The Dead (25 page)

The 1940s house was a full-size replica of a mock-Tudor suburban house complete with green-painted front door, sloping tiled roof, Union Jack and empty milk bottles on the doorstep. It was set up in a corner of the exhibition space to show children what life had been like during wartime when the German bombs had rained down on London. There was a little kitchen, a dining room, a living room and a couple of bedrooms, all equipped and furnished as they would have been during the Second World War. There were already a few beds in here but Jordan Hordern’s boys had dragged in some extra mattresses and sleeping bags and had lent the kids a small paraffin heater so that it was cosy and warm. They’d lit tea lights in glass jars that gave a twinkling glow to the place and for a while all the problems of the outside world were forgotten. The kids felt safe and excited at the same time, as if they were having a giant sleepover.

There was even a Morrison shelter in one room, like a big steel cage. During the Blitz families would have slept in one of these; now it was the perfect place for Frédérique’s cat, Dior, to come out of her box and spend the night.

Lying nearby on his mattress on the floor, Ed could hear her scrabbling about. He couldn’t get to sleep. It wasn’t just the noise of the cat and the grunts and snores and gurgling bellies of the other kids. He couldn’t stop his mind from going over and over the events of the last two days.

He felt like he had failed. He could have done more. Sure, they were safe here for now, but how many friends had he lost along the way?

‘You not asleep?’

It was Jack’s voice. He was lying on a mattress on top of the Morrison shelter.

‘No,’ Ed whispered. ‘You either?’

‘No. Been looking at this poster on the wall. Wartime advice from the government. “
Make Do and Mend. Save Fuel for Battle. Save Kitchen Scraps to Feed the Pigs. Don’t Waste Water. Dig for Victory. Holiday at Home. Eat Greens for Health. Keep Calm and Carry On.
”’

‘Very good advice,’ said Ed. ‘Especially now.’

‘Is that where
Keep Calm and Carry On
comes from, then?’ Jack asked quietly.

‘I guess so. It was a wartime thing. The Blitz. Bombs falling all about.’

‘There was a real craze for that slogan recently, wasn’t there?’ said Jack. ‘People had it on posters and mugs and things.’

‘My mum gave me a T-shirt with it on last Christmas.’ Ed smiled at the memory. ‘Wish I still had it. All I had to get stressed about before was GCSEs.’

‘She didn’t give you a T-shirt that said
Save Kitchen Scraps to Feed the Pigs
, then?’

‘No.’ Ed smiled.

‘Do you suppose in the war, in the Blitz, people thought it would go on forever?’ Jack asked. ‘That it was the end of the world?’

‘You mean like now?’ Ed shrugged. ‘Probably a few did, but I bet most just wanted to try and carry on as if things were normal.’

‘Keep calm and carry on,’ said Jack.

‘Exactly …’

‘And holiday at home.’

Ed laughed. ‘I prefer you when you’re like this,’ he said.

‘How do you mean?’ Jack shifted and propped himself up on one elbow.

‘Well, you know. This is like the old days, how things used to be. Us two just having a laugh. I’ve noticed with you, when things are safe, you know, quiet, like now, you’re cool, we get on all right, but as soon as we’re out there, in any danger, you get all aggressive and you start having a go at everyone, not just me. It’s like you turn, like you’re two different people.’

‘Oh right,’ said Jack, his voice harder, wary. ‘So I’m two-faced, am I?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You mean like with my birthmark? I’m like a villain out of Batman, or something. Two-face?’

‘I didn’t say two-faced, Jack, did I? I just meant … Well, you’re doing it now. One minute you’re my best mate and the next you’re having a go at me. I’m not used to it.’

Jack slumped back on to his mattress with a grunt and stared at the ceiling.

‘I can’t help it, Ed,’ he said. ‘You’re right – it’s when I get stressed I lash out. It’s like I know I’m doing it, I don’t want to do it, but I can’t stop myself. I’m so knackered all the time and strung out. I could sleep for a year … But I can’t get to sleep.’

‘Let’s try, though, eh?’

