kept me going. Now that the excitement of being secretive has gone, I feel like I’ve been in a fight. And lost.
I yawn and look at my watch. I must have been asleep for nearly an hour because there’s only twenty minutes left until the train gets in. I get out a little mirror from the top pocket of my rucksack and then attempt to calm down my hair. My face looks thin and pale in the early evening sunlight, but I try to ignore that. I get a bottle of water out and another snack and then turn to get my black leather bag full of medicine so that I can take some more Creon.
It’s gone.
***
I’m bolt awake now.
I search under the seat, behind the seat and on all the other empty seats around me. Then I open my rucksack just in case I’m going mad and put the little bag back in there without thinking, but it’s not there either.
My heart pounds with fright and uncertainty. I don’t know what to do now.
I check in my rucksack for my phone and money and they’re still there, at least. Thank God I didn’t put them in the little bag. But who can I call? Mum isn’t supposed to know where I am yet and my train is almost in London. I don’t know a single soul in London.
I try to think, even though tears are rising up and threatening to spill over.
Maybe I could find a chemist in London and tell them I’ve lost my drugs? But then they’d be bound to contact my GP’s surgery and they in turn would have to contact Mum and then the game would be up.
I could call Gemma, but I couldn’t expect her to come all the way up to London having first somehow got into my house and gone upstairs to my bedroom and got all my spare medicine and come out again. And anyway I don’t want to switch my phone on in case Mum or Harry call and then my voice will sound guilty and give the game away.
I’m shivering, even though the train is stuffy and the air-con isn’t working. This so wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m angry with myself for leaving the little bag on the seat next to me and then falling asleep. Somebody must have thought it contained money. That’s why they took it.
I sit there swearing and cursing and thinking, but I can’t come up with any good solution.
No.
I’m going to have to try and get through the next three days without my meds.
I’ve never had to do that before. If I eat meals without Creon I get the worst stomach aches ever. If I get out of breath and have no inhaler I might possibly faint or choke.
Or die.
I feel really scared now.
I cling onto my rucksack.
The train grinds into Waterloo and comes to a screeching halt.
Chapter Thirteen
I’d forgotten how busy London can be.
Once I’ve dragged my rucksack off the train and got it back onto my aching shoulders I stand on the platform disorientated and dizzy as people rush past me and bang into my back and sides. They’re like a swarm of ants all trying to run in different directions.
Dazed, I walk towards the ticket barrier. My rucksack gets caught in the automatic gates and I have to go backwards and try again and then my ticket is spat out of the slot and a beeping noise comes out of the machine. A man behind me tuts and gestures in the direction of the ticket inspector.
‘He’ll let you through.’
I push my way through to the gates on the end. Everybody else seems to be shoving and barging in, so I decide I might as well join in. I get a lot of rude noises and glares from the people I’m hitting with my rucksack, but I’m beyond caring.
All I want to do is get to the hotel and draw the curtains, lie on the bed and cry.
***
First I’ve got to negotiate the tube.
I put my rucksack down in front of me on the escalator, but it sticks out and nearly trips up the people rushing down the inside. I lift it up and try to hold it in front of me but my chest is hurting and I’m struggling to breathe. At the foot of the escalator I have to stop to put it on my back again and a load of people behind nearly catapult over my head.
‘Great
I yawn and look at my watch. I must have been asleep for nearly an hour because there’s only twenty minutes left until the train gets in. I get out a little mirror from the top pocket of my rucksack and then attempt to calm down my hair. My face looks thin and pale in the early evening sunlight, but I try to ignore that. I get a bottle of water out and another snack and then turn to get my black leather bag full of medicine so that I can take some more Creon.
It’s gone.
***
I’m bolt awake now.
I search under the seat, behind the seat and on all the other empty seats around me. Then I open my rucksack just in case I’m going mad and put the little bag back in there without thinking, but it’s not there either.
My heart pounds with fright and uncertainty. I don’t know what to do now.
I check in my rucksack for my phone and money and they’re still there, at least. Thank God I didn’t put them in the little bag. But who can I call? Mum isn’t supposed to know where I am yet and my train is almost in London. I don’t know a single soul in London.
I try to think, even though tears are rising up and threatening to spill over.
Maybe I could find a chemist in London and tell them I’ve lost my drugs? But then they’d be bound to contact my GP’s surgery and they in turn would have to contact Mum and then the game would be up.
I could call Gemma, but I couldn’t expect her to come all the way up to London having first somehow got into my house and gone upstairs to my bedroom and got all my spare medicine and come out again. And anyway I don’t want to switch my phone on in case Mum or Harry call and then my voice will sound guilty and give the game away.
I’m shivering, even though the train is stuffy and the air-con isn’t working. This so wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m angry with myself for leaving the little bag on the seat next to me and then falling asleep. Somebody must have thought it contained money. That’s why they took it.
I sit there swearing and cursing and thinking, but I can’t come up with any good solution.
No.
I’m going to have to try and get through the next three days without my meds.
I’ve never had to do that before. If I eat meals without Creon I get the worst stomach aches ever. If I get out of breath and have no inhaler I might possibly faint or choke.
Or die.
I feel really scared now.
I cling onto my rucksack.
The train grinds into Waterloo and comes to a screeching halt.
Chapter Thirteen
I’d forgotten how busy London can be.
Once I’ve dragged my rucksack off the train and got it back onto my aching shoulders I stand on the platform disorientated and dizzy as people rush past me and bang into my back and sides. They’re like a swarm of ants all trying to run in different directions.
Dazed, I walk towards the ticket barrier. My rucksack gets caught in the automatic gates and I have to go backwards and try again and then my ticket is spat out of the slot and a beeping noise comes out of the machine. A man behind me tuts and gestures in the direction of the ticket inspector.
‘He’ll let you through.’
I push my way through to the gates on the end. Everybody else seems to be shoving and barging in, so I decide I might as well join in. I get a lot of rude noises and glares from the people I’m hitting with my rucksack, but I’m beyond caring.
All I want to do is get to the hotel and draw the curtains, lie on the bed and cry.
***
First I’ve got to negotiate the tube.
I put my rucksack down in front of me on the escalator, but it sticks out and nearly trips up the people rushing down the inside. I lift it up and try to hold it in front of me but my chest is hurting and I’m struggling to breathe. At the foot of the escalator I have to stop to put it on my back again and a load of people behind nearly catapult over my head.
‘Great
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