by Elena Wilkes
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I’m dedicated to action, not words. I’m your modern-day Robin Hood. Fancy joining me on my quest to take from the rich and give to the poor?’
‘What? How?’ She’d felt scared and thrilled all at the same time.
‘Night-tripping. The houses in Chester are great for it; they’re plums ripe for picking,’ he said enigmatically.
‘Night-tripping?’
‘Yeah, I’ll teach you. You’ll be fantastic at it. I can tell. Wanna come?’
Of course she did.
She blinked again languidly at her reflection and gave a mischievous smile. He was so right. She was brilliant.
It had gone quiet in the hallway. She glanced again at the door, her ears pricked with vague irritation. So where was he? Surely he could find some excuse to come up here. What was wrong now?
The slam of a car door sent her scurrying over to the window again. The passenger side opened, and Nat got out looking very sorry for herself, swiftly followed by Caro, one of the other staff members. The squawking downstairs started up again as she heard the front door open and all the girls began to pile out onto the drive to throw their arms around Nat in a great tide of dramatic concern. Frankie took her opportunity. Slipping out onto the landing, she made her way to the top of the stairs, swinging round the corner and literally colliding with Martin.
‘Oh! There you are!’
‘Shh! They’re all outside.’
‘I know.’ She giggled as he drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his face in her hair.
‘Mmm… You smell wonderful. You’re like chocolate and coconut and brown sugar. I could eat you,’ he whispered.
She giggled again and glanced over his shoulder. A couple of the chattering girls trooped back inside, too busy to notice them. But they didn’t have long.
‘You okay?’ He looked deep into her eyes. His were the most beautiful colour she had ever seen, hazel flecked with green, deep-set and heavy-lidded like a girl’s.
‘I warned you to keep your head down,’ he admonished her with a smile. ‘Don’t get so wound up. Natalie’s just a kid. Did Jude hammer you with a load of penalties?’
‘Not too much. I’m good. You know me,’ she grinned.
‘No, you’re not good,’ he said softly. ‘In fact, you’re very, very bad. Look what you’re doing to me.’ He pulled a strand of hair from her cheek and then held out his hand; his fingers were trembling. ‘That’s you. That’s the effect you have.’ He let them drift down and gently touch the belt. She thought she might die with the sudden ache that shot through her. ‘You’re wearing it – wow! It looks great on you…’
‘Shh! Careful,’ she warned, peeping over his shoulder. ‘Jude’s only just down there.’
He grinned. ‘Oh, she’s fine, you know how much she likes me.’
She rolled her eyes. He’d conned Jude a treat; she let him get away with loads. He’d told her he wanted to be a social worker and so he wanted to get into voluntary work – well, he had got into it, just not quite in the way that Jude had envisaged.
‘Shouldn’t you be back in your room?’ he suddenly said very loudly.
She sprang away as Jude’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
‘You’ll need to have a think about the consequences of your actions and how you’re going to apologise for them.’ He took a couple of steps away. Jude was standing staring up at them both.
‘Ah, Jude,’ he trotted down the stairs and drew level with her. ‘Frankie was trying to sneak out of her room but I didn’t think, under the circumstances, it was appropriate.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Jude glared at her. ‘I think we could all do with a bit of time out don’t you, Frankie?’ She made a ridiculous ‘T’ sign with her fingertips pressed into the heel of her hand. ‘Are you coming into the lounge for the formal de-brief, Martin?… Say, five minutes?’
‘Sure,’ Martin said loudly as Jude disappeared along the hallway. He glanced back and winked. ‘Tonight?’ he mouthed and held up both hands to signify ten o’clock.
Frankie nodded quickly and retreated back to her bedroom, her heart thudding like a mad thing. She perched on the edge of the bed, her knee jiggling, her fingers sawing impatiently as she stared at the digital clock on the bedside table.
