Grace placed the menu on the table.
‘You became a spy?’
Astrid pushed her shoulder into the booth, surprised at how the conversation had turned to her life.
‘That sounds so glamorous.’ The laugh hurt her throat. ‘It’s not how you see it in the movies. The Agency is the clandestine government organisation the public doesn’t know exists; they have no official designation compared to the other intelligence services. Imagine your CIA, but even more secretive and not answering to the customary laws of the nation.’
The waitress brought a jug of water over, and Grace poured a glass for each of them.
‘So, you’re not Jane Bond, 007 then?’
Astrid sipped at the drink, hoping to remove the bitter taste in her mouth, but failing. ‘Hardly. The Agency deals with internal and external security threats to Great Britain and is accountable only to itself.’ A decade and a half of memories tumbled through her head, laid out like chapters on a DVD. She could separate them by date, country, target, outcome, and any number of other fields. ‘I was part of an organisation which handled things never intended for the public or the courts. Every nation has an Agency, whether they admit it or not.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Surely there’s some government oversight. Otherwise, they could do whatever they wanted outside the law.’
Astrid brushed the last of the salt from her palm. ‘And that’s exactly why they were created. The British government wanted an organisation to operate outside the law and deal with those threats things like freedom and rights would only hamper.’ A sad smile drifted across her face. ‘And once you’re in the Agency, the only way out is inside a wooden box. But I thought different.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Think about it, Grace. If you’re an official organisation allowed to operate above and beyond the law, those in charge are never going to allow you to leave and tell the truth about its actions. There is no retiring from the Agency, no option for a pension and an early departure; you work for them until you’re physically or emotionally incapable of doing it anymore. Any kickback against this, any revolt or insurrection, only leads to confinement where no one will ever find you. But I choose a different path once I’d had enough.’
Grace watched Polly through the window as the girl crossed the street. ‘What are you going to say to her?’
‘I don’t want her to run away.’ She smiled at Grace. ‘You should give her a foster home for at least a month to see how it goes.’
Grace’s mouth hit the floor as the waitress arrived, and Polly entered. The server was bright-eyed and full of beans, taking their orders in super quick time. Grace was still shell shocked, so Astrid ordered the same for both of them: bacon, eggs and toast with coffee. The kid got the same plus two stacks of waffles covered in syrup. Then there was silence for several seconds, only broken by the girl slapping her hand on to the table.
‘What do you want from me?’ She continued talking before any reply. ‘I know why you came to the home, and you were asking about Katie. I don’t know anything about her or what happened to her, and even if I did, what makes you think I’d tell you two?’
Astrid watched the kid’s lips hammering away at ninety miles a minute, imagining seeing a different version of herself.
‘We don’t want anything from you, Polly; I promise. But we can offer you a way out of that home.’ She glanced at Grace, noticing the irritation still lingering behind her eyes.
The first stack of waffles arrived as the kid glared at Astrid. The smell of syrup and sugar wafted in the air between them. Polly picked up a fork and dived in, devouring two of them before she spoke.
‘How do you know my name? Nobody calls me that here.’
Astrid pointed at the figure printed on the kid’s shirt. ‘Because I grew up listening to her music when I was your age, and I assumed if you’re going to have a picture of Poly Styrene on your chest, it’s because you identify with her as I did.’ She grinned. ‘Then I guessed your name.’
The kid did a lousy job of wiping her face with the back of her hand. ‘You’re the only person I’ve met who knows who she was.’ She leant in closer to Astrid. ‘You don’t look old enough to have been around when punk was out.’
Astrid laughed as the waitress brought the rest of the order. ‘Thanks; I’ll take that as a complement.’ She scooped a forkful of scrambled eggs between her lips, following the kid’s example and talking with her mouth full. ‘You’re right, Polly; I’m not that old, but I did discover X-Ray Spex and lots of other music when I was about your age, and it helped me get through some difficult times. Grace and I would like to help you if we can.’
The girl finished the first plate of waffles and shovelled a large slice of bacon into her mouth, scrutinising both of them as she did.
‘Are you two a couple?’
Grace pulled at the collar of her shirt and stammered an answer. ‘We’re partners on a case.’
‘That’s a shame.’ She grinned at them. ‘You look like you’d make a great couple.’ She stared at Astrid. ‘You’re English?’
