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more.’
    ‘He’s my father.’
    ‘Doesn’t mean he can hit you. You should tell someone, stupid.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Oh, I dunno – the police, I suppose.’
    ‘I couldn’t do that. You can’t set the police on your own father , for goodness sake.’
    ‘Sure you can. I would.’
    She shook her head. ‘No you wouldn’t, Scott. Not if it came to it.’
    ‘Yes I would. If he beat me I would. No danger.’
    ‘Well, you wouldn’t if you belonged to the Righteous, Scott. We have our own ways, see.’
    ‘You don’t have your own laws , Martha. Everybody has to obey the law.’
    She sighed. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand. Nobody does. That’s why it’s no use trying to explain. That’s why I don’t go to the teachers about Simon Pritchard and the others. They’d say what you just said.’
    ‘But you can’t . . . go on taking it, Martha. I’ll help you. We’ll find a way out, you’ll see.’
    ‘No.’ She smiled sadly. ‘There’s only one way out, Scott, and that’s Mary’s way.’
    ‘Who the heck’s Mary?’
    ‘Mary’s my . . .’ She broke off as the buzzer went. We walked towards school. ‘If you really want to know about Mary, I’ll tell you at home-time.’
    I nodded. ‘I’ll be by the gate.’
    If I’m not on the ground being kicked to death , I thought.

18. Martha
     
    Killer was by the gate again so there was no hassle. He probably thinks we’re an item, Scott and me. When we were well past him, Scott said, ‘Your turn to walk me, I think.’
    ‘I can’t Scott, you know that. If I’m late again, my father . . .’
    ‘I know, Martha. Just kidding. Who’s Mary, then?’
    ‘My sister. Grown-up sister.’
    ‘You said there was only you.’
    ‘Well, there is, she doesn’t live with us now.’
    ‘Where does she live?’
    ‘I don’t know. She writes, but doesn’t put her address.’
    ‘Why not, for Pete’s sake?’
    ‘I think it’s because she doesn’t want my parents to know where she is.’
    Scott chuckled. ‘I don’t blame her. Did they beat her too?’
    ‘Oh, yes. She was braver than me. She used to stay out, see boys. I don’t remember much about it really. Father sent her away when I was six.’
    ‘And that’s what you meant by Mary’s way – getting out?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So why don’t you do it?’
    ‘Because I’m only twelve, Scott. Where would I go? How would I eat?’
    Scott shrugged. ‘Isn’t there a granny or an auntie or someone who’d take you in, if you told ’em what was going on?’
    ‘No, Scott, there isn’t. I mean, I’ve got two grannies and three aunties, but they’re all in our church. They know what’s going on , as you put it, and think it’s perfectly normal.’
    ‘So you’re stuck with it till you’re about sixteen?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Glad I’m not you.’ He looked at me. ‘Can you . . . do they let you out Saturdays?’
    ‘Sometimes. Depends what there is to do at home. Mother sends me to Asda – the supermarket – most Saturdays.’
    ‘You don’t go in the car?’
    ‘No. Father’s an insurance man. He’s out on his round, Saturdays.’
    ‘So you have to lug everything home?’
    I nodded. ‘It’s not bad, Scott. We don’t shop like other people. There’s only two bags most weeks.’
    ‘Can I meet you?’ He grinned. ‘I could carry one of the bags. Part of the way at least.’
    I shook my head. ‘I don’t know, Scott. I mean, it’d be great, but if somebody saw us . . .’
    ‘Martha.’ He reached out and took hold of both my hands. I felt like somebody in a film. ‘Listen. You can’t leave like your sister, but you could do some of the things she did. Stay out. See boys.’ He smiled. ‘This boy, anyway. It’s your life.’
    I shook my head again. ‘I told you – Mary was brave; I’m not. They’d lock me up. Starve me. It’s best to do what they want till I’m old enough to leave.’
    ‘No it’s not. Anyway, tell you what I’ll do. I’ll hang around Asda, Saturday