The train was stacked with shiny new cars, wagon after wagon of them, ready to leave. From the loading certificate on the side of the wagons, its destination was Tyne Yard, Gateshead, due to arrive at six o’clock the following evening. Poacher told them the plan, and when the train started slowly to move, they were ready. Poacher ran first for the back of the train, the next to last wagon, crouched low, climbing up between the wagon rails. And one by one they all followed, Ollie, then Swift, pulling Cass up on to the platform. Now Davie was on and it was the girl next, Jake and Jet the last to go.
The girl was running, girl-style, arms out, Jake and Jet just behind her, and Ollie and Davie were grabbing at her to pull her up. But she stumbled and fell to the ground, her feet tangling in Jet’s lead so that she took them both down with her. It was only for a moment, and they were up and running again, but it was long enough because the train was gaining speed now.
–Come on! Ollie yelled, reaching out with his long, thin arms, but they couldn’t reach him.
–Next one, Jake shouted, and he didn’t know if the girl had heard him, but he was sprinting beside the final wagon and grabbing the rail and pulling himself up on the standing platform.
–Up, Jet! he called, and his dog was there in a single movement, graceful and easy. Then it was only the girl left, running in her stupid posh trainers, mouth wide, running her guts out. This girl who thought she was so much better than them, and who didn’t know how lucky she was. Besides which, she only cared about herself. Only did that stuff for Martha to get in their good books. All this flashed through his mind in the space of a second, and the thought that came after: no one would know if he left her here, and no one would care.
But he took a deep breath, and gripping hold of the rail, he leaned out from the wagon. –Gimme your hand, he shouted. –Come on! And then she was gripping him, her nails digging into his skin, still running, her breath coming in gasps, and somehow, from somewhere, he found the strength to pull her up till she was lying beside him, sobbing and heaving for breath.
The rain whipped at Jake’s face and the wind cut through his wet clothes. They were out of the freightyard already, lumbering through the city, gaining speed. Dark houses, glistening streets, hub flags, ad boards rushed past.
They’d made it. They were on a train and they were heading north, heading towards the border. They’d done good, like Martha would have wanted. Soon they’d be out of London, and – Jake crossed his fingers, wished inside his head – out of England.
Anger still ran through him like electricity, but he turned his mind away from it and gripped the cold steel rail and stared out into the night.
He pictured his granny and grandpa. Figures standing by a house with the sea in the background. That was the photograph his mum had kept on her chest of drawers. But now in his head they both turned his way, like they were waiting for him.
–We’re coming, he murmured, and for the first time he let himself imagine it. Him and Jet walking into the picture, walking towards the house, towards the figures; he imagined his granny catching sight of him, her hand on his grandpa’s arm, his grandpa shielding his eyes to see, taking a step forward. He imagined how he’d break into a run then, and how they’d hug him tight, and how Jet’s tail would be nearly wagging itself off because he’d know who they were too.
The city lights blurred in Jake’s eyes and he blinked the tears away. He stared forward through the dark to the next wagon, but he couldn’t see any of the others. He looked the other way, down to where he’d left the girl.
The girl had disappeared. The air roared in his ears as he made his way past all the sleeping, shiny cars, up the jolting wagon. Jet kept close to his legs and when he went to pat him, he could feel him shaking, so he crouched a moment and held Jet’s head gently between his hands and spoke quietly to him.
How could the girl have disappeared? He didn’t care about her, but he didn’t want her to be dead. Specially not since he’d half killed himself, pulling her up on to the train.
–Hey, he called. –Where are you?
Lights from the sleeping city came and went as the freight train trundled through, and Jake could see a bit here and there. He scrabbled under the cars and peered between them, calling for the girl. Right to the end of the wagon they went, him and Jet, till he was staring down at the rail track spooling out from underneath him, disappearing into the dark. He walked back down the wagon on the other side and was nearly giving up his search when he heard something.
–Here. I’m here.
Her voice was faint, like maybe she was hurt, or trapped somewhere. He peered below the car. Nothing. Tying Jet’s lead to the wagon rail, he scrambled up on to the bonnet and scanned along the car roofs.
–Where are you? he called again.
–Where d’you think? Her voice was louder this time and then a movement caught his eye. Crouching down, he stared in through the car windscreen, and there she was, grinning.
Grinning at him. He’d been searching, scared, and she was grinning.
Jake opened the back door for Jet, then pulled open the driver door and thumped down into the seat. He was angry. So angry, he could taste it.
Behind him, Jet’s claws slithered on the plastic seat covering. He turned around himself and settled down to sleep.
