Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

wrist as they made their way to the exit, their heads tilted away from the CCTV cameras pinned high against the wall. To be discovered after coming so far would be the kind of rookie mistake he wasn’t prepared to make – not after the trouble he’d already taken to ensure her safety. He didn’t release his grip until they were down the road and out of sight of the rush-hour milieu that circled the station entrance.

As he stopped at the end of the road, the sight of the large imposing Caernarfon Castle rising up in the background caused him a stab of grief. Ronan had liked nothing better than a trip to the castle followed by a special treat of fish and chips eaten sitting on the harbour wall while him and his brothers watched the boats tracing their way along the River Seiont and out towards the Menai Strait. But memories were painful. They reminded him of exactly what he’d lost and that there was no going back to those happier times.

With a little shake of his head, he pushed the hazy images away only to replace them with the sight of Ellie’s downcast head and determined chin. One hand on her shoulder, he pulled her to a stop, his attention drawn to the small newspaper shop opposite. They had a long walk ahead of them simply because he wasn’t prepared to risk a taxi even though there was money enough in his pockets for such an emergency. The sooner they were off the streets and away from the threat of the ever-curious passers-by, the better.

‘I’m going to pop over there,’ he said, pointing a finger at the shop. ‘I want you to wait outside and not speak to anyone,’ he added, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Got it?’

She didn’t bother to reply.

Within minutes he was back, his arms full of chocolate bars, sweets, bottles of water and a carefully rolled-up newspaper. Reading the paper had never been on the top of his list of life’s essentials and he’d often groaned at his mother’s obsession with the news. In fact, much to the displeasure of both his parents, Ronan wasn’t a great one for reading novels. He quite liked searching up facts but usually on the internet instead of turning the pages of a book. But the newspaper was impossible to ignore, the headlines screaming out in their blackest print about the disappearance of local girl Elodie Fry. He’d barely glanced at it before adding it to his pile of goodies and paying at the till. The man behind the counter didn’t bother to lift his head as he scanned the items into a tidy pile.

‘Here, kid. Take a water and whichever sweets and chocolate you want. I’ll pack what’s left in my bag.’ Ronan crouched down on his haunches and opened his rucksack, rearranging what few clothes he had to make room for the additional items.

‘But the money?’ she asked, the frown marks wrinkling her smooth brow, making him struggle not to laugh out loud.

‘You sound like my …’ He stopped, his attention back on his bag as he stuffed his purchases in any old how, the paper folded into four and squashed down on top before he pulled the strap tight. As always, thoughts of his mother, even innocent fleeting ones like this, made his insides creak in agony.

‘I wouldn’t have bought them if we didn’t have the money,’ he said finally, his cheeks deathly pale against the stark relief of his navy cap. ‘We have a bit of a walk ahead of us and, if you’re anything like my younger brothers, sweets and chocolate are bound to help.’ He paused, his skin taking on a deep red colour. ‘Did you need the loo or …?’

‘No, I went on the train.’

‘So you did. Anything else you need before we head off?’

But instead of responding, she stuffed the packets of sweets in the top of her rucksack and stood waiting.

‘You’re not going to eat those? That’s why I bought them.’

‘Not hungry.’

‘I thought kids were always hungry for sweets,’ he said, examining her averted gaze and downturned mouth.

She’d only made monosyllabic replies to his careful questioning on the train, spending most of the time curled into a ball, her head resting against her bag, which she’d propped up against the window. He hadn’t minded then. The less the other passengers noticed her the better. But now he was worried. He wouldn’t get very far if she was sickening for something. The brave girl who had followed him off the Great Orme and let him cut her hair was missing, replaced by a vision of despair decked out in his brother’s old clothes. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it, or about her until they got to the farmhouse – if they made it that far.

Instead of worrying, Ronan forced himself to calculate how long it would take them to travel what used to only be fifteen minutes by car. They’d have to take the coastal path simply because it was less likely that they’d be spotted. He grabbed her hand again and squeezed it gently, the only thing he could think of to reassure her.

‘How do you fancy crossing a swing bridge?’

Her eyes widened. ‘A swing bridge?’

‘It swings back and forth to let boats through. It’s that or adding an extra two miles on to the walk. Your call, kid,’ he said, staring down at his younger brother’s scruffy trainers, which must be a good two or three sizes too big. They were obviously going to be difficult to walk in, even after taking into account the extra pair of socks he’d made her wear. Hot and uncomfortable too. He spared a thought for Caleb and the note he’d left him, folded up into a small square and carefully positioned under his desktop mouse – a place his mother would never think to look. There was no point in arousing suspicion when