas Mum tends to jump in with either criticism or advice.

‘And, if I’m not mistaken…’ Louella lifts her chin slightly, ‘… there’s a young man you like, who’ll be there, at the party?’

I can feel my cheeks pinking. Louella might use cringe phrases like ‘young man’, but as usual she’s worked out exactly what’s on my mind. I’m saved from having to reply by my little brother Alfie, who chooses that moment to fling open the front door and rush into the house on a gust of cold air. He is beaming from ear to ear, his dark hair tousled in damp tufts.

‘I won my races!’ He shoots up the stairs, two steps at a time.

His voice wakes Cruffin, who jumps up, barks and bounds after him. Mum trudges into the living room, her face pale with tiredness. Yawning, she dumps Alfie’s swimming bag and her own tote on top of the mess already covering the floor and sinks into the nearest armchair.

‘Alfie did so well,’ she says, stifling another yawn. ‘He came first in both front crawl and the medley.’

‘Good for him,’ Louella says, reaching for the remote and muting the TV. ‘You look tired, love. Was everything okay at work?’

I stiffen, guilt threading through me. Mum must have been dealing with the fallout from yesterday’s test tank adventure all day. A shadow passes over her face. Then she shakes it off.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she says firmly.

I can tell it isn’t. Mum’s just putting a brave face on things. Resentment wriggles inside me. I’d so much rather she admitted she’d had a tough day because of me messing up at Mayes Cranston than that she acted all noble and martyrish.

Alfie charges back down the stairs, Cruffin right behind, his tail wagging furiously. As Dad once pointed out, my little brother never walks when he can run and never runs if he can swim. Louella often comments on how she wishes she could download some of his energy for herself. She doesn’t use the word ‘download’ of course.

‘I’m hungry, Mum,’ Alfie says, all bright-eyed and smiley. Cruffin trots over to Mum and nuzzles at her hand. She strokes his soft, floppy ears absently.

‘I can have the stew heated up in a couple of minutes.’ Mum looks at me expectantly. ‘Did you get the potatoes on, Hollie?’

I make a face. ‘Not yet.’

‘Oh, Hollie.’ Mum’s face falls.

My wriggling resentment twists and rises. I can’t bear the disappointment in her expression. Why doesn’t she just get angry with me?

‘It’s not fair that I have to slave in the kitchen peeling potatoes when everyone else in my year is going to Nina Podolski’s party.’ As soon as the words shoot out of me, I can hear how spoilt and mean I sound. After all, Mum was working hard at Mayes Cranston all day, then went straight to Alfie’s swimming club afterwards. She only asked me to peel and boil a few vegetables.

Mum stands up. ‘That’s enough attitude, Hollie.’ There’s a sharp edge to her voice now. ‘Please finish the potatoes. Alfie’s hungry, we’re all hungry – and I can’t do everything. I’m going to have to spend the whole weekend working as it is.’

I glare at her. I know I was mean and rude before, but it was only because she annoyed me by not saying how she really felt. She doesn’t need to make me feel small and stupid.

‘Come on, Alfie,’ Louella says, struggling to her feet and reaching for her walking stick. ‘Let’s get you a slice of bread and butter to keep you going.’

Alfie skips ahead of her into the kitchen, Cruffin at his heels. I know Louella is getting him out of the way before Mum and I have a row. Part of me wants to run out of the room and stomp upstairs, but my feet are rooted to the floor. As the living-room door closes behind them, Mum crosses her arms.

‘Why is it so difficult to do what you’re told?’ she demands. ‘When you came to Mayes Cranston yesterday, all I asked was that you behaved yourself. And this evening, I just hoped you’d put on a few potatoes so that Alfie and I could come home to food that was ready. Why was that so much to ask?’

I don’t know what to say. If I could rewind time by two minutes, I’d apologize and say I’ll go straight to the kitchen and finish preparing the potatoes. But it’s too late for that now.

I walk over to Louella’s chair and flop down in it. Louella’s latest drawing is balanced on the arm. It’s a picture of me. I’m frowning in the portrait, my whole expression exuding anger. Is that how Louella sees me?

‘Sorry I’m such a disappointment, Mum,’ I say, my voice filling with bitterness.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Do you want me to extend how long you’re grounded for?’

I stare at her in horror. An entire month is already far too long.

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can, Louella reappears, leaning heavily on her stick.

‘Okay, now, girls,’ she says firmly. ‘Alfie’s having some toast and I’m going to help you, Hollie, with the potatoes.’ She shoots a look sideways at Mum. ‘Your mum can stay out here and relax a bit. She’s been on the go all day.’

There’s something about the flat, no-nonsense way Louella speaks that takes the tension out of the air. I don’t know why, but I never seem to mind when she tells me what to do. I think it’s that she doesn’t make me feel stupid – like she’s kind of telling Mum and me off equally. Anyway, Mum sinks back into her chair, while I follow my great-aunt into the kitchen. Alfie is chewing his toast at the table, Cruffin at his feet.

As soon as he sees us, he launches into a detailed description of his swimming races. ‘I was behind for the first fifty, then I caught up and then it was one stroke, two strokes and I could see I was pulling ahead…’

Louella and I make interested ooh and aah noises, while together we peel the potatoes.

‘I was a grand swimmer in my day,’ Louella says. ‘I loved swimming in the sea.’

‘Me too.’ Alfie’s eyes shine and I wonder if he’s remembering going surfing with Dad. They used to go before school and every weekend from spring to autumn. It all stopped when Dad left; Alfie hasn’t been in the sea since. Not for the first time I wonder how come he isn’t more upset about that? Unlike me, he seems to have taken Dad leaving totally in his stride.

‘Of course, after the Great Storm when I was fourteen, it took a lot to get back in the water,’ Louella muses. She sets down her peeling knife. ‘I’d seen that storm in a vision, a few days before, as you know.’ Alfie nods, eyes wide. He loves hearing about her premonitions. So do I, if I’m honest. Louella has a way of describing them that almost makes you feel like you experienced them too.

‘The storm when it came was exactly like in my vision,’ Louella goes on. ‘Wild waves all along the coast here, pouring rain, the sea all whipped up.’ She pauses before continuing; Alfie and I hang on every word. ‘That was the start of this global warming, I reckon.’

‘I think that started before the 1950s,’ I point out. ‘They reckon it’s been going on since the industrial revolution.’

‘And it’s actually called climate change,’ Alfie chirrups cheerfully, like he’s talking about ice-cream flavours. ‘Global warming is just one aspect of climate change.’

‘Whatever you call it, it’s a terrible thing,’ Louella says grimly. ‘I’ve seen what a storm surge at sea can do. I know.’

I place my freshly peeled potato on the counter with a shudder. I’ve heard Louella talk like this many times but, maybe because of my experience in the test tank, this time her words send a shiver down my spine.

It’s dark and cold when something wakes me that night. I sit up, my heart thumping. Was that a scream? Or did I imagine the sound? I reach for my phone – it’s 2 a.m. Another weird, high cry pierces the silence. My skin erupts in goosebumps. I’m certain that was someone calling out – but from inside or outside the house? I get out of bed and tiptoe to the window. My room looks over the back of the house and our tiny patch of garden. I can’t see a thing in the darkness. I can hear Mum’s voice in my head, wearily telling me the noise was probably a fox.

I get back into bed but I’m wide awake now. I throw off the covers again, pull on a jumper, then creep to the top of the stairs. Our house is tiny, as is the landing I’m standing on – the bathroom is to my right, at the side of the house, while Alfie’s bedroom is basically a box next to the main bedroom at the front. All the doors are open; I can hear Mum’s even, steady breathing.

The cry comes again – like someone is calling for help, but unable to form the words properly. The sound is definitely coming from the ground floor, which means it must be Louella, who can’t manage the stairs and sleeps in the small back room next to the kitchen. I hesitate for a second. Should I wake Mum? No, there’s no need. I can check on Louella by myself.

I pad downstairs and switch on the light. I pass the open door to the living room. Mum’s papers are still spread out on the floor next to her work laptop. She’s got another week on the extra project she’s been doing at home for Mayes Cranston and I know she was up late last night. I pass the kitchen, piled high, as usual, with unwashed plates and pots and tins and jars. Cruffin is sitting up in his bed in the corner. His ears are pricked and, when he sees me, he whimpers.

‘It’s okay, Cruff,’ I whisper.

I reach Louella’s bedroom at the end of the corridor. The door is shut. It’s the only door in the house that ever does get shut. The handle is cold under my fingers. I push the door open. Light from the hall winds across the room, creating long, glowing ribbons through the gloom. Unlike the rest of the house, Louella’s room is always super neat and tidy. A small chest of drawers next to a little table contains all her clothes while the tabletop is clear, apart from a box of pills and her hairbrush. A few of her drawings are ranged along the wall above. Louella herself is sitting up in the single bed opposite the door.

‘Auntie Louella?’ I say, relieved she’s awake. ‘Was that you calling out? Are you okay?’

Louella’s eyes are open but she doesn’t turn her head in my direction. It’s like she hasn’t heard me. Anxiety twists in my gut as I cross the carpet.

‘Louella?’ I whisper. ‘Auntie Louella, are you all right?’

Louella continues to stare straight ahead of her. I hesitate, unsure what to do. It must have been Louella I heard shrieking, though she seems calm enough now. Maybe I can encourage her to lie down again, close her wide-open eyes – which are seriously freaking me out – and go back to sleep.

I place my hand on her arm. Her skin is cold and dry like paper. Louella shifts slightly, as if registering my touch. She slowly turns her head to face me, but it’s like I’m not there. Then the moment passes and she blinks, as if coming back to herself and seeing me properly at last.

‘Auntie Louella?’ I ask. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Another sea storm is coming,’ she says, her voice low and intense. ‘Far worse than before.’

‘What?’ My throat tightens.

‘I saw it. A vision, like the one I had as a child.’ Louella grips my arm, a swift, sudden, fierce movement. I gasp. ‘It’s coming soon,’ she hisses. ‘The sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.’

6

‘What is going on here?’ Mum asks sleepily.

I turn around, my heart still thudding.

Mum is standing in Louella’s bedroom doorway, staring at us bleary-eyed.

‘I heard a noise,’ I say. ‘Louella was having a vision.’

‘What?’ Mum frowns.

‘It’s true,’ Louella explains, now sounding much more like herself. She sits up, shifting her pillow and smoothing back the grey wisps of hair on her forehead. ‘It was a premonition of a terrible storm, just like the one I had as a child. Coming to Salthaven, soon. It will…’ She looks at me and stops talking. I’m certain she’s holding back on a full description of her vision so as not to frighten me.

Well, it’s too late for that.

‘Louella said the new sea storm will destroy Salthaven,’ I say, trying to hold my voice steady.

Mum’s eyes widen. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she mutters, her hands on her hips. ‘I expect Louella was talking in her sleep.’ Mum glares at her. ‘Isn’t that right, Louella?’

Louella looks down at her duvet and runs her wrinkled fingers along the edge of the soft cotton. She says nothing.

Mum tuts. ‘Back to bed, Hollie. It was just a nightmare.’

‘It wasn’t,’ I protest. ‘Her eyes were open. Like she was looking at me but not seeing me.’

‘Bed!’

‘Sleep well, Hollie,’ Louella whispers. I can hear the guilt in her voice; she feels bad about upsetting me, so – though I want to protest – I follow Mum meekly upstairs.

She stops at my bedroom door and reaches for my arm. I look up at her.

‘Visions and premonitions aren’t real,’ she says quietly. ‘I love Louella dearly, but you know as well as I do that she’s always had these… these flights of fancy.’

‘But—’

‘Come on, Hollie.’ Mum sighs. ‘Louella is bound to have a lot of unprocessed stuff in her head about that terrible storm she lived through when she was your age. I bet she was talking to someone about it yesterday and it prompted a bad dream.’

‘She was talking to me and Alfie about it actually,’ I admit reluctantly, remembering our conversation over the potato peeling.

‘Well, there you are.’

I shrug. ‘That doesn’t mean what happened tonight wasn’t a vision.’

Mum shakes her head. ‘Back in the day, people didn’t go to counselling to talk about their feelings, so they got bottled up and can come out in all sorts of weird ways, even years and years later.’ She pauses. ‘I don’t want you worrying about a silly nightmare, okay?’

‘I’m fine, Mum. I just…’ I stop, my anger rising. I hate the way Mum is dismissing Louella’s premonition out of hand, the way she thinks every question in life can be answered with science. But there’s no point me trying to argue. The more I sound like I believe in Louella’s vision, the crosser Mum will be with her for communicating it to me.

‘What counts in life,’ Mum says, ‘is being kind and working hard at school so you can go to uni and get yourself opportunities that I didn’t have.’ She smiles. ‘That’s what I want you to focus on, not nonsense about visions.’

‘I get it, Mum.’ I roll my eyes.

‘Okay,’ Mum says wearily. ‘Get some sleep.’

I mumble ‘goodnight’ and trudge back to bed. I’m tired but wired and it takes ages to fall back to sleep. I’m certain that, whatever Mum thinks, Louella herself believes she had a premonition. And, unlike Mum, I don’t see why visions shouldn’t be true. After all, there are loads of things in life we can’t explain.

But is Louella’s vision true? Her terrifying words play on a loop in my head:

It’s coming soon… worse than before… the sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.

Monday morning is the usual rush, with Mum shoving various work papers into her tote bag, while telling Alfie for the tenth time to put his shoes on and grab his swimming kit. She usually leaves at 8 a.m., dropping Alfie at his primary school’s breakfast club, before driving out of Salthaven to the Mayes Cranston building a few miles outside town.

I leave around 8 a.m. too and usually walk to my school, which is in the opposite direction from Alfie’s. Sometimes I meet Parker on the way. She lives up the hill just outside Salthaven and most days gets a bus into town, before going the rest of the way on foot. Today, however, I don’t see her until I reach our form room, where the register is already being taken. We don’t get a chance to talk until just before our last class of the morning.

It’s PSHE with Miss Griffin, and the class is assembling around the horseshoe-shaped table, waiting for the teacher to arrive. I take a seat next to Parker and tell her about Louella’s vision.

‘It’s weird, don’t you think?’ I ask. ‘I mean, we’re doing this project on the Salthaven seawall – the storm defence system – and my great-aunt has a premonition that there will be a sea storm really soon.’

Parker wrinkles her nose. ‘Isn’t your great-aunt always having premonitions?’ she asks, a sceptical note in her voice.

‘She’s had a fair few,’ I concede, ‘but—’

‘And how many of them actually came true?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but Louella says she had a vision of a sea storm when she was a child, too and that happened, so…’ I look at Parker expectantly.

‘A sea storm?’ Parker stares at me. ‘What even is that?’

‘Look, I get that it sounds weird, but—’

‘What does your mum think?’

I sigh. ‘That it’s all in Louella’s head.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m with your mum on this.’ Parker flicks open a textbook. ‘A belief in premonitions is entirely illogical.’

I frown, my frustration rising. ‘Just because you can’t explain something, doesn’t mean it isn’t true,’ I snap.

‘I get that,’ Parker says, ‘but this particular vision goes against all the evidence. Even if there was a… a sea storm with waves so big they could destroy Salthaven – which is highly statistically unlikely to happen – Christian and the other engineers at Mayes Cranston have made sure the town would be protected. That’s what the wave tank and all the tests were for; that’s the whole point of the new seawall, to protect the town for the next one hundred years, even as sea levels rise, and weather becomes more unstable.’ She pauses. ‘It says so in the Mayes Cranston report, which is in the notes I sent you.’

‘Okay, but…’ I trail off, unsure how to counter Parker’s logic.

‘Think about what happened in the wave tank when we did the simulation,’ she goes on. ‘The program was the same as the one Mayes Cranston used for their final test and it worked. The steel panel that rose up in the tank held the waves in the section you and Rex were trapped in.’

I bite my lip. I’d been so caught up in the drama of the moment it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder what the test itself had proved.

‘The test demonstrates that using top-quality steel inside the seawall ensures it holds back any storm surge. All the details are here.’ Parker taps my phone, still out on the table in front of me, as if to indicate the project notes she sent me earlier. ‘The Mayes Cranston report explains everything: from the way the deadmans are drilled into the seabed, to the dimensions of the different bits of the seawall and the code of the steel they embedded in the concrete.’

‘I saw a code on the panel in the wave tank,’ I say, remembering the line of letters and numbers etched into the steel.

‘Exactly!’ Parker grins. ‘I saw it too – the panel used for the test and in the new seawall was really high quality: rebar grade 100, ASTM A1-135 CS.’

Miss Griffin walks in at this point and Parker lowers her voice. ‘If you’d actually read the notes I sent, you’d know all this.’

I hang my head, admitting defeat. ‘How do you remember all those letters and numbers?’ I hiss.

‘It’s easy,’ Parker whispers, as Ms Griffin switches on the interactive white board. ‘You just make up a story with them. For instance, I remembered the last bit of the code because A1 always means something being the best, then with 135, I turned the numbers into their equivalent letter in the alphabet, so that spells ACE which has the same meaning, then obviously CS is computer science.’

I stare at Parker, torn between my sense of wonder at the way her brain works and bewilderment that it’s so different from my own.

Up at the front of the room, Ms Griffin turns away from the white board and rummages in her bag.

‘If it was me trying to remember what was best,’ I whisper with a grin, ‘I’d be more likely to think of Callum Stokes than computer science.’

Parker rolls her eyes. Callum Stokes is a boy in the year above us, who she knows I’ve had a crush on for months.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ she says affectionately.

Miss Griffin sets her bag down on the top desk with a thud and the atmosphere in the room tenses immediately. Miss Griffin is not a teacher you can muck around with.

‘Parker?’ Her voice cuts through the air.

A flush shoots up Parker’s neck. She hates being the focus of attention.

‘What’s so important that it takes precedence over our class?’ Miss Griffin snaps, arching her thin, pointy eyebrows. Everything about Miss Griffin is pointy, from the sharp tilt of her nose and chin, to the tips of her cat’s-eye glasses and the crisp edges of her boxy jacket.

Parker hesitates.

‘It was my fault,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Griffin, I was just asking Parker for this week’s notes on our project.’

This isn’t even remotely true, of course – Parker has already forwarded me and Rex all her research.

‘You’re only asking for them now?’ Miss Griffin frowns. ‘So what have you done towards your group project, Hollie? What about your own notes?’

She fixes her gaze on me. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me too, including Rex’s.

‘Er…’ I shrug, starting to feel angry. It’s not fair that she’s picking on me. ‘I, um, haven’t actually had a chance to get going properly yet.’

‘I see.’ Miss Griffin folds her arms. ‘Your project-based learning assignment is supposed to be a chance to demonstrate your resourcefulness and to dig deep into a subject that you feel passionate about. However, it seems that so far your main contribution has been to get yourself into trouble.’ She glares icily at me and I know she’s referring to last week’s incident at the Mayes Cranston wave tank, as well as my lack of work on the assignment.

Mum said she had no choice but to report to school what the three of us got up to at Mayes Cranston, but I really wish she hadn’t. Dad would never have dobbed me in like that.

My guts churn with fury. It’s not fair that Miss Griffin is being so mean, just as it’s not fair that Mum drove Dad away or that Parker refuses to take Louella’s vision seriously.

‘Well, Hollie?’ Miss Griffin purses her lips.

Rage surges up through my body and my last grip on my temper gives way.

‘I don’t care about the stupid project!’ Without realizing it, I’ve stood up, the force of the movement kicking my chair back.

With a thud, the chair topples to the ground.

‘Pick that up!’ Miss Griffin snarls. ‘And report to the head’s office at break. I’m signing you up for detention tomorrow.’

Oh no. Mum will be livid. All the fight goes out of me as I bend down, set my chair upright and sit. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Parker gazing anxiously at me. I look up. Across the room, Rex is frowning, shaking his head, like he doesn’t understand me at all.

It’s the last straw. I sit back, feeling totally defeated, and keep silent for the rest of the class.

7

That night, I have to explain to Mum why I’ve been given detention the next day.

‘I don’t know what to do with you, Hollie,’ she says with a sigh, as she stirs a saucepan of soup. ‘You’re already grounded – and yet you’ve got into more trouble at school.’ She looks at me, a concerned expression on her face. ‘I wish you’d talk to me, explain what’s making you act out like this all the time.’

Emotions tumble inside me. Resentment, mostly. How do I know what’s making me so angry all the time? If Dad was here, I bet he’d understand and be able to explain it. I miss him so much. So there’s that. And I also feel guilty for upsetting Mum yet again. I’d far rather she shouted at me than looked at me with those miserable eyes.

Nothing feels right.

Nothing feels like it used to.

After my outburst, Parker spent the rest of the day acting all wary around me, like I was a dangerous animal she didn’t want to get too close too. I’m scared I hurt her feelings by saying to Miss Griffin that I didn’t care about our project, when she’s so enthusiastic about it – but I don’t know how to explain that, so instead I avoided the subject all day. Which led to Parker suggesting, before we left for home that afternoon, that she and Rex should do most of the work on the project and I could take it easy.

‘It’s no problem,’ she said, offering me a shy smile. ‘I don’t mind and Rex is being really helpful.’

Great. Now I’m shut out of the project, and therefore from spending time with either my best friend or Rex.

‘What is it, Hollie?’ Mum brings me back to the kitchen. The soup she’s cooking is made of the wonky and leftover vegetables she gets from the market. She usually adds in lentils and rice to make it go further. It’s not bad food, but I’m kind of bored of eating it. Still, I’m hungry and the smell of the soup is making my stomach rumble.

As I stand there, Cruffin pads over and pushes his nose – soft and damp – into my hand. I pet his fur.

‘Please tell me what’s wrong, Hollie,’ Mum says.

‘Nothing,’ I mutter. Then I turn away and hurry upstairs to the quiet of my bedroom.

The rest of the week passes slowly. I do my detention – and all my homework – and I don’t act out in any more classes. Rex is polite but keeps his distance. All the closeness we had after the wave tank adventure has vanished. It’s the same with Parker. She still sits next to me when we’re in the same room, but she doesn’t chat away like she used to. I don’t want to think about it, but I’m worried she doesn’t want to be such good friends any more. I can’t really blame her, after all the trouble I’ve dragged her into recently, but it hurts. Parker’s the only person at school I really talk to these days. If I don’t have her, I’ll be even more on my own.

At least I’m still included in Parker’s regular messages on the project. She’s done far more work on it than either me or Rex. She sends us her latest research every evening, from reports on how various storm defence systems around the world have been constructed, to scientific data on the way storm surges increase sea levels.

It’s my job to take Cruffin for a walk three times a week and most days I take him along the streets near our home, past the disused shopping centre and down to the bay. While Cruffin bounds excitedly across the sand, I gaze across the water to where the concrete ridge of the seawall rises above the waves.

The salt air numbs my face as I stare at it. If there was a way of absorbing information from looking, I’d know as much about its design and construction as Parker.

As January draws to a close, the weather gets colder. It hasn’t rained for weeks, and Mum takes regular opportunities to point out how far away we are from the storm of Louella’s premonition.

‘Just as last July was the hottest ever on the planet,’ she tells us over dinner one evening, giving Louella a meaningful look, ‘so this January is set to be the driest.’

Louella says nothing, just nibbles at her bread and butter as if Mum hasn’t spoken.

It’s the last Sunday of the month and Mum is super stressed because tomorrow is the deadline for the project she’s been working on for Mayes Cranston. She’s explained she’ll get a bonus for delivering it on time. ‘I have to get it done; we really need the money,’ she’s said, more than once.

Apart from the two hours when she takes Alfie to another swimming tournament, she’s hard at work all day. Louella and I cook pasta for dinner, then Alfie and I clear up, while Mum goes back to her laptop.

It’s just gone 10 p.m. and I’m bored, as I have been all day. I sent Parker a text earlier – just to see what she was up to and if she wanted to hang out on NatterSnap – but she messaged straight back to say she was out for the day with her parents. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it sounded like an excuse. Parker’s parents are away a lot and, when they are home, they don’t tend to do many day trips.

I wander into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Louella and Alfie have both already gone to bed, but Mum is still perched on her armchair, her computer open on her lap, still poring over the screen, a slightly panic-stricken expression on her face. Cruffin nuzzles at her feet, almost asleep.

I put the kettle on, then poke my head around the living-room door. Louella’s latest pencil portrait of me is perched on top of the cluttered side table just to my left. Again, I’m struck by how furious I look. I hold the drawing up and turn it to show Mum.

‘Do you think this looks like me?’ I ask.

Mum looks up, frowning. She screws up her eyes and squints at the drawing. ‘From here it looks just like you,’ she says. ‘Why?’

I shrug. ‘I just look so… so angry in it.’

Mum nods. I sense she’s trying to find the right words before she speaks and, suddenly, I don’t want to talk. ‘Anyway, never mind the picture,’ I say quickly. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Mum smiles, accentuating the dark rings under her eyes. ‘Thanks, sweetheart, I’d love some coffee, actually. Make it strong.’ She turns back to the screen, then taps away at the keyboard.

I frown. ‘Won’t strong coffee keep you awake?’ I ask.

‘I hope so,’ Mum says. ‘I reckon I’ve got another three hours’ work here.’

‘Oh.’ My stomach twists uncomfortably. I may be caught up in my own problems, but I’m not so blind that I can’t see Mum is working far too hard. ‘Do you really have to do it all tonight?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Mum glances up at me, guilt now registering on her face. ‘I’m so sorry, love, I know I haven’t been around, and you must be so bored, not having been out all weekend.’

I’m itching to retort: Well, whose fault is that? But Mum’s tired, guilty expression stops me. ‘I didn’t mean I wanted you to stop for me,’ I say, ‘just that… you must be tired.’

‘I am,’ Mum says heavily. ‘But I have got to get this project finished.’

We need the money.

She doesn’t say this, but I know it’s what she means.

I make her coffee and wander upstairs. I stand in my bedroom looking out at the clear, bright sky. It’s cold and I’ve already pulled my duvet over my shoulders. The moon is full and high. I gaze up at it. Is Dad somewhere out there, looking at the moon too?

I get that he couldn’t handle living with Mum and had to leave, but why does that mean he hasn’t been in touch with me and Alfie?

Why doesn’t he want to see – or even speak – to us any more?

The next morning, Monday, is the usual rush, with Mum yelling at Alfie to finish his breakfast and put on his shoes while she runs around, shoving everything she needs into her already overflowing tote bag. Her Mayes Cranston laptop, still open, is on the cluttered hall table; Mum has clearly been working until the last minute.

Louella generally stays out of our way while we’re getting ready to leave, but this morning Mum is dropping her for a doctor’s appointment, so Mum has to help her get ready too. I try to show willing by washing up the plates we used for toast. It’s already five past eight and everyone is running late. While Mum helps Louella to the car – it will take several minutes to get her over there and inside, thanks to her bad leg – I fish Alfie’s winter jacket from the heap by the front door.

As I stand back up, my eye is caught by the Mayes Cranston logo on the open screen on Mum’s work laptop. I run my fingers over the keyboard. I’m such an idiot. I’ve had access to this laptop all weekend – for the past few weeks, in fact – and loads of opportunity to get my hands on additional information on the new seawall the company designed and built. All of which would have been a perfect way to make things right with Parker. I imagine presenting her with some extra bits of data; how pleased she would be.

Now I’ve got maybe three or four minutes to try and find something useful.

I quickly scan through the documents, clicking on any likely-looking folders: Construction Data; Strategic Research; Completed Projects; as well as anything with last year’s date. There. I catch sight of a folder labelled SDU Salthaven. I know from the various reports and things Parker has sent me, that ‘SDU’ stands for ‘storm defence upgrade’.

I glance up. Beside me, Alfie is shoving one arm slowly into his jacket sleeve, still chewing on a piece of toast. Outside, Mum and Louella are still only halfway to Mum’s car. I’ll get into trouble if Mum catches me opening files, but I have to take the risk. Suppose I find something here that Parker doesn’t have? She’ll be thrilled.