Jake sat back, shattered. The girl was still smiling, sitting there with her posh trainers, and no chip ever, and her bright shiny voice.
–I didn’t want to get out and wave at you, in case anybody saw me, she said. –It would have been awful, after everything, if we got caught because I’d waved …
–Yeah, awful, Jake said.
–So I just kept on shouting and waving. But it was funny when I could only see your legs. I couldn’t help laughing. I’m glad you’ve found me. You do look very tired.
Then finally Jake couldn’t stop himself. –You think you’re so clever. His voice was shaking, he was so angry, and he spat the words out. –You’d have been captured, or hurt, if we hadn’t rescued you. And I know what Swift said about Martha’s death not being your fault, and I know you did that stuff for her afterwards, with the water and the sacks and everything, but—
The girl stopped laughing. Jake stared out through the windscreen. Nothing to see except the dim shape of the car in front. It was weird, being in a car that was travelling, but going nowhere.
–Go on, say it, the girl said.
–OK. You know what’s the biggest difference between you and us? Jake’s voice was vicious, and he didn’t care. –It’s not where you live, or your expensive clothes, or even you not having a chip, ever.
He flicked the switch on the overhead light. He could see her now.
–The biggest difference is, you can go back home, he said against the choke in his throat. –The hub police would just take you home, and your very important mother, and maybe you’ve got a dad too, well, they might be very angry with you and everything, but they’ll still have you back. You might not like it, but it’s there, and it’s yours. All of us: we get caught, it’s a Home Academy. That’s it. Locked in. Secure rooms. Prison.
He knew he was going to regret it, but at this moment he wanted to hurt her like he hurt.
–Jet’s my only family in the whole of England, he said, –and if I get caught, I’ll never see him again.
He stopped and flicked the light off again. He’d said his piece. On the back seat Jet had woken up and he was turning round and round, like he always did when there was an argument. Jake reached back and stroked his velvet ears.
The train rumbled through a sleeping town, the street lights flicking against the dark.
The girl was still silent. She pulled Poacher’s beanie off her head and put a hand to her chopped-off hair. Jake watched her. She looked like she was trying to decide about something. Then she put her hands flat out in front of her.
–You don’t know my name, she said finally.
–What? Jake said incredulously. He’d had a real go at her, laid into her, angry enough to spit in her face – and all she was worried about was him knowing her name?
–My name, she repeated. –You haven’t asked me what it is.
–Is that a joke?
–No. She looked affronted. –But you would have asked, if you thought of me as a real person. If you respected me for who I was.
–Real person?
–Yes. Not just someone who’s posh. Someone who’s had all the luck. At least, that’s what you think. I respect you, you know.
Jake shook his head. –I don’t believe it. You sound like a blooming Citizenship class.
–I know all your names. Jake, Ollie, Swift …
–Yeah, all right. Jake put his head in his hands. This was unreal. Unbelievable. He half wanted to laugh. How had he ended up on a wagon with her? The anger surged again and the half-laugh died in him. –When we get off this train, I won’t have to see you any more, so no, I don’t care what your name is.
The girl looked down at her lap.
–What I care about … He stopped. The words hurt. –What I care about right now is that Martha is dead. I care about Jet, and my gang, he said. –I care that that Surfer and Scar woman are hunting us, cos they killed Martha already and if they killed us, they wouldn’t care …
He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t care what she thinking.
–and no, I don’t care about you. I don’t trust you. You’ve had your little adventure now, so go home. You can tell your posh friends about it. Go on, jump off when the train slows down. Tell anyone who your mum is, they’ll get you home safe.
–I can’t, the girl said.
–You jumped on, so you can jump off. I’ll help you, if you like.
–I can’t. I found a memo on the kitchen table. Yesterday. An official one, and …
Jake banged a hand down on the steering wheel. –Hang on. You happened to find a Coalition memo on the kitchen table? He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
–It was on the top of my mum’s work papers, so I took a phone pic of it, the girl said. –That’s why I went to the meet.
–You’re going to tell me next it was marked Top Secret.
–How did you know? She sounded surprised. –That’s what made me read it. Normally my mum’s work stuff looks so boring. I could’ve shown it to you with its Coalition stamp and everything, if your Poacher hadn’t smashed up my mobile. Anyway, how did you know it said Top Secret?
–Because my parents— Jake began, and then he stopped. Why was he even talking to this girl? –Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the memo, or your mum. He turned to Jet, clipped the lead on to his collar. –Nice story, but I’m gonna find another car.
–You don’t even know what it said. The girl’s voice had gone high-pitched, like girls’ voices did when they got cross.
Jake reached for the door handle.
