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the clothes – not even people in my fashion magazines wore outfits like Freya’s. I wondered where she did her shopping – the Internet, maybe.
    I switched on my printer, chose the nicest shot of her and ran it off When the ink was dry I carefully inserted it into a plastic wallet and put it in my ring binder.
    Jonathan
    9.45 p.m.
    I’d just closed the chat window when there was a knock on my door.
    ‘Jonathan, what are you doing in there? Are you all right?’
    Why do mothers have to ask such stupid questions? What did she think I was doing, hosting a cabaret? ‘Fine. Just mucking about.’
    ‘I thought you’d be out with friends.’
    ‘Obviously not.’
    ‘Can I come in?’ Without waiting for an answer, Mum pushed the door open. ‘Isn’t there anything going on tonight? I’m sure everyone else at college isn’t sitting in front of the computer.’
    ‘Nothing I know about.’
    She perched on my bed, picking up my pyjamas from the floor and stuffing them under the pillow. ‘What happened to the people you used to see on Saturdays?’
    ‘Guess they were more Freya’s mates than mine.’ I’d seen a few people on the zombie bus and around college, but none had stopped for a catch-up.
    Mum frowned. ‘Then you need to show them you still want to be friends rather than sitting around waiting for them to contact you.’
    ‘Look, if you must know I was talking to someone online.’
    She gave me one of her looks. It was sympathetic, despairing and warning all at once. ‘I thought we were past this stage. You know how happy your father and I were when Freya brought you out of your shell. We were worried that all you ever seemed to do was watch things on the computer.’
    ‘Well, maybe life doesn’t unfold in neat stages! Last I looked, I wasn’t made of assembly blocks and no one wrote any instructions saying how I should be put together.’
    ‘I know Freya’s not here now and it’s hard doing things by yourself, but you have to try.’
    ‘Maybe I’d feel more like trying if you’d let me go to music school.’
    Mum sighed. ‘You know why we didn’t, Jonathan. It would be very expensive and there’ll be plenty of time to study music later, when you have A levels to fall back on.’
    ‘If I’d known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have bothered getting good grades.’
    ‘That’s a silly thing to say and you know it.’
    ‘I bet when college is over you’ll push me to go to university and tell me music is a waste of time all over again. I heard Dad telling Mr Morrison I was good enough to try for Oxbridge.’
    ‘Your dad gets carried away. It’s only because he’s so proud. We didn’t go to university, so . . .’
    ‘You want me to get the qualifications you didn’t. Yeah, figures.’
    Mum shook her head. ‘The world’s very different now, Jonathan. Anyway, you might not have enjoyed music school as much as you think. I’m not sure it would have been the best thing for you – living in London, away from home, having to take out loans to pay your way.’
    ‘Freya would have looked after me.’
    ‘Why don’t you see if college has a music club?’
    I snorted. ‘It’ll probably be full of idiots who think Girls Aloud are the pinnacle of modern music.’
    ‘Do you want me to leave you alone?’
    I shrugged, glancing at the wall. The mattress made a noise as Mum got up, followed by the creak of a door. I wished she hadn’t come in; all she’d done was make me feel angry again. I found myself wondering about Rosalind’s parents. She hadn’t mentioned them. Despite these wonderful new people I was supposed to have met at college, Ros was the best thing that had happened all week.
    Jonathan
    Sunday 26 October, 5.30 p.m.
    When I left the police station I felt physically sick. Could they really think I’d had something to do with Freya’s disappearance – and with those other two girls’? I realized exactly how serious things were when the police rang later that afternoon.