I open the folder. It contains over twenty files. I know none of these are likely to have anything to do with the science behind the upgrade; Mum’s an admin assistant, not a technician. Even so, there has to be something Parker will be interested in.

I scan quickly down the titles of the files.

ENGINEERING STAFF ROSTERS, WORKS TIMETABLE, DRAFT BRIEFS

I groan inwardly. Could they sound any duller?

I come to a series of SALES ORDER files. Sales means money, which means facts and figures. Right up Parker’s street. I check outside. Alfie is now dawdling along our front path, while Mum and Louella have reached the car, but have been drawn into conversation by our posh neighbour, Mrs Oliphant. Her clipped tones waft towards me:

‘How are you, Louella, dear? You’re looking well. Where are you both off to today?’ In spite of the tension of the moment, I grin to myself. Mum hates being stopped for a chat when she’s in a rush in the mornings, though she’s far too polite to give Mrs Oliphant the brush-off.

Mum is replying now, her voice too low for me to make out her actual words. Cruffin bounds past me and scampers up to Mrs Oliphant, who bends down to fuss over him.

This is good. Our neighbour adores Cruffin – and Louella isn’t even in the car yet; I still have a few minutes. I scroll down the list of sales order files. There’s one right at the bottom labelled RECOVERYFILE-SEPT3. That looks promising – 3 September last year was just before work started on the seawall.

I open it and scan the screen quickly. The sales order was sent from a company called Southern Shores Steel UK to Mayes Cranston; it outlines the details of an order the steel suppliers had just delivered to the seawall construction site:

£400,000 received as payment for 800 tonnes of reinforced steel for seawall construction – rebar grade 100, ASTM A1-135 CM

I stare at the letters and numbers. That’s the same as the code on the high-quality steel from the wave tank test; the same code that Parker and I were talking about last week. Except… I frown. That code ended CS; I’m certain it did.

CS for Callum Stokes, the hot boy in the year above. We had a whole conversation about it.

I glance outside. Mrs Oliphant has gone and Alfie and Louella are in the car. Mum is helping Louella with her seat belt. I don’t have much time.

I look back at the screen. The sales order is registered as approved and delivered – and signed at the bottom by Ms Somersby. Why would she have bought steel with a different code from the one on the panel used in the successful test? I’ll ask Parker when I get to school. In the meantime, I can take a picture of the sales order with my phone.

‘Right, we’re off!’ Mum’s voice shocks me back to the hallway. I look up to find her standing in front of me. She holds out her hand for the laptop. There’s no way I can take a picture of the screen now, so I quickly close the file I was looking at, then shut the laptop and hand it to her. Luckily, Mum is in too much of a rush to notice my flushed face.

‘Er, did you get all your work finished?’ I ask.

‘Just!’ She grins at me, then shoves the laptop in her bag and reaches for her coat. ‘Come on, love, you need to get going too,’ she says. ‘Don’t forget to lock the door after you. And please don’t get into any trouble today!’

I stare after her as she disappears along the path, then collect up my own things. I set off for school, feeling happier than I have done for days. I’m not sure if Parker will be interested in the sales order I’ve just seen – and it’s annoying that I didn’t have time to take a picture of it – but I’m certain she will appreciate my efforts. And maybe that will make things better between us.

Little do I realize it’s going to end up making things far, far worse.

PART TWO SPLIT

8

Parker is sceptical when I tell her about the sales order.

‘Are you sure you’re remembering the details right?’ she asks, as we wait in our form room for morning registration.

‘Yes,’ I insist. ‘The code for the steel was different. It definitely ended CM, not CS. We had that whole conversation about it before. How we’d make the letters stick in our heads: computer science or… or Callum Stokes.’ I stare out of the window. All I can see through the smeared glass is the dull grey of an overcast Monday sky.

‘But the official data says Mayes Cranston used CS-grade steel for the seawall,’ Parker insists. ‘They needed it because it’s got way more carbon than CM-grade.’

I stare at her. ‘Why does that matter?’

‘More carbon means it’s much stronger,’ Parker explains, clearly trying not to roll her eyes in exasperation. ‘You must have read the sales order wrong.’

A deep misery rises inside me, like I am about to cry. Which is crazy. Who cries over reinforced steel? I was just so excited to impress Parker with additional information for our report and can’t bear the idea that she doesn’t believe me.

‘I’m telling you the sales order I saw was for eight hundred tonnes of CM steel. It cost £400,000 and was dated 3 September, which is just before the seawall construction began.’

‘But that doesn’t make sense.’ Parker sighs. ‘I mean, they did use 800 tonnes of steel for the seawall, but it was CS-quality and would have cost at least a million pounds more than what you’re saying.’ She opens the notes on her phone. ‘Have you looked at this Mayes Cranston report I sent you?’

I shake my head, then take her mobile and read:

Our thorough, state-of-the-art simulation tank ensured we were able to research exactly which grade of steel would be needed inside the reinforced concrete seawall, in order to withstand the very worst weather. The best quality steel on the market was required to fully protect Salthaven for the next one hundred years. And the best is what we delivered: 800 tonnes of rebar grade 100, ASTM A1-135 CS.

I look back up at Parker. ‘I don’t care what this says. I know what I saw.’

A few seconds pass, then Parker’s eyes widen. ‘Oh, I think I see what’s happened.’

I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

‘Maybe all those details you saw on the sales order were correct…’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying.’

‘… but the sales order was for some other project; not the new seawall.’

I sit back, as Mr Barker strides in and the classroom falls silent. I can’t remember the exact words on the sales order, but it definitely said somewhere that the steel was for the seawall construction.

At last register is done, and Mr Barker swoops out. A moment later the bell rings, giving us two minutes to get to our first class of the day. In my case that is double maths. Parker, however, is in an accelerated group so is off to a lesson on Advanced Statistics, according to the printed timetable taped neatly to the flap of her school bag.

Parker stands up, gathering her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. Her school shirt is creased, I notice enviously. Mum would never let me go to school looking like that; she’d nag me until I ironed it.

Parker takes a step away from the table.

‘Wait!’ I scramble to my feet, picking up my own bag.

Parker turns, eyebrows raised.

‘Suppose Mayes Cranston did buy and use weaker CM-grade steel for the new seawall. What difference would it make to how well protected Salthaven is?’

‘It wouldn’t be a problem in normal weather, I guess,’ Parker explains, ‘but the whole point of the new seawall is to protect Salthaven from the worst storms possible. The whole point.’ She sighs. ‘Which is why I’m certain you must have got it wrong.’

I open my mouth to protest again, but Parker makes a face.

‘Sorry, but I have to go, I can’t be late for Stats.’ And with that she bustles off, leaving me standing by the window.

I gaze out again at the dreary sky and drizzling rain. The sales order I saw was signed by Rex’s mum. That means she must have made the purchase, using company money, of course. Parker said the price difference between the two types of steel was at least a million pounds. But why on earth would Ms Somersby buy a cheap, low-grade steel then pretend to everyone she’d bought an expensive, top-quality one?

The answer zings into my head with the clarity of an alarm – loud, insistent and powerful: to get her hands on that million pounds!

Suppose Ms Somersby drew money from the company account to pay for the expensive steel, but in reality only bought the cheaper steel? So long as she covered her tracks, she’d be totally free to pocket the million-pound difference for herself. I’ve seen the steel panels close up in the wave tank; they all look the same. And once the panels were embedded within the concrete seawall, there’d have been no way to examine them there, either.

My breath catches in my throat. Yes. It makes total sense: Rex’s snooty mum is an uncaring cheat and a greedy thief. Far from wanting to protect Salthaven, she’s left the town defenceless against the worst kind of storm – the kind that Louella’s vision predicts.

‘Hey, Hollie?’ Rex’s voice beside me makes me jump.

I quickly shove my mobile in my pocket and spin around to face him.

To my surprise our form room is empty. It’s just Rex and me standing here. He’s so close to me in fact that I can see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes.

‘Are you coming to maths?’ Rex asks, smiling. ‘The second bell’s about to go.’

‘Sure,’ I say.

My heart thumps. No way can I tell Rex what I’ve just found out about his mum.

‘Are you still grounded?’ Rex asks, as we make for the door.

‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘for another two and a half weeks.’

‘That’s a shame,’ he says. ‘It’s my birthday at the weekend and I was thinking of having a few friends over.’

Is he inviting me to his home?

I’m so shocked that, for a moment, the fact that I’ve just discovered his mum has defrauded her company and cheated Salthaven out of its proper seawall goes clean out of my head. I stare at him, lost for words.

Rex makes a face. ‘Anyway, it would have been great if you could have come, but—’

‘I’ll be there.’ The words shoot out of me. Oh, man, could I sound more desperate? I look down, my cheeks burning.

‘Are you sure?’ Rex asks, sounding puzzled, as we turn onto the corridor and head towards the maths room. ‘What about being grounded?’

‘I’ll find a way,’ I say. Then, eager to change the subject, I add: ‘How come you didn’t get grounded? For the wave tank thing, I mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rex shrugs. ‘What I do know is that I’d far rather have a clear-cut punishment like not being allowed out for a month, than constant snarky comments about how useless I am.’

‘Oh.’ I stop walking for a second. I don’t know what to say in reply to that, so I just look at him.

Rex shrugs, his expression now as awkward as I imagine mine is. ‘So, anyway,’ Rex says, as we start walking again, ‘my parents say I can have five friends round for pizza on Saturday evening. I’ve asked Parker too. And Jett and Jamal from the football team.’

‘Thanks.’ Inside I’m buzzing, but I don’t want to sound too excited, so I rack my brains for something calm and sensible to say. ‘What about your friends near where you live? Don’t you want to invite them?’

Rex makes a face. ‘I don’t really have local friends. We only moved to the area last summer, remember? Everyone I know my age is from school here in Salthaven.’

Rex’s reference to moving here last summer reminds me again of what I’ve just discovered about his mother and the steel. A throb of excitement thrills through me at the prospect of going to his house. His mum is bound to be there – which will give me a great opportunity to talk to her about the seawall project. I can ask her really specific questions about it, maybe even get her to admit to stealing that one million from her company, last September.

The bell rings as Rex and I reach the maths room door. Everyone else is already inside. Rex stands back, to let me pass. ‘It’s cool you can come,’ he says shyly. ‘If you’re really sure?’

‘It’s your birthday,’ I say. ‘Of course I’ll be there.’

9

Seeing as I’m still grounded, persuading Mum to let me go to Rex’s house on Saturday night is going to be a massive challenge.

As soon as I’m home from school, I vacuum downstairs, then clean the kitchen. Louella isn’t steady enough on her feet to do more than a little fetching and carrying, so most days our breakfast things are still piled in the sink when Mum gets home from work. I do the washing-up, then clean out the fridge and take out the recycling. I’m just wiping the kitchen table when Mum appears, having picked Alfie up from a friend’s house. He has, apparently, spent the past few hours on the beach at Salthaven Bay where I walk Cruffin, and his hair is stiff with the salt that’s blown in on the sea breeze. He rushes into the kitchen, coat flying out behind him, and makes straight for the biscuit tin. ‘Hey, Hollie!’ He grabs a couple of chocolate digestives and races off again.

‘Hey!’ I shout after him. ‘Don’t make crumbs, I’ve just vacuumed.’

‘I won’t!’ Alfie’s footsteps thunder up the stairs.

I roll my eyes as Mum laughs. ‘Thanks for clearing up, Hollie,’ she says, coming over and kissing the side of my head. ‘You’re getting so grown-up.’ She pauses. ‘Some of the time, anyway.’

‘No problem,’ I say, steeling myself. ‘I was wondering—’

‘Hollie’s been hard at it since she got in.’ Louella materializes next to Mum. She’s leaning on her stick and smiling.

‘I noticed,’ Mum says. ‘She’s even telling Alfie off for making crumbs.’

Louella laughs.

‘So… Mum,’ I start again. ‘I know I’m not allowed out, but would you make an exception… if it’s to work on my school project?’

I hold my breath. I hate lying, especially to Mum. It makes that constant angry feeling in my brain even worse. But, in a sense, this isn’t a lie. After all, talking to Ms Somersby about the steel she ordered is relevant to the project.

Mum wrinkles her nose. ‘Where and when would this be?’ she asks.

‘Saturday evening, at Rex’s house. Parker’s already going and if I don’t go too, it’s not fair on them for the project.’ I clasp my hands together. ‘Please, Mum?’

She frowns. ‘What time?’

‘About seven, I think,’ I say. ‘Rex said we’d have pizza so you wouldn’t need to do any dinner for me. I’ll get the bus back with Parker. I’ll be home by nine thirty, I promise.’

Mum glances at Louella who is watching me with a curious expression on her face.

Then she shrugs. ‘I guess if it’s for your school project,’ she says.

‘Thanks, Mum!’ I’m about to walk over and hug her, when Alfie hurtles into the room again, waving a piece of paper.

‘Hey, Mum!’ he shouts, shoving the paper at her. ‘There’s an Activities Camp this half-term in Fanchester. A different sport every day, we even get a chance to do horse riding. Can I go?’

Mum peers at the paper, a worried look in her eyes. Fanchester is near the area where Rex and his mum live – several miles inland from Salthaven and far posher and smarter. An Activities Camp there is bound to be expensive. ‘I guess we can stretch to that,’ she says slowly.

‘Do you think we’ll do surfing?’ Alfie asks, jumping up and down. ‘Like I used to with Dad?’

I look down at the floor. Last year Dad took Alfie surfing almost every weekend. I often went too. I wasn’t that much into surfing, but I’d jump the waves and splash Dad and we’d always be laughing.

Since Dad left, Alfie hasn’t been in the sea and I haven’t heard him mention surfing once. Or Dad, for that matter.

‘Oh, Alfie.’ Mum suddenly sounds close to tears. ‘I don’t think the camp will involve surfing, it’s the wrong time of year and Fanchester’s too far from the coast. But I promise we’ll find a way to get you back in the water when it’s warmer.’ Alfie shrugs and leaves the room.

Mum follows.

I look up, meeting Louella’s gaze. Suddenly, I’m certain she’s thinking about the vision she had.

It’s coming soon… worse than before… the sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.

‘Have you had another premonition?’ I ask. ‘About the… the sea storm?’

Louella looks away, shaking her head, then hobbles to the kettle and switches it on.

‘You have, haven’t you?’ I ask quietly, following her across the room.

As the kettle comes quickly to the boil, Louella reaches for a mug. She pours water onto her camomile tea, then turns to face me, her eyes fathomless. ‘You know, Hollie, even the end of the world doesn’t make it okay to tell lies to the people we love.’

I stare at her, heat rising up the back of my neck. Is she referring to my earlier request to go to Rex’s on Saturday? Louella gives a little shake of the head, then picks up her mug and, leaning on her stick, walks slowly away.

10

It’s raining on the Saturday evening of Rex’s birthday party. Thanks to Parker’s obsession with always being on time, the two of us are walking along his road at exactly one minute before 7 p.m. Under our raincoats we are both dressed up for the occasion: Parker has put on a pair of smart black cut-offs and an oversized white shirt, while I’m wearing my newest baggies and a top with a silky frill that swishes around my hips. Parker never wears make-up, but her thick, sand-coloured hair is neatly brushed, while I’ve applied a dash of mascara and put so much product on my curls that each one is perfectly defined.

‘It’s the next house,’ Parker says, peering through the drizzle at the number on the door we are passing. Rex’s road – two miles outside Salthaven – is full of huge, detached properties set back from the street, all of them at least three times the size of my own home.

We take a few more steps, then stop at the edge of a winding gravel drive that leads up to what I can only describe as a mansion. It’s like something from one of those designer home sites Mum occasionally browses. The drive winds around a circle of perfect green lawn, with an elegant willow tree in the centre, its bare branches swaying in the wind. The house beyond is made of brick and built over three storeys, with a gleaming glass extension to the side and a shiny red sports car parked by the front door.

‘This is it,’ Parker says.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘Rex’s mum’s car was black; we saw it at Mayes Cranston, remember?’

‘That’s probably his dad’s car, then,’ Parker says, reasonably.

Imagine having enough money to buy two fancy cars.

We crunch across the gravel drive. ‘Are you really going to ask Rex’s mum about that money you think she stole?’ Parker hisses, sounding suddenly anxious.

‘I’m not going to put it like that, but I am going to talk to her,’ I say. My heart thumps at the prospect. ‘I’ll be able to tell if she’s lying from the way she answers.’ I glance at Parker’s worried expression. ‘Don’t stress about it, I’ll make out it’s part of our assignment.’

Parker makes a face but says nothing. We reach the front door and I press the bell.

A moment later the front door opens. Rex is standing there, in a black T-shirt and jeans, his hazel eyes shining and his hair slicked back from his face. He smiles at us in that warm, laidback way of his and I immediately forget all about speaking to his mum as my stomach flips over.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Come in.’

We follow him into a huge square hall that’s basically the size of my entire ground floor, with another five doors leading off from it. I can’t help but stare; it’s so enormous. Rex notices me gazing around and points to each room in turn. ‘Downstairs loo, cloakroom, dining room and Mum’s study.’ He pauses. ‘We’re in the kitchen through here.’

He leads Parker and me into a massive, open-plan kitchen. It’s all gleaming white surfaces and shiny appliances, with the biggest fridge I’ve ever seen and another huge, wooden table in the middle of the room. I gaze at the designer light fitting that hangs over the table – all sleek black lines and geometric angles. Rex’s parents are clearly far better off than I’d realized. Do their salaries cover all this expensive stuff? Or has some of it been bought with the million pounds I’m certain Ms Somersby stole from Mayes Cranston?

Jett and Jamal from school are already sitting on either side of the table, with a middle-aged man at the head. I nod to the boys, both of whom I’ve known since primary, then gaze shyly at the man, who must be Rex’s dad. He stands up, raising his hand in a wave.

‘Ah,’ he says. ‘The ladies have arrived!’

‘Dad,’ mutters Rex. ‘Please.’

‘Hello, there, I’m Martin,’ Rex’s dad beckons us over to the table. ‘I guess we can order our pizzas now. Anything you like, guys, money’s no object.’

I bet it isn’t, I think to myself as I follow Parker over to the table.

‘Er, we can’t order yet, Dad,’ Rex says. ‘Nina isn’t here.’

‘Ooh, Nina isn’t here,’ his dad mimics, grinning. ‘Is Nina special?’

I stare at him. I thought Mum was embarrassing, but Rex’s dad makes her look positively restrained.

Rex has gone bright red. ‘I expect Rex felt he had to invite Nina,’ I say, quickly, ‘because she invited him to her party.’

‘Right.’ Rex’s dad looks chastened for a second. ‘Ah, well, we offered the boy a big party, no expense spared, but he chose to go low-key like this.’

I frown. He sounds almost apologetic for the lack of extravagance.

‘It’s fine, Dad,’ Rex says. ‘This is what I wanted.’

‘Right,’ his dad says. ‘I see. Sure.’

An awkward silence falls, and my thoughts turn to the questions I’m hoping to put to Ms Somersby.

‘Er, where’s your mum, Rex?’ I ask.

‘She’s away,’ Rex says, still looking uncomfortable.

What? I stare at him.

‘Anthea’s in Manchester,’ his dad explains. ‘There’s a big energy conference there this weekend. Lots of people to impress. She’s staying in the best hotel in the city.’

My heart sinks. If Rex’s mum isn’t here for me to question, how on earth am I going to get the information I need to confirm that she’s a thief?

‘Oh, it’s a shame your mum’s not here for your birthday, Rex,’ Parker says with feeling.

I know her own parents are away a lot too and that Parker is often left with a house-sitter for days on end. I get the impression she doesn’t like that much, though to me it sounds brilliant to have so much freedom; in my home there’s always someone around.

‘I don’t mind Mum not being here,’ says Rex quickly.

‘Course you don’t, you’re fourteen, not four,’ his dad says with another dismissive chortle. ‘Your mum missed most of your brother’s teenage birthdays and he never complained.’ He turns to me and Parker with a wink.

‘I’m not compl—’ Rex’s words are cut off by the doorbell ringing. He turns on his heel and disappears along the hall.

I sit back in my chair, as Rex’s dad announces he’s going to make us all mocktails. I think fast. Ms Somersby might not be here to question, but I am in her house, surrounded by her things. Surely there’s some other way for me to find out if she came into a huge amount of money at the start of last September?

Rex comes back into the kitchen, Nina at his side. She’s wearing a dress covered in tiny sequins and more make-up than I’ve ever seen on anyone. From the way she gazes at Rex, it’s obvious that she likes him. Does he like her back? I clench my jaw. This evening is going from bad to worse.

Rex’s dad puts on a great show of making me, Nina and Parker lemonade mocktails with those shiny, sugary cherries on little cocktail sticks. He presents them to us in super-fancy glasses with twisted stems, then reaches for his laptop.

‘Time to order some pizza,’ he says.

I glance at Rex. He’s not making much effort to talk to Nina, but then he’s not making much effort to talk to anyone. He seems on edge, to be honest, not really enjoying himself. I guess he’s probably worrying what his dad’s going to say next.

Another ten minutes pass. Rex’s dad asks what toppings we’d each like on our pizza. As I watch him tap our orders into his laptop, it occurs to me that Ms Somersby must have a computer too. Might that be in the study Rex pointed out as we crossed the hall?

I draw Parker to one side and whisper urgently in her ear.

‘You have to come with me to Rex’s mum’s study and see if we can get into her computer files so that—’

‘No!’ Parker mutters. ‘For goodness’ sake, Hollie. You need to drop this.’ She glares at me. ‘Rex’s mum will have her laptop with her at that conference and even if she hasn’t – and even if I could hack into it – I wouldn’t; it’s wrong.’

She stomps away, back to the others at the kitchen table.

I blow out my breath. Oh well, maybe there’ll be some bank statements in Ms Somersby’s study I can look at. My guts twist with nerves at the prospect of sneaking off and exploring on my own. But I have to try.

There’s no opportunity for me to get away over the next hour or so, as Rex’s dad insists on us all playing a charades-type game while we wait for the pizzas to arrive. Once they turn up, he takes a couple of large slices and leaves us alone. It’s such a relief and everyone relaxes a bit, the chat now pinging between various YouTube videos and how a boy at school broke his leg jumping off his house for a dare.

Another twenty minutes pass. Everyone gives Rex his presents – he gets a cap from Nina, a couple of footballs from the boys and a science experiment set from Parker. It’s the kind of geeky present most teenagers would roll their eyes at – and I can see Nina and Jett doing just that. But Rex looks genuinely pleased and thanks Parker with a ‘thanks, mate’ and a kiss on the cheek that makes her blush.

I, of course, couldn’t tell Mum the real reason I was coming here, so wasn’t able to ask her for money to buy a present. Instead, I found a book I was given last Christmas but haven’t read and wrapped that up for him.

‘Thanks, Hollie,’ Rex says politely, ‘this looks good.’

I check the time. I promised Mum I’d be home by nine thirty, which means I’m going to have to leave in fifteen minutes or so. I can’t wait any longer to start my investigation.

I stand up from the table, murmur that I’m going to the loo, then head into the hall. The whole ground floor is silent, thank goodness. Rex’s dad must have gone upstairs.

I scurry across the polished wood floor to the study. It’s bigger than our living room and kitchen combined: in addition to the huge, polished desk and the long row of bookshelves there’s a velvet couch, a coffee table topped with glass ornaments in the corner and one of those big bendy floor lamps with a large shade.

There’s no computer on the desk – Ms Somersby must have that with her, just like Parker said – so I pull open each drawer in turn. All I find are a few empty folders with the Mayes Cranston logo, a bunch of pens and a couple of blank notebooks. I hurry over to the shelving unit. The top two shelves are all books, mostly serious-looking leather-bound volumes. There’s something strange about them; I reach up and run my hand across the row of spines. They’re glued together! These aren’t proper books at all, just false fronts.

Why would anyone bother with that?

Shaking my head, I try the row of box files, but apart from a couple full of old Mayes Cranston reports, none of them seems to contain much, certainly nothing finance-related. I straighten up with a sigh. This room is like someone’s pretend office, not a place where anything really gets done. Maybe Ms Somersby, unlike Mum, doesn’t bring home loads of work.

Whatever, there’s absolutely nothing for me to examine in here. I wander out into the hall again. There’s a huge painting on the wall opposite that I didn’t notice before. It’s a series of smudgy circular swirls, painted over each other in blacks and greys and blues.

It’s mesmerizing, like a never-ending spiral. I move a little closer, transfixed by the tiny black centre at the heart of the swirling mass. It looks almost like an actual hole, like you could put your finger all the way through it.

‘What do you think that’s called, eh?’

I spin around. Rex’s dad is watching me from the bottom of the stairs. He must have come down without me hearing.

‘Black Hole,’ I say immediately. ‘That’s what I’d call it, anyway.’

‘You’re close.’ He walks over, his hands in his pockets. ‘It’s actually called Eye of the Storm.’

I frown. ‘But isn’t the eye of a storm the place where things are peaceful, with the storm going on outside? That black hole looks…’ I shrug, unable to find a word to convey how terrifyingly empty the centre of the picture seems to me.

‘I don’t know about that,’ Rex’s dad says. ‘Seems to me the eye of the storm is just the place where you hide and pretend the storm isn’t happening. You still have to go through it eventually.’

He falls silent and we stand, side by side, contemplating the painting.

‘It’s amazing,’ I say, honestly.

‘It should be.’ Rex’s dad snorts. ‘My wife came into a lot of money last September and this is what she spent it on. I’d have preferred a new car and a holiday cottage, but she said this painting was a better investment.’

I turn to him, my heart lurching into my mouth. Did he really just say that? ‘Did she? Er… do you mind if I… How much was it?’

‘One million quid,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Can you believe that? Anthea insists it’ll be worth twice that in ten years, which is all very well, but—’

I stop listening. Never mind looking for Ms Somersby’s bank statements – this painting is far better. The amount it costs and the date that she bought it fits exactly with the amount she siphoned off from Mayes Cranston, and the date on that sales order in Mum’s bag. It demonstrates without a doubt that she defrauded Mayes Cranston out of a million pounds.

It’s all the proof I need.

11

I tell Parker what I’ve discovered as we walk to the bus stop. Rex’s dad offered to give us a lift home, but I didn’t want to risk him talking to Mum – and her realizing that I’ve been at a birthday party instead of a school project get-together.

The last bus to Salthaven leaves at five past nine and it’s almost nine already, so we’re hurrying as I explain, between out-of-breath gasps, about the Eye of the Storm painting and what I’m certain it signifies.

‘So… you see… we’ve got the evidence we… need now,’ I pant, running along the street. It has, for the moment, stopped raining but it’s cold – our breath mists in front of our faces – and we both have our jackets zipped up to the neck. ‘We know from the sales order that Rex’s mum pocketed a million pounds last autumn and we know what she spent the money on.’

Parker doesn’t say anything until we reach the bus stop. The fluorescent light overhead is flickering on and off under the shelter, one second casting Parker’s face into shadow, the next illuminating her anxious expression and the pink tip of her nose. It strikes me that the angry, unsettled feeling I carry around most of the time has vanished. Instead, I’m excited, like I have a mission… a purpose.

It almost feels like happiness.

Parker shivers. ‘I suppose you must be right about Rex’s mum and the fraud,’ she says slowly. ‘It’s too big a coincidence that she came into so much money just at the moment she bought substandard steel and claimed it was top quality. But what can we do about it?’

Isn’t it obvious?

‘We expose Ms Somersby as a thief!’ I exclaim. ‘We have to. She hasn’t just stolen a million pounds from her company, she’s also cheated Salthaven out of a seawall that works. The one she’s built, out of that rubbish steel, won’t properly protect it.’