There was the chatter of voices from down below as all the girls tried to talk over each other, desperate to put their ten cents worth in and grass her up. Frankie stared glumly at the carpet. Ten o’clock. Jesus. That was almost seven hours away. It felt like forever, although she knew that if he asked her to, she’d wait a lifetime.
* * *
Ten o’clock came and went.
She stood at the top of the stairs not daring to go down, straining her ears. It was the quiet after the storm. The girls loved a bit of drama and now they were satiated – for a while, at least. She paced around her room for a bit, picking things up and putting them down again. It felt as though she’d been waiting all day. He couldn’t be too much longer, surely?
She went out onto the landing again. She could hear Jude’s nasal whine behind a closed door somewhere. Was she keeping him talking, was that it? Then she heard two voices getting louder and the creak of the bottom stair which sent her scuttling back to her room to dive under the covers. There was a faint tap on her door and it creaked open. She could hear Jude’s breath whistling down her nostrils.
‘Frankie?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I thought I heard you moving about. How are you feeling?’
‘Awright.’
‘We’ll have a group conference tomorrow, yes? See how we can come to an agreeable resolution. There’s lots to discuss.’
God she hated all that fake-speak. Why couldn’t she just say they’d sit down and talk about it? She inwardly sighed.
‘Yeah. Sure.’
‘The staff have gone off and everyone’s in their rooms now. You haven’t had any lunch or dinner. Are you hungry?’
‘No. M’awright…’ Then she added a muffled ‘Thanks.’
Jude paused.
‘So I’ll be off to bed shortly then. If you need anything, you know where I am. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Night-night.’
‘Night.’
She heard the door close and pulled her head from under the covers. Shaking her hair back, she waited, listening to the sounds of Jude pottering about. Someone down the landing had got their TV on too loud. Good. That would cover any noise she made. Pushing the bedclothes back, she reached down for her sneakers and pulled them on. Then, very quietly, she went over to the window, opened it, and looked out. It had been raining. The road was quiet, just the occasional sweep of car headlights on the main road and the hiss of tyres on wet tarmac as they passed. She couldn’t see Martin anywhere. The trees on either side of the street shivered in the darkness, their outlines like shadowy fingers against the carbon sky.
Soon. Any minute now and she’d see him.
She glanced anxiously again at the clock: ten past eleven. What if he’d got sick of waiting for Jude to go to bed? What if he’d decided to go alone tonight and something had gone wrong? What if he hadn’t gone alone, and found someone else to take?… Like another girl? Her stomach plummeted. No, he wouldn’t do that. But what if—? She stopped. A shadow beneath the streetlamp stretched languorously and lengthened. Martin appeared, his head hunched down into the collar of his black jacket, shucking the lapels up around his neck and adjusting the rucksack on his back. He glanced up and raised a hand. She waved madly back and glanced back into the room before holding up her fingers to ask for two more minutes.
Hurrying over to the bed, she pulled the pillows down into the centre of the mattress and bundled the duvet in a hump around them. Turning the light off, she made a beeline for the window, hoisting herself up with ease onto the sill and slipping quickly onto the ledge outside. She paused for a moment to pull the window almost closed behi
nd her so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, and then looked for her usual escape route. The location of the drainpipe made it super easy, and the porch over the front door was a climber’s dream. She jumped, landing like a cat, her fingers just skimming the driveway, before dashing across the road into Martin’s waiting arms.
‘I love watching you do that,’ he chuckled, cupping her face in his warm hands and kissing her. ‘You’re so, so clever.’
‘The clever bit is never getting caught,’ she grinned. ‘God, I thought she’d never go to bed! I kept thinking you’d go off without me.’
‘I’ll never do anything without you.’ He ran his finger down her nose and playfully pinched the tip. ‘Never.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Where are we off to tonight, then?’
‘It’s all planned. Come on.’
She took a quick look back at the house. It was in complete darkness. No one knew a thing. No one ever knew. Here they were, the two of them out here again: bold, daring, extraordinary, doing good. She’d never felt more alive.
