Where the alley met the lighted street, we stopped. Neither of us wanted to venture out.
“Now what?” said Emily.
“I don’t know. We can’t hang around here, though. If they’ve found our things, they might start searching the whole area.”
I thought hard. The Common… no, too dark and dangerous. Denise’s house wouldn’t be safe either, for quite a different reason – Denise’s mum would want to send us straight home to Brilby. (Have you noticed, grown-ups always stick together?) And my dad would be just as bad… anyway, I wasn’t at all sure I could remember where he lived.
“We could get on a bus,” I said.
“Where to?”
“Anywhere – first one that comes. We need to get out of here sharpish.”
I could see she didn’t think much of the idea. But she didn’t have a better one.
There was no one at the bus stop. In fact there were not many people around at all. A couple of passers-by gave us looks that meant, “Why aren’t you in bed by now?”
The air was turning chilly. I had only a thin jacket, and Emily didn’t have one at all – hers was back at the house. She hopped from foot to foot, trying to keep warm.
“I could murder a bag of chips,” she said.
“We’d better not spend any more than we have to. How much have you got left?”
Before she could answer, a car pulled up beside us and the driver got out. “Excuse me, girls. Don’t suppose you can tell me how to get to Clapham Common?”
I gave him directions as well as I could. For some reason I had the impression that he wasn’t really listening. His eyes flicked from me to Emily and back again.
“Thank you. That’s very helpful. Now why don’t I give you a lift home? It’s late. I don’t like to see young girls out on their own as late as this.”
“No thanks. I’m not allowed to take lifts with strangers.”
“Well, that’s sensible of you. But it’s not very sensible to be stranded at a bus stop, waiting for a bus that may never come. Your mum must be getting worried by now. Just hop in and I’ll take you straight home.” He opened the passenger door.
“We don’t need your lift,” said Emily. “The bus is coming.”
“Only trying to help…”
“Leave us alone or I’ll scream!” I said loudly.
For a moment he seemed to hesitate. Then he got quickly into his car and drove away – up a side street, not at all in the direction of Clapham.
Emily said, “That was a bit over the top, wasn’t it? ‘Leave us alone or I’ll scream!’”
“I don’t think so. Better safe than sorry… Here’s the bus.”
It said ELEPHANT AND CASTLE on the front of the bus. I had only the vaguest idea where that was, and no idea what to do when we got there.
“We were crazy to do this,” I said. “Absolutely mad.”
“We didn’t have any choice.”
“No, I meant crazy to run away in the first place.”
“You want to go back, don’t you?” she said. “Go then. I’ll be OK.”
“Not on your own in London, you won’t. I’m not going back unless you come too.”
“It’s all very well for you,” she said bitterly. “You’d get a bit of a telling-off maybe. Naughty girl, slap wrist, don’t do it again. But me – my dad would half-kill me. That’s why I’m not going back.”
There was nothing I could say. I stared out at the endlessly unrolling streets; darkened shops, lighted houses; street lights, headlights, chip shops, pubs; empty night beyond park fences – and no place anywhere for Emily and me.
Oh God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here – I’ve messed things up yet again. What do I do now? Show me what to do, please, please, please…
Emily nudged me. “Oi, wake up.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Yes you were.”
“Wasn’t. I just had my eyes closed.”
“What for? Saying your prayers?”
I hesitated – she would laugh. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Ourfatherwhichartinheavenharoldbethyname,” she gabbled. “We need a place to stay and a hundred pounds. No, make that five hundred pounds. Then we won’t need to bother you again for a week or two.”
I said nothing, and she looked at me curiously. “You don’t really believe in that stuff?” she said.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because it’s a load of rubbish, that’s why. There’s nobody out there. It’s a waste of time.”
“How do you know there’s nobody there? You only think that – you can’t prove it. Anyway, I’ve prayed for things and they did happen… sometimes.”
“Like when?”
“Like down the mine…” I stopped. I couldn’t find the words to talk about that moment when I felt so near to God.
“What are you on about? That wasn’t God helping you – that was me, remember? Me. Emily Smith. A human being.”
“That wasn’t what I…”
“You know, I nearly didn’t bother,” she said, grinning. “I was so angry with you for following me, I nearly went off and left you there. Teach you a lesson, I thought.”
“Oh, great, thanks. But what made you change your mind?”