‘But we don’t have proof of any of that.’ Parker makes a face. ‘There’s no way to check what steel was actually used – the panels are inside the concrete wall, which is out in the bay. And as for the money – without the sales order you saw, all we can show is that Ms Somersby spent a lot of money on a painting last autumn. She could make up any number of reasons how she got the cash to do that – in fact, she probably already has. For example, I’m sure Rex doesn’t have any idea what she’s done.’

The mention of Rex wipes the smile off my face. How is he going to feel when I expose his mum as a cheat and a criminal?

Will he hate me for revealing the truth about her?

I push this thought away. ‘You’re right, we need the actual sales order I saw on Mum’s work laptop.’ I make a face. ‘Trouble is, Mum only had that laptop because she was working on a special project. She’s finished with it now.’

Parker wrinkles her nose. ‘Maybe you should tell your mum everything, let her look for the sales order at work? It must be on the Mayes Cranston system.’

I shake my head. ‘Mum’s not going to want to do anything that risks her job,’ I say, leaning against the wall of the bus shelter. I chew on my lip, trying to work out what else we can do.

The bus arrives and I follow Parker on board, where the air is warm and stuffy, and the windows are steamed up. Parker walks past the few other passengers and sits down at the back. She turns to the window and, in tiny letters, traces her call sign in the condensation: a complicated series of squiggles that make up her signature on the IT forums she belongs to.

As she rubs the call sign out with her sleeve, I’m seized by a fresh idea. I sit back, thinking it through. It’ll mean taking some big risks, but if my idea works out I’ll not only get my hands on that sales order, but be able to show the world how Ms Somersby stole from her company and put all our lives in danger.

Excitement bubbles up inside me and I smile to myself, gazing out at the dark streets as the bus makes its way into Salthaven.

A whole week passes before I can put my plan to expose Ms Somersby’s fraud into action, but at last half-term arrives – and with it the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.

It’s the first Sunday of our week off. Alfie is all excited for his Activities Camp in Fanchester, which starts tomorrow. Meanwhile I’m still grounded – and expected to stay home every day. Mum and I are clearing up after dinner. I sigh a couple of times and, naturally, Mum asks what the matter is.

‘Just wondering what I’m going to do with myself all half-term,’ I say, sighing a third time. ‘You know, seeing as I can’t go out with my friends…’

I glance at Mum.

Well,’ she says slowly. ‘I guess it’s a chance to catch up on that project of yours… and I’m sure you have other homework too?’ There’s a definite hint of guilt in her voice.

I decide to take advantage. ‘I suppose that’s true,’ I say. ‘Ooh, you know, it would really help if I could come into the office with you tomorrow. I won’t get in the way, I promise. I’ll just find somewhere quiet to work.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Mum says, looking worried. ‘We’re supposed to arrange proper childcare for—’

‘It’s not about childcare,’ I protest. ‘I don’t need that. I’ll just sit near you – or find somewhere quiet to do my work. I’ll get far more done than if I’m at home with lots of distractions.’

‘I suppose,’ Mum says, looking at me curiously. ‘But after what happened last time, I don’t think Ms Somersby will be too happy about having you back on the premises.’

‘What about Christian? Couldn’t you ask him instead?’ I ask. ‘You’re always saying how nice he is. And I feel really bad that I messed up last time, so this is a chance for me to show how truly sorry I am by doing things right for once.’

Mum smiles, her face softening. ‘Okay, I’ll message Christian and see what he says.’

‘Thanks, Mum. Tell him I promise to be on my best behaviour.’ I feel a twinge of guilt and cross my fingers behind my back.

I’m on tenterhooks for the next half an hour. At last Christian replies to Mum’s message, saying it’s fine for me to come to work with her tomorrow, so long as I stay wherever I’m put and avoid snooping into any Mayes Cranston business.

‘Of course, that’s brilliant! Thanks, Mum,’ I say, before adding, ‘I’ll make you so proud of me.’

Once I’ve exposed Ms Somersby as a thief, I’m certain that last statement, at least, will definitely be true.

12

The next day we drop Alfie at his Activities Camp and head to Mayes Cranston. As Mum reverses into a slot in the car park, we spot my best friend walking up the drive.

‘What’s Parker doing here?’ Mum asks with a frown.

‘Oh, I said she should come and work here for the day too,’ I say breezily.

‘Hollie!’ Mum turns on me, eyes wide with alarm as she switches off the car engine. ‘That is not okay. It’s one thing me bringing you in, but someone else’s child isn’t on, especially after what happened last time you were both here.’

‘But Parker’s so lonely at home,’ I plead. ‘Her parents work such long hours and she’s by herself almost every day in the holidays.’ All of this is true, though I’ve never heard Parker complain about it. Parker loves her own company and can geek out on her laptop for hours at a time.

Mum’s face contorts. ‘I know it’s hard for Parker,’ she concedes, ‘but that doesn’t make it all right to bring her here. I didn’t clear that with Christian, did I?’

‘Can’t you clear it now?’ I persist. ‘I mean if it’s okay for me to be here, surely it’s okay that Parker is too? Anyway –’ I pause. ‘Parker and I are working on our project and Parker has all the data. So we have to be together today.’

Mum shakes her head wearily. ‘I wish you’d said something before.’

‘Sorry, Mum; please, Mum?’ I wheedle.

She glances at me. ‘We’ll see what Christian says.’

‘Okay.’ I nod eagerly. I’m certain that presented with the two of us actually on the premises, Christian will agree to us working here, so long as we both promise to stay out of trouble. It’s raining as we get out of the car so Mum hoicks her mac over our heads and we hurry towards the big brick building. We pass Ms Somersby’s black car, parked by the entrance.

‘I was hoping the boss would be out today,’ Mum mutters.

I grimace, suddenly worrying that my whole plan is about to fall apart.

As we walk inside, Geoff the security guard is chatting to the receptionist, while Parker is perched on a chair by the main desk, a huge, stuffed backpack on her lap. She looks anxious, her forehead creased with a deep line. Is that because of what I’ve persuaded her to do this morning?

Mum, of course, has no idea about that. Her gaze softens as she gazes at Parker.

‘You really promise me that the two of you will do exactly what you’re told?’ she says, hesitating in the lobby. ‘No rule breaking? No wandering around the building? No using the company’s intranet?’

‘I promise.’ My insides give a guilty little twist as I say this, but I shake off the feeling. Once Mum sees what I’ve found out, she’ll understand everything.

Anthea Somersby will be exposed for the criminal she is. And I’ll be a hero.

Buoyed by this thought, I follow Mum across the lobby. Parker leaps up as soon as she sees us.

‘This one says she’s with you,’ Geoff comments, glancing at Parker, then raising his eyebrows in Mum’s direction. ‘You do know there are rules around having minors in the building?’

‘I know.’ Mum sighs. ‘It’s okay. That is, I’ve cleared Hollie with Christian. Let me just have a word with him about Parker.’

Geoff gives a curt – and clearly reluctant – nod.

‘Hi, Hollie! Hi, Mrs Norris!’ There’s a nervy breathlessness to the way Parker is speaking but Mum is too preoccupied with Geoff’s disapproval to notice.

Parker and I wait while Mum calls Christian on her mobile, then speaks quietly to the receptionist at the desk.

‘Good news,’ Mum says, calling us over. ‘Christian agrees to you both being here. Luckily the boardroom is free – Ms Somersby doesn’t have any meetings – and Christian says they’re fine with you working there, so long as you promise not to go wandering about. Deal?’ She looks at us sternly.

‘Of course, Mum, we won’t leave the room,’ I say.

‘Thank you, Mrs Norris, that’s most kind,’ Parker says, sounding very proper and quite unlike herself.

Mum nods, clearly still distracted. ‘Okay, then.’

She ushers us through the building to the boardroom. It’s light and spacious, with a glass wall onto the corridor and a huge oval meeting table in the centre. A computer terminal stands in the corner, next to a large, wall-mounted screen. A water dispenser with paper cups stands beside it, while a small table at the far end of the room is set with fancy mugs and glasses, plus two rows of canned fizzy drinks.

‘Ooh, can we have one of those?’ I ask, pointing to the cans.

‘No, just stick to water from the dispenser, please.’ Mum wrinkles her nose. She strides over to the computer terminal and unplugs it at the wall, then picks it up.

I stare at her in horror. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Christian’s condition of you working here was to make sure you had no access to the company’s computer system,’ Mum explains. She carries the terminal to the door. ‘Now remember, both of you, it’s only because I have vouched for you that Christian and Ms Somersby have agreed to give you this second chance. So do not let me down.’ With a final, pleading look, she leaves us alone.

‘What are we going to do?’ I ask, as soon as Parker and I are alone. ‘We need a computer.’

Parker shrugs, then pulls her laptop out of her backpack. ‘I’ve already got Christian’s username and password, so I can probably log into the Mayes Cranston intranet on this,’ she says. ‘If you’re really sure?’

I nod, filling with relief.

‘We’re just going to find the sales order, take a photo or a screen grab, then get out? Yeah?’ Parker fixes me with a hard stare.

‘Yeah.’ This isn’t true, of course, my plans go far further than just making a copy of the document that proves Ms Somersby is a thief, but Parker is clearly already very anxious about the first part of our mission today. There’s no point telling her about the second. Anyway, once she sees the sales order that exposes the truth with her own eyes, I’m certain she’ll support me.

While Parker plugs in her laptop, I make my way to the small table at the back of the room. My hand hesitates beside a can of lemonade, then I think better of it and pour myself a paper cup of water. There’s no point antagonizing Mum over a fizzy drink. It’s going to be enough of a shock for her to realize what a criminal her boss is.

I turn to Parker. ‘How’s it going?’

She makes a face. ‘I’m about to input Christian’s password,’ she says, folding her arms. ‘But… I don’t know, Hollie, your mum literally just told us we weren’t allowed onto the Mayes Cranston intran—’

‘She only did all that because she doesn’t know what her boss has been up to,’ I protest. ‘Come on, Parker! Without the sales order, we’ve got no proof against Ms Somersby. If we don’t get hold of it, then Salthaven will carry on being unprotected from a big storm surge and the criminal who put the town in that position will go unpunished.’

‘I guess.’ Parker nods reluctantly. ‘I wish you hadn’t lied to your mum just now, though.’

‘I had to.’ I spread my hands wide. ‘Come on, Parker. This is totally ethical; in the interests of the entire Salthaven community. We’re not going to damage anything or hurt anyone.’

Parker hesitates. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘But I’m going in and out fast – if I don’t find the sales order in five minutes, then I’m stopping.’

‘Fine,’ I say.

Parker turns back to her laptop and taps in a series of letters and numbers. Not for the first time I watch her, in awe of her amazing memory. The last time we came here was almost a month ago, and yet Parker has no problem remembering the password Christian used then.

The Mayes Cranston home screen appears, revealing an array of files and folders.

‘See, it worked!’ I clap my hands together. ‘Now all you have to do is find the sales order I saw before. It was in a folder called SDU Salthaven.’

‘I know, I know.’ Parker grumbles, peering at the screen. ‘And dated 3 September last ye—’

‘What are you guys doing?’ Rex’s voice echoes across the room.

I spin around to find him standing in the doorway, giving us the laid-back smile that always makes my heart do a little flip. ‘Mum just told me you were here,’ he adds. ‘Is it something to do with our project?’

‘That’s right.’ As soon as I’ve spoken, I groan inwardly. Why did I say that? Rex is bound to want to know more. Sure enough, he immediately strides over and stands behind Parker’s laptop.

‘How come you didn’t tell me you’re—’ He stops, the easy smile sliding from his face. ‘What are you doing on the Mayes Cranston intranet?’

Parker shrinks down into her seat, her cheeks flushing bright red.

‘Just looking something up,’ I say.

Rex frowns. ‘Are you sure you have permission for that?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Of course,’ I lie.

Rex looks at Parker, whose entire face is now a deep crimson.

‘What’s really going on here, Parker?’ he asks, narrowing his eyes.

‘I’ve told you,’ I start, ‘it’s noth—’

‘Hollie thinks she’s seen a sales order from last September that proves your mum bought and used cheap, low-grade steel to go inside the new seawall, then lied about it. She reckons your mum pocketed the money she should have spent on the proper steel, for herself.’ Parker blurts out the words, then sucks in her breath and hangs her head.

My heart plummets to my shoes. Rex’s jaw drops. ‘What?’

‘I’m looking for the sales order on the Mayes Cranston intranet,’ Parker mutters, looking up at him. ‘Please promise you won’t say anything to your mum, Rex.’

I glare at her, but she turns back to her laptop, studiously ignoring me.

‘I don’t believe this, Hollie!’ Rex’s voice fills with anger as he turns to face me. ‘You think you saw something?’

‘I did,’ I say defiantly. ‘Your mum cheated Salthaven out of the steel that would make the seawall strong enough, just so she could steal money to buy a… that stupid painting in your hall.’

Rex shakes his head. He strides over to Parker. ‘Stop what you’re doing!’ he urges. He lunges for the laptop, but Parker whisks it out of the way.

‘It’s my computer,’ she insists. ‘I’m only going to be a couple of minutes.’

Rex hesitates, then shakes his head. ‘This is all Hollie’s idea. Why are you helping her?’

‘Because she’s my friend,’ Parker says, looking more miserable than I’ve ever seen her. ‘I promised. We’re just going to find the sales ord—’

‘Tell Parker to stop!’ Rex demands, turning on me.

‘No!’ I put my hands on my hips. My heart thuds, hard, in my chest.

Rex stares at me for several seconds, his eyes blazing, then he spins on his heel and storms out of the boardroom and along the corridor.

I turn on Parker. ‘What did you do that for!’ I cry.

Instead of answering, Parker starts typing rapidly, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

‘Parker?’ I demand.

She looks up, her face filled with resentment. ‘I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? I’m helping you look for the sales order because after finding out about Ms Somersby coming into the money to buy that painting, I think you might be right about the fraud, but… but I couldn’t lie to Rex when he asked me straight out what I was doing.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Now let me get on with it, or Rex’ll be back with someone to stop me and if we haven’t got the proof about Ms Somersby by then, we’ll really be in trouble.’

She’s right. Clutching my forehead, I hurry over to the door. There’s no lock, so I fetch one of the chairs around the long boardroom table and wedge the back of it under the handle.

That should buy us a bit of time, but not much. I have to put the second part of my plan – the bit that not even Parker knows about – into action right now.

13

Two minutes pass. I peer anxiously through the glass wall of the boardroom. There’s nobody outside right now, but I’m sure it won’t be long before Rex raises the alarm.

‘When you find the sales order, will you put it up on that big screen for me, please?’ I ask, pointing to the wall-mounted screen on the far wall.

‘Why?’ Parker asks, not looking up from her laptop.

‘So we can show Rex and whoever he comes back with.’ I squirm as I say this, then remind myself that it’s the truth – just not the whole truth.

I glance into the corridor. Still no sign of anyone yet, but I’m certain we don’t have much time. I open NatterSnap on my phone and hold the device in front of my face, positioning myself so that the large screen on the boardroom wall is directly behind me.

‘Why are you taking a selfie?’ Parker asks, scowling across at me.

‘I’m not,’ I say. ‘How close are you?’

‘Close,’ she says. ‘I’m in the Storm Defence Upgrade folder, just looking for a sales order from 3 September. Ooh, I think this is it.’

With a ping, the sales order appears on the big screen behind me.

Outside the room, Rex, his mother, Christian and Geoff the security guard come charging around the corner. I can’t wait any longer. I take a deep breath, steady my phone and press record.

‘Hi, everyone, I’m Hollie Norris,’ I say breathlessly into the camera. ‘I’m livestreaming from the boardroom of Mayes Cranston Engineering just outside Salthaven. I’m a teenager who lives in the town, in Salthaven, and I have some really shocking news about something the company – Mayes Cranston – has done.’

‘What are you doing?’ Parker gets up, a startled expression on her face.

Outside, Geoff is wrestling with the door, but the chair under the handle is preventing it from opening.

‘I’m in the Mayes Cranston boardroom right now,’ I say, motioning Parker to sit back down. I adjust the camera so the screen on the wall is clearly visible behind me. Geoff is now thumping on the door, though the sound of his fists is muffled through the glass. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Rex and Ms Somersby standing next to him. I look into the lens. ‘What you can see here, behind me, is absolute proof that the steel the company bought and used in order to reinforce the Salthaven seawall was substandard.’

I turn the phone slowly and hold it closer to the sales order.

‘Hollie?’ Parker whispers. ‘What the hell is going on?’

Outside the boardroom, Geoff has disappeared, but Christian has taken his place at the door. He and Ms Somersby are both hammering on the glass with their fists and shouting ‘Open up!’ at me. Rex’s mum’s face is red with fury. Rex stands beside her, staring at his phone. Oh God, he’s already worked out what I’m doing. As I watch, he nudges his mum, then points to his mobile. I check that my camera lens is still focused on the sales order on the big screen.

‘Hollie, you need to stop this!’ Parker hisses.

I shake my head, then turn the camera again so that I’m in the picture, with the sales order behind me. ‘Thanks to corruption at the heart of Mayes Cranston Engineering,’ I say, jutting out my chin, ‘the town of Salthaven is not protected from the most severe storms, which was the whole reason for building the new seawall last year.’

Outside the room, a small crowd has gathered behind Christian and Ms Somersby. Some look bewildered, some incredulous. Lots are peering at their own phones. I spot Mum, pushing her way to the front of the throng. Her eyes are wild with shock.

I avoid meeting her gaze.

Geoff reappears with a fire extinguisher and yells at the others to stand back so he can smash down the glass door. I face the lens again. I don’t have much time.

‘The people who live in Salthaven have been lied to and cheated out of the proper seawall they were promised,’ I say. ‘The use of low-grade steel inside the concrete has left us unprotected in the face of really severe weather.’

Geoff drives the fire extinguisher against the glass. It makes contact with a thud. I glance across as he steadies himself, then rams the glass again. This time the door reverberates, and a crack becomes visible, spreading its veins across the glass.

‘I just have one thing left to say.’ I draw myself up. ‘The person behind this terrible crime is Mayes Cranston’s managing director, Anthea Somersby. ‘As you can see from the sales order behind me, she’s the person who bought the low-grade steel.’

‘Please, stop, Hollie!’ Parker sounds close to tears.

‘Anthea Somersby stole money that should have been spent on reinforcing our seawall,’ I say. ‘She is a liar, a cheat and a thief.’

With a final smash the glass door of the boardroom shatters.

14

I shut down the livestream on my mobile, as Geoff charges into the room, closely followed by Christian and Ms Somersby. Geoff grabs my arm and wrenches my phone out of my hand. Everyone around me is shouting. I grit my teeth, closing my eyes. They may be angry now but give them a moment. Once they’ve properly looked at the sales order – then they’ll see.

‘Hollie!’ It’s Mum. I feel her hand on my shoulder.

I open my eyes.

I’m expecting a huge crowd but, to my surprise, only Christian, Mum and Ms Somersby are standing in front of me, their faces registering varying degrees of shock and fury. Geoff is ushering everyone else away from the boardroom.

Over Ms Somersby’s shoulder I can see Parker muttering under her breath to Rex in the corner. They are looking up at the screen where the sales order is still projected.

I hold my head high. I did it. Well, Parker and I did it. We exposed Ms Somersby’s corruption for everyone to see. Thanks to us, they’ll have to rebuild the Salthaven seawall and the whole town will be safer.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Mum’s face is ashen.

‘Please explain, Hollie,’ Christian urges. ‘Was this a dare? Some sort of stunt?’

Ms Somersby folds her arms, her eyebrows raised and her stare icy. ‘Well?’

‘It’s all there,’ I say defiantly, pointing to the sales order. ‘How you defrauded the company and put peoples’ lives in danger. It’s all there.’

Mum, Christian and Ms Somersby turn, and we all stare at the screen together.

I scan down from the top. The sales order is just as I remember it, showing that steel was sent from Southern Shores Steel UK on 3 September last year to the seawall construction site and authorized with Ms Somersby’s signature. I peer at the details of the order itself:

800 TONNES OF REINFORCED STEEL FOR SEAWALL CONSTRUCTION – REBAR GRADE 100, ASTM A1-135 CS

Wait! What? I peer more closely at the screen. That’s not right. The sales order I saw was for CM steel, not CS. My heart races as I glance at the price paid for the steel.

£1,400,000

No! On the sales order I saw before, Ms Somersby paid just £400,000. That’s a whole million pounds less than the higher-grade CS steel would have cost. On here, it looks like she paid the full price, for the right, top-quality steel.

I scan rapidly back over the whole document, frantically trying to make sense of it. Is it somehow a different sales order? No. It can’t be; all the other details are identical.

‘I don’t see any fraud here,’ Ms Somersby says. A muscle twitches in her tightly clenched cheek.

‘Hollie?’ Mum sounds bewildered.

I am still gaping at the screen. How can this be happening?

‘I think I understand.’ Rex steps forward, Parker at his side. Neither of them look at me. Rex speaks directly to his mum and Christian; Parker stares glumly at the floor. ‘Parker has just explained to me that a couple of weeks ago, Hollie caught sight of a sales order on her mum’s work laptop. She convinced herself that what she’d seen proved that Mayes Cranston Engineering bought and used substandard steel in the new seawall.’

‘What?’ Ms Somersby’s jaw drops.

‘Hollie thinks,’ Rex goes on, looking directly at his mother, ‘that you pocketed the difference and spent it on a… on that weird painting in our hallway.’

Mum lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a groan.

Ms Somersby draws herself up. Her voice drips with contempt as she speaks: ‘Is all this true, Hollie?’

‘Yes,’ I say, sulkily. ‘The sales order I saw before proves it.’

‘Hmm.’ Ms Somersby glances at the screen. ‘I rather think that sales order,’ she says, icily, ‘proves the precise opposite. Wouldn’t you agree?’

I clench my jaw, refusing to respond.

Mum’s eyes are wide with horror. ‘Oh, Hollie. You swore you’d behave. I promised on your behalf…’

‘Clearly Hollie has made a terrible mistake,’ Christian says, ‘which—’

‘Mistake?’ Ms Somersby snorts. She turns on me. ‘You’ve just livestreamed a seriously defamatory video telling the entire world I’m a criminal. A liar, a cheat and a thief, were your exact words. As for you…’ She glares at Parker. ‘This is the second time you’ve abused our hospitality and forced your way onto our computer system.’ Her nostrils flare. ‘I think you should both be reported to the police.’

Mum gasps, her hands flying to her mouth.

‘It wasn’t Parker’s fault,’ I say quickly. ‘She was just helping me look for the sales order; she didn’t know about the livestreaming.’

‘That’s what Parker told me too,’ adds Rex.

Ms Somersby sniffs disapprovingly. Parker is still staring at the boardroom carpet.

‘I see,’ Ms Somersby says coldly.

‘I’m so sorry—’ Mum begins, but Ms Somersby cuts her off with a brusque wave of her hand.

‘Christian, please contact our PR team and start work on a press release we can put out before the end of the day. I trust we can include an apology and complete retraction from you, Hollie?’ She glares at me.

I hesitate for a second. There’s clearly no way I can prove my claims right now, but I’m certain I didn’t misread the sales order on Mum’s work laptop, whatever the one Parker just found says. It feels wrong to retract something I’m sure is still true.

‘Hollie!’ Mum cries. ‘For goodness’ sake, apologize!’

I press my lips together so only the tiniest sound comes out. ‘Sorry,’ I grunt. ‘I’ll delete the video.’

Christian leans over and says something quietly in Ms Somersby’s ear.

She gives a curt nod, then snaps: ‘I think if you confirm this was just a silly schoolgirl prank and give us a full, written apology, we can leave the police out of it. No need to generate any more bad publicity.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ Mum breathes. ‘That’s very kind of you.’ She turns to me. ‘Hollie, say thank you.’

I stand mutinously silent for a second.

‘Thanks, Ms Somersby,’ Parker murmurs. She still hasn’t looked up.

Everyone else stares at me. ‘Thank you,’ I finally mutter.

Ms Somersby shakes her head. ‘One more thing,’ she says. ‘As a minor, it’s your parent who is ultimately responsible for your actions.’ She turns her steely gaze on Mum and, in that horrible moment, I realize what she’s about to do.

And that there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

‘As I say, I’m so sorr—’ Mum starts.

‘I’m afraid apologies don’t cut it this time. Nor will another warning,’ Ms Somersby snarls. ‘You have brought your delinquent daughter in here not once but twice – and on both occasions with disastrous consequences. I can’t let this go.’ She sucks in her breath. ‘Mrs Norris, you’re fired.’

15

Mum grounds me for another month before we’ve even left the Mayes Cranston building. To be honest, it feels like the least of my problems. Mum is so upset about getting fired that she cries the whole way home in the car – and it’s all my fault. When we get home, Louella is waiting by the front door, almost as if she knew something bad had happened. Mum tells her the whole story, wailing that I’ve let the family down, that I’m out of control, that all I want is to shock people, without any thought to the consequences.

‘That’s not true,’ I protest.

‘I don’t think it’s true either,’ Louella says.

Mum stops crying. ‘Please, Louella,’ she says. ‘I know how much you care about Hollie, but sugar-coating her behaviour doesn’t help anyone, least of all her.’

‘I understand that,’ Louella says gently. ‘As I see it, Hollie may have gone about things the wrong way, but I believe she genuinely thinks she’s stumbled across a fraud that leaves Salthaven vulnerable to the big storm that is just around the corner.’

‘That’s right,’ I say, shooting her a grateful glance.

‘For goodness’ sake, you two!’ Mum strides across the kitchen and flings open the back door. A streak of sunlight streams in on a gust of chilly air. She points to the clear sky above the rooftops. ‘It’s not even raining! There isn’t going to be a big storm.’

Louella sighs, shaking her head, and wanders off to her bedroom.

Mum turns and gazes at me, her lip wobbling. ‘The worst thing about all this is that you lied to me,’ she says, sounding heartbroken. A stab of guilt pierces me to the core. ‘You lied, for the sake of a stupid stunt.’

‘It wasn’t a stunt,’ I insist. ‘The original sales order I saw was for low-grade steel; the CM stuff, not the CS. Don’t you remember it?’

Mum frowns, shaking her head. ‘My project wasn’t anything to do with the seawall or its financing.’

‘It must still be on the system somewhere,’ I insist. ‘Couldn’t you look for it? Find it now?’

‘Stop this, Hollie.’ Mum blows out her breath. ‘Whatever you thought you saw, surely the fact that you’ve now seen the actual sales order shows you that must have misread whatever you saw before?’ She hesitates. ‘More importantly, whatever your intentions, you need to accept that you acted impulsively and thoughtlessly.’

I look down at the table. The salt cellar is tipped over on its side, and tiny white grains are scattered across the scratched and battered wood. Why can’t Mum understand? I was trying to help. Far from being impulsive and thoughtless, everything I did earlier was deliberately designed to protect the people of Salthaven.

‘It’s becoming a habit.’ Mum sighs again.

I look up. ‘What is?’

‘Your bad behaviour: all this bravado, breaking the rules. Pushing poor Parker into helping you.’

‘I didn’t—’ I stop. Maybe Mum’s right about Parker. She didn’t want to pry into the Mayes Cranston intranet in the first place. She kept trying to back out of it and definitely had no idea about my livestreaming plan.

‘On top of everything else, I’ve lost a job I very much needed, and I have no idea how I’m going to get a new one, especially as I’m certain Ms Somersby will refuse to give me a reference.’ Mum shakes her head. ‘You need to start considering other people, Hollie. This self-centred behaviour has an impact on the whole family.’

‘Not on Dad!’ The words burst out of me. My voice fills with bitterness. ‘Nothing I do has an impact on him, does it?’