‘Yeah, goodnight, Ed.’

‘Goodnight, Jack.’

It was morning. The rain had stopped, the clouds torn away by a strong cold wind from the south. The sun was shining and the glistening, silvery streets were drying out.

There were two flowerbeds underneath the twin naval guns in front of the museum. Frédérique was kneeling down on the grass next to one of them with her cat box next to her.

There was a big wide-bladed army knife sticking up out of the flowerbed like a tool. Frédérique looked like she might have been gardening, trying to sort out the tangle of overgrown plants. Except she was very still. Kneeling there with her hands by her chin, almost as if she was praying.

‘Frédérique?’

Jack had come out of the building and was coming down the steps. He was wearing his Russian helmet and his sword was dangling at his side. He walked between two yellow artillery shells embedded in the paving, like outsize bollards, scanning the area for any sign of sickos. Nothing moved anywhere. The park looked pretty in the sunlight. The drifts of rubbish that were stacked up everywhere might have been early spring flowers.

When he got to Frédérique, she didn’t look up.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I cannot keep Dior locked up. It is not fair. She will have a better life by herself. I must let her go. My father would have done the same.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘She can find her own food, I think. Better than what I can give her. I have run out. The only problem is, she does not want to go.’

Jack squatted down and peered into the cage. Dior was flattened against the box at the far end, looking fearfully out, her eyes wide.

‘You should hurry,’ he said, straightening up. ‘The sickos can’t easily get into the park but if they spot us by ourselves they might just try.’

‘You go in, Jack. I am all right.’

‘I’m not gonna leave you out here by yourself, Fred.’

‘Please …’ Frédérique sniffed, coughed and put a wad of tissues to her nose. She was crying again. Jack sighed. He didn’t know what to do or say to make things better.

‘Come back inside,’ he said. ‘We’ll find food for the cat.’

‘Leave me.’ She said it so forcefully, even angrily, that Jack backed away across the grass, leaving her alone with the cat.

He watched as she made little encouraging noises, cooing to the cat in French until at last it crept cautiously out, tiptoeing, and tensed. It looked around, making quick nervous movements with its head. Frédérique closed the cage and sat back on her heels. The cat made its way into the flowerbed. Frédérique coughed again and the cat darted away. In a moment it had disappeared. Frédérique stood up, head bowed, shoulders shaking. She dabbed her nose again with the tissues. Jack went to her and put his arm round her.

‘Come on, it’s cold out here. Admittedly it’s not much warmer inside, but you don’t want to get ill.’

Frédérique threw her arms round Jack and gave him a powerful hug. She had more strength in her than she looked. Jack hugged her back but he still didn’t know what to say.

Bam and Ed had now come out of the museum and were looking at Jack locked in his embrace with Frédérique.

‘Ah, young love!’ said Bam.

‘Touching, isn’t it?’ said Ed, and they laughed.

Jack broke away from Frédérique and came over to join them.

‘This is what we need to take on the sickos,’ he said as he passed the naval guns. ‘Bloody big cannon.’

‘We’re not doing too badly with this lot.’ Ed brandished his rifle, the bayonet stuck firmly on the end.

‘We’ve got nothing to fear,’ said Bam, slipping two shells into his shotgun.

‘Maybe,’ said Jack. ‘But, still, I’d be happier if there were a few more of us.’

Even as he said it there was a commotion at the doors and Brooke came out, all in a fluster, carrying a long spiked club and whingeing back over her shoulder at someone behind her.

‘Get off my case, loserface, I never said I liked Justin Timberlake …’

She stopped when she saw the others and skinny DogNut followed her out of the museum, his head bobbing up and down as if he was listening to loud music.

Jack frowned at her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What’s it look like? I’m helping. Didn’t want you to have all the fun, did I?’

‘This isn’t a game, Brooke,’ said Jack angrily.

‘What? And you think I don’t know that? We survived a long time on the road, me and my girls. Don’t think we can’t look after ourselves.’