Astrid nodded. ‘I came to America to find a kid, a lot younger than you, who’d been abducted by her father.’
Polly chomped on the bacon, her eyes as wide as her mouth. ‘And did you do that; did you find her?’
‘I did, but now I’m searching for someone else, a girl about your age, name of Alex Sanchez.’
Polly never lifted her head from the table. ‘I know her; everyone did.’
‘Did?’ Grace sat forward. ‘Why do you say that about her?’
Polly slurped at her coffee. ‘Because she’s missing, and there’s no happy ending in this town if a kid goes missing. Just ask Katie Spencer.’
‘Didn’t she run away because she was unhappy in the care home?’
The kid spat shards of bacon over the table. ‘Lady, nobody runs away from there because it’s bad. Ms Conway might be a bit hippy-dippy, but she makes sure all the kids are looked after and safe. I lived in two other places before this one, and they were like the Wild West in comparison.’ She put her fork down and peered at Astrid. ‘Every kid in there wants to be with a family who loves them, I’m not gonna deny that, but Conway’s place is the best were gonna get unless the impossible happens.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Grace said.
Polly twisted her face towards her. ‘Who’s gonna want a fourteen-year-old whose parents are locked up because they’re druggies? Especially when they look like me.’
A combination of sadness and gravity dragged her shoulders down. She peered at Grace as Astrid watched the girl pour her soul into the Police Officer. The teenager’s eyes shifted to the side, glazed with a layer of grief. As she blinked, sorrow dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. Polly bit her lip as Astrid glanced at Grace, knowing the kid had done her job for her.
‘If the care home is such a safe place to live, why would Katie run away?’ Astrid said.
The teenager started on the second plate of waffles. ‘That’s the point; she wouldn’t. And she didn’t have anywhere to run to. It doesn’t make any sense.’
Astrid summoned her most welcoming tone of voice. ‘Polly, how would you like to live with Officer Crowley for a while?’
The girl sat back, wide-eyed and with bacon hanging from her lips.
‘What?’
‘At least to see how the two of you get on.’ Polly gulped her food and rubbed at her eyes. ‘A month should give you plenty of time to educate Officer Crowley on what good music is, because what she has at home is sorely lacking.’
‘Hey,’ Grace said to her in mock horror. At that moment, Astrid knew she’d convinced one of them.
But what about the girl?
‘You want me to be a cop’s kid?’ The shadows around her eyes darkened even further.
‘I’d like you to have a decent life.’ Astrid gazed through Polly’s expression and into her heart. ‘You might feel safe across the road, but you’ll probably never be loved. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.’
Astrid stood to leave. Apart from breaking into the foster home to search Katie’s room, she’d done all she could. A nagging hunch at the back of her head told her there must be a connection between Alex and Katie, but she couldn’t see what it was. She looked at Polly, and then Grace, wondering if her interference would make things better or worse for them.
‘I know where Katie used to hang out,’ Polly said.
Astrid and Grace glanced at each other.
‘Where was that?’ Astrid said.
The kid finished the last bit of syrup from the plate and licked her lips. ‘All us misfits hang out at the Valhalla.’
Graces eyes and mouth widened at the same time. ‘The bar on the river? You’re too young to go there.’
Polly’s laugh was like water springing from a burst pipe, rising from her chest as she sprayed bits of pancake all over the floor.
‘Don’t worry, Grandma; the kids don’t booze there. We only go for the music or the company.’
Astrid flicked a stray piece of food from her leg. ‘Is there a band on tonight?’
‘Only the best,’ the kid replied. ‘A group of angry girls called Riversludge. They’ll be on stage at nine.’ She gazed at Grace. ‘They’re far too noisy for those with delicate ears.’
Astrid smiled. ‘Will you be there?’
Polly cleaned away the last bits of the food from her plate. ‘I never miss their shows.’
Grace nodded to the care home across the road. ‘And they allow you to stay out so late?’
The kid stood, pushed past the tall woman and shook her head, studying Astrid as she went.
‘And you want me to live with her? She won’t last a month with me.’ The door rattled behind her.
Astrid turned to see Grace staring daggers at her.
‘So what do you say, partner? You’ll need someone to look after you once I’ve left town, and the kid seems the perfect candidate for that.’
She waited for the rant to start.