For the next few hours, despite having been awake almost all night, Mum and I talk until we’ve exhausted everything we want to say. For the moment. Ace and the others are busy in the attic as they put the final touches to their preparations, but Mum and I hardly think about what they’re doing or even remember that they’re there. The mystery that’s consumed me all night is taking second place to the story of my own life, a story more fascinating and frustrating than anything I’ve ever read.
Mum answers my questions honestly and I shout and scream and we argue and we cry, but in the end, we both know we’ll manage to work this out because we love each other. There’ll be more heart-to-heart talks and more question-and-answer sessions and probably more arguments, and I know that when the time is right, I’ll reveal my own secret to Mum. But, as Ace said, we’ll come through it all, somehow.
‘Anni, I want things to be different from now on,’ Mum tells me earnestly. ‘This is no life for you. I’ve been feeling guilty for years. I want to get help. You deserve better than this.’
‘So do you, Mum,’ I tell her. ‘We’ll do this together.’
The prospect of a new, exciting life is opening up before me like a flower bud unfurling, and I have to keep reminding myself this is all really happening as Mum talks about seeing doctors and being treated for her illnesses and – amazingly – even the possibility of selling this house. Maybe even contacting her family again, as well as my dad’s. As Mum says, they might have been searching for us all these years without us knowing it. My dreary, grey life is suddenly being repainted in the bright, shining colours of light and hope.
Mum and I sit, deep in discussion, making plans. We’re so involved with each other it’s a shock when Ace comes in a few hours later.
‘It’s almost ten,’ she says. ‘We hope you’ll join us in the attic.’
‘You mean – we’re going to see what you’ve been doing all night?’ I ask a little uncertainly.
Ace nods. ‘If you want to, that is. You might prefer not to know.’
‘No way!’ My curiosity instantly fires up again. This is the final piece of the mystery, the explanation for everything that’s happened. ‘I definitely want to see.’
‘So do I,’ Mum agrees.
Ace and I help Mum onto her sticks and we go out into the hall. Jack and Queenie are waiting for us at the top of the main staircase. When we reach the attics, King is outside on the landing. They’ve all taken off their balaclavas.
‘Ready?’ Ace asks him.
King nods. ‘We’d better get on with it. We only have a couple of minutes.’
He reaches for the door handle. For a moment I feel ablaze with uncertainty and my heart begins to thud unpleasantly because I have no idea what I’m going to find when I step inside the attic.
King opens the door slowly, carefully, as if he’s worried he might hit something on the other side. I strain forward to get that first glimpse into the room.
The very first thing I notice is a round black bomb lying directly in front of me on the attic floor. Even as I gasp with alarm and instinctively move to protect Mum, I’m already realizing that what I think I’m seeing isn’t what it really is. The ‘bomb’ is, in fact, a black balloon shaped to look like a bomb, a ‘fuse’ of white string trailing from the top. Attached at the other end of the string is a star-shaped piece of yellow cellophane, as if someone’s just lit the fuse with a match. It’s the kind of funny, old-fashioned bomb you see in cartoons that explodes when someone picks it up and sets their hair and eyebrows on fire.
The attic is filled with these black bombs, alongside big, regular-shaped white balloons. All the balloons bob gently up and down on the floor like a striking black-and-white carpet. There are piles of them, floating around and jostling each other for space. I can’t guess how many, but maybe hundreds.
‘This is what you’ve been doing?’ I ask faintly. ‘Blowing up balloons? All this time?’
‘We did have some help,’ Queenie admits. ‘We brought some balloon pumps with us.’
And then I see that there is printed writing, red letters, on the white balloons. Each one carries a short slogan:
People Power!
Don’t Sell Out to the Banks.
People, not Profits.
Children are The Future – End Child Poverty.
If You Think Education is Expensive, Try Ignorance.
Help The Lost Generation – More Jobs For Young People.
Support the NHS.
And there are others about university fees, big companies not paying their taxes and public spending cuts.
‘Like I told you from the start, Anni, we’re not going to hurt anyone,’ Ace reminds me. ‘This is a peaceful protest. That’s how our group works. For now.’
‘But when we release the balloons, we’ll be disrupting the Prime Minister’s visit,’ Jack explains, ‘so we have to be careful or they’ll stop us – they’ll think of some reason why it would be illegal or something – and it wouldn’t get on the telly. Which is what we want to happen.’
‘We couldn’t allow ourselves to get caught, not on our very first mission.’ Ace speaks quietly. ‘Because this is only the beginning.’
‘What do you mean?’ I pounce on her words, but Ace simply shakes her head.
‘Let’s get on with it,’ King says impatiently. ‘His car’ll be passing by any minute.’
Ace, King, Queenie and Jack wade through a sea of bouncing, bobbing black and white towards the three big windows. They pull back the thick curtains, and winter sunlight pours into the attic. As they fling the windows open one by one, things click into place inside my head, and I finally see the whole picture. The silver object I thought was a gun – probably part of a balloon pump. That bang I heard from behind the closed door – almost certainly a balloon bursting. Now everything makes sense.
