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‘Oh yeah, I forgot, it was God, wasn’t it?’
‘Or spacemen,’ said Big Mick, and he sniggered.
‘We don’t know,’ said Maxie. ‘But we can’t become animals. We’ll be like them.’
‘No, we won’t. We’ll be top dogs, and we’ll hunt them down and slaughter them.’
‘Achilleus, this is not right.’
Maxie looked round for support. Half of the kids were laughing, some looked worried, some were crying. She saw Blue, staring at Achilleus, fascinated.
‘Blue,’ said Maxie. ‘Tell him.’
‘Let him go,’ said Blue.
‘All right.’
Achilleus and Mick let go and the father gave a little gasp as he plummeted to the basement floor.
‘He couldn’t fly after all,’ said Achilleus.
‘You idiot,’ said Maxie with as much scorn as she could muster. Achilleus tried to look dismissive – but she saw in his eyes that he thought he’d maybe gone too far.
‘Who’s next?’ he said and strode over to the other grownups, but Blue put himself between him and them.
‘C’mon, man,’ he said quietly, and nodded to the smaller kids. ‘I think there’s been enough death lately. I don’t think the little ones want to see any more. OK?’
‘So we just let them go?’
‘They’re not our business,’ said Blue. ‘They’re certainly not dangerous. They just come in here like us. To get some new clothes. I guess old habits die hard. Now let’s get out of here. They’re waiting for us at the palace.’
A couple of kids slapped Achilleus and Mick on their backs, but most avoided them and Maxie felt disgusted. She caught Sophie’s eye and Sophie looked away.
Now wasn’t the time to thank her.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder. It was Blue.
‘You done well, girl,’ he said. ‘You look after yourself now, yeah? We need people like you.’
‘Thanks. And thanks for sticking up for me.’
33
Callum watched them from the crow’s-nest with his binoculars. They’d begun to arrive that morning in ones and twos, drifting in from the direction of Camden. They stood about aimlessly at first, now and then coming over to the shop and inspecting it. After a while they grew braver. They battered uselessly against the barricades or the windows, before wandering off and squabbling with each other.
Idiots.
He’d had a lovely morning. He had no idea what time it was when he got up. All he knew was that it was light outside. From now on he would get up when he wanted, and eat when he was hungry. He wasn’t going to turn into a slob, though. He had made his bed and the place was clean and tidy. When he went to the toilet he took the bucket to the end of the Waitrose car park, climbed a ladder and tipped it over the wall into a garden. It smelt a little but it would decompose. Stuff would probably grow there.
He was going to look after himself. Clear away each meal when he was finished, wash regularly, and change and clean his clothes. He wasn’t a savage. That was what his mum had used to say. ‘Callum, do the washing-up, we’re not savages.’
He thought of himself as being like someone stranded on a desert island. Marooned. Like Robinson Crusoe. Or Lost. If he kept on top of things he would survive. He had calculated that his supply of food would last him at least a year if he was careful. And he was careful. After breakfast he’d done his exercises. Push-ups, sit-ups, star jumps, stretches and a bit of work with an old set of weights that Achilleus had found one day and brought back to the shop. Then he’d run twenty laps round the circuit he’d made on the shop floor. He would be fitter than he’d ever been before.
He pla
Bliss. He had everything he needed. The stupid, meandering grown-ups below even provided him with entertainment. He liked to watch them fight and he’d put imaginary bets on who would win.
He wondered where Arran and the others had got to. They must surely be at the palace by now.
He smiled. The last place he wanted to be was Buckingham Palace. Crammed in there with all those kids. No peace and quiet. Always someone telling you what to do. Waiting your turn for food. Queuing for the bathroom. Arguing all the time. No way. They could keep their palace. He was king of all he could see and he aimed to keep it that way.
He felt something tickling his cheek. A fly, probably. He put a hand up to brush it away and it came back wet.
It was a tear. He was crying.
Why was he crying? He had no reason to cry. Even as he thought about it, though, his body heaved in a great sob and the next moment there were tears flooding down his face and he was wailing like a baby.
He shouldn’t have thought about the others. He shouldn’t have thought about them. He was so lonely. So bloody lonely.
34
The kids had reassembled on the pavement. Maxie couldn’t help thinking they looked a little like the sad grown-ups they’d found inside, wearing clothes that didn’t really suit them, or fit properly. But she had to admit that they were at least cleaner than they had been before. They wouldn’t look so much like an army of tramps. Some, like her, had chosen to pack their clothes away for later and she was determined not to be embarrassed or self-conscious about how she smelt. Besides, it was their bodies underneath that really reeked. No amount of clean clothes could hide that fact. You kind of got used to it when you were surrounded by it all the time, but if you ever stopped and thought about it – yeck. Maybe, if what Jester had told them was true, they could all get baths and showers at the palace.
The palace? The very idea of it sounded ridiculous. She didn’t really quite believe it yet. She was taking every moment as it came, trying not to think too far ahead. Trying not to hope.
Blue was getting his crew together, checking with Whitney that they were all there. Maxie found Ollie, who was also counting heads. He reassured her that everyone was present.
‘OK,’ Maxie shouted at her kids, jumping up on to a street bench. ‘We’re ready now. We won’t stop again until we reach the palace. It’s not far, half an hour at the most. Are you ready?’
Everyone gave a big cheer and with a light feeling inside Maxie went over to Blue.
‘We’re all set,’ she said. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yeah.’ Blue raised his arm, just as Arran had done the day before, then dropped it and they marched across Oxford Street and down towards Grosvenor Square in perfect formation.
A group of little kids had adopted Godzilla. Monkey-Boy, Ella and Blu-Tack Bill. It gave them something to think about other than themselves and stopped them from worrying too much. They took it in turns to carry him and they fussed over him like a little baby. They had some cans of dog food and they shared it with him. Feeding him from a spoon.
It was Blu-Tack Bill’s turn to hold Godzilla and, in his mind, he spoke to him, and he imagined the dog’s replies so vividly it was as if they were having a real conversation.
You’re like me, Godzilla. You can’t talk.
Doesn’t mean I’m stupid.