The Declaration

be too sure.’
    She stepped out of the back door and had a look around.
    ‘No, I think we’re OK,’ she said. ‘Walk along the fence, though, not across the grass. And be quick. Look, take this bottle of water and this food.’
    Peter took the water, and Anna smiled.
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Sharpe. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how grateful we are,’ she said quietly.
    Mrs Sharpe shrugged. ‘Just you stay hidden. Otherwise we’ll all be in trouble.’
    Nodding, Anna followed Peter out of the back door. They walked stealthily along the fence bordering Mrs Sharpe’s garden, hugging the foliage until they reached the summer house. Then, silently, they slipped in, locking the door behind them and returning to their hide-out under the thick, heavy curtains that Mrs Sharpe had wanted to throw out fifty years ago.

Chapter Nineteen
    Julia Sharpe didn’t join the search party, feigning a headache. She supplied biscuits, though, and filled two Thermoses with sweet, milky tea, which she handed over guiltily, anxiously, before watching as her friends and neighbours set off. The plan, Barbara informed her, was to walk around the perimeter of the village, thrashing through fields and checking any disused buildings. They were carrying an odd assortment of rifles, spades, tennis rackets and croquet clubs, and Barbara was naturally in the lead, talking loudly about the need to stamp out the Surplus Problem, to show the world that they meant business. The others following her betrayed only a limited interest in Barbara’s battle cry, Julia couldn’t help but notice; most were discussing subjects closer to their hearts, such as new recipes, who was using Longevity+ and what they thought of the latest energy tariffs. Their voices were excitable and shrill, though, and Julia smiled to herself sadly. For most of her neighbours the search was, she realised, nothing more than an excuse to get together, an opportunity to convince themselves that they were doing something important.
    And Julia couldn’t begrudge them that. She’d have done the same, she knew that, if the circumstances were different. Life was good for the residents of her village. Life was comfortable. But sometimes they all craved a little bit of danger, of excitement, of meaning, even if only to reinforce how very comfortable and secure their lives really were.
    Slowly, she walked back to her house, looking around as she did so. It was stupid to worry, she knew that. After all, no one would ever suspect someone like her. She was respected, well-connected, and even if someone found the Surpluses, she could always feign ignorance. But her eyes scanned the street, nonetheless, and her heart thudded in her chest, and adrenaline started to course through her veins, as she took out her keys to open her front door. Because without realising it, she had made a decision. Without allowing herself to dwell too much on the implications or the rights and wrongs of the situation, she had decided that she was going to help Anna and Peter get to London. They simply wouldn’t make it on their own, and if they got caught, well, that was more than Julia could bear to think about. So she was going to take them. And she had just one afternoon to work out how she was going to do it.
    Anna watched as Peter stared at Mrs Sharpe uncertainly, from his vantage point under the curtains in the summer house, his eyes narrow and untrusting. It was late afternoon, just getting dark, and her former employer was looking at them expectantly, having explained that she wanted to help them get away.
    ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why would you?’
    Anna looked from Peter to Mrs Sharpe nervously.
    Mrs Sharpe bit her lip. ‘To tell the truth, I’m not sure,’ she said quietly. ‘All I know is that it’s not your fault you’re Surpluses. And that as soon as you take one step into the village, someone will see you. You’re so . . .’ She frowned, looking for the right word, then she shrugged. ‘So young. So slender.’
    ‘But you’ll get in trouble,’ Anna said quickly, anxiously. ‘Won’t you?’
    ‘Don’t you worry about me. We’ll have to be careful, but they’re not going to be searching every car, are they? And they’re certainly not going to search the car of Mrs Anthony Sharpe, I can tell you that for nothing.’ Mrs Sharpe smiled, but Anna could see from the lines around her eyes and the way she kept picking at her clothes that she was scared too.
    Peter looked at the ground,