Out in the open at last, the first thing Yoshi notices are the cameras. He climbs from the open grate, brushes himself down, and is struck by how many he can see. There are traffic cameras on every junction and street corner, and surveillance cameras mounted over office doors and gates, just like those closing behind him.
Yoshi had caught just a glimpse of the white limousine as it swept past. Unlike the boy, the vehicle had been spotless and gleaming. He might not remember much about this city, but this makes him think it was kind of carved up and divided. There were those at the top, with the finest views and luxuries. Then there were those below. Some stretching so far down it was doubtful that the rich and powerful even knew of their existence.
“OK,” he says to himself, feeling the cold out here. “Let’s go to work.”
A girl contained in a building. A prison, perhaps, in the shadow of a dome. With this information in mind, Yoshi steps away from the gate, circling to find his bearings. Businessmen with brollies and briefcases steer around him, barely noticing this kid with the grimy face and clothes. Even the evening traffic is light enough for him to drift across the road with his eyes on the skyline.
But the dome is nowhere in sight. From ground level, all Yoshi can see are the imposing stone buildings that flank the street, and the early stars twinkling in the strip of sky above. There’s nothing of note here but gated courtyards, stone pillars and steps leading up to dour-looking doors. If these are banks and money markets, the boy thinks to himself, they don’t seem very welcoming. Then again, he decides, maybe that’s the idea. Yoshi hugs himself to keep warm, wishing the world would turn white for a moment, and a vision appear to guide him. There are more pedestrians on this side of the street, heading for a tube station at the far end. A small part of him feels like joining them, heading for the warmth and certainty on offer underground, but this girl and her plight continue to haunt him. He steps back, away from the path of people, and leans against the lower rungs of a fire escape.
“Where now?” he says to himself, thinking what he really needs is an earpiece and a direct line to the Bridge. At least then he could receive directions. He looks up at a nearby traffic camera, and then lets his shoulders sag. With a thousand and one views of this city, there’s no chance the crew would be observing this very street right now. What is there to draw them to this one, after all?
Just then, a woman wrapped up for winter walks by. She’s led by three toy poodles on leashes. One of the dogs seems interested in the boy, causing the woman to halt. It sniffs at Yoshi’s feet, growls when the boy dips down to pet it, and then cocks one leg just to finish the insult.
“Hey!” cries Yoshi, jumping away just in time. The woman scowls at him, as if the dog has every right to use a street kid like him as a pee-post, and then tugs the poodles onwards with her nose high in the air. Yoshi watches her go. He rests his hand on a rung, shaking his head at such snobbery and rudeness. At the far end of the street, the entrance to the underground station looks more inviting than ever.
What comes to mind next doesn’t feature a bright flash or a vision, but prompts him to grip the ladder’s cold rung tightly.
On the street, thinks Yoshi, things just can’t get much worse. Which means the only way from here, of course, is up!
The fire escape covers four storeys. At the very top, Yoshi crawls over the parapet, and rolls onto his back for a moment. On scaling past the first window, he had felt a shiver drop down his spine. It was one that had suggested it may not be a good idea for him to look down. By the third window, that shiver had spread and turned to outright terror. His fear of falling had been bad enough in the abyss below ground. Out here, he could actually see how far he had to drop. And yet, despite it all, Yoshi claws his way to the top. The sense of peril that might paralyse some was not going to hold him back here. If anything, it leaves him feeling quite alive. At the summit, facing up to the evening sky, Yoshi realises his heart is hammering from the thrill of it all as much as the fear. Gazing at the wheel of stars, it feels almost second nature to be this far from the ground.
Sitting up on his elbows now, Yoshi takes stock of his new, elevated position. What he sees lights up his face in more ways than one. There it is, beyond the air-conditioning units, weather vanes and water tanks – the one thing he’s been hoping to see. With the last of the sunshine setting in the background, the dome of St Paul’s has an aura all of its own. The boy stares at it long enough for this crescent of light to turn from honey to bronze. It’s such a magnificent view that he has to remind himself why he’s here. Standing now, he regards his new surroundings, and everything seems so much clearer.
“There it is,” he says out loud. His eyes narrow, fixed as they are on a building tucked away behind this imposing terrace. It’s the one he hopes and prays contains the girl he had seen in his mind’s eye. The location certainly fits in with the one he had viewed remotely. As does the lush greenery spilling over the upper tiles, for he had certainly passed through such a layer on his imaginary rise and fall through the building. “The roof garden!”
It looks like a little square of rainforest, such is the effect of the bamboo, fern and pampas grass that have been cultivated over there. This time, Yoshi’s heart starts pumping at the prospect of getting inside. Whatever is going on within those walls, he has to see it with his own eyes. The eye in his mind might have led him to this point, but it hadn’t flashed open on the climb. If anything, it leaves the boy feeling like he’s on his own from here. He knows where he’s supposed to go. The problem is reaching it. Yoshi takes himself to the far side of the roof, and studies the gap between the parapet and the building in question. You could fit a bus in there, he thinks. Lengthways.
