She's dropped her bag and is running towards me now.
Move the car, Jude. NOW!
Get going.
Go.
Mum, don't cry. Please don't cry.
Sorry.
It was a mistake.
I'm so sorry.
I'd broken Jude's first cardinal rule.
Never, ever allow yourself to feel. Feelings kill.
eight. Sephy
Darling Callie,
Whilst you were sleeping:
I thought of Callum.
I phoned three quality newspapers and used my credit card to put a birth announcement in each of them. If Dad thinks I'm going to disappear into the woodwork now that I've had you, he's got another think coming. I hate his guts.
But I thought of Callum.
And I kissed your forehead. And breathed you in.
I thought of Callum.
I chatted to Meena in the bed next to mine. She's had a girl too and she's going to call her Jorja. That's a pretty name, isn't it? Jorja.
I thought of Callum.
I had a quick shower because I didn't want to be away from you too long. Not that I could linger, even if I wanted to. The queue to use the showers is always horrendous, so you have to be fast on your feet and slip in and out before some irate woman bangs on the shower cubicle door, hurling abuse because the hot water is in danger of running out.
And I thought of Callum.
In that order.
nine. Jude
I sat in the Golden Eye bar, tucked away off the High Street, sipping at my lager. This wasn't the kind of place I usually frequented – a bit too consciously cool-chic for my taste – but it was off the beaten track and I needed a drink and an hour or two to myself. The Golden Eye was almost three quarters full of revellers enjoying a drink after work. Mostly noughts but quite a few daggers. It was one of those places where daggers could come for an hour or so once a week and try to fool themselves into thinking they were liberal and not prejudiced because they actually drank in a place where noughts were drinking next to them and not just serving. I took another sip of my drink and looked around. The bar sure was busy. But then they did serve the best beer I'd had in months.
The place should've been called the Wooden Eye. People stood on the beer-stained wooden floor, propped up the wine-stained wooden bar, sat on barely-upholstered wooden benches, stools and chairs. And I was one of them. I sat at a table, opposite a canoodling nought couple who had eyes for no one but each other. I could've sprouted another head and I'd've still been invisible to them. So I sat and sipped, and sipped and sat. But I was tired of my inactivity. I was tired of running and hiding and living from day to day. Slamming my bottle of lager down on the table before me, I decided I'd sat on my backside for long enough. It was time to get some purpose back into my life. I couldn't rely on the L.M. for support – not when someone, probably Andrew Dorn, was out to get me. And my mum could do nothing for me. The only person I could rely on was myself.
The first thing I had to do was get money. Lots of it and quickly. And if I could stick it to the Crosses at the same time, then so much the better. There were plenty of banks and building societies and jewellery shops that needed someone like me to help keep their profits on a more manageable level. So really, I'd be providing a public service. I smiled, imagining that defence in court. Who knows! If they ever caught me, I just might try it.
'Hi. A seat! A seat! My kingdom for a seat! Is this seat taken?'
I looked up, then scowled up at the Cross woman standing before me. She wore her hair in thin braids tied up with an orange ribbon. Her silk shirt was also flame orange and her wraparound skirt was dark, either black or blue – it was hard to tell in this light. Couldn't she find somewhere else to sit? I glanced around but it did indeed look like every seat was taken. Tough! I didn't want one of them sitting next to me. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two coppers enter the bar – one a nought, the other a Cross.
'If you'd rather I didn't,' the woman shrugged. And
Move the car, Jude. NOW!
Get going.
Go.
Mum, don't cry. Please don't cry.
Sorry.
It was a mistake.
I'm so sorry.
I'd broken Jude's first cardinal rule.
Never, ever allow yourself to feel. Feelings kill.
eight. Sephy
Darling Callie,
Whilst you were sleeping:
I thought of Callum.
I phoned three quality newspapers and used my credit card to put a birth announcement in each of them. If Dad thinks I'm going to disappear into the woodwork now that I've had you, he's got another think coming. I hate his guts.
But I thought of Callum.
And I kissed your forehead. And breathed you in.
I thought of Callum.
I chatted to Meena in the bed next to mine. She's had a girl too and she's going to call her Jorja. That's a pretty name, isn't it? Jorja.
I thought of Callum.
I had a quick shower because I didn't want to be away from you too long. Not that I could linger, even if I wanted to. The queue to use the showers is always horrendous, so you have to be fast on your feet and slip in and out before some irate woman bangs on the shower cubicle door, hurling abuse because the hot water is in danger of running out.
And I thought of Callum.
In that order.
nine. Jude
I sat in the Golden Eye bar, tucked away off the High Street, sipping at my lager. This wasn't the kind of place I usually frequented – a bit too consciously cool-chic for my taste – but it was off the beaten track and I needed a drink and an hour or two to myself. The Golden Eye was almost three quarters full of revellers enjoying a drink after work. Mostly noughts but quite a few daggers. It was one of those places where daggers could come for an hour or so once a week and try to fool themselves into thinking they were liberal and not prejudiced because they actually drank in a place where noughts were drinking next to them and not just serving. I took another sip of my drink and looked around. The bar sure was busy. But then they did serve the best beer I'd had in months.
The place should've been called the Wooden Eye. People stood on the beer-stained wooden floor, propped up the wine-stained wooden bar, sat on barely-upholstered wooden benches, stools and chairs. And I was one of them. I sat at a table, opposite a canoodling nought couple who had eyes for no one but each other. I could've sprouted another head and I'd've still been invisible to them. So I sat and sipped, and sipped and sat. But I was tired of my inactivity. I was tired of running and hiding and living from day to day. Slamming my bottle of lager down on the table before me, I decided I'd sat on my backside for long enough. It was time to get some purpose back into my life. I couldn't rely on the L.M. for support – not when someone, probably Andrew Dorn, was out to get me. And my mum could do nothing for me. The only person I could rely on was myself.
The first thing I had to do was get money. Lots of it and quickly. And if I could stick it to the Crosses at the same time, then so much the better. There were plenty of banks and building societies and jewellery shops that needed someone like me to help keep their profits on a more manageable level. So really, I'd be providing a public service. I smiled, imagining that defence in court. Who knows! If they ever caught me, I just might try it.
'Hi. A seat! A seat! My kingdom for a seat! Is this seat taken?'
I looked up, then scowled up at the Cross woman standing before me. She wore her hair in thin braids tied up with an orange ribbon. Her silk shirt was also flame orange and her wraparound skirt was dark, either black or blue – it was hard to tell in this light. Couldn't she find somewhere else to sit? I glanced around but it did indeed look like every seat was taken. Tough! I didn't want one of them sitting next to me. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two coppers enter the bar – one a nought, the other a Cross.
'If you'd rather I didn't,' the woman shrugged. And
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