Raven's Gate

had lapsed into silence and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. The magistrate was more interested in the paperwork than anything else, in a hurry to get this whole thing over with. Matt examined Mrs Deverill again. She was sipping her tea but her eyes never left him. They were devouring him.
    “Do you know Yorkshire at all?” she asked.
    It took a moment for Matt to realize that she was talking to him. “No,” he said. “I’ve never been there.”
    “Lesser Malling is the name of the village. It’s a bit out of the way. The nearest town is Greater Malling and nobody’s heard of that either. And why should they have? There’s nothing there. We’re very down-to-earth in Yorkshire. We look after the land and the land looks after us. I’m sure you’ll find it very quiet after the city. But you’ll get used to it in time.” She glanced at the magistrate. “I can really take him with me today?”
    The magistrate nodded.
    Mrs Deverill smiled. “And when will you make your first visit?”
    “Six weeks from now. We want to give Matthew time to settle in.”
    “Well, after six weeks with me, I can assure you, you won’t recognize him.” She turned to Gwenda Davis. “You won’t need to worry about him, Ms Davis. You can telephone him any time you want and, of course, we’ll both look forward to you coming up to visit.”
    “Well, I don’t know about that.” Gwenda was still worried. “It’s a long way, and I’m not sure my partner…” She fell silent.
    “There are some final forms you have to fill in, Mrs Deverill,” the magistrate said. “But then the two of you can be on your way. Ms Davis brought in a suitcase with some of Matthew’s clothes and things.” She turned to Matt. “I expect you’d like a few minutes on your own to say goodbye to your aunt.”
    “No. I’ve got nothing to say to her.”
    “It wasn’t my fault,” Gwenda said, and suddenly she was angry. “I was never anything to do with your family. I was never anything to do with you. I didn’t even want to take you in after what happened to your parents. But I did and you were nothing but trouble. You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.”
    “There’s no need for this,” Mallory said. “Good luck, Matt, I really hope this works out for you.” He held out a hand. Matt hesitated, then shook it. This wasn’t Mallory’s fault. That much he knew.
    “Time to go!” Mrs Deverill said. “We don’t want to miss the coach!”
    Matt stood up. Mallory watched him with thoughtful, anxious eyes as he left the room.
    Two hours later Matt walked across Victoria coach station carrying the suitcase that Gwenda had packed for him. He looked around him at the coaches thundering in and out, the crowds of travellers and the snack and magazine stalls behind the plate-glass windows. It was an unpleasant place: cold and damp with air that smelled of diesel. He could hardly believe he was here. He was free… Finally out of police custody. No. Not free, he reminded himself. He had been handed over to this woman who called herself his foster mother.
    “That’s our bus.” Mrs Deverill pointed to a coach with YORK written across the front.
    Matt handed his case to a man, who stowed it in the luggage compartment, then climbed on board. They had reserved seats at the very back. Mrs Deverill allowed Matt to slide in next to the window and then sat down next to him. Soon the coach was full. At one o’clock exactly, the doors hissed shut, the engine started up and they began to move. Matt sat with his forehead pressed against the glass and he watched as they emerged from the coach station and out into the streets of Victoria. It was still raining. The raindrops chased in front of his eyes. Next to him Mrs Deverill sat with her eyes half-closed, breathing heavily.
    He tried to concentrate, tried to work out what he was feeling. But then he realized: he felt nothing. He had been sucked into the system. Evaluated. Approved for the LEAF Project. And sent on his way. At least he wasn’t going back to Ipswich. That was something to be thankful for. It was the end of six years with Gwenda and Brian. Whatever lay ahead couldn’t possibly be worse.
    Meanwhile, about five miles away, an alleyway in Holborn was being sealed off by two police cars and an ambulance. A dead body had been found – a young man in a hooded anorak.
    The forensic team had only just arrived, but already the photographers and police scientists knew they had stumbled