“I can’t jump that far,” he mutters. “Can I?”
From this vantage, it’s clear that such a gap surrounds the entire building. The space below looks immaculately landscaped, with paths and benches, and a snaking water feature with orange segments floating in it that the boy decides must be koi carp. Whoever works here, he thinks, clearly has plenty of perks. It certainly looks like a great deal has been invested in the place. The stonework has been recently cleaned, and the balconies finished with a fresh lick of black, gloss paint. Only one thing stops the boy from heading back down to the street and finding his way in on foot, and that’s the guards. He can see half a dozen at least, prowling the paths, smoking cigarettes in doorways, and several keeping watch at the courtyard entrance. Are these goons here to prevent intruders getting in, thinks Yoshi, crouching now at the edge, or to prevent people from leaving?
Either way, he decides, there’s only one way to find out. Yoshi sizes up the distance one more time, only to sigh with frustration. It’s no good. Just thinking about attempting such a leap leaves him giddy. He moves away from the edge, turns and sits with his head in his hands.
“What can I do?” he says out loud. “I’m not brave enough.”
“You can do it, Yoshi.” The voice floats out of nowhere. He looks up with a start, but there’s nobody there. Just a few pigeons squabbling for space on a television aerial. “I knew you’d come again.”
The girl. It had to be. The weird one with the fringe and the scowl, not to mention that freaky glow like the sun was permanently behind her.
“Where are you?” he says, up on his feet now. “Can you see me?”
“No,” the voice replies, upon which that familiar flare sears into his vision . . . and there she is once more. Looking to the upper corners of the room she’s in, with a faint but certain smile. “I can’t see you, Yoshi. But I sense that you can see me.”
Still standing close to the edge, but blind to his surroundings, the boy grins to himself. “I’m close,” he says, viewing her clearly in his mind again, “but not close enough.”
He sees her tip her head to one side. The glow around her brightens once more. “I wish you were here,” she says. “All I can do is sense your presence, but something tells me there’s a problem. You’re close, I can feel it, and yet you might as well be a million miles away. That’s what I’m picking up from you.”
“I’m on the roof of the building,” says Yoshi, aware now that she can’t hear him, but speaking his mind in the hope that it helps. “The gap is too far for me to jump. What do you suggest?”
She doesn’t respond. Just keeps on switching her gaze between imaginary points in the room. Yoshi shifts his weight from one leg to the other, waiting for her to direct him. He sees her stand now, as if in greeting, and that’s when the vision turns white once more.
“Nothing can hold you back, Yoshi. The way you escaped pretty much defied the laws of gravity. Wherever you are, I have every faith that you can make it back again.”
The flash fades with her voice. Yoshi blinks, his eyes smarting. When his focus returns, he finds himself looking down at his feet. It takes a moment for him to realise that he’s perched on the lip of the building by his heels, and steps back with his heart in his mouth.
“Ohmygoodness!” he cries, windmilling his arms for balance. Despite the shock, he doesn’t back off any further. The drop might be deadly, but something tells him he’s been here before. That prickling sensation is back again, along with a giddy kind of thrill. Altogether, it makes him feel, well . . . complete. It’s as if this kind of acrobatic stunt is something he’s pulled off in the past. He levels his gaze across the divide, thinking back to what the girl had said about the nature of his escape. Yoshi may not recall what he was doing in this building, but to seemingly defy gravity meant only one thing – he must have fled via the rooftops. And if he’d made it to the aerial garden over there, somehow he would’ve had to cross this same divide.
Acting on impulse now, Yoshi steps forward. As the path and the pond appear below, he feels like he’s about to go into a somersault, especially when the ball of one foot finds nothing underneath. Carefully, he returns one heel to the edge of the parapet, followed by the other. There, he takes a deep breath and stands to attention, seeking to find both calm and balance.
Across from this lone figure on the skyline, beyond the drop before him and the roof garden opposite, a faint glimmer of light remains over the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. Without it, this central London landmark, designed by the great architect Sir Christopher Wren, would be shrouded in darkness. Elsewhere around the city, sensing darkness approach, floodlights fire up to illuminate a jagged ring of churches constructed by Sir Christopher’s apprentice – a mysterious young visionary by the name of Nicholas Hawksmoor.
Feeling strangely calm, Yoshi steps away from the ledge. He turns, takes ten paces across the roof, then comes around to face the dome again. And there, with the cycle from day to night complete, he prepares to test his strange angel’s belief in him. With his sights locked on the far ledge, softened with ivy and palm fronds, the boy sprints for the abyss.