Mum stares at me, bewildered. ‘I know it’s hard that… that he just walked out, but I don’t see what Dad has to do with it.’

‘He’s got everything to do with it.’ Tears well up in my eyes. ‘If Dad were here, he would understand that I was trying to… to protect Salthaven. He wouldn’t think I was self-centred. I could have told him everything and…’ I stop, my throat swollen.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Hollie, you can’t blame Dad not being here for what’s happened today.’

‘I don’t,’ I snap, my voice like a whip. ‘I blame you.’

Mum stares at me for a second, then turns and walks out of the kitchen. I sink into a chair, tears leaking down my cheeks. I feel so horrible inside. I know what I just said was mean. It didn’t even make sense. But there’s something about Mum that triggers me into behaving like that every time; she just doesn’t understand me in the way Dad did.

On top of which, I’m still certain I didn’t misread that original sales order, though I don’t understand how Ms Somersby covered it up.

The next day I call Southern Shores Steel UK and explain that I need to see their copy of the sales order from 3 September last year. The receptionist puts me on hold, then comes back and says there’s no way they can show me secure financial documents without a court order.

Great. I’m at a dead end: there’s no way I can prove Ms Somersby is a thief or that the seawall is made from substandard steel.

Which means Rex’s mum will go unpunished and – when the big sea storm comes – Salthaven will be unprotected.

16

Parker is so cross with me over the livestreaming that she doesn’t answer my messages for the entire remainder of half-term. I’d go over to her house if I could, but Mum – now at home every day and desperately applying for new jobs – is watching me like a hawk. The weather is beautiful, a succession of clear, crisp sunny days, but I only leave the house to walk Cruffin down by the beach. Mum has taken to tracking my movements on my phone ‘as I clearly can’t trust you, Hollie’, so I don’t dare venture off my designated path.

At least I like strolling along the coastline. Most days my walk takes me down to the small jetty where there are usually a few boats moored, then along the damp, compact sand of Salthaven Bay. I usually stop there for a while, while Cruffin bounds up and down the beach. The salty wind crinkles my lips and fills my nostrils as I stare out at the seawall halfway across the bay. The ridge of reinforced concrete rises two metres above the water and stretches from one side of the bay to the other. It looks so solid, it’s hard to believe that the steel inside that wall would crumple in the face of a truly huge storm surge.

But I’m still certain that I’m right, that it would.

That one day it will.

I stay on the beach until I grow cold, then I put Cruffin back on his lead and make my way home. As I stroll along, my thoughts turn to Parker and our friendship, or lack of it. I understand Rex being mad – it’s his mum I was attempting to expose as a crook. But, surely, Parker can understand that I was just trying to tell the truth?

Mum insists on dropping me at school on the Monday after half-term – I don’t think she trusts me over anything, any more – and says goodbye without smiling. As I hurry through the gates, it occurs to me that I haven’t seen Mum smile since she was fired. Her face has been pinched with worry for the past week. I swallow down the guilt that rises inside me, shield my eyes from the fierce winter sun and look around for Parker. There’s no sign of her outside, so I head up to our form room. There. Parker is in the corridor, shoving her school bag into her locker. I rush over, a big smile on my face.

‘Hey, Parker!’

She turns, a wary look in her eyes. ‘Hi, Hollie.’

My heart sinks. I’ve never seen her look or sound so distant. The noise and bustle of the corridor fades as we face each other.

‘You haven’t replied to any of my messages,’ I stammer, suddenly uncertain.

‘No,’ says Parker. She glances past me, over my shoulder. ‘Hello, Rex.’

I spin around. Rex is strolling up, smiling at her. As soon as he sees me, the smile vanishes.

‘Hey,’ I say, awkwardly.

Rex acts like I haven’t spoken, not meeting my gaze. ‘Hello, Parker,’ he says, pointedly ignoring me, then striding past us into our form room.

A heavy weight settles like a stone in my guts.

Parker shuts her locker, then turns away.

‘Please don’t go,’ I say. I don’t mean to sound so vulnerable, but the words come out of me in a tiny voice. I flush. Now Parker has seen how upset I am.

She hesitates, then turns back. Her eyes are almost black in the electric light of the corridor. ‘What do you want, Hollie?’ She sounds sad. Resigned.

‘Why are you so upset?’ My voice shakes. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to livestream, but you know I was right about the sales order. Someone at Mayes Cranston must have changed it or—’

‘No,’ Parker says. ‘You made a mistake, and you need to own up to it.’

I stare at her, shocked. ‘What?’

‘You misread that sales order – you said yourself you only saw it for a few seconds – then you acted too fast, like you always do, and got us both into trouble.’

‘I didn’t misread it,’ I protest.

Parker rolls her eyes. ‘On top of getting it wrong in the first place, you refuse to admit you’ve been at fault in any way.’ She sighs. ‘Meanwhile, as usual, the rest of us pay the price.’

‘The rest of us?’ My voice rises. ‘What are you talking about? You haven’t even been punished, have you? Just like you weren’t over the tank test.’

Parker shakes her head wearily. ‘My parents don’t care what I do. They’re so busy with their research work that so long as my grades are high and I haven’t actually been arrested, they aren’t interested. Anyway, I’m not talking about me.’ She pauses.

‘Who, then?’

‘It’s your mum, Hollie. She cares a lot about you. She loves science but didn’t get to study it so now she writes up what other people do instead of being an actual engineer or whatever, like she wanted to be when she was our age. But instead of being bitter about that, she’s lovely to everyone and just tries her hardest to make sure that you get the opportunities she didn’t have.’ Parker pauses. ‘In spite of that, you didn’t think about your mum at all before you lied your way into her workplace and pulled a stupid, egotistical stunt. Now you’ve cost your mum her job and you still don’t see it.’

My stomach twists with a dull, angry misery. ‘See what?’

‘That you’re selfish, Hollie,’ Parker says, taking a step back. ‘You only think about what you need and want. And your poor mum is paying the price.’

She stalks off into our form room.

I stand, feeling winded for a second, then follow her inside. Parker isn’t at our usual table. She’s across the room, sitting next to Rex. I scurry over. ‘Parker, please,’ I say, ‘I swear that sales order I saw was real. When a really big storm comes, the Salthaven seawall won’t—’

‘Give it a rest, Hollie,’ Rex snaps. ‘The seawall is fine.’

‘And the chances of there being a big storm are tiny anyway, certainly this winter.’ Parker glances at the classroom window, smudged in the glare of the sun. ‘It hasn’t rained for weeks and the forecast is for mild weather all the way to the end of the month.’

She sounds just like Mum.

‘The storm is coming,’ I say. I want to add that Louella is certain of it, but I can just imagine how Parker will respond if I bring up my great-aunt’s premonition again. Instead, I stand in silence. The chat around us rises as the rest of our form find their seats.

A few seconds pass. Then Parker looks me in the eye. ‘Go away, Hollie.’

The words pierce me to the heart. Rex looks up to see my reaction.

I stare back at them both, the heat of my tears building behind my eyes.

I’ve lost everything. Everyone.

I don’t want them to realize how close I am to crying, so I turn on my heel and march over to my table. The seat next to mine, that Parker used to occupy, is empty. I take my place and stare down at my hands, utterly alone.

PART THREE AMPLIFICATION

17

A whole month goes by and nothing in my life gets any better. Parker is distant and wary, only really speaking to me when required to at school, while Rex refuses to talk to me at all. I’ve basically backed out of our project, which I’m sure will get me into trouble once Miss Griffin sees how little I’ve contributed to it. Worse, our whole year – and beyond – has seen snatches of my livestream and thinks I’m either crazy or an idiot. I’ve had to get used to people giggling and talking about me behind my back whenever I walk along a corridor. It’s a relief when the two-week Easter holiday starts in the last week of March.

The relief doesn’t last long.

It’s not just that I’m at home all day with nowhere to go and no one to see, but that everyone else is too. Louella drifts from room to room, still clearly convinced a big storm is coming, despite us just having had the driest winter on record. Meanwhile Alfie has had to settle for a few hours a day at his primary school’s holiday club, instead of the far more exciting Activities Camp in Fanchester that he loved over half-term and which Mum says we can’t afford any more. Mum herself spends all day, every day, in the same way she has since she was fired: frantically applying for jobs.

It feels like everyone is cross with me. Everyone except Cruffin, that is. I take him for a walk by the seashore every day now, without being asked. He snuffles at the shells and pebbles and scampers across the sand, while I sit on the cold beach, staring out at the dark water and the seawall. Sometimes it feels like that wall is laughing at me, that it knows it’s one big lie and that the joke is on me, for not having convinced anyone else.

It’s late afternoon on the last Thursday of the Easter holiday when Mum sits us all down for a family chat, an alarmingly serious look on her face.

Alfie and I are side by side on the couch, Cruffin curled up between us. Louella sits, as usual, in her armchair, her head tilted to one side as she listens to Mum.

‘We don’t have… There isn’t enough money to…’ Mum hesitates. ‘Look, I hate having to say this, but you all need to be prepared. I’m going to have to give notice on this house because… we don’t have enough to pay next month’s rent.’ She pauses again, a horrible shake in her voice. ‘We’re going to have to leave here.’

‘No!’ Alfie wails.

‘Is it really that bad?’ asks Louella.

Mum nods.

My stomach twists and knots. This is my fault. Parker’s right – it was selfish of me to livestream from Mayes Cranston. I didn’t consider what might happen to Mum… to all of us… as a consequence.

‘There’s more,’ Mum says heavily. ‘Without a job, I won’t be able to afford the kind of place we’ve had here, so…’ she hesitates, ‘we’ll have to find somewhere smaller; that means probably just two bedrooms. Alfie can come in with me; Hollie can share with Louella.’

My jaw drops.

‘Oh, Lord,’ murmurs Louella.

Alfie’s eyes widen in horror. ‘You mean I won’t have my own room any more?’

‘None of us will.’ Mum gulps. ‘I’m hoping we can find somewhere near here, but we may have to look further afield, to cheaper areas which…’ she sighs heavily, ‘… which may mean a change of school and—’

‘No!’ Alfie bursts into tears.

I stare at him, feeling hollow inside.

Mum hurries over and sits beside him, stroking his hair. ‘Hey, hey, it may not come to that, I’m just explaining so it doesn’t come as a total shock.’

Alfie sobs against her arm. Cruffin, sensing his upset, snuffles closer to him.

‘What about Cruffin?’ Alfie weeps, petting the dog’s soft ears. ‘He’ll come with us, won’t he?’

‘Of course he will.’ Mum meets my gaze over Alfie’s head. I remember her explaining to me once how lucky we were to find this house because the landlord didn’t mind pets; how unusual that was. I look down at Cruffin, now rubbing his nose on Alfie’s arm, then back up at Mum. She shakes her head, very slightly. She’s telling me not to say anything to Alfie.

I sit back on the sofa, my head reeling. How can one mistake lead to so much change and misery? Louella is staring out of the window now, a faraway look in her eyes.

The only sound in the room is of Alfie crying. Suddenly, he stops and twists away from Mum to glare at me. ‘This is all your fault, Hollie!’ he says, his voice breaking. ‘You’ve ruined everything.’ He runs out of the room and thunders upstairs, Cruffin at his heels.

Mum casts me a despairing glance, then follows him.

I press my lips together, trying not to cry myself. I dig my fingernails into my palms. The irritable, angry feeling in my head rises up again, a reminder of how stupid I’ve been.

How I wish I could take back everything I’ve done: from the wave tank adventure, to livestreaming at Mayes Cranston, to falling out with Rex and Parker over it all.

‘After the rain, the sun,’ Louella mutters, still staring out of the window, where the skies are blue and clear. ‘But, always, after the sun, the rain.’ She lowers her voice to a whisper, but I’m close enough to just make out what she’s saying: ‘The storm is coming.’

I shudder. I don’t want to hear any more, so I get up and go into the kitchen. My phone pings. It’s a message from the group Parker set up for the two of us and Rex, for our project. I’ve hardly thought about it for the past two weeks – Parker and Rex have carried on doing all the work, making it clear they’d rather I stayed away.

Curious, I read Parker’s message:

Hey, Hollie, deadline for project is first day back at school on Monday and Rex & I need you to write up some bits in case Miss G asks what u have done. We’ll all be in trouble if she knows you haven’t done as much as us so please come over tomorrow so we can sort it. You don’t need to stay long.

I re-read the message, my eyes lingering on the last line. There was a time when Parker and I would spend whole days together during the holidays. Of all the things I’ve totally messed up, losing Mum her job is probably the worst, but losing Parker’s friendship is the most painful.

I’m no longer grounded, and Mum almost sounds pleased when I say I need to go to Parker’s tomorrow to work on our project. ‘Okay, sweetheart,’ she says. ‘I can drop you there at ten, is that okay?’

As I message Parker to tell her, the sky outside starts to cloud over. An hour later it begins to rain – and doesn’t stop. I lie awake for ages that night, listening to the insistent patter against my window and wondering what it will be like to see Rex and Parker tomorrow. As dawn lights the sky with grey and peach swirls, thunder crashes outside and I creep to the window in time to see jagged forks of lightning flaring in the sky. The rain is still falling, harder than ever.

Is this the big storm that Louella predicted?

A shiver runs down my spine as I make my way back to bed. I tell myself that the storm will be over soon, that Salthaven is safe, that premonitions and visions don’t exist.

But, as I fall back to sleep, Louella’s grim words fill my brain:

It’s coming soon… the sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.

18

The next morning, the storm has subsided a little. No more thunder and lightning, though it’s still raining steadily. Mum is dropping Alfie off at his school’s holiday club, before taking me to Parker’s house. Cruffin is in the car too, so Mum can take him for a walk afterwards. As we drive along, Alfie talks excitedly about the games the holiday club have organized for today. I listen to him chatter. How is he able to move on so fast? Yesterday, when Mum said we’ll probably have to leave Salthaven, he acted like his world was ending, but today he’s looking forward to running around a makeshift obstacle course in his school playground like it’s the greatest treat ever. He was like that about Dad too – crying his eyes out when Dad left, then not seeming to look back since.

The car falls silent once Alfie has got out. Cruffin curls up on the back seat and closes his eyes. Mum says nothing for a few minutes, then clears her throat.

‘I hope it goes without saying that I expect you to be on your best behaviour at Parker’s house?’ she says.

I shrug, my irritation levels shooting up as if she’s flicked them on with a switch.

‘Hollie?’ Mum says sharply.

‘Sure,’ I say, feeling sullen. ‘I get it.’

Mum shakes her head, turning a tight corner onto the main road out of Salthaven and sending a huge splash of water from the gutter all across the pavement. ‘I hope you do get it,’ she says. ‘Because I don’t know how much more I can take.’

I glance across at her. She’s sitting all tense and hunched over the wheel. The road ahead gleams with wet tarmac and the car in front sends up constant spray as it zooms along.

‘What do you mean?’

Mum sighs heavily. ‘Just that you need to get your act together. Make more effort with… with everything: home, school, friends – I notice you haven’t seen anyone since you stopped being grounded.’

Only because no one wants to see me. I shrink down in my seat.

‘Look at the way you’re behaving right now,’ Mum says, as we take the turning onto the hill that leads up to Parker’s house. ‘You can’t even bring yourself to be civil, to answer me politely.’

‘I would, but all you do is have a go at me.’ I mutter these words too quietly for Mum to hear. Nevertheless, she gets the gist from my tone.

‘What did you just say?’ She sits up, bristling with annoyance. ‘Hollie, this is exactly what I’m talking ab—’

‘It’s you that makes it hard for me.’ My voice rises, my anger boiling over. ‘Dad wasn’t on my case all the time. No wonder he left if you acted like this towards him.’

Mum clenches her jaw, gripping the steering wheel more tightly. ‘Stop it, Hollie,’ she snaps. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know Dad left,’ I snap back. ‘And I know that was your fault.’

Mum gasps, like I’ve slapped her.

Guilt mingles with my anger. Then resentment. Why should I feel guilty? Dad made it clear Mum was why he abandoned us.

‘Is that what you think?’ Mum says, sounding broken. A tear trickles down her cheek.

My emotions whirl inside me. I say nothing. Mum wipes the tear away with the back of her hand. A few moments later, we reach the top of the hill. Mum looks along the unmarked road towards Parker’s house. The track is muddy from last night’s rain, full of puddles. ‘I don’t think I can take the car down there; you’ll have to walk the rest.’ She pauses. ‘I’ll be spending the rest of the day doing job applications; call me when you’re ready to be picked up.’

I hesitate. Part of me wants to say I’m sorry for being mean to her, but I can’t find the words. I reach for the door handle.

‘I know you’re hurting,’ Mum says gently. ‘And that lots of things feel tough and overwhelming at the moment, but you’ll get through it, I promise.’ She gives me a weary smile. ‘You can do this, Hollie.’

I glance at her, confused. Why is she acting all nice, after I was so horrible? She was really upset just a few seconds ago.

‘Don’t frown like that,’ she says, ‘I’m just—’

‘—being annoying!’ I regret the words as soon as they’ve left my mouth.

‘Hollie!’ Mum’s voice rises again, full of hurt and shock.

Suddenly I hate myself and can’t bear to be around her. I shove the passenger door open and scramble out of the car. As I trudge away, skirting around the edge of the huge muddy puddle with the rain trickling down the back of my neck, I can hear Mum calling my name again, but I don’t look around.

A moment later, Mum revs the engine and, when I do look back, the car is out of sight.

19

I try to put the argument with Mum out of my head as I walk up the path to Parker’s front door. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like with her and Rex. How are they going to behave around me? Are they going to challenge me again over the seawall steel, which I’m still certain was substandard? Or about Rex’s mum being a thief who’s put an entire town at risk through her greed?

One thing I’m sure of – seeing them again is going to be super awkward.

Parker lets me in with a shy smile. ‘Still raining, then,’ she says, staring over my shoulder at the dark skies and wet fields in the distance.

I nod.

‘They’re saying fifteen centimetres have fallen since yesterday afternoon.’ Parker shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Come on, we’re in the back room.’

‘Oh.’ As I walk inside and take off my dripping raincoat, I wonder again if the weather is connected to the big storm Louella has been predicting. Mum had the radio on in the car but there was no mention of any major tempest at sea; all the news was about the impact of the floods on land.

These thoughts slip away from me as Parker leads me through her gloomy hallway. Butterflies cartwheel in my stomach. I’m about to see Rex again, but is he even going to speak to me? He’s sitting at Parker’s big – normally unused – dining table, bent over his laptop as I walk in.

‘Hi,’ he says curtly. His handsome face is wreathed in a scowl. I gaze at the way the light from the window glances off his high cheekbones and at the broad slope of his shoulders. Before my accusation against his mum, I really thought he might be interested in me. It hurts to think how far away we are from that now.

‘Hi,’ I say, venturing a smile. ‘How are you?’

‘Good, thanks.’

Well, at least we’re speaking.

I hesitate as Parker takes her place at the end of the table. ‘What do you need me to do?’ I ask.

‘We’ve got all this information, but it needs to be put in one doc,’ Parker explains. ‘And we need to write explanations at the top of each section, summarizing the findings.’ She makes a face. ‘I’d do it myself, but I’m writing our conclusion.’

‘And I’m doing a diagram of the seabed wall,’ Rex says. ‘It has to be hand-drawn.’

‘Okay,’ I say, ‘I can write the explanations, if you give me the notes.’

Rex pushes his laptop towards me, and I settle in front of it.

The three of us work for nearly two hours. Parker shows me the notes I need to write from, and I find the words, while Rex busies himself on the other side of the table, barely looking up as he carefully sketches and labels his diagram.

Outside, the rain gets steadily worse, drumming against the windows of Parker’s gloomy dining room. It’s midday, but so dark outside that we have to switch on the lights to see what we’re doing.

I finish the introduction to the first section of our report, explaining about the history of the Salthaven seawall – how the original wall was built in the 1990s and degraded considerably over the next twenty years or so.

I show Parker who reads it, then gives me an approving nod. ‘That’s great,’ she says. ‘Two more sections to go: one on the design of the new seawall and how it’s better than the original, and one on the actual installation process.’

I raise my eyebrows. The first section of the report is already fifteen pages long. I’m certain the end product will be twice – maybe three times – as big as anyone else’s. Still, I’m not complaining. Mum will be delighted if I get an A grade for this.

Parker stands up and stretches. ‘I’m going to get some juice and crisps. I think we’ve got some chocolate-chip cookies too.’

‘Sounds good,’ Rex says, looking up.

‘Great, thanks,’ I say. ‘Are your parents in, Parker?’

Parker’s face clouds over. ‘No, they’re away on another trip,’ she says. ‘Their friend Jane’s staying here for the week, but she’s up in London today.’

‘Oh.’ I don’t know what to say. My own home is so small and noisy and crowded, I’ve often wondered what it must be like for Parker, an only child, to spend so much time rattling around in this gloomy old house by herself.

Parker leaves the room. I glance at Rex; he’s looking at me, a curious expression on his face. Our eyes meet for a second, then he looks away. I sit, my stomach churning. I badly want to tell him I’m sorry for the things I said about his mum. Not because I think I was wrong – I’m still certain that Ms Somersby defrauded Mayes Cranston out of a million pounds – but because I hate that he hates me.

‘I guess this is hard for you?’ Rex mutters.

‘What do you mean?’ I frown.

‘Us all writing about a brilliant new storm defence system you don’t think exists.’

I stare at him. There’s something in his voice I can’t make sense of – a tension, like he’s angry with me and at something else too. I’m trying to work out what on earth I can say to him, when he gets up suddenly, pushing his chair back with a swift scrape across the floor.

‘I need a break,’ he says, then stalks out.

I blow out my breath. What is going on? Rex is being weird, and I can’t work out whether Parker is ready to be friends again or not. I wander over to the window and stare out at the rain. A flowerpot on the patio outside is overflowing with water. Is that just from the past day’s rain?

Parker walks back in, a tray of drinks in her hands and a huge bag of crisps under her arm.

‘They’re saying the road at the bottom of the hill is flooded,’ she says, setting the tray down. ‘Nothing can get in or out of Salthaven since an hour ago.’

I stare at her, feeling worried. If the rain doesn’t stop soon, the roads might not clear for days. Mum won’t be able to get here to pick me up.

‘Guess I’ll have to swim home, then,’ I say, trying to make light of it.

Parker wrinkles her nose. ‘You can stay here if you’d like.’ She doesn’t sound exactly thrilled at the prospect.

I pick up my own phone and scroll down. There’s no message from Mum about the floods. She’s probably busy with her job applications and hasn’t realized yet that Salthaven is cut off.

I wander over to the window again. It’s still raining hard. I open Parker’s patio door and breathe in the damp, cool air. The west half of Salthaven is spread out beneath us. I can’t see the flooded road from here, or the eastern section of town, where my own home is, but the long beach and the little jetty in the curve of the bay are visible, as well as Alfie’s primary school, set a few streets back from the shore, where he’ll be right now, playing those games he was so excited about.

A gust of wind drives rain into my face and I turn to step back inside. Which is when I hear it: a faint, insistent blaring sound, coming from the town.

The sound rises up then fades, then rises again. I frown.

It’s a siren. Why is a siren sounding in Salthaven?

Is it the flood on the edge of town? Would they sound a siren for that?

I hurry inside and snatch my phone off the table.

‘What’s up?’ Parker asks, munching on a crisp.

‘Can you hear the siren?’ I ask, opening NatterSnap. Maybe there’ll be something on my socials to explain it.

Parker walks to the open door. ‘That’s weird,’ she says, making a face.

I scroll, impatiently, through my feed. My heart lurches into my mouth as I read alert after alert. The facts are there – spelled out plainly and clearly – yet I can’t take them in.

‘Are you all right, Hollie?’ Parker sounds uncertain. Anxious.

I shake my head. I can’t speak.

‘What is it?’ Parker demands, leaning forward so her fists are on the dining table.

I look up, forcing the words into my mouth. My voice sounds distant and echoey as I speak them. They make no sense.

And yet they are the truth.

‘They’re all saying – the government, the scientists, the… the media – that…’ I gulp. ‘The heavy rainfall since yesterday isn’t just here. It’s happened all over Europe… including the Canary Islands.’

‘So?’ Parker frowns.

I read from my phone. ‘After two months of dry, cold weather across much of western Europe, the earth in many places is so parched that it can’t absorb the extreme levels of rainfall over the past twenty-four hours.’

‘Right,’ says Parker. ‘That explains why the road in and out of Salthaven has flooded so quickly.’

‘There’s more,’ I say, focusing on the screen in front of me again. ‘The effect of this extreme rainfall has led to flash floods and landslides across western Europe and the Canary Islands, off the coast of western Africa. Although most major destinations are kept under official observation, some of the smaller islands are unmonitored. Scientists have now identified that a major landslide on Isla de las Colinas took place at five a.m. this morning, GMT.’

‘Oh my God!’ Rex bursts into the room. ‘Have you seen the news?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’ Rex meets my eyes. The horror in his expression reflects my own.

‘What is it?’ Parker asks. ‘What’s happened?’

I turn back to my phone and, my voice trembling, read on: ‘The major landslide on Isla de las Colinas has sent a chunk of land the size of the Isle of Wight into the Atlantic Ocean. This has caused a tsunami which is spreading through the Atlantic and up past the coasts of Portugal and France.’ Parker gasps. I clear my throat and read the final line: ‘The tsunami is on course to hit the south coast of England at 3.05 this afternoon. A wide area is expected to be impacted, but the main force of the tidal wave will be felt…’ I look up, ‘… in the coastal town of Salthaven.’

20

Parker’s normally pink cheeks drain of all colour.

‘A tsunami?’ she says, her voice hollow with shock. ‘Heading for Salthaven? Are you serious?’

I nod. My throat feels tight. This is the sea storm of Louella’s vision; exactly what she predicted. It doesn’t feel real. Surely it can’t be real.

‘Did you say the tsunami will hit at five past three?’ Rex checks his phone. ‘That’s less than three hours away.’

‘Do they say how bad it will be? Oh!’ Parker gasps. ‘That must be what the siren is for. Are they evacuating the town?’

I look down at the NatterSnap feed on my phone. ‘It doesn’t say.’

‘It’s okay!’ Rex exclaims with relief. ‘My mum’s done an announcement. Look!’ The three of us crowd round, as he opens a video and Ms Somersby’s face fills the screen. Her expression is a mix of deep concern and eagerness. She’s holding a piece of paper in her hands which she reads from, looking up at the camera after every line.

‘All of us at Mayes Cranston Engineering are shocked and dismayed at the news of today’s impending tsunami. This is not the first major sea storm to hit British shores, of course, but it threatens to be the most powerful ever.’

‘Oh no.’ The words slip out of me as a whimper. Mum and Louella are at home and Alfie is at his holiday club at school. I remember the flooded road that makes it impossible for anyone to leave the town and tears prick at my eyes. I can feel Parker and Rex looking across at me, but I keep my gaze resolutely on the screen.

‘The impact of the oncoming tsunami on the coast at Salthaven registers at six on the international twelve-point tsunami intensity scale, which makes it likely there will be some damage to vessels in Salthaven Bay and to some low-lying structures immediately inland. This is why – from an abundance of caution – the authorities have sounded the town sirens.’ Ms Somersby smiles at the camera. ‘However, all residents should know this is a precautionary measure only. There is no risk to life.’ She pauses, now giving each word serious emphasis. ‘To be clear, the impact level of today’s tsunami would be considerably higher, were it not for Mayes Cranston’s recently completed upgrade to the Salthaven storm defence system. The brand-new seawall ensures that residents do not need to fear for their lives or even to anticipate undue damage to their property. There is no need for anyone to try to leave Salthaven.’

My hands fly to my mouth. How dare Ms Somersby sound so reassuring? I’m certain she knows as well as I do that the seawall is made from substandard steel; that the actual impact of the tsunami will be far worse than she’s saying.

