The Key to Finding Jack, Ewa Jozefkowicz [top e book reader TXT] 📗

thick woolly hairband, and the other was tall and skinny with long arms that flew outwards as he turned.

‘Look, it’s settling on the ground, Sergeant Flick,’ Jack shouted, ‘we can make snow angels.’ And he picked me up and threw me in the air, before we both toppled down and lay there, flapping our arms to make angel wings.

I stared and stared at those two angels, willing them, more than anything, to be real. My eyes stung with the cold and before I knew it, streams of tears were running down my cheeks and my shoulders were shaking.

‘Are you OK?’

I hadn’t noticed that one of the kids had run over to me – a young girl, her hair swept up in a messy ponytail, her cheeks red from the cold.

‘Oh yeah, fine,’ I muttered.

I forced myself to stand up and walked slowly in the direction of the high street. My feet took an unexpected left turn, and I found myself outside Uncle Michael’s old flat. He’d lived there on his own for many years before he’d met Auntie Hannah and set up Gilmore’s, and he’d sometimes offered to look after us when Mum and Dad went out, although Jack always insisted that he didn’t need babysitting. I loved being at his place, mainly because, like me, he was a big fan of reading, and gave me books that he’d enjoyed as a kid.

From the outside, the flat looked exactly the same as it had done when we were small. Even the balcony that we’d spent so much time on was still covered in ivy. Jack had loved that he could be completely hidden, while spying on everyone who passed below in the street.

I had a memory of an old man standing on the pavement, smoking, and Jack singing in a low voice: ‘You’re having such a lovely puff, but your lungs are shouting “Please, enough! We’re filled to the brim with awful tar and soon we’ll end up in a jar!”’

The man had frantically turned around to see where the song was coming from, and not seeing anyone, quickly stamped out his cigarette and made a run for it.

I’d dangled my feet through the rails of the balcony and laughed so hard that my stomach hurt.

I wished that I could be up on that balcony now, looking down at the world below, but new tenants had been living there for years.

As I stood gazing at the balcony, the snow began to settle more thickly, and that beautiful blanket of white made even the drab, grey buildings seem somehow magical. I stopped for a moment and watched the fairy-dust flakes falling into the open palms of my hands. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a smudge of red. Margot! She passed me on the other side of the street, wearing her red beret. My first instinct was to call after her, but something stopped me. Instead, I followed her, my boots filling the footprints created by hers.

She sang as she walked. I couldn’t hear the words, but it was a beautiful, upbeat melody. For a moment, I shut my eyes to savour the soft snowflakes on my face, and the sound of her song. When I opened them again, she was gone. I looked desperately around for the red beret, but it was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I found the dilapidated entrance to Fairwick Estate a few feet away from me, seeming to invite me inside. I realised how much I wanted to be up on the roof.

But when I got closer, I could hear voices from above. I groaned inwardly. Some local kids must have rediscovered the playground and were playing in the snow up there. I thought of turning back. I wasn’t used to sharing the roof with anyone other than Jack. But something – perhaps the smallest possibility that Margot could be up there – led me to climb the stairs.

The murmur of voices grew louder the higher I went. I cautiously opened the door.

‘Flick! You made it!’

And there they all were – Sutty, Manfy, Simon, Keira, even Finny.

‘All of Jack’s tree branches,’ Keira whispered in my ear. ‘I was planning to bring you here after school and then you escaped! But it looks like I know you too well – you seem to have wandered in this direction anyway,’ she said, smiling.

‘But… but what are you doing here?’

‘We’re here to show you that you’re not on your own,’ Keira explained, hugging me tight. ‘I hoped to bring your grandma, too, but the lift is still out of use and we’d struggle to get her wheelchair up the stairs. She sends her love and I said that we would try to FaceTime her later.’

‘But how did you manage to get everyone together?’ I asked, amazed.

‘I messaged Simon and Manfy at morning break. Then it turned out that Simon knew Finny too – I mean, Mr Finnegan,’ she said, glancing over at him and blushing, ‘so he emailed to find out whether he might be free. And then I went to Sutty’s shop on the way here, and he was closing up, so… we all made it.’

We sat down in my favourite spot, behind the roundabout where you could get the loveliest view of our town. Keira had brought blankets, mugs and a thermos of tea. She’d even thought to bring her spare coat and scarf, which she handed to me.

Finny took his guitar from its holder and started strumming a familiar tune. It was an interesting piece, which had long, slow and steady parts, giving way to an exciting, upbeat melody.

‘I love that,’ I told him. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s called “Octopus’s Garden” by The Beatles. It’s a song that your brother always loved playing. In fact, I think it’s one of the first full pieces of music that he learned off by heart.’

Manfy, who was sitting cross-legged next to me, pulled something out of her bag and gave it to me.

‘I know it’s