bin, in case I’d accidentally left an online trail. I thoughtI’d been careful, but somehow they’d found the drone and brought it down …
I waited for everyone else to get off the train and then walked through the carriages until I found what I was looking for – a discarded tourist map of Leeds. A quick look told me all I needed to know. Turn left, go through the town, carry on up Woodhouse Lane to Hyde Park – student territory. I didn’t want to appear as though I didn’t know where I was going.
I walked briskly along the platform.
The short-term plan was simple – to hide myself among the thousands of students. I kept repeating the name Saffron to make sure I reacted naturally when someone used my alias for the first time. That someone happened to be Mack.
‘You a student?’ he said.
I assumed the little boy in front of me was talking to someone else, but when I looked around I was the only person left on the platform.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Are you getting a taxi?’
‘No,’ I said, wishing I’d ignored him.
I put my ticket into the slot and pushed the turnstile. He ducked underneath.
Great! I was trying to blend in while my sidekick was flouting the law. Luckily the guard was half asleep.
‘Are you walking, then?’
‘Yes,’ I said. I’d get rid of him once we were out of the station.
‘I’m Mack.’
Social niceties were so not top of my agenda, but I decided I might as well try out my new name.
‘I’m Saffron,’ I said. ‘And I really don’t want company.’
‘Me neither,’ he said, which bizarrely, given how frightened I felt, made me laugh.
I turned left out of the station, and he came too. There was a man in uniform bang in front of us. Instinctively I looked away, and as a result stumbled slightly. Mack noticed.
‘It’s only a traffic warden,’ he said.
I needed to get a grip. If even a small boy could tell I was nervous, I’d be locked up in no time. I made a snap decision.
‘Are you hungry?’
‘Always,’ he said.
‘Know any good cafés?’
Mack grinned and led me down a back street to a burger bar. It was useful having him by my side. The world was looking for a solitary girl, whereas with him I was clearly one of a pair. I relaxed a little, the conversation slowing down my racing thoughts.
He asked for a cheeseburger, chips and a Fanta. I had the same. Your brain needs food and rest. I hadn’t had enough of either.
‘You smell,’ he said.
‘You don’t have to sit so close,’ I said. He’d squashed himself up next to me on a bench seat. I wondered if he was cold. I was wearing a hoodie,but all he had on was a grubby short-sleeved football shirt.
‘I don’t mind,’ he said.
In between eating with his mouth open it became clear that he spent his time latching onto strangers, hoping for food, drink, money or all three.
‘Where do you live?’ I asked.
‘Delph Lane.’
He’d clocked that I was a stranger, so I let him explain where it was. Turned out we were heading the same way. Suited me. I had a guide, in the shape of –
‘How old are you, then?’
‘Nine,’ he said.
– a nine-year-old boy.
The walk up Woodhouse Lane was very fruitful. Two hours after meeting Mack, I had a place to stay.
I’d assumed I’d have to risk a hotel – at least for a few days – but Mack said there was a postcard advertising a room in the window of the Hyde Park Corner Post Office.
‘Whereabouts?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know,’ he said.
‘But you’re the one who’s telling me there’s a room,’ I said.
‘The lady from the café said.’
It was like a word game. I persevered. It turned out that Mack couldn’t read, but happened to be outside the Post Office when the lady from the café hadquoted the ad, pointing out what an astronomical price it was. (He had several goes at ‘astronomical’.)
I rang the number on the card and was invited straight round to the house, which was on Brudenell Road.
‘You’ll be the first
I waited for everyone else to get off the train and then walked through the carriages until I found what I was looking for – a discarded tourist map of Leeds. A quick look told me all I needed to know. Turn left, go through the town, carry on up Woodhouse Lane to Hyde Park – student territory. I didn’t want to appear as though I didn’t know where I was going.
I walked briskly along the platform.
The short-term plan was simple – to hide myself among the thousands of students. I kept repeating the name Saffron to make sure I reacted naturally when someone used my alias for the first time. That someone happened to be Mack.
‘You a student?’ he said.
I assumed the little boy in front of me was talking to someone else, but when I looked around I was the only person left on the platform.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Are you getting a taxi?’
‘No,’ I said, wishing I’d ignored him.
I put my ticket into the slot and pushed the turnstile. He ducked underneath.
Great! I was trying to blend in while my sidekick was flouting the law. Luckily the guard was half asleep.
‘Are you walking, then?’
‘Yes,’ I said. I’d get rid of him once we were out of the station.
‘I’m Mack.’
Social niceties were so not top of my agenda, but I decided I might as well try out my new name.
‘I’m Saffron,’ I said. ‘And I really don’t want company.’
‘Me neither,’ he said, which bizarrely, given how frightened I felt, made me laugh.
I turned left out of the station, and he came too. There was a man in uniform bang in front of us. Instinctively I looked away, and as a result stumbled slightly. Mack noticed.
‘It’s only a traffic warden,’ he said.
I needed to get a grip. If even a small boy could tell I was nervous, I’d be locked up in no time. I made a snap decision.
‘Are you hungry?’
‘Always,’ he said.
‘Know any good cafés?’
Mack grinned and led me down a back street to a burger bar. It was useful having him by my side. The world was looking for a solitary girl, whereas with him I was clearly one of a pair. I relaxed a little, the conversation slowing down my racing thoughts.
He asked for a cheeseburger, chips and a Fanta. I had the same. Your brain needs food and rest. I hadn’t had enough of either.
‘You smell,’ he said.
‘You don’t have to sit so close,’ I said. He’d squashed himself up next to me on a bench seat. I wondered if he was cold. I was wearing a hoodie,but all he had on was a grubby short-sleeved football shirt.
‘I don’t mind,’ he said.
In between eating with his mouth open it became clear that he spent his time latching onto strangers, hoping for food, drink, money or all three.
‘Where do you live?’ I asked.
‘Delph Lane.’
He’d clocked that I was a stranger, so I let him explain where it was. Turned out we were heading the same way. Suited me. I had a guide, in the shape of –
‘How old are you, then?’
‘Nine,’ he said.
– a nine-year-old boy.
The walk up Woodhouse Lane was very fruitful. Two hours after meeting Mack, I had a place to stay.
I’d assumed I’d have to risk a hotel – at least for a few days – but Mack said there was a postcard advertising a room in the window of the Hyde Park Corner Post Office.
‘Whereabouts?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know,’ he said.
‘But you’re the one who’s telling me there’s a room,’ I said.
‘The lady from the café said.’
It was like a word game. I persevered. It turned out that Mack couldn’t read, but happened to be outside the Post Office when the lady from the café hadquoted the ad, pointing out what an astronomical price it was. (He had several goes at ‘astronomical’.)
I rang the number on the card and was invited straight round to the house, which was on Brudenell Road.
‘You’ll be the first
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