‘The latest calculations,’ she goes on, ‘suggest the tsunami will leave most buildings – other than those directly on the shoreline – untouched. So, to repeat, there is no need for panic or a programme of evacuation.’

‘See?’ Rex says, beaming. ‘Salthaven is going to be fine.’

I exchange a glance with Parker. She looks away.

On the screen, Ms Somersby hands over to Christian, who starts talking about the minor damage the tsunami is likely to bring to the town and how Mayes Cranston is fully supporting the government’s efforts to deal with it.

My head spins. This is all rubbish. The damage won’t be minor, it will be devastating. But Christian has totally bought into Ms Somersby’s lies. Everyone has.

Everyone except me.

And Louella. This is her premonition, coming true at last.

It’s coming… worse than before… the sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.

Rex puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn to him and am surprised by the kindness in his eyes. ‘I know it’s scary, but your family will be okay.’

I take a step back, so his hand falls away. ‘No,’ I say, ‘they won’t be okay. Because your mum cheated Salthaven out of a proper storm defence system and has been covering her tracks ever since. She used low-grade CM steel in the seawall instead of proper, top-quality CS steel. Which means it won’t hold back the tsunami that’s coming straight at our town, which puts everyone who lives there in terrible danger.’

The kindly look in Rex’s eyes vanishes. He folds his arms. ‘I can’t believe you’re still going on about this,’ he snaps. ‘You’re being ridiculous. You’ve seen the sales order that proves the right steel was bought.’

‘That sales order was a fake,’ I insist. ‘I’ve seen the real one, the original one. And that proves the steel Mayes Cranston used in the seawall isn’t strong enough.’

‘Sure,’ Rex scoffs. ‘So you’re right and everyone else is wrong.’ He glances at Parker. ‘Can you believe her?’

Parker looks up from her phone, a troubled expression on her face. ‘If Hollie is right, and the steel used is CM instead of CS, it would massively increase the tsunami’s impact.’

Rex rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

‘What does massively increase mean, exactly?’ I ask.

‘Well, Rex’s mum said that if the seawall holds up, the impact of the tsunami on the shore at Salthaven will be at six out of twelve,’ Parker says. ‘I’ve just checked the live feed of the UK storm centre and they’ve graded the area along the coast, where there isn’t any seawall, at eleven out of twelve.’ Parker pauses. ‘That’s devastating level. Which isn’t such a big deal there, because it’s mostly headland with only a few houses and they can easily evacuate those in time. But in Salthaven…’ Parker trails off, not meeting my gaze.

‘Everyone in Salthaven will be fine,’ Rex insists.

‘Please, Parker, tell me,’ I say. ‘What’s going to happen?’

Parker clears her throat. ‘If the seawall contains the low-grade steel…’

‘I keep telling you it doesn’t!’ Rex exclaims, his voice rising with exasperation.

‘If it does, then the impact will be really bad.’ Parker scrolls further down her phone and reads: ‘Collapse of seawall, flooding of properties within a mile of coastline, even those built from reinforced concrete, cars overturned.’ She looks up: ‘Anyone who hasn’t got to higher ground would be washed away.’

I gasp. ‘How far d’you reckon my house is from the shore?’ I ask. ‘And what about Alfie’s school? He’s at a holiday club there right now.’

‘They’re both roughly three-quarters of a mile from the shore, your house in the east of Salthaven, Alfie’s school in the west,’ Parker says. ‘So… so there’d be severe flooding damage, the whole ground floor in both places would be underwater and—’

‘Oh my God! What about Louella?’ I say, my heart thudding hard. ‘She can’t use the stairs and—’

‘Stop it, Hollie!’ Rex interrupts. He turns to Parker. ‘And as for you, you saw the sales order showing the correct steel was used, just like I did. So don’t encourage her!’

Parker looks down. ‘I know,’ she mutters. ‘It’s just…’

‘For the last time!’ Rex snaps. ‘There is nothing wrong with the Salthaven seawall! It will stop the tsunami in its tracks. Remember what Mum said? Minor damage to the area right next to the coast. That’s all!’ He glares at me.

I snatch up my phone, stalk out of the room and call Mum. The call goes straight to voicemail. I leave a frantic message, asking if she’s okay, telling her to ignore what the authorities are saying and to do whatever it takes to get Louella to the first floor of our house.

I ring off and turn around, to find Rex and Parker staring at me. Parker looks upset, Rex is frowning.

‘I can’t reach my mum,’ I say, a sob rising inside me.

‘The network is down because of the floods,’ Rex says, sounding awkward. ‘But there’s no need to worry, your family will be fine.’

‘They won’t! How can they be?’ I demand. ‘They have no idea what’s coming.’ I wring my hands, trying not to cry. ‘And poor Alfie isn’t even at home. Once the tsunami comes, he’ll be so frightened.’ I bite my lip, trying to hold back my tears.

‘Oh, Hollie,’ Parker says, clearly nearly in tears herself. ‘I’m so sorry, but you can’t let yourself think all this. The seawall is strong enough. It is going to hold the tsunami back.’

I shake my head. ‘It isn’t. A sea storm is going to destroy Salthaven, just like Louella’s premonition said it would.’ I gasp, another thought hitting me like a punch to the guts. It’s all my fault that Mum and Alfie are even in Salthaven today. If I hadn’t done my livestream last month, then Mum would still be working at Mayes Cranston, safely outside town. Meanwhile, Alfie is only at the cheaper holiday club at his school in Salthaven because Mum couldn’t afford to send him to the Activities Camp further out at Fanchester.

‘What’s the time?’ I ask.

‘Almost 12.30,’ Parker says.

‘That means I have two and a half hours to get home.’

‘What?’ Parker’s eyes widen.

Ignoring her, I stride across the hall and snatch up my jacket. As I zip it up, Rex blocks my way to the door. ‘You’re not seriously thinking of trying to walk to Salthaven, are you?’

‘You won’t be able to get there, remember?’ Parker adds, hurrying over. ‘The road at the bottom of the hill is flooded. Please, Hollie, it’s crazy dangerous to try to cross flooded roads.’

‘What will you do if you get back to your house, anyway?’ Rex demands, looking appalled.

‘I’ll be able to make sure my family get to high ground. Mum can’t carry Louella by herself. I’ll be able to help get her up to the first floor.’

‘That’s insa—’

‘Get out of my way.’ I push past him and open the front door.

‘Hollie, you can’t do this,’ Rex calls after me.

Outside, the rain is still falling, though less furiously than earlier. I pull up my hood and race along the front path.

‘Please, Hollie!’ Parker calls from the doorway. ‘Come back!’

I turn around as I reach the gate. Rain streams down my face. ‘It’s my fault my family are in Salthaven today. My fault if anything happens to them.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I have to try and save them, if it’s the last thing I do.’

And without waiting to see what the others do or say next, I run onto the muddy track and head for the main road.

21

Thank goodness for the waterproof jacket Mum handed me before I got out of our car earlier. It means that my upper body is still dry and warm, even as my damp trousers cling to my legs and my feet grow cold, wading through the puddles on the muddy track. It stops raining for a minute or so, but the air remains thick with moisture and heavy with foreboding. As I hurry along, I try calling and messaging Mum again, but it’s no use. I can’t get a signal. The network for the entire area is completely down.

I speed up, determined to get to Salthaven as fast as possible. My head fills with images of the tsunami – and the devastation it will leave in its wake. I imagine a huge wave, then water crashing through the house, covering the ground floor and filling the downstairs rooms… Mum and Louella crying out in fear…

My last conversation with Mum replays over and over in my head – how I told her she was annoying, and that Dad left us because of her.

I’d do anything to take those words back now.

I reach the main road, then make my way down the hill as fast as possible. There’s very little traffic, just an ambulance and a fire engine that whizz past me on their way towards the town. A minute after they pass me, I spot them at the bottom of the hill in a long queue of traffic.

That must be where the road is flooded.

My feet are soaked now and freezing cold in my trainers. It starts to rain again, and the wind whips up, gusting through my hair. I stop for a second and push back my curls, then pull my hood up. I stare down the hill, to the flooded road. If the water there is too deep for the cars to get through, there’s no way I’ll be able to cross the road on foot myself. There are too many people down there anyway – they’re bound to try and stop me. I look around, my stomach knotting with anxiety.

The road runs all the way along the edge of town until it hits a patch of woodland, where the trees are too dense for any vehicles to get through. The river that leads to the sea runs through the wood. It’s a longer route than straight over the road and requires crossing a rickety old bridge which Mum has told me a million times to avoid.

I check the time – ten to one. I have to try getting to Salthaven through the wood; there’s no other option.

I scuttle further down the hill, then take the muddy path into the trees. Dad used to bring me here when Alfie was little, and Mum wanted us out of the house. ‘When the baby naps, I’ll nap,’ she’d say, ‘which I can’t do with you two thundering around.’

The memory of our walks brings a lump to my throat. Dad would make them so much fun, getting me chasing after sticks and building camps in the bushes. I’d come home filthy, but joyful.

I can’t remember when I last felt truly happy.

I shake these thoughts off and push past the low branches of a pine tree. The water on its fern-like leaves sprays my face, mingling with the rain that’s still falling. I follow the path, then turn off towards the bridge. I’d vaguely thought I might be able to wade across the river – after all, my shoes are wet through anyway – but of course the rainfall has caused the water to rise a lot since I was last here.

As I reach the bridge, my heart sinks. It’s even more run down than I’d remembered: a warped wooden structure, with the guardrail broken on one side, that stretches about three metres from one muddy bank to the other.

I stare at it for a second. The river is already splashing at the underside of the bridge. If I wait much longer, the bridge itself will be submerged; it already looks slippery and dangerous.

I take a deep breath. The last thing I want to do is cross this bridge, but I’m going to have to. I creep down the bank, slow and steady. My feet slip in the mud, but I make it to the start of the bridge. The water beneath is churning hard, far fiercer than I’d realized. The current here is strong. I remember Dad warning me that if I fell in, I could be swept away.

What would he think if he could see me now? If he knew the danger Mum and Alfie were in? Would he tell me to press on? Or run away, like he ran away from us last summer?

I grip the guardrail on the left, the side that isn’t broken, and put one foot on the bridge. The worn-out wood creaks and groans and the whole structure wobbles.

I don’t trust that it won’t collapse under me as I walk across, but I have to try.

Feeling terrified, I take another step. Behind me, there’s a crash, then a yelp.

I spin around. Parker is sliding slowly down the mud bank, squealing. She digs in her heels and comes to a squelchy stop a little way from me. The backpack hanging off her shoulder lands in the mud with a thump.

My jaw drops.

‘What are you doing here?’ I demand.

‘I guessed you’d come this way,’ Parker says with a shy smile.

‘We thought you might need some help!’ Rex’s voice sounds from higher up the bank.

I look up, eyes widening with surprise. Rex is making his own, more methodical, way down the bank, one foot at a time. Like Parker, he’s dressed in waterproof jacket and trousers, and wearing what look like proper, waterproof walking boots. He reaches where I’m standing at the start of the bridge, as Parker gets to her feet, picks up her backpack and walks over.

I stare at them both. I can’t quite believe they are here. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Course,’ says Rex, ‘I still think you’re wrong about the threat to your family, but we can’t let you try to help them on your own.’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ adds Parker. ‘Plus… you know…’ she hesitates, ‘… friends.’

For the second time today, tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away.

‘Thanks,’ I say gruffly. ‘Though I’m not sure this bridge will take one of us, let alone all three.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Rex says, with a quick smile. ‘Parker’s thought of that. Look!’

22

Parker pulls a large coil of thick rope out of her backpack. ‘I grabbed this from my garage before we left,’ she says. ‘I thought it might be useful for getting across this.’ She indicates the swaying bridge with the broken guardrail. The swollen river splashes against the wood.

I’m so overwhelmed that I hurl myself at her, pulling her into a huge hug.

‘Thank you!’ My voice cracks.

As I draw back, wiping away the tear that is trickling down my cheek, Rex finishes his slow climb down the side of the slippery bank. He grins at me and, for a second, I wonder if I should hug him too. Then the moment passes. We stand, looking at each other, the rain teeming down our faces.

‘I’m so glad you’re both here,’ I say.

Parker, whose cheeks are bright pink – either from her exertions or the emotion of the moment – clears her throat and tightens the string under the hood of her jacket. My own hood has blown back again, leaving my head exposed. I self-consciously feel my hair. The curls that are normally full around my face are plastered to my skull.

‘We’d better get going,’ Parker says. ‘I thought one of us could tie the rope around their waist, while the other two hold on to the ends in case the first person slips.’

I stare at her. ‘You knew I’d come to the bridge; you knew the water here would have risen and you knew it would be hard to cross.’ I pause. ‘You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, Parker.’

Parker gives a small shake of her head.

‘She sure is!’ Rex grins. He checks his phone. ‘Do you have service?’

I shake my head. The three of us turn to the bridge. From the way it’s swaying, with the broken guardrail hanging limply along one side, it looks like it might collapse at the slightest touch.

‘I’ll cross first,’ I say. It seems only fair I should take this risk, seeing as the others are here because of me.

‘Are you sure?’ Rex asks.

I nod. ‘Okay.’ Parker holds out the rope for me to wind it around my waist and Rex helps me tie it in a tight knot. He pays out a couple of metres of rope.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘If anything goes wrong and… and you fall in or something, Parker and I will get you out.’

‘No worries!’ I force a smile, though inside I’m quaking.

The two of them take up the rope, gripping it tightly. I step back onto the bridge. As before, it wobbles wildly. I grip the guardrail on the left, avoiding the broken one on the other side. The water has risen even in just the last few minutes. It splashes over my shoes, though my feet are already so wet I hardly feel it. The cold wind gusts in my face, driving rain like tiny needles against my cheeks.

I edge along the bridge. Every step causes the wood to creak and shift a little. My heart lodges in my throat.

‘Go on, Hollie!’ Parker cries.

‘You can do it!’ urges Rex.

I want to show them I’m fine and that I appreciate their encouragement, but the truth is I’m so petrified, I don’t dare look up. My eyes are fixed on the slippery wood at my feet and the swirling water below. I’ve never seen the river like this. Normally it bubbles gently along, shallow enough to paddle in; but right now it’s roiling like it’s furious with the world – and so deep that if I fell in it would close over my head, then whisk me along, potentially hurling me against the rocks on the banks. Shivers run down my spine as I edge across the bridge. One step. Another. Again.

I lose all track of time as the rain falls and the wind blows and the water rises, now splashing at my ankles. I finally make it to the other side and sink down onto the damp earth, exhausted from the effort. I clutch at the rope around my waist. On the opposite bank, Rex is already helping tie the other end of it around Parker.

‘Are you ready?’ Parker yells across at me. I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

I scramble to my feet with a nod and brace myself, twisting the rope around my hand. ‘Come on, it’s fine. Not as scary as it looks.’

Parker grimaces at me, clearly not buying my lie. She puts a foot on the bridge and, as when I did it, the wood sways and groans. She removes her foot and looks up, aghast.

‘This is terrifying!’ she yells, wide-eyed.

‘I know,’ I admit. ‘Take it one step at a time. Come on!’

Parker nods, then starts creeping across the bridge. She’s moving even more slowly than I was. I glance at the time. Oh no, it’s already almost half past one! Just ninety minutes until the tsunami hits.

‘How do the scientists know when the sea storm will get to Salthaven?’ I shout across to Parker, hoping to keep my friend’s mind off her dangerous crossing and, in so doing, speed her up.

Parker looks up, her face consumed with fear. ‘They estimate each of the four stages, using modelling software,’ she shouts back.

‘What are the four stages?’ Rex yells from the other bank. I’m guessing he’s picked up that I’m trying to distract Parker, so she will focus on something other than the violent water below her.

‘The first stage is Initiation,’ Parker shouts. ‘That’s when the whole thing starts, with a huge set of waves created by an earthquake usually, but in this case a landslide. Then there’s the Split stage, where the waves divide into two, with one set heading out to sea and the other travelling towards a nearby coast.’

She’s moving faster. Clearly focusing on something other than the journey across the bridge is helping.

‘Go on!’ I yell. ‘What happens next?’

‘Amplification!’ Parker yells. ‘That’s what will be happening now.’

‘What does that mean?’ Rex shouts.

‘The height and width of the tsunami increase as it travels towards the coast.’ Parker is shuffling far more speedily along the bridge now. ‘That’s when the wave that’ll hit the shore gets really massive. Like, if the seawall doesn’t hold it back, it’ll get as high as a house.’

I gulp, imagining standing beneath such a huge wave.

‘The final stage is when it hits the shore.’ Parker turns towards me, her eyes lighting up, as they always do when she gets excited about some scientific fact. She takes a step into the middle of the bridge. ‘That’s called Run-up, which – AAGH!’ With a shriek, Parker slips, clutching at the broken guardrail.

The rope is yanked out of my hands. I stumble forward, grasping for it. On the other bank, Rex lets out a terrified yell. I grab hold of the rope again, as Parker crashes against the guardrail, which collapses under her. She lands awkwardly, the top half of her body dangling over the side of the bridge. Her hands trail in the water.

‘Help!’ she screams.

‘Get up!’ I shriek, pulling on the rope with all my might.

But Parker is sliding towards the river.

‘Parker!’ Rex shouts. ‘Get back on the bridge!’

I’m digging my feet into the mud, but it’s too squelchy and I’m slipping and sliding. Parker’s arms windmill desperately as the rope loses all tension.

Panic surges inside me. ‘Parker!’ I yell.

But it’s too late. With a massive splash, Parker falls into the river.

23

For a second, I’m frozen, unable to move. Parker splashes frantically at the water around her; it’s already up to her chest. Even worse, the current is pushing her away from the bridge.

Away from us.

‘Help!’ she splutters, voice rising in terror. ‘Help!’

I look across the river and meet Rex’s horrified gaze. The tension in the rope connecting me to Parker grows and I lean back, tugging as hard as I can, desperate to keep my friend from going under the water.

‘Parker, you have to get back on the bridge!’ I yell.

She looks up at the wooden structure. The broken guardrail is dangling in the water. With a huge effort, Parker wades towards it. The choppy waves of the river splash around her, now slopping over the bridge with every swell.

‘Go on, Parker!’ Rex shouts in encouragement from the opposite bank. ‘You can do it!’

A look of determination fills Parker’s face. She drags herself up to the guardrail, then claws at the water. Her fingers are on the bridge now. I step back, pulling on my end of the rope as hard as I can. It bites into my cold, bare hands. Every muscle in my body is straining. I can’t hold on much longer.

‘I’m coming!’ Rex yells.

I look up. He’s scrambling over the bridge himself, gripping the good guardrail tightly as he hurries across to where Parker is trying to haul herself onto the wood.

The rope suddenly grows slack, as Rex reaches Parker, leans down and helps her onto the bridge. Water cascades off Parker’s waterproof jacket, as the two of them stand, gripping the good guardrail, the bridge bucking and swaying underneath them.

Water swills about their ankles. The river is rising faster than I’d have thought possible. Another few minutes and the bridge won’t be passable. ‘Hurry!’ I call.

Holding the good guardrail tightly, Rex and Parker shuffle across the wood as fast as they can. At last they are over, collapsing onto the mud next to me.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, bending down. ‘Parker? Rex? Are you all right?’

They look up at me, exhaustion etched on their faces.

‘Never better, thanks,’ Rex gasps with a grin.

‘That water’s cold, but my waterproofs kept the worst out.’ Parker pats up and down her jacket. ‘Oh no!’

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘My phone was in my jacket pocket, in a waterproof pouch. It’s gone!’ Parker wails. ‘It must have fallen out when I was in the water.’

I help her up.

‘Look at that!’ Rex sounds awestruck.

I turn to see him staring at the bridge we have all just crossed. Its wooden base is now completely underwater.

‘The river’s about to burst its banks,’ Parker says, sounding hollow with shock. ‘The whole wood will be flooded.’

‘It’ll be even worse when the tsunami hits,’ I say grimly.

Parker frowns. Rex looks away. With a jolt I remember: despite the bond of our river crossing, both the others still believe the seawall will fully protect Salthaven.

‘What’s the time?’ I mutter, feeling awkward and wanting to change the subject.

‘Almost two,’ Rex says.

I shake my head. Far more time has passed than I thought. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘We’ve only got an hour to get to my house.’

I set off, though not before catching Parker and Rex exchanging a look with each other.

The three of us hurry through the trees. I am cold and damp and running hard is all that keeps me warm. It’s tough going. Some parts of the wood are so waterlogged we can’t get through them. Elsewhere, we have to squelch, ankle-deep, through muddy earth, which slows us down too. The three of us stop talking as we make our way as fast as we can. My heart is thudding. The route we’re being forced to take is leading us further and further west, away from my house in east Salthaven. And with every second that passes, the tsunami is getting closer and closer.

We finally make it to the edge of the wood just as the rain eases. I look up into the strange silvery light of the sky, where the sun is glimmering behind the clouds.

As the three of us gaze at the deserted side road in front of us, I realize that the siren that was coming from Salthaven earlier has stopped. What does that signify? That the authorities are still convinced the seawall will stop the tsunami? My stomach flips over. It’s already twenty to three. Even if I ran all the way, I wouldn’t be able to reach home in time to help Mum and Louella.

I have failed.

It’s like a punch to the guts. I check my phone, praying for a signal so that I can at least call them and warn them. I’m down to ten per cent battery. Not that it matters; there’s no service anyway.

I peer up and down the road ahead. I recognize this area – it’s close to Alfie’s school. Until now I’ve been so focused on getting to Mum and Louella that I haven’t thought much about Alfie, other than to hope that whoever is running his holiday club will have the sense to get all the kids upstairs when the tsunami comes. The school building is on three floors and made of reinforced concrete so, as long as the person in charge doesn’t panic, Alfie and the other children should be okay.

Well, I’m here now – I can make sure he’s safe. I turn to the others. ‘Let’s go,’ I say.

‘Alfie’s school?’ Parker asks.

I nod, walking fast along the pavement.

‘I thought we were going to your house, Hollie,’ Rex says, hurrying alongside me.

‘My brother’s school is closer,’ I say tersely.

‘Right, er, where exactly are we?’ Rex asks.

‘Western part of Salthaven,’ Parker replies. She glances sideways at me and I can see in her eyes that she’s realized I’m too far from home to make it back before the tsunami hits. She puts a reassuring hand on my arm. ‘I’m really, really sure they’ll be fine.’

‘Your family at home? Course they’ll be fine,’ Rex adds stoutly.

I look away. The two of them are bound to think that – they still believe the seawall will stop the tsunami.

I check the time again. Fifteen minutes to go.

Beside me, Rex frowns. ‘Where is everyone?’ he asks.

‘Sheltering indoors, I expect,’ Parker suggests. ‘It’s still raining.’

As we reach the end of the road, the light drizzle stops. I take a deep breath.

‘Alfie’s school is that way, isn’t it?’ Parker asks, pointing to the right-hand turn.

I nod and we hurry on. Up ahead, the top of Alfie’s school building looms above the other roofs. We turn a corner and it’s visible at the end of the road. The sun comes out, glinting off the row of shops just before the school. They’re all closed – and there’s still no sign of anyone on the streets.

‘I guess people thought those sirens before meant they had to stay indoors.’ Rex sounds uncertain.

‘I’m telling you, it’s just the rain,’ Parker says. ‘Nobody wants to go out when it’s raining.’

I check the time. ‘Just over five minutes to go.’ My chest feels tight. ‘We need to get to the school,’ I say. ‘Now.’

I break into a run, racing all the way along the street until we reach the school gate. The iron railings are shut and barred. I rattle them, panic suddenly rising. Beyond the gates, the front door of the school is chained and padlocked.

‘What have they done with all the kids here for the holiday club?’ My voice rises with fear. ‘Where’s Alfie?’

My heart sinks. Only five minutes until the tsunami. I’ve failed to find my family – and now I’m in danger too.

24

I stand, numb with fear, staring through the gates at the padlocked door of the school. I’d been so certain we’d find Alfie here. Now I have no idea where he is and no way to get to him or the rest of my family before the tsunami comes. I check my phone again. According to the report we heard earlier, it’s due in four and a half minutes.

‘Look at this!’ Parker shrieks, pointing to a note pinned to the other end of the gates. I race over and read the scrawled message. It’s dated two hours ago.

DUE TO THE ADVERSE WEATHER CONDITIONS AND THE LOCAL FLOODING, ALL CHILDREN AT HOLIDAY CLUB ARE NOW WITH PARENTS OR EMERGENCY CONTACTS. PLEASE CALL LIST OF CLASS CONTACTS FOR FURTHER INFO.

‘Adverse weather conditions?’ I shake my head in despair. Like everyone else in Salthaven, the school clearly believes the seawall will hold back the tsunami – and that the town is merely in for some minor disruption.

‘At least this means Alfie’s probably at home with your mum,’ Parker points out. ‘You said earlier you were worried about him being scared; well, he won’t be scared if she’s with him, will he?’

I smile at her gratefully. ‘That’s true.’

‘And Louella and, er, your dog will be there too,’ Rex adds gruffly. ‘They’ll all look after each other.’

Tears prick at my eyes. Rex and Parker might not believe that the tsunami will get past the seawall, but they know that I think it will, and they are both doing their best to make me feel better.

Rex clears his throat. ‘O-kay, so where now?’

I check the time again. Just over three minutes before the tsunami hits. It’s strangely still and quiet, with no wind and the weak sun warm on my cheeks. There’s nothing more I can do for my family; I need to concentrate on finding a safe place for me, Rex and Parker to ride out the oncoming wave. There’s no way we can break into the school, but we have to get off the street. I spin around, fresh panic rising. There’s nobody about. Nobody even standing looking out of their window. The few houses in sight look totally deserted.

For a second, I consider running over to the closest one, smashing a window to get inside and running up to the first floor.

But I’m fairly certain Rex and Parker won’t agree to that, and we don’t have time to argue about it.

‘What do you want to do, Hollie?’ asks Parker anxiously.

‘We need to get to higher ground,’ I say. ‘Much higher ground. Somewhere we’ll be safe from the tsunami.’

‘Seriously?’ Rex says. ‘D’you really think—?’

‘Let’s do what Hollie suggests,’ Parker interrupts firmly. ‘We’ll be able to see the tsunami being stopped by the seawall if we get high enough.’ They point to the big oak tree across the road. ‘What about climbing that?’

‘Good idea, come on!’ I hurry across the empty street, the others close behind me. The oak tree has wide, solid branches and should be easy to clamber up. I grab the lowest branch and Rex and Parker help boost me into the air. I clutch the damp bark and haul myself onto the thick branch. I scramble to my feet, one hand against the trunk, then claw at the branch above. It takes all my effort to climb. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cold, as my palms grip the next rough branch. I hook my leg over it and heave myself up with a grunt.

I look down. Rex and Parker are helping each other onto the branch below me. The pavement already seems a long way down. I pull myself onto yet another branch, shot through with giddy, stomach-churning fear. I glance across. High up here, I’m on a level with the second floor of the locked school opposite. That should be high enough.

I turn, facing towards the coast. From here I can see a strip of shoreline with the narrow jetty to the left and the westernmost part of Salthaven to the right. The seawall is visible from here too, a thin ridge of concrete in the distance, stretching from one side of the bay to the other, with the sea and the horizon beyond. My heart thuds. It’s time, yet the water seems calm, patches of blue appearing through the clouds above. There’s no sign of a storm, at sea or otherwise. All I can see is a perfectly ordinary spring afternoon.

For the first time I doubt myself. Am I completely wrong about everything? Is it possible that the tsunami has already arrived, and the seawall did its job, after all, and held it back?

I shuffle along my thick branch to make room for the others. They stand on either side of me.

‘That’s weird,’ says Parker. ‘Look!’

