‘Yeah, I guess,’ she said, still staring at the can.
But, she thought but didn’t say aloud, I really like them.
‘Do they treat you like the hired help?’ His voice sympathetic, Mark was trying to read her expression. She avoided his eyes.
‘Some do,’ Allie conceded, thinking of Katie Gilmore and her group. But by the end of the term, she and Katie had been working together to save the school from fire and they’d developed a grudging respect for one another. ‘But they’re not so bad,’ she finished.
‘I can’t imagine going to school with a bunch of toffs.’ Harry stood up on the swing’s seat and launched it into the darkness. His voice floated to them as he swung by. ‘I’d tell them where they could go and then get kicked out, I reckon.’
‘Like they’d let you in in the first place,’ Mark scoffed, shoving the chains of Harry’s swing until it gyrated sideways.
‘You going back?’ Mark asked, looking at her with sudden seriousness.
‘Yeah, my parents say I have to. And I kind of … want to, you know?’ She held his gaze, hoping he’d understand.
Mark’s background was different from her own – his dad wasn’t around and he lived with his mother in a tower block. His mum went out to nightclubs and bars with her friends – she didn’t act like a regular parent. After Allie’s brother Christopher ran away two years ago, Mark had been as much like a brother as anybody could be. She knew he’d missed her since she’d gone away to school. But the truth was, after the first couple of weeks at Cimmeria she hadn’t thought about him much at all.
‘I’ll write you letters,’ she promised now, guilt making her more fervent.
Mark’s sarcastic smile reminded her fleetingly of Carter.
‘Yeah?’ He popped open another can of cider and jumped up on to the swing. ‘I’ll write you notes on the Hammersmith and City line.’
He shoved off with his feet and arced out towards Harry, who was singing nonsense songs to himself as he swung.
Allie sat on the slide and watched them joke around – jerking at the swings as if they wanted to rip them from the metal frame. Her expression was thoughtful; the can of cider sat untouched next to her.
It was nearly midnight when Harry’s phone rang. After a brief conversation, he conferred with Mark before turning to Allie.
‘We’re gonna hit the bus depot in Brixton – give it a bit of work. You coming?’
After a pause Allie shook her head.
‘I promised the rentals I’d be home early,’ she said. ‘They’re still treating me like a criminal.’
Harry held out his fist and she butted her own against it. His bag rattled when he picked up.
‘Later, Sheridan,’ he said, heading out of the park. ‘Don’t let the posh bastards get to you.’
Mark lingered behind.
‘If you want to write those letters, Allie,’ he said after a long second, ‘that’d be cool.’
‘I will,’ she promised, determined to do it.
At that, he turned and ran after Harry. For a little while she could hear them talking and laughing in the distance. When the sound faded, she climbed down off the slide and picked up all the empty cider cans, depositing them in a rubbish bin. Then she flipped her dark hood up over her head and walked back towards home, her feet moving slower than her thoughts.
She was almost there when she saw them – four men standing outside her house. Their suits were perfectly tailored; haircuts short and neat. One wore sunglasses in the darkness; as she stared at him her heart began to pound. His athletic stance and intense focus reminded her of Gabe.
She stopped in her tracks. That was her first mistake – she should have just walked into Mrs Burson’s garden and sneaked out the back.
But she didn’t.
When her footsteps stopped the one closest to her swung around. She was half in shadow but he seemed to recognise her. He gestured in her direction.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly, snapping his fingers twice.
They all turned towards her.
Allie took a cautious step backwards.
‘Allie Sheridan?’ the first one asked.
Another backwards step.
‘We just want to talk to you,’ another one said.
Allie whirled around and took off. Leaping over Mrs Burson’s low fence, she ran to the back gate she knew was always unlocked and tore through it. Behind her she could hear the men swearing and struggling to get through the gate in the dark as she pounded back to the park, across the slippery grass and through the fence on the far side.
Twisting and turning her way through the neighbourhood, she ran until she couldn’t hear them behind her. Then she jumped a garden wall and crawled beneath a hedge.
When she hadn’t heard footsteps for what seemed like an hour, she pulled her phone out of her pocket with shaking hands.
Now she sat on the smooth leather passenger seat in the black Audi, watching as Rachel’s dad manoeuvred through traffic on the South Circular at speeds well over the allowed limits. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him exactly, but she kept her distance, leaning against the door, one hand resting on the handle.
Rachel kind of looks like him, Allie thought. But his skin was darker and his hair was coarse, whereas Rachel’s was all glossy curls.
He didn’t speak until the rows of houses around them thinned, then faded away, replaced by dark pastures.
‘You OK?’ he asked then. His question was abrupt but she could hear a touch of fatherly concern underlying the words.