In her dream, Chloe was reliving one of the saddest occasions of her young life – the funeral two weeks ago of her adoptive mother, Sophie Cameron.
It had been the first time Chloe had gone inside a crematorium and it all proved too much for her. Half way through the short service she became so tearful that Anna had to take her outside.
It was her own fault for insisting on going despite the advice of the child counsellor who had told her it would be best if she stayed away.
But she’d had to go because she’d needed to say goodbye to the woman who had nurtured her from the age of two.
The woman who had changed her nappies and potty-trained her.
The woman who had picked her up at the end of her first day at school.
The woman who had taught her how to read.
The woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice in order to save her life by jumping from the roof of that warehouse.
In the crematorium garden Anna held her in her arms and tried to console her. It felt strange but comforting.
Eventually she stopped crying and when the service was over the only other two people who had attended joined them – Sophie’s closest friend Lisa, and Jane, the sister Sophie hadn’t seen in years.
They both spoke fondly of Sophie and said how much she had loved Chloe. And they both made a point of saying that Chloe should be thankful that her birth mother, Anna, had never given up searching for her.
There were more tears when Sophie’s ashes were scattered over one of the flower beds in the garden. And Chloe was awestruck when the clouds above parted suddenly and a shaft of sunlight spread warmth over her adoptive mother’s remains.
*
A noise wrenched her back to consciousness. One moment she was surrounded by the serenity of the crematorium garden, the next her senses were being pummelled by a harsh mix of thunderous sounds.
When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at a face she didn’t recognise. It belonged to a young black woman wearing a hooded parka and a thick woollen scarf around her neck.
The woman was leaning over her, and when she saw that Chloe was awake, she smiled and turned her head towards someone who was standing to one side of her.
‘Christ almighty, I thought she was dead,’ the woman shouted. ‘But she’s alive.’
‘Well now you know she’s all right we should get going,’ replied a male voice.
‘But we can’t leave her here. She’s just a kid.’
‘Makes no difference. She’s not our problem. We need to stick with the others. If we don’t, we’ll end up like her or get ourselves arrested.’
The woman turned back to Chloe and said, ‘Where are your parents, love?’
Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat and she started to sob instead.
The woman stroked her cheek with a gloved hand and leaned closer to make herself heard above the racket around them.
‘I would call for an ambulance but it’d be a waste of time because it won’t turn up,’ she said. ‘I can phone your mum and dad for you, though. Have you got their number?’
Chloe shook her head, but it was so painful it made her cry out.
‘You’ve got a nasty bump on your forehead,’ the woman told her. ‘I saw what happened with the motorbike so I reckon you’re lucky you weren’t more seriously hurt. The bastard rode off without stopping.’
Chloe took a deep breath and managed to find her voice, which was weak and barely discernible even to her own ears.
‘How long have I been …’
‘Only about a minute. We were close by when it happened. I came straight over.’
‘I’m lost and I don’t know where my mum is,’ Chloe said.
‘You poor thing. What’s your name?’
‘Alice.’
‘Well mine is—’
Before she could finish the sentence the man who was with the woman suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.
‘Stop pissing about, babe,’ he snapped. ‘You either come with me now or I’m leaving you here.’
The woman looked down at Chloe with a pitying expression on her face, and said, ‘You’ll be OK. Just get to your feet and move away from this street to a safer place. Then find someone who can help you. I would if I could, but I have to go. I’m really sorry. Good luck, Alice. And take care of yourself.’
The woman disappeared, leaving Chloe lying on the pavement, her lungs clutching for air, her head spinning.
She made herself ignore the pain in her head and struggled to get up. As she did so her muscles burned with the effort and tears streamed down her cheeks.
As soon as she was on her feet, she felt giddy and sick, and her eyes drifted in and out of focus. But once she regained her equilibrium, she was able to start to take in what was going on around her.
And it was enough to cause the fear to swell up inside her like a big inflated balloon.
There seemed to be even more angry people on the street, and many of them were standing around the abandoned police car that was now on fire. Others were smashing their way into shops to steal things and anyone who tried to stop them was being threatened or attacked.
Chloe felt invisible because nobody was paying her any attention. They were all too busy running riot to even notice her. Or if they did see her, they didn’t care that she was so obviously in desperate need of help.
It meant she would have to look after herself, first by getting away from the violence and then by trying to contact her mum.
As she started walking again, she realised that lights were coming on because it was getting dark. It made her heart pound even faster and ignited a fire in her belly. She was sure now that she was going to die out here. What was happening was more scary than any story she had ever heard and any film she had ever seen. And it was just as frightening as that day when she left the flat and Bruno Perez grabbed her and pulled her into his van.
She passed a man who was smashing the windows of a bus shelter. Then two other men who were openly brandishing long, lethal-looking knives.
Further on she came across a homeless man lying in a doorway, his face and blanket splattered with blood.
Then a woman rushed past her pushing a shopping trolley with a large TV in it.
Chloe did not see any more police – it was as though the area had been left to the mercy of the rioters. She’d seen the violence on the television over the past couple of days, but it hadn’t seemed so bad then. She’d been detached from it. Watching from a distance. Secure in the knowledge that it was happening to other people and not to her. But now she was caught up in it and she was petrified beyond belief.
She came to a corner where looters were ransacking a convenience store. Through the broken windows she saw young men and women feverishly clearing the shelves.
The street to the right looked to be deserted, but it led nowhere. There was a large open car park on one side of the road and several low, windowless buildings on the other. They looked similar to the factories that were situated close to the flat she used to share with Sophie in Shoreditch. At the far end of the street was a high wall in front of a partially demolished building.
Chloe turned into the street without hesitation and headed for the car park, which was empty and had very little lighting. She thought it would be a fairly safe place to hide while she worked out what to do next.
But before entering the car park, she glanced back over her shoulder – and was just in time to spot something that caused her heart to lurch in her chest. Two men wearing hooded jackets were now standing on the pavement outside the convenience store on the corner.
As Chloe watched, one of them lifted a finger and pointed directly at her. She saw his lips move, but wasn’t close enough to make out what he was saying. But her stomach flipped when she saw his companion break out in a slow, leering grin.