last night
they’d discussed routes. In the end Tish had said that they should head for Great
Tower Street, then along Eastcheap, Cannon Street, past St Paul’s Cathedral, into
Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street, the Aldwych and on to the Strand, which would take them all
the way to Trafalgar Square. Almost a straight line all the way. She’d shown them
where her hideout was, the place she called ‘the Temple’; it was a large
building behind the London Coliseum, although you couldn’t tell much about it from
the simplified black and white maps in the A to Z.
This morning, when she’d heard about
the salvage operation, Tish had packed some emergency rations into her backpack, as well
as a torch, some matches, a knife and a few other useful bits and pieces.
‘We’ll get to the Temple, pick
up some support and go straight on to the palace,’ she’d explained.
‘You’ll be with your sister by this evening, instead of being stuck here
polishing armour for the rest of your life.’
They crossed the wide open area by the
ticket offices and unloaded the trolley. A group of older kids was breaking up the
wooden sections further, separating the planks and stacking them in neat piles ready to
be carted into the castle to be reused.
Tish took the opportunity to look around.
She clocked some boys guarding the perimeter. In the past, crowds waiting to go into the
Tower had gathered here, joined by sightseers who just wanted to take pictures or gawp
at the old castle. There had been food stalls, entertainers andsometimes marching bands and displays. Now the kids used it as a sorting area before
stuff was taken into the Tower. They didn’t want to fill their living space with
too much junk, so there were a couple of rubbish tips here as well. Once they’d
built up a big pile, it was dumped in the Thames to be washed out to sea.
That morning a unit of Pathfinders had found
three cars in a private garage with petrol in their tanks and their keys hanging on a
pegboard. Two matching silver Mercedes C-Class and a red Porsche 911 Carrera.
They’d driven them to the sorting area and parked them with the vehicles
they’d collected over the months. Some small boys were standing around admiring
them.
‘Let’s get another load,’
said Tish and they wheeled their trolley back down to the river.
‘The longer we wait, the less I want
to do this,’ said Sam.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Tish.
‘I’ve an idea.’
‘What?’ Sam’s heart was
pounding. He was filled with a mixture of fear and excitement. Everything was happening
too fast for him to know if he was doing the right thing.
‘I’ll start a fire,’ said
Tish. ‘When we get back up there, you talk to the boy racers with their shiny
cars, keep them busy. When you see smoke, head for the shop. We’ll go together
from there.’
‘OK.’
Back to the river’s edge there was a
stack of wood ready for them to load on to their trolley. They plonked it on in silence.
Sam’s throat was too dry to talk. He couldn’t work out if he was most
worried about getting away from the Tower kids or of what they might have to face if
they were successful. He looked at The Kid. Couldn’t read him at all. If The Kid
was OK with the way things were heading thenSam was OK. He’d
survived alone out there. He knew all about danger.
But what was he thinking?
Sam caught his eye and The Kid winked at
him.
What did that mean?
‘Come on.’ Tish was ready to be
off and Sam took hold of the bar. The trolley rattled and squeaked as it got under
way.
Was he right to trust Tish? Shouldn’t
he trust Ed instead? Ed had promised to take him to find Ella. Was he just lying,
though? There was all that creepy stuff about the lamb and the goat. Sam was too
confused to straighten it all out. Best just to keep moving.
Into the no-go zone …
He’d spent time in there before. It
was where he’d been
they’d discussed routes. In the end Tish had said that they should head for Great
Tower Street, then along Eastcheap, Cannon Street, past St Paul’s Cathedral, into
Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street, the Aldwych and on to the Strand, which would take them all
the way to Trafalgar Square. Almost a straight line all the way. She’d shown them
where her hideout was, the place she called ‘the Temple’; it was a large
building behind the London Coliseum, although you couldn’t tell much about it from
the simplified black and white maps in the A to Z.
This morning, when she’d heard about
the salvage operation, Tish had packed some emergency rations into her backpack, as well
as a torch, some matches, a knife and a few other useful bits and pieces.
‘We’ll get to the Temple, pick
up some support and go straight on to the palace,’ she’d explained.
‘You’ll be with your sister by this evening, instead of being stuck here
polishing armour for the rest of your life.’
They crossed the wide open area by the
ticket offices and unloaded the trolley. A group of older kids was breaking up the
wooden sections further, separating the planks and stacking them in neat piles ready to
be carted into the castle to be reused.
Tish took the opportunity to look around.
She clocked some boys guarding the perimeter. In the past, crowds waiting to go into the
Tower had gathered here, joined by sightseers who just wanted to take pictures or gawp
at the old castle. There had been food stalls, entertainers andsometimes marching bands and displays. Now the kids used it as a sorting area before
stuff was taken into the Tower. They didn’t want to fill their living space with
too much junk, so there were a couple of rubbish tips here as well. Once they’d
built up a big pile, it was dumped in the Thames to be washed out to sea.
That morning a unit of Pathfinders had found
three cars in a private garage with petrol in their tanks and their keys hanging on a
pegboard. Two matching silver Mercedes C-Class and a red Porsche 911 Carrera.
They’d driven them to the sorting area and parked them with the vehicles
they’d collected over the months. Some small boys were standing around admiring
them.
‘Let’s get another load,’
said Tish and they wheeled their trolley back down to the river.
‘The longer we wait, the less I want
to do this,’ said Sam.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Tish.
‘I’ve an idea.’
‘What?’ Sam’s heart was
pounding. He was filled with a mixture of fear and excitement. Everything was happening
too fast for him to know if he was doing the right thing.
‘I’ll start a fire,’ said
Tish. ‘When we get back up there, you talk to the boy racers with their shiny
cars, keep them busy. When you see smoke, head for the shop. We’ll go together
from there.’
‘OK.’
Back to the river’s edge there was a
stack of wood ready for them to load on to their trolley. They plonked it on in silence.
Sam’s throat was too dry to talk. He couldn’t work out if he was most
worried about getting away from the Tower kids or of what they might have to face if
they were successful. He looked at The Kid. Couldn’t read him at all. If The Kid
was OK with the way things were heading thenSam was OK. He’d
survived alone out there. He knew all about danger.
But what was he thinking?
Sam caught his eye and The Kid winked at
him.
What did that mean?
‘Come on.’ Tish was ready to be
off and Sam took hold of the bar. The trolley rattled and squeaked as it got under
way.
Was he right to trust Tish? Shouldn’t
he trust Ed instead? Ed had promised to take him to find Ella. Was he just lying,
though? There was all that creepy stuff about the lamb and the goat. Sam was too
confused to straighten it all out. Best just to keep moving.
Into the no-go zone …
He’d spent time in there before. It
was where he’d been
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