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again, like a full stop when there’s still so much more to say. So Luc ’ s next words come as a shock, interrupting my resignation:
    ‘ Oh, d’you know what? Sod it. Let ’ s give it a go. ’ He stops walking and turns to face me.
    ‘What? Really? You mean ... ’
    ‘ Yeah, let ’ s try and find him, if that ’ s what you really want. We can only try can ’ t we? Then at least we can say …’
    But I don ’ t let him finish his sentence.
    ‘ Do you really mean it? You ’ ll help me?’ Maybe he’s just humouring me. Does he think we can actually do this? But when I look into his eyes, I realise he’s one hundred percent serious.
     
    *
     
    We spend the next five days in a frenzy of activity. It’s August, just over a month since we lost Skye and finally I can do something positive. I really feel hopeful that we might find her killer.
    Pa must know I spend all my time with Luc, but if he does know he doesn’t say anything. Ma is still half mad with grief and I’ve tuned her out of my day-to-day existence in order to cope with it. When I’m away from her, I don ’ t let myself think about her and what it means for my family ’ s long-term relationship. If I give it more than a few seconds thought, I start to panic and feel sick, so I focus on Luc and on our secret plan. We’ve arranged to leave the Perimeter on September 7 th - exactly two months after Skye ’ s death.

 
    Chapter Six
    Eleanor
    *
    When we were sixteen and studying for our mock ‘ A ’ Levels, my school ’ s Sixth Form organised one of those American-style prom nights as an end of year bash. Abi and I loved to laugh at the cheesiness of it all, but at the same time we were excited by its possibilities.
    It was to be held in three weeks’ time, at the end of June. The theme was Sixties Psychedelia and we’d already notched up several hours experimenting with hair straighteners, false eyelashes and powdery pale pink lipstick.
    I didn’t have my eye on anybody special to go with, but Abi was besotted with a boy called Samuel who lived in the village. We ’ d first met him and his best friend, Johnny, in a local pub garden.
    Nobody made a big deal of the fact we were all under-age. We weren’t getting drunk, just hanging out with our friends, drinking half pints of lager and eating salt and vinegar crisps. Taking time out from tedious end-of-year exam revision, we ’ d taken over two long trestle tables and were planning our forthcoming prom night and our far-off summer holidays.
    On the next table sat two eye-catching blokes, one of whom I recognised as the blond tousled-haired, good-looking-but-knew-it, Samuel Bletchley. My parents vaguely knew his family, but I didn ’ t know him to talk to. His friend was less obviously handsome, but had a cool self-assurance, with broad shoulders and dark cropped hair.
    I kept catching his eye and looking away. They were smiling and laughing together and I knew they were discussing me and my friends. Abi sat opposite me and I told her about the nice view over to my right.
    ‘ Don ’ t look over, ’ I hissed. Of course she leaned right back in her seat and stared directly across at them. I shouldn’t have been surprised as this was typical Abi behaviour. I was mortified and pleased all at once.
    Samuel got up and walked over to Abi. He cast his eyes over her and asked if she would mind if he and his friend joined us. Abi smiled and gave him the cliché that it’s a free country. So they lifted up their table and joined it onto the end of ours, spilling their pints in the process.
     
    *
     
    ‘So, you have to say yes , when Johnny asks you to the prom,’ Abi said, tossing the magazine down onto my bedroom floor. She lay on her stomach on the bed, with her feet on my pillow.
    ‘Ask me to the prom? He’s not going to ask me to the prom.’
    ‘Course he is. Sam’s going to ask me , so his best mate will ask my best mate.’ She gave me one of her cyanide smiles.
    Samuel was a player