The Declaration

Claire, and she couldn’t help noticing that Barbara’s skin was looking rather . . . dewy. Yes, that was the word. Youthful.
    She sighed and decided she would investigate further. You just never knew what they put in those bottles exchanged in dark alleyways for large sums of money. Never knew where they came from. But if they would cure her sagging jowls and lift the wrinkles around her eyes, maybe it would be worth it.
    She was interrupted from her reverie by a loud knock at the door, and she looked up curiously. It was only seven o’clock in the morning. Who on earth could be calling at this time?
    Wrapping her robe around her, she closed the bathroom cabinet and waited for her housekeeper to open the door. Then she heard another knock, and remembered that she’d lent her housekeeper to Cindy for the day to help her move house. Sighing with irritation, she made her way on to the landing, then down the stairs. Through the spyhole on her front door she could see uniforms, and it startled her slightly. Had there been a break-in on her street? Something worse? She shuddered at the thought. Crime was so rare nowadays that even the smallest transgression was infrequent. Julia had often wondered whether crime had gone down now they had Longevity because people were satisfied with their lot and less interested in short-term gain – particularly when short-term was so very short-term. Or perhaps it was that crime was actually the domain of the young and that eradicating the youth was responsible for their safe streets. Her husband subscribed to the latter view, citing the Declaration as the panacea for all the world’s ills, but Julia wasn’t so sure. She rather suspected that everyone was simply too long in the tooth nowadays. No one had the imagination or energy to bother with crime any more.
    She opened the door slightly, then frowned when she realised what the uniforms were. One of the men was in a police uniform, but the other two, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, were Catchers.
    Raising her eyebrows in curiosity, she allowed the men in.

Chapter Seventeen
    Anna pulled the heavy curtains around her more closely and sneaked a little look at Peter, who was sitting beside her. He had matter-of-factly found the best position for them, a spot where they could not be seen, but from where they – or he, at least – had a full view of the garden, the door and the house. Once he had made sure Anna was warm enough, he had simply sat still, his forehead creased slightly in concentration, and said nothing.
    Until now, that is.
    ‘There are people in the house. It looks like Catchers.’
    Peter spoke so quietly that Anna barely heard him, and yet the words felt like bullets firing into her chest. Catchers? How had they known they were here?
    ‘Lie down and cover yourself with the curtain,’ Peter whispered, and, trembling, Anna did as he asked. She could feel Peter’s body was tense next to hers, like an animal on the hunt, and she tried to stop herself shaking with cold and fear.
    She lay under the curtain for what felt like an eternity, but what was probably more like ten minutes, and then she felt Peter slither down under the curtain with her.
    ‘They’re coming down to the garden,’ he whispered, and Anna could feel the warmth of his breath against her forehead. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and found his, squeezing it tightly. Then Peter pressed her head on to his shoulder and before she knew it they were wrapped around each other, arms clasped so tightly that they felt almost like one.
    And then they heard someone trying the door. Anna froze, fully expecting them to walk right in and find them, but instead the door stayed firmly shut. Peter hugged her closer.
    ‘You keep this door locked all the time?’ It was a man’s voice and Anna felt her muscles tighten.
    ‘Of course. Well, my husband does, anyway. It’s full of antiques, you see. Valuable, apparently, although I’ve never cared for them much. Still, each to their own, I suppose.’
    Anna felt Peter’s arms tighten around her as she heard the familiar tones of Mrs Sharpe.
    ‘We’ve been instructed to search everywhere,’ another man’s voice said. ‘Even if it’s locked.’
    ‘Very well.’ Mrs Sharpe’s voice was exasperated. ‘I think the key’s in here.’
    Anna felt her heart thud in her chest. Mrs Sharpe would be looking for the key, which would no longer be where she left it. She would know that they had taken it.