She points to the shoreline. The sea is sucking itself out into the bay. It’s the same action as with any wave, except that the water is retreating far further out to sea than I’ve ever seen before. I stare, mesmerized.

The air around us is completely still, the silence almost overwhelming.

‘What on earth is that?’ Rex gasps. I follow his gaze.

He’s pointing above the retreating water, towards the horizon. There’s something strange about the line between blue sea and white, cloud-filled sky. Normally that line is clear and thin. Now it’s thick, fuzzy and grey.

As I watch, the line moves towards the seawall, like a strip of smudged grey paint against the sky. Except, of course, it’s not paint.

That line is a wall of water.

‘It’s the tsunami!’ Parker gasps. ‘Watch. The seawall will hold it back.’

I fix my gaze on the line of water. It’s moving fast, almost at the seawall now. I hold my breath as it reaches the concrete.

And washes straight over it.

I stare in horror. This is what I knew would happen. Yet, somehow, I wasn’t ready.

Parker grips my arm in horror. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s got past the seawall, the whole storm defence system, just like you said it would.’

‘No way! It can’t have.’ Rex clings to the tree trunk as he stands on tiptoe, straining for a better view.

I grip the small branch above my head more tightly. My heart pounds. The air around us is like a vacuum. There are no birds. No wind. No sound. As if the whole world is muffled. Out in the bay, the wall of water continues its relentless advance, growing taller with every second.

‘It’s getting bigger!’ I breathe.

Faint screams echo in the distance.

‘There are people by the shore.’ Parker’s voice is hollow.

I remember what she read out earlier, about those in the way of a tsunami inevitably getting washed away.

‘I can’t believe it.’ Rex sounds close to tears. ‘I don’t understand.’

I grit my teeth. ‘We need to hold on tight,’ I say, ‘and pray the water doesn’t reach this high up the tree.’

Parker shifts back so, like me and Rex, she is firmly gripping both the tree trunk and the branch above us.

The water is close to shore now. Even from this far away, I can see how massive the wave is, its height increasing with every second.

‘The shallower the water, the bigger the wave grows,’ Parker murmurs.

I hold my breath, my heart thudding. A roar fills the air – like the sound of an aeroplane taking off.

Time seems to slow down as the tsunami builds and builds. One second. Two. I gasp as it reaches the shore and crashes down, enveloping everything in water.

More screams rise up. Shouts and yells and shrieks coming from the streets between us and the coast.

‘Oh my God!’ Rex cries.

I swallow my fear, listening hard. The roaring sound is building. I strain my eyes, watching the road ahead. It’s coming for us, to destroy Salthaven. Just like Louella said.

Please let Mum and the others be okay.

The water barrels around the bend in the road, rushing and tumbling with a terrifying swoosh.

‘Aaagh! Aaagh!’ the three of us scream as the churning water gobbles up the street in front of us. I stare, horrified, as it powers around our tree. The first branch we climbed onto is already submerged.

A few shocked, silent seconds pass. The three of us are open-mouthed, staring at the water which has already filled the street all around us.

‘I can’t believe it moves so fast,’ I gasp.

‘Or that it’s so wild,’ adds Parker.

‘I can’t believe it’s here at all.’ Rex’s voice breaks.

I glance around at him, and our eyes meet.

‘I’m so sorry, Hollie,’ he stammers. ‘You were right. I just… it’s so hard to accept that… that Mum could have…’ His lip trembles and he trails off, looking away.

I look back at the water beneath us. Another branch disappears from view. I hold my breath; how far up the tree will the water reach?

‘It’s stopping,’ Parker says, her voice filling with relief.

I look down again. Parker’s right, the water is almost still now.

The area behind us is completely flooded. The ground floor of Alfie’s school opposite and the playground beside it have disappeared. Debris floats past: broken planks and jagged shards of metal. A car door and a ladder with missing rungs.

I stare at the swirling grey water, mesmerized. The whole world looks different. It’s hard to take in how fast everything around us has been flooded.

‘No!’ Rex’s voice cuts through the air.

I look around. Parker is frowning. She clearly just said something I didn’t hear.

‘What?’ I demand. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s just…’ Parker grimaces. ‘There’s hardly ever only one wave.’

I stare at her. ‘You mean there’ll be another tsunami?’

‘Probably. The scientists won’t be able to predict it as accurately as the first wave, not until it’s closer to shore.’ Parker catches sight of my anxious face, then adds, ‘Don’t worry, chances are it won’t hit Salthaven for another hour or two.’

‘Very reassuring,’ Rex mutters.

I nod, clinging to the fragment of hope this time frame offers us. ‘We have to go now,’ I say. ‘I still need to get home. If Mum managed to get Louella and Alfie and Cruffin upstairs, they’ll need our help to get out of the house.’

Parker nods. ‘We can’t stay here anyway,’ she says. ‘If another wave does come, it could bring the water level even higher.’

‘Okay,’ says Rex. ‘But how do we leave?’

He points beneath us, to the water surrounding the tree.

He’s right, I realize with a sinking heart. From up here in the branches, there’s no way down.

We are trapped.

PART FOUR RUN-UP

25

I gaze around at the murky water, now totally surrounding our tree. It must be nearly two metres deep. The street is like a river; only the first floors of the houses across the road are still visible. In the distance, the old shoreline has vanished, as if the sea has eaten up the entire beach where, just yesterday, I walked Cruffin.

The sea storm that will destroy Salthaven.

Louella was right about that. She’s been right about everything.

And I was right too, especially about Ms Somersby. Still, the look on Rex’s face tells me that it’s not the time to point this out.

‘I can’t believe this has happened,’ he says numbly. ‘I keep thinking… maybe the experts got their calculations wrong and the problem wasn’t that the seawall had the wrong steel, just that the steel they used wasn’t strong enough after all.’

Parker gives an awkward cough. ‘But they didn’t just do calculations, they did tests as well. And you yourself saw, in that tank test we did, that the CS steel was strong enough. I remember Christian saying specifically, that the seawall would hold back a tsunami.’ Her voice grows hollow. ‘He was joking about it.’

‘Okay.’ Rex sounds anguished. ‘But I can’t believe my mum would have lied and stolen and… and… cheated everyone…’ He trails off.

I stare at him.

‘Do you think she’ll go to jail?’ he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

‘You can’t think about that now,’ Parker says. She puts a sympathetic hand on Rex’s arm. ‘I know this is a shock. It is to me too. But we have to focus on getting off this tree and making our way to Hollie’s house.’

‘Okay,’ says Rex, ‘but like I said before, how are we—?’

‘Let’s use that!’ I point to a large garage door that is floating towards us along the river beneath our tree. It looks like it was ripped off at the hinges. I shudder at the thought of how violent the water must have been to do such a thing.

‘We’ll need paddles too,’ Parker says, thinking two steps ahead as usual.

‘Paddle? On a garage door? All the way to Hollie’s house?’ Rex sounds horrified. ‘How far away is that?’

‘A fifteen-minute walk, normally,’ I say, glancing at the water all around us. ‘But it’ll take much longer now, I reckon.’

The garage door is getting closer. I reach above my head and snap off the thickest dry branch I can reach. ‘We can steer a bit with branches.’

‘I guess,’ Parker says, doubtfully. ‘It won’t be easy.’

‘We don’t have a choice.’ I break off a second branch and hand it to her. ‘Come on, Rex.’

He obediently wrestles off a third branch. ‘Sorry, tree,’ he murmurs.

‘Losing a branch or two is the least of this tree’s worries,’ Parker says, sounding uncharacteristically terse.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, tucking my snapped-off branch under my arm and keeping my eye on the floating garage door. It’s made up of long planks bound across by rough wooden batons, the ends of which are splintered and torn. Just about wide enough to carry all three of us, so long as our weight doesn’t sink it.

‘The salt in the water will destroy a lot of the vegetation around here,’ Parker explains. ‘That’s one of the reasons why tsunamis are so bad. It’s not just the impact of the run-up, or the initial flooding, it’s all the salt from the sea that gets deposited on the land.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ Rex says with feeling.

‘Come on!’ I urge. ‘We need to focus.’

The garage door is almost underneath us. I swing myself down so my legs dangle off the tree. For a moment I’m hanging precariously, with just the dank, dirty water below me, then the door glides under me and I inch myself down, testing the door with my foot. It seems solid enough. I let myself down carefully until I’m standing on the door, still holding the tree above me. The door bucks and rocks. The branch I snapped off the tree clatters to my feet. I sit down beside it as gently as I can.

‘Hurry!’ I urge the others.

Parker nimbly eases herself onto the door. The extra weight causes the door to rock again. Parker rolls across it with a squeal. She clutches at the rough edge of the wood, just stopping before she plunges into the dirty water beneath us. There’s a thump behind me. I glance around. Rex is swaying, arms flailing in the air as the door bucks violently. For a second, I think we’re going to sink, then I grab Rex’s hand and he drops to his knees, gripping my fingers tightly. Our makeshift raft rights itself. I’m suddenly aware Rex and I are just centimetres from each other. I can feel the heat from his face, almost touch the damp of his cheek.

‘Hollie!’ he gasps, his voice hoarse with fear.

My stomach flips over. For a fraction of a second, I wonder whether, now he knows that I was right about the seawall, he’ll see me differently in other ways too. Then the moment passes and I’m aware of Parker yelling in my ear.

‘Paddle!’ she shouts. ‘We’re heading the wrong way.’

I look up. She’s right, we’re drifting across the street, further westwards, when we need to be steering ourselves to the east, towards my house.

I reach for the branch I’m going to use as a paddle. Rex is still holding my hand. He releases his grip slightly, then gives my fingers a squeeze.

‘I’m so sorry I got it all so wrong,’ he mumbles, too quietly for Parker to hear. ‘I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to help you reach your family.’

I turn and peer into his hazel eyes. ‘It’s not your fault, what happened,’ I whisper, feeling suddenly sorry for him. Rex shouldn’t have to carry the burden of his mother’s crime.

He nods, a look of determination on his face. Then we both plunge our branches into the water and pull back hard.

‘Let’s go!’ I cry.

We move. A little.

Our branches aren’t much use for steering, but they do help us avoid bumping into walls and even one car that bobs on the surface of the water. We end up using them mostly to push ourselves off the walls of the houses that we pass.

We take a right turn, then a left, making our slow progress through Salthaven’s flooded streets. The water level is up to the first floor of every house we pass. Will it be like that at mine? Logically I know that it must be, but I’m still hoping against hope that somehow my home has been spared.

The sun beats down, fierce through the crisp air. Rex and Parker propel us forward, one on either side of the raft, while I sit at the front, ready to swipe passing debris out of the way. I’m terrified we might come across a body, but we only see three people, all alive and waving from first-floor windows as we pass.

‘Where are the emergency services?’ Parker asks.

‘I guess they still can’t get through,’ Rex mutters.

I shudder, wondering again if Mum tried to get Louella up the stairs to the first floor at home. I can’t think of a reason why she would have done so; she was totally convinced that the seawall would protect the town.

‘I’m sure they will eventually rescue everyone stuck in their houses,’ Parker says reassuringly. ‘People just need to hold tight until help comes.’

I grit my teeth, shoving away a fire extinguisher that has come loose from wherever it was stationed and is bobbing in our path. A whole forty minutes has passed and we’re not even on my street yet.

‘Hello, there!’ A man’s voice calls from behind.

The three of us turn around. A small inflatable dinghy is on the water a few metres back. A man in a red cap – with a proper paddle – is working furiously to catch up with us.

Rex, Parker and I stop our own paddling as the man pulls up alongside. He’s with a woman, who cradles her arm protectively at the elbow; two small children are huddled on either side of her.

‘Hi, there!’ The man wears glasses and a worried expression on his face. ‘I’m Krishnan; are you guys okay?’

I nod, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m Hollie,’ I say. ‘And this is Rex and Parker.’

‘Hey.’ The woman in the dinghy smiles. ‘I’m Samira. Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘We’re fine,’ Rex says. ‘We’re just trying to make our way to Hollie’s house.’

The man frowns. ‘It’s very dangerous to go into flooded buildings.’

‘I need to find my family,’ I insist. I glance at the children, clinging to their mum in the back of the dinghy. There’s an older girl of about seven or eight, with curly hair, and a little boy who can’t be more than two years old. Roughly the same age gap as me and Alfie.

I suddenly wonder if Dad knows about the tsunami and, if he does, whether he’s worried about us.

In the dinghy, Krishnan’s concerned expression softens into a gentle smile. He indicates Samira behind him. ‘My wife hurt her arm when the tsunami hit and we’re trying to find help.’ He pauses, shaking his head. ‘We couldn’t believe it when we heard the warning that it was going to get past the seawall.’

‘Warning?’ I ask. My heart leaps. If there was an official warning, then maybe that gave Mum time to get Louella upstairs.

‘That’s right. Just two minutes before the tsunami hit the shore.’

My heart sinks. I’ve seen Louella take two minutes to walk across the living room. No way would that be enough time to get her up the stairs.

‘The warning came on the radio news,’ Samira explains softly. ‘I bundled the kids upstairs and told Krishnan to get our inflatable dinghy out of the basement and join us.’

Krishnan looks gratefully at his wife. ‘Thank goodness you did,’ he says. He turns back to me. ‘Right now we’re on our way to the shelter. We need first aid for Samira and food for the kids.’

‘Shelter?’ Parker sits up.

‘What shelter?’ I ask.

‘Didn’t you guys hear about it?’

The three of us shake our heads. ‘It’s too hard for the emergency services to get around Salthaven at the moment, so a temporary shelter’s been set up in a sports centre on the eastern edge of town. The Sally. D’you know it?’

‘Yes,’ Parker and I say, together. Back when we were at primary school, we went to gym classes at the Salthaven Active Life Centre, or the Sally as everyone called it. The place had stopped doing kids’ sessions by the time Alfie was old enough to go.

‘Thanks. Once we’ve found my family, we’ll take them there.’ I pick up my branch, ready to paddle again.

‘We’d better keep going too,’ Krishnan says. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to follow us to the shelter right now?’

‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘I have to get to my house first; it’s just around the corner.’

‘Okay, but do be careful,’ Samira says, cradling her arm carefully, as she shifts her weight from one hip to the other.

I glance at Rex and Parker. ‘You two can go with Krishnan and Samira, if you like?’

‘No,’ says Parker firmly.

‘No way.’ Rex shakes his head. ‘We’re in this together.’

‘Take this, then.’ Samira picks up the dinghy’s spare paddle in her good hand. She glances at Krishnan who nods, then she offers it to me.

‘Thank you,’ I say, clasping the metal pole in my hands.

We say goodbye to Krishnan and Samira. As they manoeuvre their dinghy away, we steer in the opposite direction. Thanks to our new paddle, we move far faster than before.

There’s no time to lose.

26

The sun beats down, warm on my back, as we turn the corner onto the top of my street. I’ve been hoping against hope that the water would be lower here, but it’s at first-floor level at every house. The street and pavement are completely submerged and only the tops of the few trees and lamp posts are visible.

The knot that’s been in my stomach since the announcement of the tsunami twists and tightens. What will I find when I get to my home?

I try to shake off this thought and focus on clawing at the cold water with my hands. For some reason I’d imagined a flood like this would be clear and clean, but the seawater around us is filthy, full of grit and pebbles and impossible to see through.

We’re not the only people with makeshift rafts now: we’ve passed several others clearly also trying to make their way to the shelter on the edge of town. We even see a motorboat in the distance, full of people, with a guy in camouflage gear at the tiller. Rex says he thinks it’s an army rescue boat.

‘That’s right,’ adds Parker earnestly, ‘for helping families like yours, Hollie.’

Two boys pass us as Parker speaks, floating along on what looks like a kitchen tabletop.

They give us a grim wave. No words.

I guess some things are just too shocking to speak about.

I hope what I’m about to see at home doesn’t fall into that category.

The sun is still bright, but the air is cold. My feet are numb inside my sodden boots and my soaking wet clothes cling to my skin. As we turn into my road, I shiver.

‘I’m sure your family are all right, Hollie,’ Rex says gently, behind me.

I turn to face him, making our garage-door raft rock to and fro.

‘Thanks, but we don’t know that,’ I mutter.

Rex falls silent.

‘I can see your house, Hollie,’ Parker gasps, pointing along the street.

I spin around, following their gaze. There it is. My home. Flooded to the first floor, like all the others. Heart in my mouth, I speed up my efforts to steer us over but my hands are cold and stiff and it takes forever. At last we pull up outside my bedroom window. Part of me is thinking how bizarre it is to be arriving home like this. Most of me is terrified at what I’ll find inside.

Please be alive.

My bedroom window is open, just as it was when I left here this morning. I peer inside. ‘Mum! Alfie! Louella!’ I shout.

No one answers. My stomach twists with fear. And then a faint noise rises up from inside – a shuffling, scrabbling sound, like that of somebody stuck and trying to move.

‘Did you hear that?’ I shout, then crouch down, easing my leg over the sill. The garage door we’re balanced on rocks precariously. ‘I’m going in!’

‘Wait!’ Parker cries. ‘Let me and Rex hold the door steady!’

But I’m already clambering inside. It’s the weirdest thing being here, in the dry, with everything just as I left it this morning: my clothes scattered on the floor next to the wardrobe, a mug, half full of milky tea, by the bed. Mum brought me that tea first thing today. A lump lodges in my throat at the memory.

Parker and Rex are paddling furiously, trying to keep our makeshift raft close to the window.

‘Wait, Hollie, I’ll come with you.’ Rex lowers himself over the windowsill and into the room. He takes off his belt, loops it around the window latch and offers the other end to Parker. ‘Will you wait there?’

‘Sure,’ Parker says, grabbing the end of the belt. ‘Don’t be long.’

‘Come on!’ I race across the room, Rex hurrying after me. I catch sight of the teddy bear Dad bought for me when I was three. It’s on my pillow; I’ve been sleeping with it recently. Under other circumstances, I might feel self-conscious about Rex seeing something like that, but right now all I can think about is my family. I dart onto the landing, calling their names again.

‘Mum! Alfie! Louella!’

Please let them all be okay.

There’s no sound, just that distant shuffling, scrabbling noise again. I race out onto the landing but the sound stops. I turn towards the stairs. My jaw drops. Water is lapping at the top step.

‘Oh, wow,’ Rex says.

The whole of our downstairs is completely underwater. I stare at the gloomy grey wetness, feeling totally disoriented.

One of Louella’s pencil drawings floats into view. It’s the portrait of me, the one where I have that intense, angry expression on my face. The last time I noticed it, it was on top of the cluttered side table in the living room.

My stomach lurches up, into my throat.

‘Mum!’ I shriek. The doors off the landing are all shut. Which is odd; we never normally leave them like that. I clutch at this thought, hoping against hope that the closed doors are a good sign.

‘Oh, man,’ Rex says despairingly.

‘Mum!’ I yell again. ‘Where are you?’

But it’s not Mum who replies.

A bark echoes out from Alfie’s room, opposite. Then the unmistakable sound of paws clawing at the door.

‘Cruffin!’ I dart across the landing, Rex at my side. I yank Alfie’s door open and Cruffin dashes out, barking his head off and running in between our legs.

‘Okay, boy.’ I bend down, stroking the soft fur on the top of his head.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Rex asks.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Maybe Mum shut him up here before the tsunami, to keep him safe.’

Rex and I look at each other. The question in our eyes remains unspoken.

Where is my family?

I peer into Alfie’s room. Nobody else is here. I gaze at my little brother’s surfboard propped in the far corner and the crumpled, fish-themed duvet on the bed. Rex opens the bathroom door at the end of the landing.

‘Nothing here,’ he says.

I move next door, to Mum’s room. I know before I open the door that nobody is here. If they were, they’d have heard me calling and come out or shouted back. Even so, I walk inside. As usual, Mum’s room is full of clutter – clothes on the back of the chair by the dressing table, which is scattered with make-up and jewellery. Mum’s hairbrush is on the bed, a blanket loosely spread over the duvet.

I sit down on the bed and draw the blanket up to my face. I breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of Mum’s favourite honeysuckle-scented moisturiser.

I force myself to face what must have happened. There’s no way the two-minute warning would have given Mum time to get Louella up the stairs.

I imagine her taking Cruffin up to Alfie’s room, trying to get Alfie to stay up here with him, but Alfie refusing and coming downstairs. So that he and Mum and Louella were down there when the big wave hit.

I imagine them holding hands, the water sweeping over them.

At least they were all together.

Fear rises from my chest, dark and powerful. Dad might have abandoned us, but Mum has always given everything she has to look after me and Alfie and Louella.

How will I survive without her?

How will I live without them all?

‘Maybe they got out in time.’ Rex’s voice is distant, almost echoey.

I turn to face him, tears pricking at my eyes. I nod. There’s still hope. I have to cling to that, even if it feels impossible.

‘I want to go downstairs, take a look, swim through the wat—’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Rex interrupts. ‘Apart from it being incredibly dangerous it’ll be totally impossible to see anything in such dirty water.’

I hang my head. He’s right.

‘Anyway,’ Rex continues, ‘we need to try and get to that shelter Krishan and Samira told us about before the second wave hits. We’ve got no idea when it will come, so…’ He looks, pleadingly, at me.

Cruffin lets out another bark, as if agreeing with him.

‘Okay.’ I stand up from Mum’s bed. I want to take the blanket, and the photos of me and Mum and Alfie on the nightstand, but there’s no room for anything extra on our raft. Especially now we’ve got Cruffin with us.

‘Come on!’ Rex urges from the doorway.

I take the cord from Mum’s dressing gown and loop it around Cruffin’s collar as a makeshift lead, then I follow Rex across the landing. Feeling numb, I pick Cruffin up and bury my nose in his soft, warm fur. Just for a second. Then I hand the dog to Parker and ease myself out of the window and back onto our garage-door raft. Parker takes one look at my face and instinctively knows to say nothing.

Cruffin whimpers a little, then curls up in the very centre of the raft. Rex asks about the fastest route to the shelter. As Parker replies, I tune them both out.

If I hadn’t been so horrible to Mum for the past few months, she wouldn’t have lost her job and would be safe at work today, outside the tsunami’s range.

If she’s gone – if I’ve lost her and Louella and Alfie – it’s all my own fault.

27

I sit in the middle of our garage-door raft, hunched over my knees, while Parker directs Rex towards the old sports centre.

‘The Sally is right on the edge of Salthaven,’ she explains. ‘Just a couple of turns from the flooded road out of town.’

Rex nods, using the paddle Krishnan and Samira gave us to steer us as fast as he can. We’re moving faster now and the water levels are dropping. Another couple of streets inland and we’re even able to ditch the raft. We wade slowly through the dirty water, taking it in turns to carry Cruffin. The sun is still blazing down from a clear blue sky. I keep my hood up, partly for warmth – I’m wet and cold all over and my feet are so frozen I can’t feel them – but mostly so that I won’t see the concerned look I’m sure is on Rex’s face. I want to avoid catching Parker’s eye too. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their sympathy. Just that it would remind me too brutally not only that Mum, Louella and Alfie are missing, but also what that possibly – probably – means.

And I can’t let myself think about that. I have to stay positive and at least try to believe they got out, to safety.

I stumble along, the chill water now swirling around my calves. Rex stops a grey-haired man to double-check that Krishnan was right and there really is a shelter for victims at the sports centre.

‘That’s right,’ the man says. ‘It’s pretty basic. A few locals doing what they can. Mayes Cranston stepped up straight away too; already sent a bunch of initial supplies.’ He makes a face. ‘I guess they feel guilty, seeing as the seawall they built didn’t hold.’

After that, Rex is as silent as I am.

The Sally is situated past the single – and still flooded – road that leads out of Salthaven, on the higher ground that forms the north-eastern part of town. I’m tired to the bone when we finally reach it, and the road, while still wet in patches, is at least visible beneath our feet. Cruffin is delighted to be set down on almost-dry land and scampers ahead towards the red-brick sports centre. It’s impossible to miss. People are milling around the building: some are bandaged, with plasters on head wounds and arms in slings; others just look shell-shocked, with grim, dazed expressions on their faces.

A roughly painted banner over the door reads:

EMERGENCY FIRST AID AND INFORMATION CENTRE – ALL WELCOME

I notice the tiny Mayes Cranston logo in the corner of the banner and clench my jaw. How dare the company make out they care about the people of Salthaven, after everything that Rex’s mum has done?

As I trudge up the steps, my legs feel like lead. A woman with a round, weather-beaten face and a warm smile greets us at the top.

‘Oh, you poor things, come on inside,’ she urges. ‘I’m Cayleigh. Gosh, it looks like you got caught up in the worst of it. Is it just the three of you? Let me take your names.’

Rex and Parker give their names and Rex asks if there’s any way of contacting his parents. ‘So they know I’m all right,’ he says.

I stare at him for a moment. In all my upset about my own family, it hadn’t occurred to me that Rex’s mum – whatever else she’s done – will be worried about her son.

Cayleigh wrinkles her nose. ‘Unfortunately the network is still down – there’s no internet; no phones. But we’re hoping it’ll all be fixed soon and once things are up and running we’ve got on record that you’re here, so if anyone calls in…’ She smiles and turns to me. ‘What about you, dear? What’s your name?’

‘Hollie Norris,’ I say dully.

Parker explains quickly that we have just been to my house and found it flooded and deserted. Cayleigh nods, her expression concerned. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ she says.

I turn away. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, let alone a stranger’s. Tears prick at my eyes. I feel Cruffin’s soft fur nudging at my hand and pet his head.

Cayleigh clears her throat. ‘Okay, I’ve got your names on our list now, so I suggest you head along the corridor. You’ll find another registration area in Room C. That’s got the master list of everyone else who is in the building; it’s the best place to start looking for your family. If the rescue boats picked them up, they’ll most likely be here.’ She gives me an encouraging smile.

I follow her gaze along a narrow passageway, teeming with people.

‘What else is down there?’ Parker asks.

‘Three other rooms,’ Cayleigh explains, counting them off on her fingers. ‘You’ll find food and drink in Room A and dry clothes and blankets in Room D – there’s not much here, just a few donations from people who live in nearby streets and weren’t too badly affected. Then there’s a nurse offering help with any minor cuts and bruises in Room B. Once you’ve got what you need, the upstairs rooms are where people can rest and wait for further help or news.’

‘Can I take my dog?’ I ask.

Cayleigh makes a face. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re not allowing pets into the care rooms downstairs; there are just too many people.’

‘I’ll stay and hold him,’ Rex offers. ‘You go to Room C and see if there’s any info on your family.’

‘I’ll get us some food and water and dry clothes,’ Parker adds, scurrying off.

I make my way to Room C, where a desk has been set up at one end and a queue runs around the walls. I join at the back, close to the door, and shut my eyes. The atmosphere is strangely subdued, as if everyone here is – like me – frightened that their loved ones didn’t survive the tsunami but can’t bear to say so. Parker reappears after a minute, with a cardboard cup of water and a soft roll. She has a pair of battered sneakers and a dry hoodie in her hand.

‘These are for you,’ she says shyly. ‘I know you’re soaked.’

‘Thank you.’ I peel off my wet boots and socks and slip on the sneakers. The sweatshirt smells a little fusty, but immediately warms me up. I eat and drink hungrily, which also makes me feel better, but the worry about Mum and the others is still a tight band across my chest.

‘I’ve been asking around,’ Parker says hesitantly, ‘and according to the few messages that have got through on the army radios, there is definitely going to be a second tsunami. Within the next hour, I heard.’

‘Right,’ I say dully.

Parker hesitates. ‘I’ll see if I can find out more.’

She leaves and I close my eyes again. A few silent minutes pass.

‘Hollie?’ It’s Rex.

My eyes snap open. He’s staring at me anxiously. ‘Are you all right?’

Of course I’m not all right.

‘Where’s Cruffin?’ I demand, ignoring his question.