“I dunno. I heard you shouting for a while, then it all went quiet. And I sort of began to imagine how I would feel if it happened to me… So then I came to look for you.”
I stared at her. Do to others as you would have them do to you – she had been doing that, hadn’t she? But who had put the idea into her mind? Who had helped her feel sorry for me, her worst enemy? If that wasn’t an answer to prayer then nothing was.
The bus stopped at a traffic light – and I saw something. If the lights had changed a second quicker I’d have missed it altogether.
“Emily! Did you see that?”
“What?”
“That street name back there. Kennington Park Road.”
“So?”
“Your aunt’s address – are you sure it was Kensington, not Kennington Park Road?”
“Oh – right! I get you. Worth a try, isn’t it?”
We shot off the bus at the next stop.
“Sheppard House. Sheppard House. Sounds like a block of flats or something.” The darkness made it hard to read names and numbers. We walked along slowly; my ankle was hurting again.
A police car went cruising past, and we ducked into the shadows.
“Think they saw us?”
“Don’t be daft,” I said. “You think every police force in the country is on red alert looking for us two? Have you taken up bank robbery on the quiet?”
“We might need to soon. When the money runs out.”
“Oh, oh. Is that them coming back?”
The police car had done a U-turn at the next lights. It was coming back on our side of the road. I still don’t know if they had actually noticed us, but they certainly noticed Emily when she burst from the shadows and sprinted down the road.
“Come on!” she shouted, and I followed her. What else could I do? She swerved down an alley too narrow for a car. Behind us I heard the squeal of brakes and the slam of a car door.
The alley ended in an open space. Big estate, blocks of flats, parked cars…
“In here!” Emily panted. We slid through a tiny gap between two huge wheelie bins. It was totally dark behind there, and it smelled so disgusting I wished I could stop breathing.
For a while we heard footsteps and voices, but then they died away. Emily peered through the gap between the bins, and suddenly she clutched my arm.
“See!” she whispered. “Sheppard House – we found it!”
Actually the sign said SH PPARD HO SE. It was written on a tall block of flats not far away. Oh, thank God! Now we would be safe.
Cautiously we crossed the open ground. A sign told us that Flat 43 was on the 11th floor. There was a lift, but the notice on the door said OUT OF ORDER. Various rude messages were scribbled on this.
It took us ages to climb the stairs; I mean it took me ages, because of my ankle. Emily danced about impatiently, one floor above. At last we reached the 11th floor and found a narrow hallway with several doors.
Emily knocked loudly at number 43. Nobody answered.
“Maybe she’s in bed.” She knocked even louder, but nothing happened.
Disappointment hit us both like a ton weight of solid granite. I slid down onto the floor and just sat there with my back to the wall. Now what?
“Wonder if she still lives here? I’ll ask next door.”
She knocked. After a minute a woman opened the door on a chain.
“Yeah? What d’you want?”
“Sorry to bother you,” said Emily in her best smarmy-polite voice, “but do you happen to know if Gina White still lives at number 43?”
“Far as I know she does.”
“Is she away?”
“Nah, she’ll be at work. She’s a barmaid. She’ll be back when the pubs shut.”
“Where does she work?” I asked.
“I dunno, do I? Some pub near the Elephant. Hey, who are you, anyway? Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Don’t think so. Come on, we’d better go.” I heaved myself up off the floor.
“I do know you. You’re the two kids that was on the telly just now – the runaways! Oi, wait!”
We ran for the stairs. Oh, no… eleven flights down. Eleven times 16 concrete steps. And every one of them punished my ankle.
“Come on! Come on! I bet she’s ringing the police right now!”
“Don’t wait for me… you go on…”
“Just get a move on, will you?”
It was endless. It was like a nightmare. Down and round… down and round… surely we must be halfway now… Landing four. Landing three. What was that outside the frosted glass? Was it the glow of a flashing blue light?
I could hear voices below, and feet pounding on the stairs. Emily turned back in panic. “Quick! Find a place to hide!” But this landing was like all the others: an empty space with four doors, all shut.
She went charging past me, up the stairs again. I tried to follow her, but my strength was giving out. Halfway up the next flight I sank down exhausted.
“Here’s one of them!” Somebody grabbed me. “And where’s your friend, eh?”
I didn’t answer. Up above, higher and higher, the sound of her footsteps faded away.