‘Yeah but …’

‘Yeah but what? This is the twenty-first century, Jacko, or hadn’t you noticed? Girls have got a lot more to offer than just knitting and cooking and having babies.’

‘Making babies,’ said DogNut with a smirk. ‘Now you talking.’

Brooke spun round and slapped DogNut hard in the face. His head seemed to wobble like it was on a spring and he looked completely stunned.

Jack laughed.

‘I’ve had just about enough of you, you tosser,’ Brooke shouted. ‘Keep your big mouth shut or I will shove it so far down your throat you’ll be smiling out of your arse.’

‘Yeah, OK …’ DogNut mumbled, and Brooke turned her attention back to Jack.

‘I’ll admit I got freaked out on the bus, but I can handle it. You should have seen me whack Greg with that hammer thing. And now I got something better than a hammer.’ She swung the club and Jack had to jump back to avoid being spiked.

‘I figured if I’m not going to be scared I’ve got to stand up to them,’ Brooke went on. ‘This is how it is now and the quicker I get used to it the better.’

‘What about him?’ Jack nodded at DogNut, who still hadn’t fully recovered from being hit.

‘I can’t shake him off. He’s been tagging along behind me like a fart cloud all morning.’

‘You come to wave us off, have you, Donut?’ Jack asked.

‘Not Donut,
DogNut.
’

‘What kind of a name’s DogNut?’ Brooke asked with a withering look on her face.

‘It’s my gamer’s tag. See, like the dog’s nuts.’

‘So why ain’t you called Dognuts?’

‘Yeah, or Dogsnuts?’ said Bam.

‘DogNut sounds better,’ said DogNut.

‘You reckon?’ Brooke asked.

‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing out here,’ said Jack.

‘I come to help, blood,’ said DogNut. ‘I’m pretty good in a mash-up, and I go mental being banged up in there. I need to get outside and feel the wind in my hair now and then, seen? So let’s bust some chops, eh? Hiyaa!’ He did a bad kung fu kick and Jack was forced to smile.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I am coming with you.’ Frédérique was standing by one of the yellow shells, the big knife in her hand.

‘No,’ said Jack. ‘It’s all right, Fred …’

‘I want to.’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I don’t care. I will come with you. I am like Brooke. I do not want to be scared any more. I want to help find food. I want to be useful.’

‘All right,’ said Jack. ‘I did say we needed more bodies, though this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’

‘Oh good, you ain’t left yet!’

More kids were coming out of the building. Big Courtney and little Aleisha, both carrying weapons that looked all wrong with their hair and their make-up and their bright clothing.

‘We was worried you’d gone without us,’ said Aleisha. ‘Courtney took so long to get ready you’d think she was going to a party or something, not on a sicko-whacking expedition.’

‘Oi, that ain’t fair!’ Courtney protested. ‘I couldn’t get near the mirror in the bathroom this morning, not with Brooke putting on her make-up. “
Oh what d’you think? D’you think Ed would like this colour of lipstick? Oh, do you think the spikes in this club go with these trousers?
”’

‘Shut it, Courtney!’ Brooke shrieked. ‘That is
so
not what happened.’

‘It
is
so, darling.’

‘So, where we going then, anyway?’ Brooke asked Ed, trying to change the subject. ‘Back to the bus?’

‘Maybe, if we don’t find anything else,’ said Ed. ‘We didn’t get it all last night, but we took the best of what there was. We need to find proper food really.’

‘Crisps
is
proper food where I come from!’ said Courtney, and they all laughed.

‘We should go down Kennington,’ said DogNut. ‘There’s a supermarket there, a big Tesco’s, near the gasholders.’ He pointed to the road that ran down the west side of the museum. ‘Worth a look.’

‘You sure we shouldn’t just search some of the houses round here?’ Ed asked.

‘I grew up in Kennington, blood,’ said DogNut. ‘I know it bare good. There’s way shops there, eating places too, you know, like, restaurants and that, yeah? More than round here for sure.’

‘And what if we see any sickos?’ asked Courtney, who had armed herself with a sword that was a bit too long and unwieldy for her to use easily.