‘Parker said she’d take him so I could come and wait with you here.’

‘And find out where your mum is hiding?’ I can’t stop the bitterness seeping into my voice.

Rex bites his lip. There are deep frown lines on his forehead and I feel suddenly guilty for taking out my anger on him. None of this is Rex’s fault.

‘Sorry,’ I start, ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘It’s fine,’ Rex says with a sigh. ‘I understand why you’re mad. It’s just… I still can’t believe my mum would put so many lives at risk and, even if she did, she’s still my mum.’

I look down at the scuffed wooden floor. A terrifying question squeezes itself around my heart: Will I ever see my own mum again? I push the thought away and turn back to Rex. ‘So you’re still refusing to admit your mum is guilty?’ Again, the words come out more harshly than I mean them to, but Rex doesn’t look fazed.

‘I’ve been thinking about what happened,’ he says slowly. ‘That day you came to the office and livestreamed… about the sales order. I can’t quite make sense of it.’

I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, if you’re right about the seawall containing poor quality steel – which,’ he adds hastily, catching sight of my face, ‘which I know must be true, as it crumpled under the tsunami – then there must have been two sales orders on the Mayes Cranston system. The one that said the good steel had been used – which was a fake. And the actual sales order, with the bad steel.’

‘Go on.’

‘So did you notice two sales orders when you were first looking, all those weeks ago?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I just know that the sales order I saw was buried deep in a folder.’

‘Right.’ Rex sighs. ‘So why didn’t that sales order show up when Parker was looking for it?’

I shrug. ‘I guess your mum deleted it as soon as you told her we were in the Mayes Cranston boardroom.’ I make a face. ‘Seems pretty straightforward to me.’

‘That’s just it,’ Rex says. ‘I didn’t tell Mum. Not directly. I was on my way to tell her, but then I saw Christian, so I told him instead. He was really shocked. He said Mum was in a meeting, but that he’d interrupt and tell her what you were doing and that I should get Geoff, the security guard, to go straight to the boardroom and stop you.’

‘Right,’ I say. ‘It still seems straightforward. Your mum could have easily deleted a file, even if she was in a meeting.’

‘I guess.’ Rex blows out his breath. ‘But surely Christian would have noticed? They turned up at the boardroom at exactly the same time. She said she was with him from the moment he told her what was happening till we got into the boardroom to confront you.’

I say nothing.

‘Anyway, the details don’t matter now. I’m just so sorry it happened,’ Rex says, his voice cracking, ‘and… and that I didn’t believe you.’

I want to tell him it’s okay, that I forgive him, but the words won’t come. Instead, I just nod, then shuffle along in the queue. The line of people is moving slowly – Rex and I are still at least fifteen people away from the desk. I chew on the last of my roll.

I think over what Rex just said, how the day of the livestream played out from his point of view. Something about his version of events doesn’t seem quite right, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.

‘Rex!’ A familiar voice calls across the room.

Rex and I spin around, to find Christian striding towards us. The last time I saw him he was smartly dressed in a suit and tie; today he’s wearing a creased shirt and has dark shadows under his eyes. His face fills with relief as he approaches.

‘Thank goodness you’re safe, Rex,’ he says. ‘Your mum has been so worried.’

Rex’s eyes spark. ‘Is she here? I was just queuing up to—’

‘She’s still at company HQ, answering questions from government and agency reps. The police have already gone to Southern Shores Steel and established that the steel they supplied and which we used for the seawall was a substandard grade, just like you thought, Hollie.’

I nod. I’d have thought confirmation of this fact would fill me with triumph, but I feel strangely flat. I might have been right, but so what? The tsunami still happened.

The damage to Salthaven was still done.

My family is still lost.

‘It seems like you were right about Anthea being a thief, as well, Hollie.’ Christian makes a regretful face. ‘We all owe you an apology, not least me. I’m very sorry.’

‘Thank you,’ I say.

Rex clears his throat. ‘I get why you’re saying that, Christian, but I was just telling Hollie how… that I don’t understand how Mum had time to delete the original sales order. Once you interrupted her meeting, you were with her the whole time, weren’t you?’

‘Actually, no,’ Christian says. ‘As soon as I told your mother that Hollie was looking for a sales order to expose what – I was certain at the time – was an imagined fraud, she ended the meeting and asked me to see the visitors out.’ Christian pauses, as if recollecting.

I have the feeling, once again, that something is off with this version of events, though I can’t work out what it is.

‘Anthea must have deleted that sales order while I showed the visitors out,’ Christian continues. ‘If you remember, she and I turned up at the boardroom at the same time, so there would have been plenty of time beforehand for her to do… whatever she did.’

Rex nods, chewing on his lip.

Christian smiles at me, then gestures to the queue. ‘Are you here looking for your family, Hollie?’

‘Yes.’ I glance at the help desk at the front of the room, where both officials are deep in conversation with an elderly woman. ‘But it’s taking forever.’ As I speak, something strikes me – a sudden realization of what sounded wrong with both Rex’s and Christian’s versions of events on the day of the livestream. ‘Er, Christian…?’

Christian raises his eyebrows.

‘When I came to Mayes Cranston to find the sales order and livestream it, Parker and I were put in the boardroom because Mum had checked to see if it was free.’ I hesitate. ‘I’m sure she said it was free because Ms Somersby didn’t have any meetings.’

A beat passes. For a second, a look of irritation flickers in Christian’s eyes. Then he shrugs and smiles. ‘Ah, well, this particular meeting wasn’t in the boardroom, I expect that was the confusion.’

‘Right, but—’

‘Let me see if I can expedite your search for your family,’ Christian says, rubbing his hands together. ‘I’ve just had an idea how I can bypass this long queue for you.’ Without waiting for my reply, he hurries off.

‘That’s nice of him,’ Rex says miserably. ‘God, I really think my mum’s going to be arrested. She could end up in jail.’

I don’t know how to reply to that, so say nothing. Perhaps I’ve misremembered about the meetings. Christian is surely more likely to know what was going on at the company that day than I am.

Rex and I move along the queue – we’re just ten people from the front now. My stomach ties into knots. I almost don’t want to reach the help desk. Suppose they don’t know anything about Mum, Alfie and Louella?

I can’t bear to imagine it.

28

Rex and I are still in the queue, eight people away from the help desk, when someone across the room calls my name.

It’s our posh neighbour, Mrs Oliphant. ‘Hollie!’ Her sharp eyes light up as she hurries towards me. ‘You’re safe. Oh, goodness, your mum will be relieved.’

‘Have you seen her?’ I grab her arm. ‘And Louella? Alfie?’

‘Nooo,’ Mrs Oliphant admits, ‘but I expect they’re here. There are a lot of rooms upstairs.’

I let go of her arm, hope fading. Clearly Mrs Oliphant doesn’t know any more than I do.

‘But…’ Rex frowns. ‘How would Hollie’s family have got here?’

‘How did you get here?’ I ask.

‘I was evacuated,’ Mrs Oliphant explains. ‘The army came through on motorboats within half an hour of the tsu-nami.’ She turns to me. ‘I didn’t see your mum or Louella, but it was chaos, so I could easily have missed them.’

I nod slowly.

‘We actually saw a rescue boat earlier,’ Rex says, turning to me. ‘Remember?’

I think back to the motorboat we saw in the distance just before we reached my house, full of people, with a guy in camouflage gear at the tiller.

I press my lips together and try to smile my thanks. The sliver of hope Mrs Oliphant’s words offer is better than nothing, but only barely. For Mum and Louella to be rescued, they’d need to have made it through the tsunami – and I still can’t see how Mum could have got Louella upstairs in the two minutes between the radio announcement that the tsunami had got past the seawall – and the water smashing into our house.

I push the thought away.

‘We found Cruffin shut in an upstairs room,’ I say. ‘If my family were evacuated, why did they leave him behind?’

‘The soldiers in the evacuation boats made it clear no pets or possessions were allowed. They couldn’t risk an animal or a suitcase taking up space that might cost a human life.’ Mrs Oliphant sighs. ‘It’s all such a dreadful business. They’re saying the tsunami hit so hard because the boss at Mayes Cranston stole the money that should have gone to the new seawall they said would protect us.’ She rolls her eyes despairingly.

I glance sideways at Rex, who looks at the floor.

‘Parker’s got Cruffin, out by the front door,’ I say, trying to change the subject. ‘I’m sure he’d love to see you, Mrs O.’

‘Ooh, yes, the poor old pooch. I’ll stop by and say hello.’ Mrs Oliphant smiles. ‘See you later, and don’t worry. I’m sure your family are here somewhere.’

As Mrs Oliphant walks out of Room C, I turn back to the queue leading up to the front desk. There are still five people ahead of us. Before I have time to ask Rex how much longer he thinks we’ll be waiting, Christian bounds over, a real spring in his step.

‘Good news,’ he says, rubbing his hands together. ‘I’ve located your family, Hollie. They’re all safe and well.’

‘Seriously?’ A fresh wave of emotion washes over me. I grab his arm. ‘Where are they? Are they really all right? Did Mum manage to get Louella up the stairs in time?’

‘I don’t know any details, I’m afraid.’ Christian smiles. ‘But they made it to another shelter, about a mile away.’ He turns to Rex. ‘Last I heard, your mother was going there too, as soon as she’d finished being interviewed by the authorities.’

Rex’s face brightens. ‘Where is the other shelter?’

‘How do we get there?’ I add.

Christian laughs. ‘Hold your horses. I’ve got a vehicle, I can take you there right now, if you’d like?’

‘Yes, please,’ I say.

‘Thank you,’ Rex adds fervently.

We leave the queue and follow Christian out to the corridor. It’s even more crowded than before. Parker is up by the front door, wearing fresh joggers and a sweatshirt. Mrs Oliphant is there too, petting Cruffin as she speaks to Cayleigh.

I hurry over to Parker. ‘Christian’s taking us to Mum and the others.’

‘My mum’s there too,’ Rex adds.

‘Come on, then,’ Christian urges.

‘What about the second tsunami?’ Parker asks. ‘I’ve been asking about it, and it’s going to hit Salthaven in about twenty minutes. We don’t want to be on the ground when—’

‘Where we are going is less than five minutes away,’ Christian says impatiently.

‘Okay, I’ll come with you, then,’ Parker says. ‘I just wish I’d been able to find some food for Cruffin.’

‘Did I just hear you say the dog wants feeding?’ Mrs Oliphant says, reappearing at Parker’s shoulder. ‘I know where to find something he’ll eat.’ She glances at me. ‘Shall I show you, Hollie?’

I hesitate. ‘I need to go with Christian. He says Mum and the others are at a different shelter.’

‘Leave Cruffin with me, then. You can come back for him, later.’ Mrs Oliphant smiles. ‘Gosh, that’s great news about your family. I hadn’t heard about an additional shelter, though. Where is—?’

‘Come on, guys, we need to leave,’ Christian urges. ‘You just heard Parker. The second tsunami will be here soon.’

I take a step away. ‘Thanks, Mrs Oliphant.’

Parker, Rex and I hurry outside, into the crisp, cold air and bright sunshine and across to where Christian’s Jeep is parked. Rex gets in the front, next to Christian, while Parker and I scramble into the back.

We set off carefully, Christian hunched over the wheel. The others talk in quiet, serious voices about how much of Salthaven is now underwater.

‘They think the rebuilding programme will run into millions,’ Christian says with a sigh, ‘but at least most people are being evacuated now, so very limited casualties…’

I close my eyes.

‘Do they know… did… did anyone die?’ Rex asks.

I can hear the tremble in his voice and, again, feel sorry for him. It’s not Rex’s fault that his mum got us all into this situation.

‘It’s too early for official figures,’ Christian says gently, ‘but realistically, well, there were people down by the shore watching the first wave come in… It seems impossible they could all have survived.’

‘Why were they down there?’ Parker asks. ‘Even if they thought the seawall would hold back the worst of the tsunami, it was still really dangerous.’

Christian purses his lips as he turns a corner. The road we drive onto is covered with several centimetres of water, but the Jeep steers through it with ease. ‘I think some people thought the whole idea of a tsunami was a lie or an exaggeration,’ he says heavily. ‘I mean, whoever imagined such a thing would hit the UK?’

‘Actually, some climate-change scientists did predict it, though they didn’t know when it would come,’ Parker pipes up.

‘My Aunt Louella knew,’ I add.

The others turn their heads and stare at me. I shrug. ‘Well, she did.’

Parker sits back with a frown. ‘I suppose she did, yes.’

We turn down another road, which is even deeper underwater than the one before. Splashing sounds rise up on either side as Christian manoeuvres his Jeep along the street.

‘How come it’s wetter here?’ I ask.

‘Are we heading towards the coast?’ Parker sounds agitated. ‘What about the second tsunami? It’s due in ten minutes now.’

‘Are you certain the extra shelter is—?’ Rex starts.

‘Calm down, guys!’ Christian holds up his hand to stop our questions. ‘This shelter is a touch closer to the coastline than the Sally, but we’re quite safe from further storm waves here.’

‘I don’t see how you can be sure of that,’ Parker says, now sounding deeply troubled.

‘Well, I am.’ Christian pulls up outside an old factory building. It’s been here ever since I can remember, unused and empty, with boarded-up windows and peeling paint on the sign over the door that reads FOTHERTON FLOUR MILL.

‘This is the additional shelter?’ I ask uncertainly. ‘It’s very run-down.’

‘Mayes Cranston bought it last year; part of our new property portfolio,’ Christian explains. ‘As soon as news got through to head office about…’ he glances awkwardly at Rex, ‘… er, that the seawall hadn’t held back the tsunami, they told the authorities they could use this building.’

‘Are you sure the second tsunami won’t reach here?’ Parker asks.

‘I told you already, you’ll be fine.’ For the first time Christian sounds a little impatient. ‘Even if the tsunami were to reach this far, there’s a first floor where you’ll be safe.’ He takes a key from his jacket pocket. ‘Your mum will be here soon, Rex, and you’ll definitely find your family inside, Hollie.’ He smiles at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time, then unlocks the door.

Parker frowns. ‘Why d’you need a key?’ she asks. ‘Why isn’t it open? Why can’t someone inside let us in?’

Christian hesitates, his hand on the door. ‘Goodness, so many questions! I happen to have a key from the one time I was here before, that’s all.’ He pushes the door open and motions Rex inside. As Rex walks in, Parker grabs my arm and hisses in my ear. ‘I don’t like this.’

I glance at her, starting to hang back.

‘In you go!’ Christian shoves us both in the back and we stumble inside.

We’re in a small lobby area, with doors on two sides. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Back at the other shelter, there was the constant hubbub of voices. Parker and I hurry to the nearest door. A huge room is visible beyond. It’s completely empty.

My hand flies to my mouth. I catch Parker’s eye. She shakes her head.

‘Where is everyone?’ Rex asks.

Something is off. Something big.

I turn to Christian. He is fidgeting from foot to foot, emanating seriously weird vibes. ‘I need to get back to the main shelter pronto,’ he says. ‘Important meeting.’

Meeting.

Of course. As Christian takes a step towards the door, I suddenly realize what was wrong about his account of that fateful day at Mayes Cranston.

I suddenly realize everything.

29

The hallway of the old flour mill seems to spin around me.

I stare at Christian. ‘It was you,’ I gasp. ‘You bought the substandard steel. It wasn’t Rex’s mum at all.’

Beside me Parker gasps. Rex’s jaw drops.

Christian’s lips press together in a thin, angry line. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says lightly.

‘I do!’ I protest. ‘You told Rex his mum was in a meeting, but she wasn’t. My own mum checked the room roster that morning when we arrived at Mayes Cranston. She specifically said Ms Somersby didn’t have any meetings, that’s why the boardroom was free.’

‘Hollie’s right!’ Rex’s eyes widen. ‘You told me Mum was in a meeting to get me out of the way, so you’d have time to find the original sales order and delete it.’

‘What amazing imaginations you have,’ Christian says with a tight smile. He’s trying to sound easy-going and charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. ‘You seem to be forgetting that your mother signed that sales order.’

‘Then you faked her signature,’ I insist.

Christian’s lips give an involuntary tremble. ‘Come on,’ he protests. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Parker says slowly. ‘Hollie and Rex are right. You forged Ms Somersby’s signature on the original sales order for the low-grade steel – I bet she signs so many things every day she didn’t even notice. Then, once the low-grade steel arrived, you changed the details on that sales order to make it look like she’d bought the expensive stuff.’ She frowns. ‘The only thing I don’t understand is why the original version was still on the system. I’d have thought you’d have deleted any trace of that last September.’

‘He tried to!’ I gasp, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place. I look into Christian’s furious eyes. ‘The sales order I found was a recovery file. You had no idea it was there.’

‘Yes!’ Parker’s eyes widen and she clasps her hands together. ‘And when you realized Hollie had not only seen it, but was actually in the building and on the Mayes Cranston intranet trying to find it again to show everyone…’

‘… you found it yourself and deleted it first,’ I say. ‘Which meant that the only sales order left on the system was the one you’d faked, that you’d fooled everybody with for months.’

Christian shakes his head but says nothing.

‘You totally took advantage of my mum!’ Rex’s voice rises in bitterness.

‘Yeah,’ I add. ‘Making it look like she signed the sales order meant I accused her when she’d done nothing wrong.’ A wave of shame washes over me. I was so convinced Ms Somersby was guilty that I never thought someone else might be responsible.

‘You tricked everyone,’ Parker adds. ‘You turned all of us against Hollie.’

‘Which led to my mum getting the sack,’ I snarl.

‘And now you’re letting my mum take the blame for the seawall collapsing, when she had nothing to do with it,’ Rex adds. ‘You’ll pay for this.’ He takes a step towards Christian, who darts back.

‘Well, aren’t you three clever,’ Christian snarls. His pretend charm from earlier has completely vanished. ‘I see you’ve worked everything out.’ He pauses. ‘All of which goes to show I was quite right to bring you here.’

‘What does that m—?’

But before I can finish my question, Christian has opened the front door just behind him and slipped outside. I race over, but the door slams in my face.

A second later, Christian’s key turns firmly in the lock.

‘He’s shut us in!’ Parker shrieks.

‘Hey!’ I hammer on the door, pulling at the handle. ‘Come back!’

Rex joins me, his fists pounding on the wood.

But Christian doesn’t return.

‘I can’t believe he’d do this,’ Parker gasps.

‘He’s framed my mum for fraud,’ Rex adds.

‘And put an entire town in danger,’ Parker says bitterly.

‘Not to mention left us here, in the path of the second tsunami,’ I add.

Parker’s eyes widen. ‘It’ll hit the coast of Salthaven in about six minutes. I reckon it’ll reach this place less than a minute after that.’

The three of us look at each other. ‘We need to find a way out,’ I say. ‘Fast.’

We hurry through the door to the big, empty factory floor. It’s lit only by thin shafts of sunlight filtering through the planks of wood nailed over the windows.

‘There’s no glass. Maybe we can get those boards down?’ Parker suggests.

We race across to the boarded-up windows and tug at the planks. They’re nailed on too tightly to move.

‘It’s no good,’ I say. My heart plummets to my shoes as it strikes me that Christian not only lied about the seawall steel, but also about my family being here.

I’m as far away as ever from knowing that Mum, Alfie and Louella are safe.

The three of us stare at each other, then Rex points to the stairs in the far corner of the enormous factory floor. ‘At least there’s a first floor; we’ll be safe from the second tsunami up there.’

We run towards the stairs. As we get halfway across the room, Parker gasps.

‘Oh no!’

I follow her pointing finger. Around the bend in the stairs, hidden from us until now, is a sight that strikes horror into my heart. The top half of the stairs is missing – and the gap between the last step and the first-floor landing is far too big to jump.

My heart thuds. Rex stares at the missing steps.

‘What are we going to do?’ he says, his voice rising with emotion.

‘We have to find a way up. The second tsunami will be here in a few min—’ As Parker speaks, my phone beeps. Then beeps again. And again. I snatch it up. WhatsApp messages are flooding in.

‘The internet must be up again,’ Rex says, taking out his own phone. ‘Mine’s out of juice.’ He pockets it again.

I scan down my screen. Most of my messages are from Mum and were sent between 12.30 and 3 p.m. – they must have been in her outbox all this time.

There’s nothing here that was sent after the tsunami hit. The thought is like a knife.

Surely Mum would have tried to message me, if she could?

‘Hollie! We have to find somewhere to shelter before the second wave hits.’ The urgency in Parker’s voice brings me back to the moment.

‘I’ve got an idea!’ Rex shouts. ‘Follow me.’

He runs across the room and disappears around the corner, Parker right behind him.

I start walking after them. I glance down at my phone. I’m desperate to try and reach Mum, but Parker’s right. We need to find a way to stay safe.

And we need to know exactly how much time we have before the second tsunami hits.

30

My trembling fingers hover over the NatterSnap app. I press it and the screen opens on a video feed of the sea viewed from a helicopter.

‘This is Natalie Jones, live for Channel Six, in the skies over Salthaven Bay,’ says an excited voice over the whirring sound of the helicopter blades.

I stop walking, my jaw dropping. The same livestream is filling my timeline. Everyone on NatterSnap must be watching it.

‘The second of today’s tsunamis is gathering pace,’ Natalie exclaims. ‘It’s picking up speed as it approaches the seawall in Salthaven Bay. The wall was decimated by the first wave and it will not, repeat not contain the second.’

I peer at the tiny picture on my phone. It’s hard to make out the wall of water from the helicopter’s perspective.

‘I’m here with oceanographer Ralph Sorenson,’ Natalie continues. ‘Ralph, the town of Salthaven has already been pulverized by the earlier tsunami. What can residents expect from this next wave? And when will it arrive?’

‘I’ve never seen anything like this, Natalie. It’s going to be big. Bigger than the first wave and reaching far further and deeper into the town. Estimated run-up – that’s arrival on shore – in two minutes and ten seconds.’

It feels like my heart has stopped beating. All I want is to speak to Mum, but there’s no time to try her number. I need to tell the others the second tsunami is almost here, and that it’s even bigger than we expected.

‘We’ve found something!’ Parker yells.

I turn and race across the ground floor of the building. Round the corner Rex is helping Parker clamber onto a ledge at the base of the boarded-over window. Above and to the left of it is a small platform from which a rusted metal pulley hangs down.

‘Look!’ she shouts, pointing up. ‘It must have been used for raising bags of grain when this was a flour mill.’ Parker hauls herself onto one of the window’s boards, then reaches for the platform, balancing precariously on the very edge of the plank.

‘Listen!’ I shriek, holding out my phone and whacking the volume up as high as I can. ‘The second tsunami is almost here!’

Ralph Sorenson’s shocked voice echoes around the room. ‘For people still in Salthaven, whatever the level of water is where you are, in a few minutes you should expect it to rise by another two to three metres…’ The line crackles. ‘… this includes areas of town where there is minimal or no flooding at present and of course the closer you are to the coastline, the—’

‘Hurry, Parker!’ Rex shouts.

Parker climbs again, one board at a time. Rex is watching her, his hands over his mouth. ‘Be careful!’

‘We should get up there too,’ I say.

Rex nods. ‘Come on.’ He leaps up onto the window ledge and steps onto the first board. It cracks under his weight, sending him hurtling back to the ground. He lands heavily, rolling onto his side.

‘Rex!’ Parker looks down. ‘Are you okay!’

I help him up.

‘I’m fine,’ Rex says, scrambling to his feet. He lowers his voice as he says to me. ‘I’m too heavy for those boards to hold me, but you should climb.’

I stare at him. Natalie, the Channel Six presenter, is talking again, but I can’t take in what she’s saying.

‘No.’ I frown at Rex. ‘I won’t leave you behind.’

‘What are you two doing?’ Above our heads, Parker is still inching her way up the boards nailed over the high window. They creak as she steps onto them.

‘We’re just going to watch to make sure you reach the platform okay,’ I call. ‘Then we’ll get up there with you.’

‘Hollie—’ Rex starts.

‘We’ll find another way,’ I mutter.

Parker is two thirds of the way up the window. She’s going as fast as possible, but the climb is insanely difficult and she has to test each board before she treads on it. I look around. Where else can Rex and I get to higher ground? There are pipes against some of the walls. But I know from my scramble up the school scaffolding last year how hard it is to climb those.

At last Parker reaches the top of the window. She reaches for the pulley with the giant hook. If she can climb onto that, she can scramble from there onto the metal platform above.

I glance down at the phone in my hand. Ralph Sorenson is now explaining why the second wave of the tsunami will be bigger and reach further into Salthaven than the first.

‘Nearly there, Parker!’ shouts Rex.

Parker steps onto the giant metal hook, gripping the pulley above. It groans and sways as she hauls herself up onto the metal platform.

‘I’m interrupting our oceanographer now,’ Natalie Jones cuts in, ‘to let everyone know that the second tsunami has now passed Salthaven’s seawall. It is building and we estimate run-up – that’s the moment of impact on shore – in ten seconds.’

‘What?’ Parker shrieks.

‘No!’ The word bursts out of me.

Rex and I exchange a panicky glance.

‘Eight seconds. Seven. Six.’ Natalie’s voice echoes out of the phone in my hands.

I freeze in horror.

‘What do we do?’ Rex shouts.

Three. Two.

‘Save yourselves!’ Parker yells down to us, terrified. ‘Move!’

‘It’s run-up. Run-up confirmed. The wave has hit the shore at Salthaven. We estimate the town will be underwater again in less than a minute.’

I suddenly remember something Dad once told me about surviving a storm out at sea. ‘We need to tie ourselves to something. It’ll stop us being swept away or crashing against a wall when the water breaks in.’

‘What are you doing?’ Parker shouts from high above our heads.

‘Here, Rex.’ I dart across to a pipe fastened to the wall. ‘Give me your belt.’

Rex flicks it off and hands it over. I wind it through the gap between the pipe and the wall, then hand it back to him. ‘Fasten the buckle around your waist!’ I order.

While Rex does that, I move to the next pipe and bind myself to it with the thick, flat cord from the hoodie Parker found me earlier.

As I tie a tight knot, the roaring sound we heard before, when the first tsunami struck, fills the air.

‘It’s com—!’ I shriek, but the end of the word is drowned out as driving water smashes against the boarded-up windows. I gasp with the force of it. In seconds two of the boards are down, as the seawater from the tsunami pours into the room.

My heart hammers like it will burst out of my chest. High above, Parker is screaming my name. Next to me Rex lets out a terrified roar. Water swills around us, as chaotic as the test tank, but filthier; as forceful as the first tsunami surrounding our tree, but far scarier. I’m flung about, my body like a rag doll. I cling to the cord which is keeping me tied to the pipe, as the water churns around me. After a few seconds the entire ground floor of the factory is under the dirty water – and it’s rising fast.

‘How high is it going to go?’ Rex shrieks as the water pours in.

‘They said first floor!’ I realize my phone has vanished, presumably on the ground somewhere. The water is up to my knees. My thighs. I’m wet through again. The level rises. Up to my waist.

Parker is yelling again. ‘Untie yourselves or you’ll be trapped under the water.’

She’s right. I pick frantically at the cord I’ve tied around me, but it’s tightly knotted and wet through – and my fingers are trembling with cold and fear.

‘I can’t do it!’ I yell, panic consuming me, as the water rises to my waist.

I’m gasping, hyperventilating. In a few seconds the water will be over my head.

31

The water rises. To my chest. To my neck. I’m still frantically picking at the thick, flat cord around my waist. What was I thinking, tying it so tight? Why did I use something that would be so hard to undo when it got wet?

There wasn’t anything else, points out the tiny voice in my head. Get a grip.

But I can’t. I’m panicking too much, spluttering as the filthy, gritty water splashes against my mouth.

And then out of the blue I see Mum in my mind’s eye, her weary patient smile as she said this morning: You can do this, Hollie.

