They began to talk like lovers, and as Brooke listened she felt a thaw within her. The cold dark block around her heart started to melt and she was gradually, step by tiny step, led back from fantasy into reality. She began to appreciate that she wasn’t the only one who hurt. She remembered Paul, what she’d said to him when he’d freaked out at the museum. She’d told him that he wasn’t alone. Told him not to be selfish with his pain. Not to blame the world. And that’s what Brooke began to understand now.

She wasn’t alone either.

She had lost Donut and Courtney, but she didn’t have to cope with all this by herself. She could talk to someone, just as these two were talking now. She could share with them. She could sense that Blue and Maxie cared for each other and the kids they looked after. They’d lost friends along the way, just like her, but they were showing that you could make new friends. They couldn’t ever properly replace the people they’d lost, but they could still matter. Life had to go on.

Real life.

Maxie and Blue gave her hope, and the more she listened, the more she learnt about them and got involved in their stories, the more she liked them. What was Chris Marker always banging on about, surrounded by all his books? She’d never really got it before, when he’d talked about all the stories in London, how they were going on all around them, all the time, and how some of the stories were the same, kids going through the same experiences, and sometimes they joined together. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe her story had taken a turn and these other kids were going to become an important part of her life. Maybe it was time for her to rest for a while and let their story take over?

As the time ticked past, showing on the face of an old-fashioned wind-up clock, she listened and learnt. She put herself in their story. And the marks on the ceiling slowly became just that – marks. The cities and forests, the roads and train tracks and little villages faded away, to be replaced by cracks and stains. The last to go was the farm. Courtney and Donut were still there, in the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking tea, chatting happily. They’d always be there if she ever wanted to visit them, but for now she had to say goodbye.

There were problems in the real world to deal with.

It was clear that David was holding Maxie and Blue prisoner here in the sick-bay. He was trying to keep them from their friends so that he could take over their crew. The two of them were plotting how to get away, escape from the palace, just as Donut and Courtney had done the other day.

They were talking about it now and had come up against one problem.

‘… say we did get out, yeah?’ Blue was asking Maxie. ‘Where would we go?’

‘We’ve got the whole of London to choose from,’ Maxie replied. She was posher than Blue, spoke differently. In the past Brooke might have laughed at someone like her, mocked her and teased her. Not any more. She knew that it made no difference where you came from, how you’d been brought up – the disease affected you all the same. They’d all lost parents, friends, brothers and sisters. They’d all had to fight to survive. They were all the same.

Just trying to get from one day to another.

What if they could escape? Get away from here. All of them, together.

For the first time since she’d lost her friends, Brooke wanted to get up out of bed, to run and shout and fight. To kick back against the world that was trying to get at her. The world of grown-ups, and disease, the world of David …

69

‘Do you think he’ll go through with it?’

‘If he can. He’s just mad enough.’

Jester giggled. ‘I’m not sure we really should have done that,’ he said.

David looked at him and shook his head. ‘You loved it, Jester. You can’t fool me. It’s what you’re good at. Persuading people. Working your magic. You are the magic man.’

‘Yeah, but is it white magic or black magic?’ said Jester.

‘It’s all the same. When this is over and we’ve won, we’ll write the history books, and we’ll both be waving to the crowds on the cover. Everything’s coming together right now. This is how it’s meant to be. We’ve struck a blow against Justin and his traitors. We’ll fatally wound them, and they’ll come crawling to us for protection. We won’t offer it to them, though, not at first. We’ll let them stew a bit and then march in with our new army and save their wretched socks. Then we’ll be holding all the cards.’ David paused, let a smile take over his face.

‘Just remember,’ he said. ‘Justin and Brooke. They’re mine.’

He went to an ornate drinks cabinet that stood in the corner and selected a decanter of whisky. He hated the taste of the stuff but he’d seen enough films in his time to know that when something like this happened you had to celebrate with a drink. A drink and a cigar.

He took the cut-glass stopper out of the decanter and sniffed the pungent, eye-watering amber liquid inside.

‘Drink, sir?’

Jester laughed. ‘Why not?’

70

Blue and Maxie were still talking, still plotting. Blue kept coming back to the fact that they didn’t know the area. These were unfamiliar streets to him.

‘We don’t know where’s safe.’

‘There must be other kids,’ said Maxie, who seemed more hopeful of escape. ‘This can’t be it.’

‘Nowhere else is going to be as well set up as this,’ Blue went on. ‘Nowhere else is gonna be as safe. David’s the only one round here who’s organized.’

Now Brooke heard a third voice, and at first she didn’t understand where it had come from.

It simply said, ‘David’s a liar.’

She recognized that voice. So familiar.

Of course. It was her own voice. She’d come back from the dead. Spoken without meaning to. The other two kids sat up and looked over at her.

‘What did you say?’ Blue asked.

‘David’s a liar,’ Brooke repeated. ‘He’s been lying to you all along. Why do you think he’s been keeping me out of the way up here?’

‘Because of your injuries?’ said Blue.

‘They’re not as bad as they look,’ said Brooke, and it was as if a tap had been turned on. All the words that had been growing inside her came tumbling out in a rush. She was saying things she hadn’t even thought. The sentences came out fully formed without seeming to pass through her brain.

‘When you cut your face, there’s a lot of blood,’ she said. ‘Rose fixed me up pretty well. I’m going to look like hell, but it’s only skin. David didn’t want me mixing with you lot, though. He didn’t want me talking. Once it was clear they were keeping me prisoner I made sure I didn’t speak, hardly even moved. Just listened …’

Best not tell them that she’d gone a little crazy. That could come later. Best appear to be on top of things. She needed their help and didn’t want to scare them off.

‘I don’t get it,’ said Blue. ‘Where are you from?’

Good question. Where was she from?

‘The museum.’

She hadn’t meant to say that. She’d meant … somewhere. Some safe place with her mum. A place that didn’t exist any more.

‘Museum?’ said Blue. ‘What museum?’

‘Natural History Museum,’ said Brooke, and once more the words came pouring out. She told them about her life there, and how they weren’t the only other kids around, that there were other places to go, and then she tried to tell them about her expedition with Donut, but that was when the words ran out. It was too soon to talk about that. She stopped before the tears came, and the words dried up.

‘It’s all right,’ said Maxie.

Yes. It was all right. She did have somewhere to go. A safe place. And she needed to get back there. She needed to connect with the friends she’d left behind at the museum. With Justin and Wiki and Jibber-jabber, with Kwanele and Zohra and Froggie … So many of them. So many faces. So many stories. With Maxie and Blue’s help she could get back there.