The Declaration

hesitation. ‘Solitary checks are at about midnight and Mrs Pincent said 4 a.m. was when she’d come for me, didn’t she?’
    Anna made a muffled noise that meant yes. Neither of them particularly wanted to think about Mrs Pincent, or what she was coming back to do.
    ‘So we leave here at two o’clock and go through the tunnel,’ Peter continued. ‘That way everyone will be asleep. The tunnel comes out in the village, and we need to get as far away as we can before it gets light because the Catchers will be sent out as soon as they realise we’ve gone. Then we’ll find somewhere to hide and tomorrow night we’ll start making our way to London.’
    Anna smiled, but her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t believe they were actually going to escape from Grange Hall. All the windows and doors were alarmed, and there were floodlights which stretched from the building to the gated walls surrounding it. Cameras were fixed to the perimeter walls as an added deterrent. The Catchers always got you in the end, Mrs Pincent said. And when they did, you’d hate your parents even more for having you.
    ‘We’ll be fine, Anna, I promise,’ Peter said, as if sensing her fear. ‘Don’t worry.’
    ‘I’m not worried,’ Anna said quickly, trying to convince herself as much as anything. The darkness and musty smell of the cell was beginning to get to her, bringing back memories of her last visit to Solitary. She’d been afraid then, imagining that ghosts and ghouls lived down in the cellars, that Mrs Pincent and the others might forget about her and leave her there to die. There had been noises too, late at night when she couldn’t sleep. Footsteps, things that sounded like voices but more strangled. Sounds that had filled Anna with such terror that she would have done anything to get out, to never have to come back.
    But this time she was here for a reason, she told herself. This time she was here on her own terms.
    She looked up at the wall that stood between her cell and Peter’s. At the top of it, as with all the other cells in Solitary, there was a gap, about a metre wide and three quarters of a metre high. These holes were the only source of ventilation in the whole of the basement – Mr Sargent had told them so once when Patrick had been sent down there for about the fifth time. Mr Sargent had said that there wasn’t much air at all in Solitary. He’d said that if there were more than three Surpluses down there at once, they’d probably run out of air in a few days. The holes were the only thing that kept you alive down in Solitary, Mr Sargent had told them. The hole was also the only way for Anna to get into Peter’s cell.
    She stood up on the concrete bed to get a closer look, then swallowed uncomfortably. It had seemed like such a great idea when Peter had suggested it, but now she wasn’t so sure. The gap was big enough for her to get through, certainly. But she had to get up there first. Standing on the bed, she found that she could reach the bottom of the gap if she went on to her tiptoes. But reaching wasn’t enough. She had to be able to get through it.
    ‘The gap,’ she called out tentatively. ‘The thing is, I’m not sure I can get up there,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light. ‘Even if I stand on the bed, I won’t be able to get high enough.’
    ‘Of course you can,’ Peter said immediately. ‘If you get hold of the bottom, you can pull yourself through. I tried it myself. Look . . .’
    Anna looked up, and sure enough, Peter’s face appeared at the gap. Her face lit up and she smiled.
    ‘You look awful,’ he said, and Anna immediately turned her face away, embarrassed by her swollen eye and lip.
    ‘Who did that to you?’ Peter asked angrily. ‘Tell me who did it.’
    Anna shrugged. ‘No one. I mean, it doesn’t matter.’
    ‘It matters to me.’
    Anna looked up at Peter curiously.
    No one had ever wanted to protect her before. When Mrs Pincent had punished her, sometimes she said it was to ‘protect Anna from herself’, but that wasn’t the same thing at all.
    ‘OK, I’m going to do it,’ she said purposefully and stood up again, reaching as high as she could and using her legs to try and scrabble up the wall. She was going to prove herself worthy of Peter. She was going to get up that wall if it took every bit of strength in her body.
    But it was no use. Her arm muscles may have been strong enough for laundry, but they simply weren’t strong