The Declaration

said, her eyes narrowing. ‘Now, I had a little thought. Anna did some work for a woman in the village a year or so ago. Might be worth following up. I’ve got her name somewhere in the file.’
    Sheila sat in Decorum, staring ahead at Mrs Larson and pretending to listen intently.
    Anna’s seat was bare, and no one else thought anything of it because she’d been sent to Solitary. But Sheila knew. Sheila knew what had really happened. She knew because she’d now read the whole of Anna’s diary, had read about her plans. And she also knew because she’d been awake in the early hours of the morning when Maisie had shrieked in anger.
    It had made Sheila very angry too, because Anna hadn’t taken her with her. Of all the people in Grange Hall, she was the one who deserved to leave, she told herself fervently, not Anna. Anna liked it here. Anna was a Surplus. Whereas Sheila despised every moment spent behind these grey walls, wanted more than anything to see the Outside again, to see her home, her parents.
    But still, Sheila was at least comforted by the fact that Anna wasn’t as clever as she thought she was. Anna liked to think that she thought of everything, that she was the most Valuable Surplus ever to have lived. But would a Valuable Surplus have left her journal behind? Would a truly Valuable Surplus have allowed Sheila to delicately take the journal from her pocket as she was dragged through the training room by Mr Sargent, and to hide it in her own pocket, where it joined the beautiful pink knickers she’d appropriated during Laundry?
    No, Sheila thought to herself. Anna had made a big mistake in not taking Sheila with her.
    Thrusting her hand into her pocket to feel the soft suede against her fingers, she smiled, and looked up at Mrs Larson.

Chapter Eighteen
    Julia looked from Anna to Peter, then nodded with satisfaction. They were clean, they were dressed, Peter’s leg was bandaged up, and now they were eating, even if it had taken her for ever to get them to admit they were hungry. Their eyes kept looking up nervously, as if they expected a Catcher to walk in at any minute. They looked ridiculous, she thought to herself, with her and Anthony’s clothes hanging off them, but what was the alternative? Leave them in those horrible overalls?
    ‘You’re going to hide in a lorry, you say?’ she asked Peter and he nodded seriously.
    ‘A lorry going to London. The Underground taught me how to break into one,’ he said, and Julia thought that she could detect a hint of pride in his eyes.
    ‘And what if you can’t find a lorry going to London?’ she asked.
    ‘Then we’ll walk,’ Anna said, her voice quiet but insistent. ‘Won’t we, Peter?’
    Peter nodded. ‘We can’t tell you any more,’ he said quietly. ‘In case you’re questioned. In case they torture you.’
    ‘Torture me?’ Julia smiled. ‘Peter, they don’t torture people in this country.’
    Peter didn’t smile back.
    Julia looked at them, their faces so serious, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She could see why the Catchers had referred to the boy as a troublemaker; it was his eyes, so challenging and with a piercing look about them. They were eyes that trusted in nothing, and they made her uncomfortable around him, self-conscious.
    But she also saw the way he looked at Anna – like he didn’t know what to do with himself; the way he stiffened with pride when Julia said nice things about her; the way he hovered around her protectively, as if worried that she might at any moment disappear or be snatched away from him. She saw the way Anna looked up to him too. That girl had always looked like she willingly carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and still thought it wasn’t enough of a burden. Julia didn’t know how he’d done it – she had tried hard enough herself and got nowhere – but somehow Peter seemed to have managed to take some of the load from her. Somewhere in those dark, wide eyes, with Peter at her side, Anna might possibly have glimpsed just the smallest scrap of peace.
    Not that she’d been particularly peaceful since getting changed. Anna had changed in Julia’s bedroom, the curtains firmly closed, and had seemed happy, excited even, at first. But as soon as she’d taken off the overalls, something had changed in her. She’d gone through the pockets frantically, as though looking for something, even though she’d assured Julia that she wasn’t. Then she’d run to the back