Martin took her hand and they ran together, each in time with the other, matching each other stride for stride, their lungs working in harmony. He glanced across at her and they both laughed, their breath pluming out into the wet night, their feet splashing through puddles. She felt lithe and light and sinewy and powerful – hedges whizzed past in a blur, houses jogged by like black cardboard cut-outs. She had no idea where they were headed. The streets became wider and leafier and their pace slowed. She could tell this area was minted. Trees loomed up on either side and Martin paused in the shadows, dragging her to a halt. The houses in this part of Chester were huge: great bulky shapes, with massive hedges and high gates and long driveways.
‘This one,’ he panted. ‘I’ve sussed it already.’
He led her quickly across the road to where overgrown privet bordered two iron gateposts. They were immediately illuminated as a car turned the corner and sped towards them, its lights whitening Martin’s face for seconds that felt like minutes. She pressed her cheek close to his chest, feeling his heart racing away in there as a whole bucket of love tumbled through her. The car zoomed past and they were plunged into sudden darkness.
‘Here. Look—’ He pulled her closer into the hedge; the twigs and stems cracked under their pressure. The sudden close heat of him was intoxicating. She glanced up. His eyes glittered brightly in the shadows.
‘We’re definite on this one then? It’s empty?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you bookmark it?’ she whispered.
‘Yeah.’
She said it casually, but that was only to show that she’d been listening to everything he’d told her. He’d explained how you could tell if the occupants were away: put a little tag of Sellotape on the door in an inconspicuous place and then come back two days later. If the tape was intact, then the owners were away. It was that simple.
‘And are we taking the stuff very far? It nearly killed me last time,’ she giggled.
He glanced over at the front of the house. His jawline was strong and confident and her heart sang with delight and adoration. This was what she loved: they were fearless and self-assured; they pushed boundaries without a care for authority. Martin was a man, not a boy – a man with ideals and principles, taking risks to do good.
He looked back at her and kissed her nose. ‘Not too far. I heard about an old guy who lives not far from here. He’s on his own now, his wife died a few weeks ago. The bastards stopped his pension while they sort out his single allowance. He’s got no one now and nothing to live on.’
‘He will have tonight.’
‘Yeah, he will have tonight,’ he grinned back.
‘Wouldn’t it be fantastic to see his face, though? To see his expression when he comes down to all the goodies laid out on his table like Father Christmas has been? Wouldn’t it be brilliant to see that, just once?’
‘It’s not for us.’ Martin was still smiling, but there was a seriousness in his tone that made her falter. ‘The government doesn’t care. The welfare people don’t care, the charities and the do-gooders don’t give a toss really – they’re all operating within the system; they’re part of the system and therefore part of the problem. We’re not. We’re the outsiders. We don’t play by their rules. We steal from the rich and give to the poor – how activist is that?’
She felt breathless. The words he spoke were like magic: they were incantations, spells, drawing her in. Whenever he spoke, she believed in him, totally. He was more than a man: he was someone she knew she would give her life for.
‘Are you ready?’
His eyes were bright with excitement and purpose. She nodded.
‘I found a gap here in the hedge. See?’
He glanced around him once and then crouched down, quickly lifting the leaves to reveal an arched hole where the branches hadn’t grown. He gestured quickly and she knelt, crawling through the dirt, slipping like a feral cat down through the shadows. They slunk in the darkness round to the back of the house, huddling conspiratorially for a moment. She glanced up, checking and mapping. Every window of the house was striped with diamonds of security shutters in the moonlight.
‘I like your style,’ she whispered, smiling. ‘You’ve worked out my favourites.’
Any bars or grills on doorways or windows were a fantastic bonus. Perfect for hand and footholds, and very sturdy ones at that.
Martin pointed upwards soundlessly. ‘Up there,’ he mouthed.
She looked to the third floor. There was a tiny fanlight, probably to a bathroom, which was open about two inches.
