‘Wasn’t so hard,’ said DogNut.
‘Tell me about it,’ said David. ‘Tell me all about life in the Tower. I’m interested to know what other children are up to.’
OK, thought DogNut, you asked for it, pal. Now it was his turn to show off. He launched into a long explanation of how they lived. Some of it was exaggerated, but he didn’t tell any outright lies. He painted a picture of a well-fed, well-armed, happy bunch of warriors living in luxury beside the Thames in the ancient castle.
His friends chipped in, fleshing out the picture with their own memories and experiences. David listened intently, asking a lot of questions. In the end DogNut put up his hand.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘we’ve answered your questions, bruv. Now you answer ours, yeah? Leaving aside your bad vibes for one moment, do you got any idea what happened to Brooke and the others off of the lorry, after they abandoned you?’
‘Even if I knew, why would I tell you after what they did to us?’
‘Why not? We all in this together. Kids ain’t the enemy – mothers and fathers is.’
‘Exactly,’ said David. ‘But they didn’t seem to remember that when they drove off, did they?’
‘Maybe if I can find Brooke I’ll ask her why she done it, and then let you know.’
David offered DogNut a smile. ‘To tell you the truth,’ he said, ‘I have absolutely no idea where she went. As I say, she can have gone to hell for all I care.’
DogNut let out his breath noisily through his mouth, like a balloon deflating. ‘For real?’
‘For real,’ said David, copying DogNut with more than a hint of scorn in his voice. The boy in the patchwork coat sniggered.
‘All right,’ said DogNut. ‘I can see you all don’t want to help us none. But what about my other bredrin here?’ He gestured towards the rest of his crew. ‘What about Olivia, and Al and Jessica and Finn? They wasn’t with us at the museum. Their friends wasn’t on the lorry. What about them? Can you help them any?’
Olivia and the others all now clamoured at once, throwing out names and information. David and the patchwork boy went into a huddle and whispered to each other. Finally the patchwork boy spoke.
‘Hi there. My name’s Jester,’ he said. ‘I’m David’s right-hand man.’
The boat crew muttered some half-hearted hellos.
‘I know everything that goes on here. The names of everyone, where they came from, what their stories are. All the info. Anything you want to know in future you come to me. OK? We don’t want any hard feelings. And you’re right – we can’t blame any of you for what happened with the lorry.’
He shook hands all round, making an effort to learn the names of everyone. He got to Al last and held on to his hand a little longer than the others.
‘Al, my friend,’ he said, with the broad smile of a game-show host. ‘You are in luck. Your sister is here with us.’
Al shot out of his seat as if someone had put a rocket up his arse. His ugly, lumpy face was made almost good-looking by a huge soppy grin, and he was shaking with excitement.
‘Really? She’s here? Maria’s here?
‘Yep.’
‘And she’s all right?’
‘Everyone’s all right here. We look after our own.’ Jester clapped Al on the back and called one of the guards over. He gave him a quick order and the boy nodded and hurried off. This got the other kids even more worked up, and once again they bombarded David and Jester with questions.
Olivia was tugging at Jester’s patchwork coat.
‘Are you sure my brother’s not here?’ she piped. ‘He’s called Paul Channing, he’s got black hair, he’s older than me, he’s very tall …’
‘Sorry, precious.’
‘Can you double-check? You might have made a mistake …’
David silenced her. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘Jester should know. He knows everything. If he says your brother’s not here, he’s not here. Same goes for the rest of you.’
‘But we can ask around, yeah?’ said Jessica. ‘Talk to the kids here? They might know something.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t go pestering everyone. Let Jester talk to them.’
‘Don’t be a dick,’ said DogNut, standing up. ‘You can’t stop us talking to people.’
David made an empty-hands gesture. DogNut gave him a dirty look in return and stormed off down the steps and over to a group of kids who were weeding one of the vegetable patches. As he approached them, they stopped what they were doing and stood up, wiping their hands on their trousers.
