Flies buzzed around and the smell was stronger in here.

‘Hold your hooter,’ said The Kid, flicking on his lighter. ‘And try not to look.’

But of course that was the worst thing he could have said. Sam couldn’t help take glimpses to either side as they went along towards the carriage door.

He got brief flashes.

Something hanging from a hook on the handrail. A bucket catching drips of fat. A leg, salted and drying. A severed hand. A box with three small brown skulls in it. A pile of bones on the sawdust-covered floor.

He felt vomit rising in his throat and he fought to hold it back. Rhiannon wasn’t so lucky, she fell in a messy heap to the floor, puking and sobbing.

‘We have to go back for the others,’ she said. ‘Tell them what we’ve seen.’

‘No way, Holy Ghost,’ said The Kid. ‘We got to keep moving and save our own bacon else we’ll end up swinging from a hook like this lot.’

‘I can’t stand it,’ wept Rhiannon.

Sam knelt by her and gently put an arm around her.

‘It’s all right, Rhiannon,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right. We’ll soon be out of here. Maybe we can get help and come back to rescue the others.’

‘Yes.’ Rhiannon sniffed and wiped her nose. ‘OK. Yes. I’ll be all right.’

Sam helped her up. In the centre of the carriage was a huge block of wood, a chopping block, scarred from much use, stained scarlet and black. A meat cleaver was embedded in it. Sam wrenched it free.

‘Leave it, shrimp,’ said The Kid. ‘I already thought of that. Too heavy. No use to you.’

‘I’ll use it if I have to,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll kill the both of them.’

‘Not with that, you won’t. It’s for a grown man, not a pipsqueak like you. You need a skinky like mine. I looked, there ain’t nothing else here of use to a desperado. That great chopper will only slow you down.’

Sam tried to lift it, but The Kid was right. He’d barely be able to swing it in a fight. He dropped it to the floor with a clatter.

And then he saw something else. Lying in a box of skewers.

His butterfly pin.

He snatched it up. He felt strong again.

‘I’ve got my own skinky now,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Please,’ said Rhiannon. ‘I need to rest. I can’t go on.’

‘In here?’ said The Kid. ‘You gotta be pulling my plonker. Up and at ’em, Tigerlil.’

The Kid took them to the door, opened it and dropped down to the tracks. Rhiannon sighed and grumbled but she followed him while Sam brought up the rear, his heart racing.

‘Why do we need to go back to the platform?’ he said.

‘We can’t go no further this way,’ said The Kid. ‘Tunnel’s blocked. All we got to do is go back under-the-neath of the train, to the join between the carriages. There’s space to get out there.’

‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve done it before.’

‘Then let’s do.’ The Kid gripped Rhiannon by the shoulders. ‘Do you feel up to some Olympic sneaking, my girl?’

Rhiannon swallowed. She was breathing heavily and could barely nod her head.

They scrambled along in the gulley underneath the train. The Kid didn’t dare use the lighter any more, so they had to feel their way, just as Sam had done when he’d first escaped from the grown-ups at Camden Town.

How long ago was that?

He had no idea.

It didn’t take them long to get to the gap and Sam peered out.

The nightlights still bathed the area with a yellow glow.

He looked along the platform to the right. It wasn’t far to the way out at the end. The length of one carriage. But they would be exposed all the way and would have to climb over the bed frame that was blocking the exit.

‘This is the hard part,’ whispered The Kid, poking his head out next to Sam’s. ‘Open ground. There’s no way round it.’

The boys ducked back under the train.

‘We got to dash across there like froggers,’ The Kid told Rhiannon. ‘If we make it unseen, we’re home free. We’ll slimper up topside and be gone. If they spot us, it’s a different story – morning glory. Curtains I reckon, and blinds and shutters as well, maybe, probably carpets too. What do you say, girl?’

‘Her name’s Rhiannon,’ said Sam. ‘I’m called Sam.’

‘Nice name. Nice girl. Pleased to meet you. I shoulda brought flowers or chocolates or a dead mouse.’

Rhiannon giggled and it lifted Sam’s spirits. There was always hope.

Rhiannon put her hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘You go first,’ she said. ‘If I see you can make it, it’ll make me braver.’

‘You sure?’

‘Go on. Good luck.’

Sam looked out. As far as he could tell it was all clear. He squeezed through the narrow opening and shuffled on his belly on to the platform. A quick glance to left and right, then he sprinted to the end in a low crouch and gave the bed frame a quick once over. It was secured in place with a chain and padlock. He would need The Kid’s help.

His heart was hammering, the blood pulsed tight in his head, and he felt sick again. He looked back. The train was still. There was no movement in Nick and Rachel’s living-carriage. The doors were shut.

Rhiannon was slowly groping her way on to the platform; The Kid was obviously pushing her from below. Helping her up. Sam knew how hard that was. Once up she lay there on her stomach, catching her breath. The Kid whispered something quickly in her ear and Sam waved him over.

Somehow The Kid seemed to blend in with the surroundings and almost disappear, moving like a rat and sliding into the shadows next to Sam.

‘Nothing to it,’ he whispered, his teeth very white in the darkness. ‘Piece of Coca-Cola.’

Sam showed the padlock to The Kid who made short of work of it, wriggling his tool in the lock until it clicked open.

It was a nightmare trying to unthread the chain without making a sound, but between them they managed it and were able to slide the bed frame back just far enough to squeeze past.

‘Let’s get the babe, chicken legs.’ The Kid signalled to Rhiannon.

‘Don’t call me that,’ said Sam crossly. ‘I don’t have chicken legs.’

‘They sure are skinny.’

‘You’re not exactly fat.’

‘Not exactly, no –’

‘Shhh.’ Sam clamped a hand over The Kid’s mouth.

Rhiannon had got to her feet and started to come across. She was limping and fighting for oxygen. Moving painfully slowly.

‘Come on,’ said Sam. ‘Come on, you can make it.’

He could just see the expression on her face. Desperate, scared, yet determined. Nothing was going to stop her.

‘She’s gonna make it,’ said The Kid. ‘Come on, girl. Come on, my Rhiannon.’

Then Rhiannon staggered and fell to her knees. She couldn’t stop herself from grunting and Sam held his breath.

‘Get up, girl,’ said The Kid, but Rhiannon couldn’t.

‘Come on,’ said Sam and the two of them left their cover and went over to her. They hooked an arm under each shoulder and wrenched her up.

They hadn’t gone three steps when there was a movement. Something darted out of the shadows and skidded to an alarmed halt in front of them. It was Orion, Nick and Rachel’s ginger cat. It put its back up, fur on end, and gave a hideous squalling shriek.

Sam jumped back in shock and then swallowed hard as the door to Nick and Rachel’s carriage slid open with a harsh scrape of metal, and there was Nick with a face like fury.

‘Hey!’ he called out. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

49

‘Does that hurt?’

‘Yes!’

‘Does that?’

‘Yes – everything hurts!’

Maeve sat back in her chair and tried to give Maxie a reassuring smile.

‘Well, I don’t think your arm’s broken,’ she said. ‘It might be fractured, but I don’t think so. It’s very badly bruised.’

‘I don’t need you to tell me that.’