{ELEMENTISTS OF WILLOW FOREST BOOK V} The Journey Across Water

Away

10: Away

It's not really like the realisation begin to sink in straight away.

I mean, if it had, I'd either be sad, or angry, or both. In which case I'd probably be back with Les Serpents Rouges already, or punching random passers-by. And, it being a ferry terminal in Calais, I had a lot of choice of punch-bags.

I knew what I had to do. Sneak onto one of those stupid great big ferries, and sneak off, so I would be back in England, and back where I was supposed to be.

The ferries still scared me, though. Or, not the ferries, but what they passed over, the ocean. A great big mass of endless liquid, of water. The tide could sweep you away, the sand sink beneath your toes, dragging you down, down, down, down under litres and litres, tanks and tanks, of smothering liquid. Nothing to breathe. Nothing to keep you warm. Nothing to burn, or get angry at. Just water. And, the worst thing was, that I could see it now, rolling backwards and tumbling forwards, to crash against the boats and docks and shore, slowing eating away at them, biting them, waiting to take them under to its depths.

I felt a shiver down my spine. I was cold. I'd never really been cold before. But now I'd left the warm glow of Les Serpents Rouges' fire, it felt like I'd left the warmth of every fire. I was left to face the world, cold, wet and empty as it really was.

No. Mustn't think about them. Mustn't think about what I'd left behind. I just had to think forwards, because if I thought back, I'd just want to scream, and screaming and stealth don't usually go well together.

I didn't have my suitcase anymore, (That had been abandoned three months ago when the fire WHICH HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME started at Auntie Romane's house) therefore no passport, and most certainly no money. However, I did have something else- what Les Serpents Rouges had taught me. And that was far, far, more valuable than anything you could carry in a little pink plastic suitcase.

Firstly, I had to get into the terminal itself, instead of just standing outside staring at it. I had to get through the door.

So, I walked through the door. Simple.

I know, Olivia, you're probably thinking 'How did you get away with that?' If you yell 'I'm kind of an illegal immigrant' and sprint in, people are going to stare, aren't they? But if you pretend you know what you're doing and are meant to be there, then people begin to believe you know what you're doing and that you're meant to be there. Do you stop, apprehend, search and question every little girl you see walk through the entrance of a terminal when you're travelling? No. Of course not. You assume they know what they're doing and are supposed to be there. And I think you'll find more or less everyone else is the same.

At the check-in and luggage registration, I walked straight through again. I didn't have any luggage, so it was easy to pretend I'd already handed it all in.

Passports. Passports. I didn't have a passport anymore. And I was being squashed between a crowd of schoolchildren now, all taller than me, all bashing me with uniform rucksacks as their teachers yelled at them for getting their passports mixed up. The (very flustered) woman responsible for checking the passports looked even more stressed than the teacher, and had got to the stage of just waving three through at a time.

Hmmm.

I walked straight through, and no-one even turned their heads.

Sticking with the school group, it was easy enough to board the ferry without even trying to fake a ticket. Because I was so much smaller than the rest of them, I managed to get through unnoticed in head counts, as my head wasn't at the same level as theirs.

It was only actually when I was safely on the ferry that I started to wonder about what would happen when I was off it.

Now Auntie Romane had virtually, dis-, de-, what's the word?

"Disowned?" Olivia suggested. "Disinherited?"

Sasha shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. One of them. Now Auntie Romane had virtually disowned me after the fire which HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME, and all my other relatives had died in VERY NORMAL house fires, there was no-one else to dump me on, so I'd no doubt be clapped into care if I turned myself in.

If, of course, I decided to turn myself in. I could just live on the streets, until I got caught. If I got caught. I'd lived with Les Serpents Rouges for three months. That's enough time to learn how to survive, survive and survive.

Les Serpents Rouges. Why had I left them? Because they told me to. Why had I done what they told me to? Why hadn't I just downright refused to go? They probably would have just laughed, and let me stay with them forever and ever and ever. I fitted in there. I belonged there. Sure, I could never officially be one of them, but I could be the next best thing.

I made up my mind there and then to never, ever agree to anything meekly ever, ever again.

Ahead of me, the road was bleak and meaningless. Back, the way was dark and alight, filled with fireworks and fantasies.

So, when the ferry slowly headed in to its destination port and hit a stop, I didn't find myself going out into the world, but staying on it, hidden in one of the toilets, emerging only when the next lot of passengers had now filled the ship, and returning to where I'd come from.

*

It had been, what, four hours since I'd seen them last? They may not have moved within four hours. Who knows, I might just be able to make it back to them before they moved from Calais. Maybe.

But when they ferry drew into the port, and I jumped off it more excited than I'd ever been, and I made it out, and I made it to their camp...

They weren't there.

*

I got on the third ferry that day. I got off the third ferry that day. I found the nearest police station. I told the nearest police station who I was. I was taken into care.

My life was as empty as a used packet of matches.