‘We’re looking for some friends,’ he said, slightly more aggressively than he’d wanted. ‘Any of you know where they might be? David says we got to go through him, but …’
A thin girl with a muddy face and hands glanced over at David before speaking. DogNut saw him shake his head. ‘If David says he doesn’t know anything, then neither do we,’ she said.
‘That’s right,’ said the girl next to her. ‘We can’t really help you.’
DogNut swore and went over to the next group, but got the same response. Nobody was willing to talk to him. After a few minutes he gave up and looked back towards the terrace where David was watching him with a self-satisfied expression.
The two of them locked stares. DogNut was fuming, his chest rising and falling. David had made him look like an idiot.
And then the tense mood was broken by a girl running out of the building, laughing and shouting. She ran straight into Al’s arms and they hugged each other, both in floods of tears. DogNut tried to picture himself and Brooke hugging like that, her crying into his shoulder, him stroking her hair …
Somehow the picture never quite came into focus. They were neither of them the blubbing, hugging type. For the hundredth time he wondered where she was and what she might be doing.
Each step closer seemed to take him two steps further away.
13
‘Listen, why don’t you all have something to eat and then stay here for the night?’
It was a moment before Courtney realized that David was talking to her. DogNut was still down among the vegetable growers looking sulky and cross. David was standing with his arms folded, watching him.
‘We need to move on,’ Courtney said flatly.
‘But where will you go?’
‘That’s not your problem.’
David turned to her, unfolded his arms and smiled.
‘I’m sorry we got off to a bad start. I’ve no argument with you. It was Brooke and the others who let me down. Maybe I’ve come across a bit angry. I’m sorry about that. I’ll calm down. It was just … hearing Brooke’s name brought up some bad memories for me.’
‘She was my best mate.’
‘I know. Please don’t think that I don’t care.’
‘Whatever. I’m going to find her.’
‘Yes, I appreciate that, but you can’t just go wandering around out there. I would have thought that what happened to you on the way here would have shown you how dangerous it is on the streets still. Can I make a suggestion?’
‘OK …’
‘Why not stay here with us for a while? Not just tonight. We’ve plenty of food and water and it’s very safe here.’
‘Yeah, but I just said I want to –’
‘Let me finish.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll send Jester out. He has contacts everywhere. He knows these streets really well. If anyone can track Brooke down, it’s him.’
‘Maybe …’ The thought of staying at the palace for a while, resting, eating well, not being scared, being alone with DogNut with no Brooke around to spoil things …
‘I thought you said you didn’t want nothing to do with her?’
‘I can be a grown-up about it,’ said David, and he smiled. ‘Actually, sorry, no, bad choice of metaphor. Not a grown-up, but you know what I mean. Maybe it’s time I forgave her, moved on. Or maybe seeing these two reunited has made me go all gooey inside.’
David
nodded towards where Al and his sister Maria were sitting on the grass, excitedly chatting away to each other as they caught up on all that had happened in the last year.
‘At least stay the night, anyway,’ said David. ‘We can offer you better food than you’ll have tasted since before the disaster. You can have a wash, get some clean clothes.’ He looked pointedly at Courtney’s jeans, stained dark where she had wet herself.
Courtney blushed and stared at a patch of grass, feeling about three years old.
‘In any case,’ said David, ‘get rested, think about things. We’ll talk again at dinner.’ He moved in closer and spoke quietly to Courtney, fixing her with his pale clear eyes. ‘Maybe you don’t really want to look for Brooke. Yeah? Maybe that’s the past? You don’t necessarily want to hold on to it. This is the future. Here in the palace. And we need children like you – tough and experienced, with a good understanding of how things are out there. You’d fit in really well here, Courtney – you could make a good life.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Do that.’
David walked away a few paces, stopped and turned round.
‘Whatever happens,’ he said. ‘You will stay here tonight.’