A light breeze rushes into the attic, stirring the balloons and tossing them around. Mum and I watch as the four protestors begin scooping the balloons up, throwing them out of the windows, armfuls at a time. The black and white balloons sail away on the wind, taking the slogans with them for all to see.
‘The wind’s in just about the right direction,’ Jack pants, chucking another load of black bombs out into the sky. ‘Some of them will probably float right over the PM’s car. How lucky is that?’
‘Hope the press get some fabulous photos when he arrives at the hospital,’ Queenie laughs. ‘Think of all that great publicity we’re going to get, folks!’
‘And the PM will be squirming with embarrassment,’ King adds gleefully. ‘Result!’
‘Hurry,’ Ace urges them. ‘We need to get all these balloons out before anyone realizes where they’re coming from.’
They’re pushing the last lot of balloons out now, and I run over to one of the windows to help.
‘This is for you, Dad,’ I whisper, throwing an armful of balloons out into the sky. When I say the word ‘Dad’, there are two faces inside my head, and both of them are a part of me.
Mum joins me and manages to knock a couple of white balloons out into the sky with one of her sticks. The big houses in front of us block our view somewhat and so I can only catch glimpses of the Prime Minister’s big black car and his police escort. But I can see that most of the balloons are heading in the direction of the hospital. In the streets nearest us, I look down on people looking up. At first, some seem alarmed, pointing at the black balloons and then ducking for cover. But, like me, they realize almost instantly that the ‘bombs’ aren’t real. They stand staring up at the sky as it rains black and white, and little children run around, trying to catch the balloons.
‘How did you know exactly when the Prime Minister was arriving at the hospital?’ I ask curiously.
Queenie taps the side of her nose and winks at me. ‘Insider information,’ she confides. ‘Someone who works at the hospital tipped us off.’ Then she whoops with delight as, in the distance, we see one of the ‘bombs’ bounce onto the roof of the Prime Minister’s car and then burst as it’s punctured by the aerial. ‘Think we scored a direct hit there, guys!’
‘Quick, close the windows,’ Ace orders as the last balloon floats outside. King, Queenie and Jack jump forward to do so, and then I can almost see the tension drain out of their bodies. All four break into cheers and high-fives and hugs.
Then Ace turns to Mum and me. ‘That’s it,’ she says softly. ‘We’re done.’
Mum nods, almost as if she approves. ‘I’m impressed you used latex balloons to make your protest, and didn’t use helium,’ she says unexpectedly. ‘Latex is a little less environmentally toxic because it’s supposed to decompose more quickly.’
Ace nods. ‘We try to be as green as possible with our protests. And we have some of our members on the ground, ready to collect up as much of the debris as they can. Though we hope people generally will take most of the balloons home and think about what’s written on them.’ She and Mum smile at each other, and I see a shared understanding between them.
‘Ace.’ King is standing by the attic door, ready to make a quick getaway. He sounds nervous. ‘We ought to leave. Right away, before the police come knocking.’
‘Yes.’ Ace looks at Mum again. ‘The police will probably want to question everyone around this area to find out who’s to blame, if they haven’t worked out where the balloons are coming from already.’
Mum shrugs. ‘Everyone has the right to peaceful protest,’ she says quietly. ‘I’ve stood up to the police more than a few times myself in the past. And sometimes – well, Kanvar and I did things that weren’t strictly legal because we were looking at the bigger picture. We won’t be telling anyone anything, will we, Anni?’
Relieved, I shake my head.
‘Ace, come on.’ Jack has joined King by the door, and Queenie is hovering there too. ‘We need to go.’
I’m quiet, not speaking because I’m feeling hopelessly confused right now. Ace and the others are going; at last, the one thing I’ve been hoping and praying for is finally happening. And yet . . . From a frightening presence, from being intruders in our house, they’ve become almost like . . . friends. I know how ridiculous this sounds. But I don’t want them to leave.
And still Ace hesitates. ‘Can I come and see you again?’ she blurts out unexpectedly. I’ve never heard Ace the leader, Ace the control freak, sound so uncertain and unsure of herself. ‘It’d be awesome to hear more about RAIDERS, if you didn’t mind talking about it. And to see how you’re both getting on, of course.’
I glance at Mum. ‘Yes, say yes,’ I whisper. And as I do so, I realize that things have definitely changed because now Mum is very definitely the adult and I’m the child. I’m not responsible for everything any more, and it feels good.
‘Of course,’ Mum replies in a strong, confident voice. ‘But don’t leave it too long, Ace, because we’ll be moving from this house sometime very soon.’
Ace smiles. Her eyes meet mine briefly, and then she strides across the attic to join the others. Jack grins at me while Queenie and King raise their hands in farewell. They disappear down the stairs and they’re gone. Just like that. We don’t even hear them collect their stuff and leave the house.
Silently Mum and I turn back to the window. I slip my arm around Mum’s waist. We stand and watch the balloons floating across the sky, and we look forward to our new life and our freedom, at last.