Runaway by Peter May Page A

watch. ‘How did they know?’
    I could tell this was going to cause me some grief in the hours to come. ‘Long story. But there’s no time to waste. We’re going to have to get off the main road.’
    ‘Excuse me.’ Elvis leaned into our conversation, and the most unexpectedly soft Irish brogue issued from smiling lips. ‘Couldn’t help overhearing. Jeff here was telling me what you fellas are up to.’
    I glared at Jeff, but he was oblivious, and Elvis offered me his hand.
    ‘I’m Dennis, by the way.’
    It was a warm, dry hand that gave mine a firm shake. But there was something about his smile that didn’t quite reach his amber eyes, and I felt an immediate distrust.
    ‘Sounds like you boys’ll have a bit of explaining to do if the old fellas catch up with you.’
    The others had gathered behind me now, and Dennis smiled around the anxious faces.
    ‘How long behind you are they?’
    ‘About an hour,’ I said reluctantly.
    ‘Well, if you’re going off-piste you’ll need a plan.’
    I had no idea what he was talking about, but I said, ‘We’ve got good maps.’
    ‘Excellent.’ Dennis nodded in smiling approval. ‘But a map’s not a plan. Tell you what. I’ve been hanging about here for a while now looking to catch a ride. Figured I wasn’t going to make it home tonight. But if you boys want to give me a lift, I can offer you a bed for the night. Or, at least, a floor.’ He grinned. ‘And your dads’ll never find you.’
    ‘Where?’ I could tell from Luke’s voice that he was as wary as I was.
    ‘I’m renting a wee farm worker’s cottage down in the Lake District. Me and the missus. She’s got a job in the local dairy, and I’ve just been up in Glasgow looking for work.’
    He looked at his watch, and I saw that the tattoo on his left forearm was a snake curled around a dagger.
    ‘If we leave now we should reach Penrith before the old fellas catch you, then we’ll be off the main road and they’ll never find you in a million years.’
    Jeff had no hesitation. ‘Brilliant, that’s what we’ll do.’
    I glanced at Luke, who gave an imperceptible shrug of the shoulders. Dave and Maurie looked uncertain.
    I said, ‘Maybe we should talk about this.’
    Dennis lit another cigarette. ‘Be my guest.’
    ‘Just between us,’ I said, and I walked off to the table where we had been seated earlier. The others followed.
    ‘What’s the problem?’ Jeff jerked his thumb back towards Dennis. ‘That’s a really gen bloke. And we’re not going to get another offer like that tonight.’
    ‘I don’t like him,’ I said. ‘We can navigate ourselves “off-piste” for tonight.’
    ‘I’m with Jack,’ Luke said, and we looked at Dave and Maurie.
    Their joint indecision was paralysing.
    ‘This is just rude,’ Jeff said. ‘We’re insulting the bloke now. And we don’t have time to argue about it. It’s my van. I say we go with him.’ He looked at each of us in turn, almost daring us to say no. And when no one came up with a better plan, he turned and waved to Dennis. ‘We’re on.’
    Dennis smiled and lifted his bomber jacket. ‘Good call, boys. You’ll not regret it.’
    But I had a bad feeling that we might.
    II
     
    To my chagrin it was still my fate to sit up on the engine cowling. Maurie had moved into the back to share the settee with Luke and Dave, and had been replaced in the front by the cool Dennis who, as if to underscore his image, chain-smoked an American brand of menthol cigarettes called Kool.
    There had been a strange, unspoken shift in the hierarchical structure of our little group. I had been the prime mover in the decision to run away, along with Luke, and up until then had been silently accepted, if not actually acknowledged, as the leader. But now I had been displaced by Dennis. He was three or four years older than us, and beside him we just seemed like the schoolkids we were. And Jeff, the only one of us not still at school, had become his lieutenant. I felt