12: Mudflats

We clattered down the stairs. The boat was still there, bobbing gently on the tide.

I steadied myself to step aboard and froze. Something splashed into the water outside. I looked over at Gracie. Please, not those men – they’d have us trapped in here.

I held out one hand, signalling her to stand still and I listened with every nerve tingling.

Another splash, but this time accompanied by the flapping of wings as something outside took flight.

I lowered my hand. “Just gulls.”

We crept onto the boat. Gracie took up a punting pole and I crouched low midway along, clutching the thesis to my chest. The water lapped against the bow and the scrape of the pole against the stone walls seemed louder than ever. I was convinced that the whole world could hear us.

We eased our way out through the open window, the sill scraping the bottom of the boat. The sound jarred like chalk on a blackboard. If the tide had dropped any lower we would have been stuck.

And then we were back out in the thin sunshine and the breeze stirred the strands of loose hair across my face. The wind against my wet clothes chilled me and I started to shiver.

Gracie glanced over at the sound of my chattering teeth. She concentrated on pushing the punt as hard as she could.

It wasn’t long before we beached it on the mudflats – mudflats that had once been a high street. I looked at the rows of buildings. One had been an off-licence, another a charity shop, now peeling paint and broken signs. I tried to imagine what it had looked like before, thronging with people, cars and bicycles. Perhaps Robert and Lucy had shopped here? But now the shop windows were jagged, broken panes of glass. The shops themselves formed dark caverns in which anything might be lurking.

I didn’t want to think about what might be watching us. I just wanted to get as far away from this husk of a city as possible.

But we could go no further. The time had come to abandon our boat. I jumped down into the mud. It closed round my calves with a sucking squelch. Liquid seeped into my boots.

Gracie eased herself down into the grey slime and pulled a face. For a moment I wanted to laugh. But there could be people watching us. Laughter would have to wait.

“This way.” I started to make my way through the mud. I lifted my legs high in exaggerated strides, all the while watching those empty dark buildings that lined the road, lobes of mud spilling into them through broken doors. Soon the sea and the tides would claim this city. All this history would be forgotten.

The mud thinned and soon there was solid ground beneath my feet. I studied the map again and led us on through the city, trying to skirt round where the scavvers had been. Except now – thinking back to the man who had helped us in that derelict building – they had lost some of their menace. After all, they were only people trying to survive in this changing world.

Narrow streets gave way to tree-lined avenues, and at last we were in the open fields. In the distance, I could see the blue shadow of a line of trees. That was the copse where the land rover waited. I quickened my pace.

It was still there, just as we had left it. My hands were shaking as Gracie started the engine.

She was smiling at me. “We did it.”

We soon left the forest track and took to the open road. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between us and Cambridge. That mattered more than any bandits we might meet on the road. Bandits or worse. MEXA would be looking for us.

My teeth chattered. Gracie leaned over and turned up the heating. I rummaged through the glove compartment and held up a wad of notes.

“Looks like there’re some shops up ahead. Let’s stop and get some dry clothes.”

“What? Here?” Gracie frowned at the row of shabby looking shops.

“Yes. Pull over. Maybe they sell hats.”

We pulled up in front of a charity shop.

Gracie grimaced.”But the clothes will be horrible!”

“They’ll be cheap. And anyway, you can sometimes find really good stuff in these places.”

“Oh, so you shop in places like this often, do you?” she said as she followed me into the shop. “That explains a lot.”

“Oi,” I said, pretending to take a swing at her. She giggled and ducked out of the way. It was good to be laughing like this, to feel normal again.

We wandered up and down between the racks of clothes. Everything was jumbled together in no particular order. Gracie lifted a floral dress off the rack and pulled a face.

“That really suits you,” I said. “You should try it on.”

“Maybe not.” She put it back and went on rummaging.

I found some jeans and T-shirts that were my size. Gracie still didn’t look terribly impressed.

Then I found a hat. It was made of orange canvas and had a wide floppy brim that drooped down over my eyes as I grinned at Gracie.

She gave me the thumbs up. “I like that better than the old one.”

“I like hats. I’ve got stacks at home. Shall I find you one?” Mentioning home brought on that familiar pang: memories of everyone laughing, so vivid they hurt.

“I’ll pass. I don’t suit hats,” said Gracie.

I found a fairly decent pair of trainers and checked them for size against my feet. Gracie dug out a pair of designer jeans and turned to me and smiled.

“Okay, I’ll give you this one. You were right.” She moved over to a shelf of toiletries.

The lady at the till eyed Gracie up and down as I handed over Lucy’s cash. She was mud-smeared and dishevelled. I probably looked just as bad.

“Would you like to get changed here?” she said, one eyebrow raised. “I won’t ask what happened to you.”

“Please, if it’s no trouble.”

“Through the back.”

There was a large heavy curtain separating the front of the shop from the storage and sorting area behind. There was also a small kitchen and a toilet.

I put on the new clothes, swapping my phone into my dry pocket. The postcard and photo of my family were with it and I stared with dismay at the photograph, water-stained and ruined. I could barely make anyone out any more. Still, I didn’t have the heart to throw it away.

I scrubbed my face and hands clean, although some of the grime around my fingernails was pretty ingrained. There wasn’t much that I could do about my hair. I scraped it back off my face and tied it up but I could still smell seaweed.

Gracie washed her face, tied her hair back into a knot and inspected herself in the mirror. With clean dry clothes on she looked perfectly normal.

I still looked a state.

Then she produced some mascara. I’m sure my mouth fell open. She spotted me looking and smiled.

“Well, you never know,” she said as she unscrewed the lid. “There might be some fit blokes when we get to the pub.” And then she laughed. “Look at me! I stink of seaweed. I don’t think a bit of mascara is going to make much difference.”

I smiled. “Not unless they like fish.”

“You do look a mess still,” Gracie said and giggled. “Here, let me try.”

She pulled out a handful of paper towels and soaked them in the sink. Then she set about cleaning me up, like a small child. I wriggled and giggled.

“There, that’s better,” said Gracie, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Then she sprayed me with perfume.

“That’s rank,” I spluttered.

“Better than ‘eau de seaweed’.”

“We should go to that pub,” I said, adjusting the angle of my new hat. “We could really use that fake ID, and some credit.”

I looked down at the change in my hand. There wasn’t much of Lucy’s money left.