‘If you can get up there and slip your hand through, there’s a bigger window next to it. You should be able to get to the main catch.’
She assessed all the access points. It wasn’t going to be easy.
‘I just was wondering if—’
‘Don’t worry your head,’ she whispered. ‘This is my bag, not yours. You just leave it all to me.’ She half stood, half crouched for a second, assessing and then looked around.
‘Now… Come on.’
They followed the line of shadows to where a huge sea of dark lawn and trees lay in front of them. Down the other side of the garden, there were clumps of whippy-looking trees dotted about, the first cluster about six feet away from the side of the house wall.
He followed her gaze.
‘But they’re not strong enough!’ he hissed.
‘Not for you, no.’ She tiptoed quickly over, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been spotted. Dipping down, she crawled under the first tree, crouching to peer upwards into the branches. She parted the bottom twigs and signalled to him with a thumbs-up. ‘Yep, perfect. Piece of cake.’
Before he could say another word, she’d reached up, swinging herself through the lower sections like a tiny monkey. Keeping close to the trunk, and winding her way as though it was a staircase, she scaled higher, and then paused to get her bearings. Peeping through the leaves she could make out where the first level window grills jutted out but they were at least four feet away; she’d never make the leap. Her brain zig-zagged, re-calculating… Then she had an idea. Climbing another two branches up, she peeked out again. If she was clever and quick, she could actually do this.
Testing the flexibility of the branch as best she could, she began to work her way along it. Concentrate, Frankie. Concentrate. Gritting her teeth, she inched, hand over hand, letting it bend with her weight until she got within striking distance of the window. One reach further and she should be able to feel just how much it would bend and bow – if she went a stretch too far she knew the thing would snap completely. There would only be seconds, but seconds were all she needed.
Taking a breath, she gathered herself and shifted all her weight forward. The branch groaned and creaked alarmingly. Gathering her knees up, she altered her centre of gravity and suddenly found she was dropping far quicker. The window grill flashed for a second in front of her eyes, and in tha
t instant she let go of the branch. There was the swift and scary whistling whip as its leaves skimmed past her face, but she managed to land tiptoed on the sill, her fingers immediately grabbing for the wrought iron. Breathing heavily, she signalled an okay sign to Martin’s upturned face and without pausing, began her climb to the next storey and the bathroom window. This bit was simple. Crouching on the ledge, she slipped her hand into the gap and unhooked the catch on the bigger window levering it wide.
She was in.
The only sound was the ragged air leaving her lungs. She collected herself for a moment, wrinkling her nose at the smell. The bathroom reeked of old lady soap and mildewed towels. Wishing she had a torch, she felt her way across towards the door where the moonlight lit up the landing. The house sat in its musty stillness, the floral carpet leading her to the top of the stairs. Slipping swiftly down, she headed for the front door. Sliding the bolts back, she opened it to find Martin grinning widely as he stepped into the hallway, swinging his rucksack forward and pausing to grab her hand and kiss her cheek.
‘Clever girl.’ He looked around him. ‘Down here, I think.’
Pulling a torch from his pocket, he led her down a hallway that opened up into a wide, square kitchen. In the centre was a big wooden table and old-fashioned solid units and cupboards lined the walls. The torchlight bounced around.
‘Right – the plan of action is these cupboards first; any packet or dried goods, or tins, whatever you can find, and then we’ll look for cash. We don’t touch anything else, no matter how tempting.’ He gave her a look. ‘There should be enough here anyway.’
He pulled open a large dresser on the wall. Stacked on the shelves was all kinds of stuff: cereals, vegetables, soup, baked beans.
‘Bingo!’ he said softly.
‘Why are we whispering?’ she giggled back. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud and she giggled again. ‘We can actually make as much noise as we like! Look—’ she opened the fridge door and closed it with a bang.
Martin nearly dropped the light. ‘Shh!!’ he hissed. ‘Stop that! We never take those kinds of chances!’