–And if you get out now, I’ll never tell you, she said. –We’ll get to Newcastle and I’ll tell Ollie instead.
–So tell Ollie then, he shot back. –This isn’t a game.
–No, the girl said, her voice dead quiet, –it’s not a game, you’re right. And I’m not playing. I wouldn’t be trying to tell you if I wasn’t desperate. I’d much rather tell it to someone who treats me like a proper person. Not like a bad joke. But I haven’t got any choice.
Jake wanted to shout at her. It was his gang who weren’t thought of as proper people. It was them who were the rejects, not her. Locked up in Home Academies, living as Outwalkers. But something stopped him. He didn’t want to feel this angry. He was just tired, and he wanted to find his grandparents and stop Outwalking. Nothing else was important.
He took a deep breath. –I do think you’re a proper person. Just … you’ve had a very different life. He didn’t sound like he meant it, but it was the best he could do.
She shook her head. –Not that kind of proper. What I mean is … She put her hand up against the window glass. When she spoke again, she was hesitant, stopping and starting. –All of you – dead parents, Home Academies, illness. You wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t lost so much already … Leaving your country, leaving anybody you’ve ever known, and you don’t even know what will happen if you do get across the border … Compared to you, I haven’t suffered anything. Not like that. And not my best friend dying like that. I can’t even imagine … She ran her finger down the window. –That’s what I mean.
Jake stared into the darkness. She sounded like she meant it.
–But it’s not a game for me either, the girl went on, –and if you won’t take me seriously because I’m posh, and because my parents aren’t dead, then you’re more stupid than I thought.
She scratched the back of her neck, then fell silent. Jake pictured Martha cutting her hair off. It must have been a shock. He could see that.
–I don’t know why my mum bothered having kids, the girl went on. –She’s never at home. She only cares about her Ministry and her stupid briefcase.
–What about your dad? Jake said, because despite himself, he was curious. What made a girl like this want to escape?
–He’s not around much either, but at least he’s not going to hurt anyone. He just writes about Shakespeare all the time.
–What d’you mean, hurt someone? Jake said. –Someone in your family?
The girl turned round and stared at him like he was daft. –No. Not in my family. I’m talking about the memo, of course. The memo you don’t care about. What it says: it’s sick. I was out of the house straight after reading it, but I couldn’t get down to the lowlifer tunnels because there were seccas everywhere, masses in the Tube, and I had to hide out. So the meet had started by the time I got there, and you saw what was happening. Noel handing out mandy like Smarties. Everyone chilled, stoned. I told them about it, showed the Catchpitters the phone pic I got. But they wouldn’t listen. Checker just laughed. And Gaz: Gaz was my friend.
–So what’s your mother going to do? he said.
–It’s not just up to her. She always goes on about how she’s part of a team that’s part of a bigger team, that’s elected by the whole country. So what she does: it’s done for the whole of England, and by the whole of England.
The girl couldn’t have seen Jake’s face in the darkness, but she must have guessed at what he was thinking.
–It’s like she’s saying that nothing’s her fault. No responsibility because she’s only doing what her team has agreed.
–Yeah, Jake said.
–I think she really believes it, though, and I do get it, the girl said. –I understand her. But when it’s something that’s really wrong, really terrible: then I don’t think there’s any excuse. Doesn’t matter if someone else orders you. Doesn’t matter if your team all agree. Her voice was shaky now. –My mum. The Coalition: what they’ve done, there’s no excuse, and my Catchpitter friends. They were nice to me. Gaz was smart, really smart, only he’d never had a chance. And Checker was kind.
She stopped and fished in a pocket, blew her nose.
In the last few minutes the dawn had come as a thin bar of low light, and the rain had stopped. The girl had turned her head away and was looking out of the window. Jake saw trees, a church steeple, a barn, black against the rising light. He wondered how it would feel, to know your mother had done something bad. Something really bad. He thought how lonely the girl looked. And he thought that maybe he’d judged her wrong.
–Shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, he said.
–What?
–Something my mum used to say. She used to read a lot.
–She still read books? Actual books? the girl said.
–Yeah. Gently he tapped her shoulder. –My name’s Jacob Riley, he said. –What’s yours?
She turned back towards him, and in the dawn light he saw that she was crying. –Aliya Khan, she said.
Jake put out his hand. –Pleased to meet you.
Aliya swiped her tears away, cleared her throat. –I’m not crying now because you asked my name nicely, she said. –I don’t cry. Not normally.
–OK, Jake said.
–In fact, I don’t know when I did last cry.
–It’s fine. Plenty to cry about, for both of us.
Then Aliya told him what her mother had done.