‘Oh, but –’
‘It’s the safest thing for you.’
David left them to it and went inside. Courtney was confused. She needed to talk to DogNut, but when she looked for him he was gone.
14
The gardens at the palace were ringed by tall trees, so that standing by the lake in the centre you could imagine you were deep in the countryside, especially now that there were no sounds of cars or aeroplanes to spoil the illusion.
While David had been distracted talking to Courtney, DogNut had ducked into the shadow of the trees and was now skirting the outer wall. If for some reason David tried to keep them there, it was worth knowing whether there was any easy way out.
It wasn’t looking good.
The wall itself was about five metres high and topped by rotating steel spikes. Above the spikes there stretched another couple of metres of barbed wire that sloped outwards towards the road on the other side.
The walls had been designed to keep people out. After all this had been a royal palace, the Queen’s home in London. DogNut had heard tales of nutters breaking in, but it was still a pretty impregnable fortress. And these walls could also, of course, keep people in.
Worse still, some of David’s guards seemed to be patrolling the perimeter. DogNut had seen one a couple of minutes ago. His bright red blazer had given him away. DogNut had easily hidden behind a tree until the boy had wandered past. Despite the rifle slung over his shoulders, he didn’t look like he was taking his job very seriously, and why should he? No sickos could scale that wall from the outside. This was all just for show, to give the other kids a feeling of security.
Or was there something more to it? DogNut wondered how many of the kids might be being held here against their will, like the hunters had said.
It was almost like being in some kind of concentration camp.
‘Oi!’
Dammit. DogNut had missed a second guard, who had sneaked up on him from behind and was aiming his rifle at his belly. DogNut smiled at him.
‘A’right?’
‘You shouldn’t be back here.’
‘Why?’
‘David says so.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘Why?’
The boy lowered his gun and shrugged, evidently feeling a bit silly. He had a big nose and didn’t look the fighting type.
‘Don’t you get bored doing that?’ DogNut asked him.
‘A bit, yeah. But it’s better than digging up sodding vegetables.’
DogNut laughed. ‘What’s your name, soldier?’
‘Andy. You’re called Dog’s Bollocks, or something, aren’t you?’
‘Close enough.’
‘I remember you from the museum. Your lot gave us these guns.’
‘Yeah. You ever fired it?’
‘Nah.’ Andy laughed and they slapped palms.
‘I always wanted to stay with you lot,’ Andy went on. ‘David wouldn’t let us, though. Said we had to stick together. Between you and me, David’s a prick.’
‘For real?’ said DogNut in mock amazement. ‘You learn something new every day. But tell me, Andy, my manz. Has anyone ever got over these walls?’
‘Nah, it’s impossible.’ Andy didn’t sound that convincing.
‘For sure? No one’s climbed in – no one’s climbed out?’
Andy made a face, deciding whether to keep a secret. He looked around, checking nobody could see them.
‘If I tell you something, will you promise never to let anyone know it was me that told you?’
‘Sure, bruv.’
‘There is a way over. Some of the kids worked it out. They jammed the spikes so they won’t turn and cut a section of wire. They fixed it back up again so if you didn’t know what to look for you’d never know. David never looks, anyway.’
‘Why’d they do that?’
‘To get in and out. David doesn’t let us otherwise.’
‘To get away from here?’
‘No. But some of the kids take stuff, food and whatever, and they trade it with other kids out there from the other settlements.’
‘Not you, though, soldier?’
‘Never had the guts. Besides I’ve got a blazer, so I have privileges. Wouldn’t want to lose them.’
‘So are you going to tell me where this safe way out is?’
Andy shook his head and looked at his shoes. ‘I’ve told you too much already. If David found out …’
Andy fell silent as they heard someone approaching through the trees. He looked miserable. Like a kid waiting to see the headmaster. It was only Courtney, though. Andy relaxed and smiled at her.
