Extolziby made sure he was several streets away and that no one was chasing him before he stopped. He slowed to a walk from a normal running speed. He could have run much faster but that would only have drawn attention to him, and in any case the pavements were so crowded he’d had trouble dodging people even at normal speed.
He looked up at a nearby building. The street name read ‘Eaton Place’. He had already worked out a route the night before. If he kept going north he would reach Regent’s Park. Then all he had to do was follow the park round until he reached the building where Magellan lived.
He set off. It was freezing cold but the sky was bright blue. He felt good. Not only was he no longer stuffed into the tiny cramped luggage compartment of the coach but he was on his way to find Talura.
He heard a police siren and ducked into a shop doorway. The Metropolitan Police car sped past. He had forgotten that, in a big city, the police were always flying about. A kid bumping a coach driver hardly merited lights and sirens. He was safer here, surrounded by people, than just about anywhere else.
One of the shop assistants had walked across to the door and was scowling at him. It looked quite posh and he was probably scaring away the customers. Keeping his head down, he set off again. He tried to walk like everyone else seemed to be doing, as if he was on a very important mission, which he was.
The people were definitely different from those in Tunnock. In Tunnock everyone, apart from the family that ran the newsagent’s, was white. And not just regular white but Scottish white, so pale that you could almost see through them. In London, there were people of all different races. It was good, thought Extolziby. It was how it should be, everyone all mixed in together. All different, but all the same.
As he walked he wondered about the people he passed. Had they been born in London? Or had they come here from another place in England or another country? He passed a lady wearing a big black gown that covered everything apart from her eyes. She reminded him of Talura. He walked a little faster.
He could see Regent’s Park ahead now and it wasn’t even nine o’clock. He had made really good progress. He would be at Magellan’s place in twenty minutes. If Talura was there, they could be back at the college in time for dinner.
He was passing an old cobbled alleyway. A big fat man wearing a suit and a bowler hat prodded him out of the way with an umbrella. Extolziby stepped to the side.
Just as he moved, he was grabbed from behind, his hands pinned behind his back. ‘Come ’ere, you,’ said a man’s voice, as Extolziby was dragged into the alleyway.
At first, he was too surprised to react. It had all happened so fast. He couldn’t see the man who was holding him, but he could smell his breath. It stank.
The man let go and Extolziby felt his duffel bag, with all his clothes in it, being wrenched from his shoulder. He turned to see the man going through the bag, tossing the clothes into the alleyway. He didn’t even look at him as he did it. It was as if Extolziby didn’t exist any more. The man had his bag and now he probably expected him to run away crying. He was wrong. Very wrong.
Extolziby stood quietly for a moment and watched him. He was quite tall, maybe six foot, with long, stringy brown hair, and a scruffy beard. His clothes were old and tatty and he was wearing lots of layers, which made him look bigger than he probably was. Instead of a belt, his trousers were held in place with a piece of thin rope.
‘Aha!’ the man said, pulling the laptop from Extolziby’s bag.
Extolziby had plans for the laptop. He planned to sell it so that he had money to get himself and Talura home safely. From the glint in the man’s eye and the grin across his face, it looked like he’d just had the same thought.
‘Put that back in the bag and hand it to me,’ said Extolziby. He felt strangely calm. Focused, even. That was bad news for the man if he didn’t do what he’d just been asked.
The man went back to rummaging. More clothes were tossed onto the dirty, damp cobbles as, less than twenty feet away, people walked past, completely unaware that Extolziby was being mugged.
Extolziby had to get the man’s attention. He didn’t want to hurt him unless he had to. He remembered a trick that his teacher had used with the boys in his class when they got too rowdy.
‘I’m going to count to three,’ he said. ‘If you don’t do what I say by the time I get to three . . .’
The man looked up. ‘You’ll what?’ he sneered. ‘Look at yer. You must weigh about three stone dripping wet. Y’fink one of them hoodies makes you tough or summat? Run along now, sunny Jim.’
‘My name’s not Jim. It’s Extolziby.’
‘That’s a bleedin’ stupid name. Now, shoo,’ said the man, waving the back of his hands at Extolziby.
Extolziby stepped towards him. ‘One.’ He stared straight into the man’s eyes, and saw a flicker of doubt. It didn’t last.
‘Too. Free,’ said the man. ‘We’re at free. Now what ya gonna do, Exton, or whatever you’re called?’ The man’s teeth were either missing or yellow and rotten. It made sense to Extolziby all of a sudden. He knew a drug addict when he saw one. There were quite a few where he lived in Tunnock. They were mostly an object of pity but they would prey on anyone young, old, it didn’t matter. They needed their fix. They were like zombies. They didn’t even think about the consequences of their actions. The only thing they cared about was getting their drugs. None of that mattered now, though. All he wanted was for the man to give him his stuff back. But it wasn’t going to happen without a fight.
Everything got very sharp. The world was high definition again. Extolziby took another step towards the man, who stood, arms folded, with a stupid grin plastered all over his coupon.
They were almost nose to nose now. The man still had his arms folded. Idiot. Extolziby launched his right fist up at a forty-five-degree angle and caught him on the chin. He hit the man so hard that he didn’t just fall backwards, he flew up and into the air. His flight was cut short when he smacked into the wall of the alley. He slid all the way down, eyes glassy, arms limp. He came to rest in a sitting position. He looked like a doll that had just had the stuffing ripped from it.
For a horrible second, Extolziby thought he might be dead. The man started to speak, mumbling incoherently. Extolziby went over to him and knelt down. ‘I did warn you,’ he said. ‘Where I come fae we get our retaliation in first, ken.’
Indeed that might have been the Gruff family motto. Big Maw Gruff was always saying it. ‘Get your retaliation in first.’
As the man mumbled, Extolziby gathered up his clothes and stuffed them back into the bag. He didn’t want to hang around. At any moment someone might see them and call the police. If he was going to get caught before he found Talura, he didn’t want it to be because of something stupid like a drug addict trying to mug him.
It was only then that he noticed the laptop. It was lying on the cobbles. He picked it up and opened it. The screen was cracked right down the middle. Whatever it had been worth before, it was now worth nothing.
Anger surged through Extolziby. He walked back to the man and hauled him up onto his feet by the collar of his shirt. It was like lifting a bag of feathers. He didn’t know whether it was because under all those layers the man was skinny because he himself was so strong.
He held the cracked laptop up to the man’s face. ‘See? See what you’ve done, you tube.’ In Tunnock, a tube was a stupid person, an idiot. ‘You tube’ was an insult rather than a website where people could post music videos and footage of cats on skateboards.
‘Arrgh,’ said the man. ‘Ah woz gonna sell that too.’
‘Oh, you were, were you?’
Extolziby turned to see two policemen standing at the end of the alleyway. It was the first policeman who had spoken. They were walking towards him. The second looked at the first, and said, ‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves two right little charmers here. Where’d you get that laptop from, lads? And don’t tell us you found it.’