I stop moving and take a deep breath. Instead of letting my mind skitter from the cold to the wet to the panicky certainty I’m going to die, I just focus on the cord in my hand. My nail catches the edge of the knot and I gently prise one piece of fabric away from the other. The water is over my head now and my eyes are squeezed shut, but the sense of Mum hovering above me, protecting me, stays.

A second later the knot eases. I tease the cord quickly apart and I’m free. I reach up with my arms and my hands break the surface. I pull down hard and whoosh up, through the water. At last I’m in the cold, clear air of the factory. Coughing, gasping for breath, but free. Alive. Safe.

I’m overwhelmed with a sense of peace. Of calm. And of love for my family.

This is the eye of the storm, I think. Not a black hole of emptiness or a place for pretending the bad stuff doesn’t exist, but somewhere that lets you find the strength to carry on.

And that strength comes from the people who love you, from the people you love.

I look around me. Where are Rex and Parker, my friends, who’ve been with me through thick and thin? I open my mouth to call out.

‘Hollie!’ Parker yells. ‘Are you okay?’

I look up. Parker is still on that platform, high above me. Her eyes are wild with fear. ‘Oh, Hollie, you went under and—’

‘I’m fine!’ I shout. ‘Where’s Rex?’

Parker shakes her head. ‘I don’t know! Isn’t he there, with you?’

I turn around in the water, blinking the wet out of my eyes. My heart thuds. Rex was tied to a pipe with his belt. Surely he should have been able to unbuckle that easily enough, even underwater?

So where is he?

Perhaps he panicked, like I did? Perhaps he’s still stuck, under the surface. Terror fills me. I take a deep breath, ready to dive.

‘Hollie.’ It’s his voice. Just behind me.

I spin around in the water. Rex is right there, his eyes bright with life.

Relief washes over me. My friend is all right.

He grins at me. ‘Were you worried?’

I make a face at him.

‘I was looking for my phone,’ he goes on. ‘I lost it when the tsunami hit.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I lost mine too.’

‘Are you both okay?’ Parker shrieks from above our heads.

‘We’re fine,’ Rex calls back, then lowers his voice. ‘For now.’

I look around us. The churning water is still rising, taking us with it.

How high will it go?

Rex and I keep our arms and legs moving as water streams in through the gap between the boards over the window. Soon, we’re level with Parker and can scramble onto the platform beside her.

I’m shivering with cold as the three of us hug – a long, silent embrace.

We’ve survived, I think. So long as Mum and Louella and Alfie have survived too, everything’s okay.

‘The water’s still rising,’ Rex says, his voice filling with concern.

I look around. He’s right. The rate has slowed, and the water isn’t moving around as fast, but it’s still rising relentlessly.

It’s higher than the window now. I stare at the two broken boards that just a few minutes ago were nailed firmly over it and which are now floating on the surface of the water. The gap they’ve created in the window is surely wide enough for us to get out through. We just have to dive down, swim hard for a moment and we’ll be outside.

‘We can swim out, underwater.’ As I speak, I can’t stop my teeth from chattering. ‘The boards over the window that the tsunami broke through – they’ve left a gap. We can swim through that.’

‘Okay.’ Rex gives a grim nod, immediately understanding.

‘Wait.’ Parker looks at us. ‘I… I can’t swim.’

‘What?’ I stare at her. ‘Seriously?’

Parker nods. ‘That’s why I panicked so much when I fell in the river earlier.’

‘Oh, man.’ Rex frowns.

‘You two go on,’ Parker says, looking away. ‘Swim out of here, save yourselves.’

‘No,’ Rex and I say simultaneously.

‘We’re in this together,’ I add.

‘We’re not leaving you,’ Rex says firmly. He takes Parker’s hand and squeezes it and she looks at him gratefully, tears sparking in her eyes.

I glance down. The water is still rising; it’s almost level with our platform now – and well above the window I’m suggesting we swim through. We’re going to have to dive under and swim against the direction of the water, holding our breath for at least a minute. Hard enough to do on our own – and a real challenge with someone who can’t swim. I turn to Rex. ‘You and I will have to take Parker between us,’ I say. ‘If we hold on to her and kick hard enough, we’ll get all three of us out together?’

Rex looks doubtful. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘We could probably hold Parker up between us, but swim with her? That’s really tricky.’

The water is still rising, lapping at the base of the platform on which we’re standing.

‘We don’t have a choice,’ I say. ‘This water’s still coming; if it rises all the way up to the ceiling, we’ll be trapped.’

Rex nods. The water reaches our ankles.

‘Come on,’ I say. ‘The longer we wait, the harder it gets.’

Rex turns to Parker. ‘What do you think?’

Parker meets our gaze, her expression fierce. ‘I trust you both,’ she says. ‘Let’s swim.’

32

There’s no time to lose. I take Rex’s belt from his hands and loop it through the waistband of Parker’s trousers, then buckle it to my own.

‘You and I are connected with this belt, Parker,’ I explain. ‘So my arms are both free. But Rex will hold on to you with one of his hands and swim with the other, won’t you, Rex?’

He nods.

Parker is trembling. I put my hand on her arm. ‘It’s going to work,’ I say, though I don’t feel anywhere near as confident as I’m trying to sound.

‘Just hold your breath and kick,’ Rex advises her.

‘And don’t panic,’ I add, ‘or…’ I stop, not wanting to say that if Parker starts flailing in the water we’ll all drown. ‘We’re tied together,’ I say, pointing to the belt. ‘Remember?’

Parker nods. ‘I’m ready,’ she says, a determined expression on her face.

Rex and I exchange a look. ‘I’ll count us down,’ I say. ‘Three, two…’

We jump.

The water is shockingly cold. And horribly grimy. I glance around at Parker. She’s clearly kicking like mad, her head bobbing on the surface. I pull myself towards her with both arms. Rex is using just one to hold himself up in the water; his other arm is already on Parker’s arm, helping her stay afloat.

‘Deep breath!’ he cries.

She nods. I take my own big breath.

‘Dive!’ Rex shouts.

I plunge down, down, under the water. I can feel the tug on the belt connecting me to Parker. I swim deeper, trusting Parker to keep kicking and Rex to keep guiding her.

A couple more strokes and I reach the window. My heart swells with hope. There’s just enough space where the two boards broke off to swim through to the outside. It’s going to be okay. We can do this. I reach for Parker’s arm and point. She nods, pulling on the belt that connects the two of us. Rex gives the thumbs-up sign. All we have to do now is swim through the gap between the broken boards, then up to the surface on the other side.

Rex lets go of Parker’s arm and swims, fast and hard, through the jagged hole. He turns as I guide Parker towards him. The water resists us, but between us we get Parker through. I’m right up against the gap now, tugged at by the belt that connects us. It’s making me so clumsy in the water, when normally I’d feel free.

I swim hard, pulling myself through the cold, dirty wet. My arms are through the gap. The water pushes back. I pull again. Harder.

Ow. My trailing foot catches against a jagged piece of wood. It’s trapped between two bits of broken board. I try to tug it out but it’s stuck.

I’m stuck.

Fear rises inside me. Parker is kicking again, trying to swim up to the surface. Her efforts pull painfully on my foot. I tug on the belt that connects us, yanking her back.

She stares at me. I point to my foot. My lungs are burning now. I need to breathe. The panic I’d warned Parker against is filling me. With a terrible jolt I realize that if I don’t get free, it won’t be Parker drowning me, but me killing her.

Rex – the same fear on his face – has seen my foot is stuck too. He tries to swim past us, to reach down to it, but Parker, still between us, is in the way. I want to scream, but I keep my mouth closed. I’m running out of air. I try to bend down, but there’s no room to move. I look up, sheer panic rising up from my belly.

Parker meets my gaze. She presses her lips tightly together, then dives, pulling herself down my leg, hand over hand, to where my foot is stuck.

I have to breathe. I can’t hold out any longer.

With a fierce wrench, Parker yanks at the broken boards trapping me.

I’m free.

I kick with my foot and then time seems to slow down as Parker reappears beside me. I kick again, for all I’m worth, but feel like I’m hardly moving. Rex is right there, pulling on Parker’s arm. Black spots appear at the sides of my vision. I haul myself through the water, no longer noticing that it’s cold and dirty. I need air. I need to breathe.

Whoosh, the three of us break through the surface. I take in huge, greedy gulps of air, tipping my face back to let the sun warm it.

I open my eyes. Rex and Parker are staring anxiously at me. I can feel them both still kicking the water at our feet. Rex is holding Parker under the armpit with one hand, tugging at the water with the other. Parker reaches out and grips my numb fingers.

‘You did it,’ she gasps, teeth chattering with cold. ‘You saved me.’

‘No…’ I say, still panting for breath, ‘… you saved me. You both did.’

‘What do… now?’ Rex gasps, turning his head. I follow his gaze.

We’re surrounded by water, just the tops of buildings visible above the surface. The Salthaven I have known all my life has vanished completely.

There’s nothing I can see we could use as a raft.

And then, before the panic can rise again, I catch the faint sound of a motorboat.

‘Listen!’ I say, splashing at the water. ‘Can… you… hear that?’

As one voice, the three of us call out: ‘Help! Over here! Help!’

And a few seconds later, a small boat chugs around the corner.

33

The motorboat slows to a gentle stop beside us. I’m cold and beyond tired, but I’ve never been happier to see anything in my life. A young woman in a camouflage jacket and a beret leans over the hull of the boat.

‘Hollie Norris?’

How does she know my name?

‘Yes.’ I’m trying to speak but my voice is as exhausted as the rest of me and all that comes out is a hoarse gasp.

‘I’m Kim.’ She gives us a warm smile. ‘Your mother located you here from your phone. We came straight out as soon as the water settled.’

I stare at her, hardly able to make sense of what she’s saying.

‘Your mum!’ Parker gasps. ‘That means she really is okay, Hollie.’

I stare at them, the reality of this slowly settling inside me.

‘That’s right,’ says Kim. ‘Now, let’s get you guys out of that water. Hold us steady, Kev!’ Kim turns to her partner, whose hand is on the tiller. Two people wrapped in blankets are already huddled in the bottom of the boat. They barely glance up as Kim helps us on board. Luckily Rex is able to explain exactly what we’ve been through. He talks, as Kim wraps us in blankets and settles us down next to her.

Kim is replying to Rex, asking his and Parker’s names.

‘Are Alfie and Louella okay?’ I stammer, my teeth chattering.

Kim says she doesn’t know, but that we’ll soon be back at the shelter, where Mum will be waiting for me.

We pick up five more people, the minutes passing agonizingly slowly, until we finally head back to the Sally. The road containing the sports centre is like a river, unrecognizable from before. Kim and Kev steer the boat next to the top step, by the front door. When we get out the water swills about our ankles. Feeling disoriented, I peer inside. The hallway is crowded with people, many of them as dripping wet as we are. There’s a low hubbub of voices, like a hum. I’m so tired I can barely stand.

‘The tsunami reached all the way here,’ Parker says, sounding dazed.

‘It did,’ Kim confirms, ‘though we understand that was the last big wave. There may be a few further swells, but nothing to make things even worse than this.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Rex says, with feeling.

Kim says goodbye and I follow the others inside the shelter. I can’t feel my feet any longer – the sneakers Parker found for me earlier are wet through.

All I want is to sleep. No, scratch that.

All I want is to find my family.

‘Hollie!’ It’s Mum’s voice. I look up, eyes darting over the crowd. ‘Hollie!’

‘Mum!’ I’m trying to shout, but the sound I make is barely more than a whisper.

‘Hey!’ Parker waves and points and suddenly, wonderfully, Mum is here, right in front of me, her eyes welling with tears.

We stare at each other and in that moment all the emotion of the past few hours surges inside me. I hurl myself into her arms and let her enfold me.

Finally, I’m safe.

We hold each other for a long moment, as the world of the shelter bustles and hums around us.

At last I draw back.

‘Are Alfie and Louella okay?’

‘Yes,’ Mum says. ‘We’re all fine.’

Relief rolls over me. Thank goodness.

Mum grips me by the shoulders. ‘What were you doing in Salthaven? I was sure you were safe up the hill at Parker’s but I couldn’t get hold of you. Then, when the network and phone lines finally came back on I still couldn’t and… and I tried Parker’s parents but they had no idea where any of you were.’ There’s no accusation in her voice, just worry. ‘I used the tracker app to find you. What were you doing in that old factory building?’

I open my mouth but before I can explain anything, Parker is speaking.

‘Hollie was so worried about you when the news about the tsunami came through,’ she says. ‘She was certain it would get past the seawall.’

‘Which it did,’ Rex chips in. ‘Hollie’s been right about that all along.’ He gives me a meaningful look and I know what he’s thinking: that we need to tell everyone his mother is innocent. That it was Christian who defrauded Mayes Cranston and used substandard steel in the seawall.

I open my mouth to explain it all to Mum, but before I can speak, she starts talking herself. ‘I still don’t understand how you ended up back in Salthaven?’

‘Hollie was worried that when the tsunami came, you’d be stuck in your house, unable to get Louella up the stairs in time,’ Parker goes on. ‘She insisted on finding a way back there, to make sure you and Louella and Alfie were all safe. Rex and I came with her to help.’

Mum’s jaw sags. She stares at me. ‘You went to our house?’

I nod. ‘We found Cruffin. He’s somewhere here too, with Mrs Oliphant from next door.’

Mum looks dazed. Between us we explain the rest – how we brought Cruffin back here and how Christian tricked us into thinking our families were at a second shelter.

‘It was him, Mum,’ I explain. ‘He bought the cheap steel using Ms Somersby’s signature. He tried to cover his tracks but the original sales order slipped through the net. I saw it on your computer, but by the time Parker found it on the Mayes Cranston intranet Christian had got rid of it.’

Mum’s eyes widen. ‘Oh my goodness, do the police know?’

‘Not yet.’ I grimace.

‘There’s more,’ Rex says bitterly. ‘Christian deliberately left us at the factory in the path of the second wave. The stairs he said would save us were broken, so we were trapped inside and—’

‘We had to swim underwater to get out,’ Parker jumps in. ‘Hollie saved my life.’

‘And mine,’ Rex adds. ‘She thought fast and got me tied to a pipe so the water wouldn’t batter me about.’ He grins. ‘Hollie’s been brilliant all day.’

I meet his gaze and smile. But I don’t feel my stomach flipping over, like it used to do. And I realize in that moment that though I really want Rex in my life as a friend, I’m not interested in him in any other way.

Mum takes my face in her hands. ‘You are an amazing girl, Hollie Norris.’

I smile back at her. ‘Are Louella and Alfie really okay?’

‘They are and they’re upstairs, eager to see you,’ Mum explains. She puts her arm around my shoulders and starts leading me towards the stairs. ‘When the news about the tsunami first came through, I went straight to Alfie’s school to pick him up. When we got back to the house, Louella was insisting I help her up to the first floor. It didn’t matter how I tried to reassure her that the seawall would keep the tsunami back, she kept talking about her vision of the sea storm that would destroy Salthaven – and how you’d worked out that the seawall wouldn’t hold.’

I laugh and the sound is strange to my ears. ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘I should have guessed Louella would be one step ahead of everyone.’

We reach the stairs and start climbing. My legs feel so heavy that every step is a huge effort.

‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ I say quietly, leaning on her arm.

She glances across at me, eyebrows raised.

‘The things I said this morning.’ My cheeks burn with the shame of remembering. ‘All those unkind things… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of them.’

‘I know.’ Mum squeezes my hand.

‘And I’m sorry I got you fired from your job,’ I go on. ‘If you’d been at work today, you wouldn’t have got caught up in the tsunami; it’s my fault you were in danger.’

‘Don’t be sorry about that,’ Mum says softly. ‘If I hadn’t been at home, I wouldn’t have been able to help Louella reach the first floor.’ She pauses. ‘She might not have made it up there, which doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘No.’ I gaze up at her as we reach the crowded first floor.

‘There’s something else,’ Mum says, drawing me closer. ‘Something I should have told you before.’

34

The first floor of the Sally hums around us, but all I can see is Mum’s face.

‘What is it?’ I ask. ‘What should you have told me before?’

‘It’s about Dad… about why he left…’

‘Go on.’ My heart is in my mouth.

‘It wasn’t just a random decision,’ Mum explains. ‘He met someone else and… and they went abroad together last summer. He said… he couldn’t miss this “last chance of happiness” and that he thought it was better to have a clean break rather than painful calls and messages.’ She looks down.

I stare at her, all the breath sucked out of my body.

‘So in a sense you were right,’ Mum continues sadly. ‘He did leave because of me – because our marriage didn’t work out. But you need to know that he always loved you and Alfie. I’m sure he still does.’

Just not enough to stay with us, I think.

‘I should have told you, but I was scared it might make you feel even worse.’

‘Where did he – they – go?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. Singapore, maybe. Or Australia. He didn’t say, just that it was “the other side of the world”. I don’t have an address and I can’t find him on his old socials. He hasn’t been in touch with me since he left.’

‘Oh, Mum.’ My voice cracks.

She hugs me, tears in her eyes, then glances over her shoulder at Rex and Parker. They are huddled together by the wall opposite and, like me, still dripping wet. Mum straightens up and clears her throat. ‘Come on, we need to get the three of you into some dry clothes.’

We make our way through the noisy, bustling throng of people, into the first room on the right. Louella and Alfie are by the door: Louella in a camping chair, Alfie stretched out on a thin mattress at her feet. He jumps up when he sees me, delight filling his face.

‘Hollie!’ he squeals.

‘Hello, lovey,’ adds Louella.

I hug them both with tears in my eyes, then Parker, Rex and I re-tell our story while Mum disappears to find us some food and dry clothes.

‘You were right about the sea storm, Louella,’ I say as we finish our tale. ‘You were right about everything.’

Louella leans forward in her chair, smiling. For a few seconds we look into each other’s eyes. I feel, not for the first time, that she is seeing right into me.

‘Not so angry any more, lovey?’ she murmurs. ‘That’s good.’

Mum comes back a few minutes later with three cups of soup and an armful of blankets. She hands them out. ‘No clothes yet, I’m afraid, but I did find Cruffin. It’s technically against the rules to bring pets up here, but everything is so chaotic now…’

As she speaks, Cruffin himself bounds over, tail wagging furiously. As Alfie hurls himself at the dog, Mum lowers her voice, speaking directly to me, Rex and Parker.

‘While I was downstairs, I found a police officer. Someone’s coming up to take your statement about Christian in a minute.’

The next half an hour passes quickly. We finish our soup, then spot Krishnan and Samira, her arm now bandaged, with their children. We say hello and Mum thanks them for helping us. A policewoman arrives. She sits us down and makes us go through our whole day, moment by moment, all over again. Rex asks if she knows where his mother is. ‘She didn’t do anything wrong,’ he keeps saying.

The policewoman nods, tells him not to worry and says she’ll put in a call.

It takes another two hours, but at last Rex’s mum appears, anxiety etched into her face.

Parker and I stand back as she gives Rex a massive hug. Then the three of us recount, yet again, our journey to my house and then the shelter, our realization that Christian was behind the Mayes Cranston fraud – and his attempt to shut us inside the factory while he made his getaway. Ms Somersby looks very different from the last time I saw her: no make-up, and stains all down her torn jacket. But her face is alive: there’s no businesslike mask any more, just relief that her son is okay. And shock over Christian’s betrayal.

As we finish explaining our story, Ms Somersby spots Mum behind us and holds out her hand. Mum takes it and the two women exchange a long look. Then Ms Somersby turns to me.

‘I’m so sorry, Hollie,’ she says. ‘I see now that you were right about the fraud. Right about everything.’

Everyone looks at me.

‘Except…’ I say awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry I thought it was you who’d taken the money and, er, spent it on a painting.’

Ms Somersby gives a hollow laugh, then explains that the money for the painting had actually come from a wealthy uncle who died last year and left his whole estate to her.

‘Under the circumstances I can see why you were confused, Hollie,’ she says. ‘I should have taken you more seriously when you told us about that sales order you’d seen.’ She sighs. ‘If I’d listened to you… investigated properly instead of jumping to conclusions…’ She turns back to Mum. ‘Above everything else, I am truly sorry for taking your job away and I hope… I would love it if you’d consider coming back to work at Mayes Cranston. It’s going to be a huge task to regain public confidence after this terrible episode and we need all the best people we have to help rebuild Salthaven. Not just the seawall, but the whole renovation programme that’ll be required to get the town on its feet again.’

I look at Mum, suddenly feeling less tired. Hope fills me.

Mum’s face flushes. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.

I frown. What is she waiting for? This is the answer to everything she’s wanted for the past month.

‘What do you say?’ Ms Somersby asks. ‘If you need more time to think about what you want, then that’s fine—’

‘I don’t need more time,’ Mum says. She glances at me, then back to Ms Somersby. ‘I don’t think I’d be setting a good example for my daughter if I didn’t tell you exactly what I do want, though.’ She clears her throat. ‘I’d like to take a key role in the rebuild programme; no more junior filing and form-filling work – and a twenty per cent pay rise.’

Ms Somersby blinks. Beside me, Rex smothers a giggle.

‘Go for it, Mrs Norris,’ Parker murmurs in my ear.

‘Is that all?’ Ms Somersby asks, faintly.

‘No,’ Mum says. ‘After I’ve helped with the Salthaven renovations I’d like you to fund a day-release programme for me, so I can do the training I should have done when I left school. In fact, I’d like Mayes Cranston to sponsor me to become an engineer.’ She smiles at Ms Somersby. ‘How does that sound?’

There’s a moment, while the chatter of the shelter echoes around us, when Ms Somersby simply gazes at Mum, a look of impressed surprise on her face. Then she smiles and shakes Mum’s hand. ‘That all sounds excellent,’ she says. ‘It’s a deal.’

Mum grins and Parker squeezes my arm. And then suddenly, somehow, we’re all in one big hug together. Even Louella is on her feet. Cruffin weaves himself in and out of our legs as we laugh and cry and hold each other.

35

SIX WEEKS LATER

It’s a Saturday afternoon in mid-May, and I’m on the beach waiting for Rex and Parker. The tsunami water has, at last, almost entirely drained away from Salthaven, but it’s left a whole load of destruction in its wake.

Twenty-two people died, most of whom were watching as the tsunami arrived. It’s hard to think about what they must have gone through. Mum’s been to all the funerals, together with Ms Somersby – in fact the two of them are now firm friends. Which is, I suppose, one good thing that’s come out of the sea storm.

The whole area along the coastline is in ruins. Hardly any of the houses and shops that were here before are still standing and, even after weeks of clearing up, the roads are impassable by car, full of broken bits of metal and wood and littered with shards of plastic and smashed-up furniture from the various stores that were destroyed along the seafront. It’s too early to say what the environmental impact will be, but it’s definitely going to take ages to get Salthaven fully back on its feet.

Further inland, things are a bit more sorted at least. In addition to hospitals, local schools have been a priority and both Alfie and I have now started back, albeit with many lessons reorganized and relocated. There’s a lot of rebuilding work going on and all the flooded houses are being thoroughly cleaned and renovated. The government has set up a disaster relief programme, local charities are handling amazing levels of donations from the public and Mayes Cranston, under Ms Somersby’s leadership, has set up an emergency fund to spend on getting families back into their houses as soon as possible. Mum is heavily involved in working out who gets what. Now she has a job again, there’s no need for us to move away from the area. Mum, Alfie, Louella and I have been staying in a B&B for the past few weeks, all crammed into one small room. I really hope we’ll be able to go back home soon.

Despite all the media focus on Salthaven, Dad still hasn’t got in touch. Not with me and Alfie, anyway. Mum says he did message her when he heard about the tsunami, to check we were all okay. He says he’s settled in his new life now and, though he loves us very much, he still reckons we’re all better off sticking to the clean break he’s insisted on from the start.

I don’t know why he thinks that, or how much love counts when it’s just a word in a text message.

I still love him. Of course I do. But it hurts.

Anyway, I’m going to focus on the people who are here: the family I can count on.

Christian tried to flee the country on the day of the tsunami but was caught and arrested. He’s admitted to stealing money from company accounts and carrying out the whole seawall fraud; apparently he had debts he was desperate to pay off. He has also acknowledged that he dumped Rex, Parker and me in a building without checking we’d be able to survive the second tsunami there, though he says he had no idea the stairs in the old factory building were broken and claims he was just trying to buy time to make his escape. He’s now in prison, awaiting sentencing, and Parker, Rex and I have all given full statements about what he said and did, just before that second wave hit.

Thoughts of the tsunami bring me back to the beach stretched out in front of me. Parker and Rex should be here any moment. I stare across the sand and the water beyond, to what remains of the seawall – a few broken turrets of concrete rising above the lapping waves. The water is so still, the sun sparkling on the surface. It’s hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago it could have caused so much devastation. I tip my face to the light and close my eyes, feeling the weak spring warmth on my face.

I haven’t had that irritable, angry feeling in my brain since the day of the tsunami. It’s not like everything in my life is perfect, but I don’t feel any longer like I’m raging at the world all the time.

‘Hollie!’

I turn at the sound of Parker’s voice. She and Rex are hurrying towards me over the gleaming pebbles and onto the sandy part of the beach. The sun passes behind a cloud for a moment, darkening the sky, then re-emerges, casting its bright light across the shore.

‘Hi,’ I say, as the others reach me.

‘Parker has news,’ Rex says. ‘About our sea storm project.’

I look up, shielding my eyes from the sun. ‘Yeah?’

Parker nods. ‘Miss Griffin called my parents yesterday. She wants me to go in for this national science competition, thinks I’ll do really well.’

‘Course you will. I bet you’ll win it,’ I say.

‘That’s what I said,’ Rex adds.

Parker blushes, modestly. ‘Anyway, while she was talking to my dad, Miss Griffin let slip that we got top marks for our project. She said it was the best of its kind she’s ever seen in all her years of teaching.’

‘I bet it was,’ I say. ‘Almost entirely down to you, of course.’

Parker wrinkles her nose. ‘I’d like to say that no, it took all three of us, a team effort, blah, blah, blah… but, let’s be honest, I did do most of the work.’

And the three of us laugh, as we link arms and set off across the beach, together.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Huge thanks to the whole team at Simon & Schuster, including Michelle Misra, Sophie Storr, Loren Catana, Laura Hough, Leanne Nulty, Dani Wilson, Dan Fricker and Jess Dean.

Thank you also to Jodie Hodges and her team at United Agents, to Lou Kuenzler for her feedback on this story and to all the friends and family who support me as I write.

More from the Author

Secret Sister

Truth or Dare

Hide and Secrets

Defy the Stars

The Medusa Project Collection

Casting Shadows

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sophie McKenzie is the multi-award-winning original queen of teen thrillers, whose 2005 debut, Girl, Missing, remains a YA bestseller. She has followed its success with two further books in the Missing series: Sister, Missing, Missing Me and many other teen thriller and romance novels, including The Medusa Project series, Hide and Secrets and Truth or Dare. Sophie’s first adult novel, Close My Eyes, was selected for the Richard and Judy Book Club. Sophie’s books have sold more than a million copies in the UK alone and are translated and sold all over the world. She lives in North London.

www.sophiemckenziebooks.com

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Twitter @sophiemckenzie_

www.SimonandSchuster.co.uk/Authors/Sophie-McKenzie

Also by Sophie McKenzie

Hide and Secrets

Truth or Dare

THE MISSING SERIES

Girl, Missing

Sister, Missing

Missing Me

Secret Sister

THE MEDUSA PROJECT

The Set-Up

The Hostage

The Rescue

Hunted

Double-Cross

Hit Squad

First published in Great Britain in 2024 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd

Text copyright © 2024 Sophie McKenzie

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

No reproduction without permission.

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PB ISBN 978-1-3985-2329-6

eAudio ISBN 978-1-3985-2330-2

eBook ISBN 978-1-3985-2331-9

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.