The Runaway by Ali Harper

Author:Ali Harper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-06-21T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

A spliff helped bring me back to earth. I drank the tea, and ate the rest of the watermelon. I couldn’t see any sign of my bald-headed, bare-chested new dance floor friend. I got to my feet and stumbled around the clearing and found Jo dancing on her own down a little path that led into the woods. She was still wearing her parka.

‘Lee.’ She grinned. I grinned. Like we hadn’t seen each other in months. She put her arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a full body hug and I wondered why on earth I think I don’t like hugs. Jo stepped back. ‘I’m having the best time. I love this.’

‘You’re the best friend in the whole world.’

‘You too, fuckface.’ She hugged me again. Even though my knees were knackered, I couldn’t resist a bit of a dance as we held each other, although dance was a bit strong. More of a sway, with perhaps a bit of a jiggle.

I opened my eyes. ‘This is the best place for a party.’

Jo let me go and we took a moment to appreciate the surroundings. The sun had broken through now and shafts of light dappled the trees. ‘I saw you dancing your pants off,’ said Jo. She shook her head. ‘With your eyes closed.’

‘I met a boy.’

Jo raised her eyebrows. ‘About fucking time.’

‘Not like that.’ I pushed her and she nearly tripped.

She laughed. ‘Thought it was too good to be true.’

‘I’m delegating. He’s looking for Matt for us. I’m on it like a car bonnet.’

‘Matt.’ She laughed again, this time so hard she bent at the waist. ‘I’d forgotten about him.’

I shook my head. ‘Some business partner you turned out to be.’

‘Just biding my time. Waiting for the right moment. There’s a travellers’ camp down there.’ Jo pointed into the trees. ‘I went for a wee, and there’s all these caravans. Right bunch of hippies. Think we should ask around?’

‘Dunno. I’m still a bit twatted. Fancy a brew first?’

I led Jo back to the group I’d been sat with earlier. We cadged a cup of milky tea, served in a tin mug, the kind I imagine they use in prisons, and shared it between the two of us. I tried to roll a cigarette but I didn’t have the spit to stick the Rizla paper down and the tobacco just fell on the ground. I gave up after the second attempt. My limbs ached but sitting still felt too sedentary, so we decided to wind our way through the trees and see if we could find the travellers’ camp Jo had seen. Sure enough, a few hundred yards into the woods were about half a dozen caravans, including a VW camper van, and two white tents – the circus tent kind – pitched with rope and wooden pegs. A bloke with dreads was building a fire while a greyhound with a bad leg hobbled along next to him.

He smiled when he saw us. ‘You lost?’

‘Exploring.’

‘Having fun?’

‘Fuck, yes,’ said Jo.

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