Not to be found

Chapter 7 - Day one: plans

Oh god. I really should have expected this shouldn't I?

Now the entire population of the UK believe that me - Lacey Grey has been kidnapped or even murdered. What have I gotten myself into? I really do need to run, to disappear. The amount of trouble I'll be in; not just with my parents but with the authorities for wasting police time.

Think Lacey. Think. A place where you can't be found, a place where no one will even try and look to find you. Damn it, how would I know a place like that I'm treated like Rapunzel. Heading north is probably my best bet at this point, maybe even possibly leave the country but oh yeah I don't have a passport and even then I'll be busted. I'm trapped.

I sit in the lay by with my fourth cup of coffee of the day and look out of the window at the many cars passing by, knowing that they all know about my disappearance; keeping their eyes peeled for Lacey Grey the innocent good girl who was just taken from the streets. That's far beyond the truth. I dread to wonder what is being aired on TV, on news channels up and down the country, I wonder what picture mum and dad decided to use as my missing persons picture so that people are aware of what I look like.

As I look up into the mirror, the general public have no chance of identifying me from no matter what picture they've chosen doesn't matter how recent, because I've just disguised myself too well. I made sure of it, I will not be found and dragged back to that house. I take a sip of coffee and look down at my phone, the calls and messages that used to flood my lock screen now just come in drips and drops. I guess the police have told mum, dad and Monica to give up. I'm not going to answer. Why get rid of a perfectly good phone? I wonder as I sit there in the drivers seat staring at it, I could just change the SIM card. Why not? Destroy or burn the current one and then the phone can't be traced, its perfect.

I drink the last few dregs in the bottom of the takeout cup and throw it into the carrier bag that I designated for rubbish on the bag seat. I pull out the lay by and decide to continue heading north as its my best bet and really my only option if I stay here I will be found. The traffic on the roads is light and so it should be easy to get quite far in a short period of time, I'll have to take breaks of course.

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An airport sign? In this place? Surely not? Are my eyes deceiving me?

I squint as I drive up to the roundabout of the motorway to see if I'm seeing clearly or its just my eyes playing tricks; it is! its an airport sign! Not that I can use the airport but I can at least go in and have a look. It can't be that big, this town is tiny in fact I wouldn't even call it a town. Its a little village with all its white cottages and thatched roofs, pine trees are everywhere and the air is as fresh as a daisy. I could see myself living here and what you don't know is that I am now hundreds of miles away from home and so there is no chance of anyone finding me here. Have I found my haven?

I drive into the airport car park, its a funny little thing; you have to drive under a bridge to get to it which for some reason I find quite amusing. The airport near where I live has barbed wire fencing and guards at every entrance, this place is just open to the public and to anyone who wants to visit it. The main terminal building looks outdated from the outside and is very small, its painted a cream colour and is a weird box shape. This can't be an airport. Can it?

I look at myself in the interior mirror and attempt to straighten my hair with my fingertips, I then reach across to the passenger seat and search through my satchel for make up. This place looks bad but I at least need to make an effort, I apply some more powder to my cheeks and nose taking away the shine. Next I pull out the eyeliner and draw perfect black lines around the outside of my eyes, the mascara also black making my lashes look longer and much thicker. I then put on my favourite thing; lipstick, its bright red and I wasn't sure it was going to look good on me but I absolutely love it now. I gently drag the tube around my lips so that they are now stained red. I look down at my clothes, they're probably not appropriate but this is no place for a quick change on the backseat.

I pull my satchel up onto my shoulder and close the car door behind me, dropping my phone which is switched off into one of the pockets. I've got to get rid of that damn SIM card. I look through the windows to make sure that nothing is on display that could possibly get stolen and then head off inside to see what I can find.

I go through the brown wooden doors and walk up the small set of white steps and pull open a second set of wooden doors with gold handles. Wow. Talk about never judge a book by its cover, this place is amazing; its so vintage inside it's so amazing. I walk over to the information board to get to know the place a little better; turns out its a private airport for people with their own planes, the actual terminal is now a café to the public and to the pilots.

The music is old fashioned and everyone in here looks so posh and well mannered, a few weeks ago I could picture myself in this place but being dressed like this, no way. The smell of freshly made croissants fills the air and my stomach rumbles, drawing me towards the counter that they're on.

I pause at the set of doors, should I be doing this? What if I'm recognised? I pull a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear and carry on eyeing the counter that is selling the treat that I so desperately want.

"Just do it!" my conscious yells at me. I can practically feel her sitting on my shoulder. "Go Lacey! What are you waiting for?" she asks me.

What am I waiting for? Just because I've runaway doesn't mean I have to start walking through life being scared of everything, I just have to be cautious. My feet begin to move again, as I step further into the room its true colours are revealed; its white washed walls, grand pictures of planes dotted on the walls and the sound of old music setting the vintage vibe. Everyone in here is dressed so nicely; the women all in dresses and the men all in suit jackets, shirts and trousers. I feel so hopelessly underdressed.

I try to avoid my anxiety and instead get to the front of the queue where a friendly waitress takes my order, I panic on the inside as she stares at my face for a couple of seconds, but the warm feeling is diminished as she says,

"Hello, how may I help you?" her tone friendly and light.

I look up at the menu board and reply quickly,

"I'll have a ham and cheese sandwich, croissant and cappuccino please."

She gives me my food on a tray and I go of to find a table. The place is packed but luckily I find a table towards the back where I can hide in the shadows. I take a bite of my sandwich and take a sip of my coffee, I'm addicted to the stuff I swear. I finish the sandwich quickly whilst keeping my head down in the hope that no one knows who I am. I pick at the croissant whilst continuing to occasionally look around at my surroundings, you can tell who's a pilot and who isn't; the pilots have tags around their necks, obviously for identification purposes. My parents will probably install a chip under my skin when they eventually get their hands on me again.

I finish my coffee and take the tray back to the counter to save the waiters a job. I head towards the door to leave the small vintage airport, but just as I go to grab the door handle a guy around my age bumps straight into me, sending his cup of coffee to the ground and staining his crisp white t-shirt.

Oh why me?