Luc is taken off to the right, to a long low red brick house. His trainers crunch loudly over the gravel, until he disappears through a dark green painted wooden door. Rebecca watches them go and then she asks me to follow her. We walk directly across the courtyard into an imposing building, four storeys high, with wide steps leading up to a set of grand double doors.
We enter a large dim wood-panelled hallway with a wide staircase. It smells musty and slightly of sweaty feet. The kitchen must be somewhere at the end of the hallway, as I can hear clanking pots and pans and distant busy voices. Rebecca leads me up two flights of stairs to a shabby landing with a worn patterned carpet and about eight closed doors. It’s gloomy and quiet.
She knocks on the door immediately at the top of the stairs. A plump girl opens it. She’s wearing a dark grey A line skirt with a grey shirt tucked in. Around her neck hangs a heavy looking iron cross, the same colour as her shirt. Her hair is pulled back into a lank ponytail and she’s got angry-looking acne on her cheeks and chin.
‘Martha,’ says Rebecca. ‘This is Riley, she’ll be staying tonight.’
‘Riley is it?’ Martha looks at me, mouth pulled downwards. ‘Is that short for anything?’
‘No, it’s just Riley.’
‘Right.’ She hmmphs. ‘Follow me then. We’ll get you settled.’
‘I’ll see you, Riley,’ says Rebecca, turning to go. ‘Martha will look after you now.’
‘But I’ll see you later won’t I?’ I ask Rebecca, unwilling to have a seemingly kind woman replaced by this unfriendly girl.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Rebecca replies, already halfway down the stairs. ‘You don’t need me anymore.’ She looks up regretfully and then hurries down and out of view, her footsteps receding.
I brace myself. This, after all, is what I was expecting from the outset anyway. But our initial welcome had softened me up a bit. I have to remember why I’m really here and what I’m supposed to do. Martha points towards a room in the middle of the corridor.
‘There’s the bathroom. Take a shower. There are some clean clothes on the back of the door. If you leave your clothes in the basket, I’ll have them washed for you. Come and knock on my door when you’ve finished.’
I do as she asks and I’m soon clean, smelling of the harsh soap, and dressed identically to Martha, minus the cross and still wearing my flip flops. The clothes fit me pretty well, but there’s no mirror so I can’t really tell how awful I look. I take a deep breath and knock on Martha’s door. She looks me up and down and hmmphs her approval. Then she steps out onto the landing and locks her door.
‘Follow me,’ she orders.
I follow her to the other end of the corridor where she opens another door. I expect to see another room, but instead there’s a small dark, wooden, winding staircase leading down.
It’s been two days and I’ve heard no mention and seen no trace of Luc, Lissy or Freddie. Everybody I’ve met so far has biblical names and it’s entirely likely that Freddie and Lissy’s names have been changed, which will make it an almost impossible task to locate them. I hope Luc’s having more luck than me; the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. What if I never get out of this strange half-asleep place?
I’ve been assigned to the Nursery, which is actually an okay job, if exhausting. All the Close’s children are taken from their parents at the age of one and housed together in the Nursery. They’re separated into age groups until they’re nine, when they are split by gender. I’m looking after the three to five-year olds. There are twenty four of them, looked after by four of us: myself, an older woman and two women in their twenties.
Nothing has been explained to me, other than the actual duties I’ve been assigned. Any questions I ask are met with a vague smile and an unenlightening change of subject. Everyone’s on autopilot and there’s no small talk, chatter or gossip – they simply get on with their duties in a kind, but firm manner. The children all behave immaculately.
I sleep in one of the dormitories on Martha’s floor. There are four bunks in my room, sleeping eight girls who are about my pretended age of fourteen. I have hardly spoken to any of them, as they come in long after I go to bed and are still asleep when I get up to report for work at the Nursery. They obviously work a different shift to me.
I tried talking to a couple of them last night, but they were just as vague and dreamy as my co-workers. I’m getting a bit panicky now, worrying that I’m going to be stuck here forever, turning into a version of these half-alive women and girls. It’s not scary or dangerous here, but it doesn’t feel right either. It’s too quiet and emotionless. It’s like the life has been sucked out of everyone.
It’s my third morning here and I’ve just reached the bottom of the dark winding staircase that takes me from my dormitory to the maze of buildings where the Nursery is located, when I see a figure in the corner. My heart skips a beat when I realise it’s Luc looking handsome, if a little nerdy, in borrowed clothes. I was beginning to think I’d never see him again.
‘Looking good, Riley,’ Luc grins at me.
‘Back atcha.’ I so want to hug him, but he doesn’t make any move to come closer to me, so I stay where I am.
‘How are you?’ He turns serious. ‘Sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner and I can’t stay long, I’m supposed to be fetching some paint cans.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘It’s not good news, Riley. I’m pretty sure we’ve been tricked.’
Chapter Twenty Five
The original plan had been for me and Luc to get into the Close and find out what had happened to Fred and Jessie’s children. Hopefully we’d locate them and help them to escape with us. Meanwhile, Fred and Jessie would be waiting a mile away in their jeep with our AV parked close by. They would wait there for up to two weeks, after which time, if they heard nothing from us, they would drive to our Perimeter in Bournemouth and alert our parents who would send in help.
On his first night here in the Close, Luc waited until the very early morning, until his roommates were soundly asleep. Then he left his bunk, climbed out of the bathroom window and crawled along the long low roof. He saw no security guards, but he knew they were there. He just had to hope they didn’t know he was there.
He needed to get up high to get a view of the surroundings, but his building was only one story high. He lowered himself down from the roof and let himself drop the remaining six-or-so feet on to the noisy gravel.
The next building along was four storeys high. He heaved and climbed his way up the side of the building where there were the fewest windows, using the wide metal drainpipe. When he reached the roof, he shuffled up to the ridge, trying not to dislodge any of the ancient looking roof tiles.
To the rear of the building, he saw another quad-shaped courtyard and yet more buildings. The outside walls were high, smooth and topped with jagged glass and razor wire. In the middle distance, he saw the impressive spire of Salisbury Cathedral and then he saw something to make him realise our plan had gone terribly wrong – he saw our AV parked close by, under a small stand of trees. Several thoughts raced through his mind at once, but he would be unable to confirm what had actually happened until he got some more information. He returned to his quarters the way he had come.