Courtney nodded dismissively at him and turned her attention to DogNut.
‘There you are,’ she said, sounding tired and grumpy. ‘I been looking all over.’
‘Just taking a likkle stroll,’ said DogNut. ‘You know. Stretching the old pins.’
‘Yeah, right.’
DogNut said goodbye to Andy and walked back towards the palace with Courtney.
‘David wants us to stay for dinner,’ she explained. ‘But Al’s got some news that might change things.’
‘Cool,’ said DogNut. ‘Hit me with it.’
‘I’ll let Al tell you himself.’
15
Shadowman was in his tent, zip down, sitting cross-legged on his sleep mat, checking his belongings before going out for the night. He could hear loud voices all around. It was always noisy here in the shanty town at the end of the park. There was always a cacophony of barking dogs, laughter, shouting, arguments, joking, singing. Even babies crying. He couldn’t imagine bringing any babies into this mad world, but a couple of the girls had got themselves pregnant and somehow survived childbirth.
The tent was tiny. It had been advertised in the camping shop where he’d found it as a two-man, but it could barely fit one. That was fine with him. He didn’t want company. He worked alone. Was happier that way. Didn’t want to be weighted down with people, belongings, responsibilities. He travelled light. Everything he owned except for his sleeping bag could fit into his slim backpack. It had been designed to carry a laptop and suited him perfectly, as, slung across his back underneath his cloak, it lay flat against his body. Nobody could tell he was carrying it.
He had emptied his pockets and tipped out the contents of his pack on to his sleeping bag and was sorting through them, something he did regularly. It was a habit, really, or an obsession. A little ritual to bring him luck and keep him safe. He would touch each of the objects, remind himself why he carried it and carefully, lovingly, put it back in its place. Like a labourer with his tools, a soldier with his kit.
There wasn’t much to it.
Some emergency food – beef jerky, drie
d fruit, stale chocolate, a mini A-to-Z book of every street in London, a Swiss Army knife, a compass, a cigarette lighter and a box of matches in a waterproof bag with a couple of small candles, a sewing kit, a knife sharpener for the sheath knife he carried on his belt, a small set of tools that packed away into a neat flat box, a tin plate and cutlery set designed for campers, a torch, spare batteries, a tiny compact pair of binoculars, a couple of biros and some paper, a first-aid kit with bandages and antiseptic cream and painkillers, a paperback novel that he’d throw away when he’d finished it and replace with a new one, gaffer tape for repairs, a spare pair of socks and thermal vest. He didn’t bother to lug about any other clothes. He hardly ever washed and it was easy, in this new London, to pick up new clothes in any one of the hundreds of abandoned stores. He wanted to be able to ship out and move on at a moment’s notice. He slept in his clothes, with his boots and his backpack safely stowed away in the bottom of his sleeping bag. He could be up, into his boots, with his pack across his back, his water canisters clipped to his belt and his cloak wrapped around him in less than a minute. He’d timed it and practised his technique every week or so.
He wouldn’t take the tent with him when he left the camp. He’d leave it for someone else to use. It was easier to find a new one if he ever needed it. Quite frankly, he preferred sleeping indoors under a proper roof. He’d take the sleeping bag, though, rolled up and slung across his shoulders.
He wondered why these kids had chosen to live in tents and makeshift huts rather than in buildings. It was certainly more dangerous. Though the kids seemed to welcome danger. Perhaps they wanted adults to attack? They did seem to love fighting. A mother and a father had got into the camp last week and they’d been chased around by a jeering mob armed with sticks and stones. By the time the kids had finished with them their battered and pulped bodies looked barely human.
That was what they thought of adults, and maybe they lived here in their camp because they didn’t want anything more to do with the world of grown-ups, though Shadowman doubted they could ever explain that. They weren’t given to deep thought. They lived day to day, hand to mouth, didn’t look forward or back, didn’t question what they were doing. They were like him in that way.
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