The Declaration

argument, Anna nodded, and soon found herself happily nestling into his chest, wondering why it had suddenly got so hot in the car. And wrapped together like that, under the blankets, Peter’s head resting on top of hers, his heartbeat the only sound in her ears, they continued their journey to London.
    Eventually, the car came to a halt, and Mrs Sharpe turned round.
    ‘There’s something up ahead,’ she said frowning. ‘I think it’s just a traffic jam.’ Her voice was incredulous – traffic jams were unheard of now that energy coupons allowed only essential travel. Trams and coaches filled the roads and only the rich or well-connected could afford to drive on a regular basis.
    Anna could hear Peter’s heart beating loudly, and it both comforted and worried her. The car didn’t move for ten or so minutes, and eventually, Mrs Sharpe opened her door.
    ‘I’m going to see what’s happening,’ she said. ‘Don’t move.’
    Neither of them dared say a word. Peter’s arms encircled Anna slightly tighter, and she bit her lip so hard that she drew blood, but other than that, they lay absolutely still.
    Eventually, Mrs Sharpe returned.
    ‘They’re searching lorries,’ she said, her voice slightly tense. ‘It’s causing a big jam, I’m afraid.’
    Peter lifted the blankets slightly. ‘Searching for us?’ he asked.
    There was a pause. ‘Yes, I believe so. Honestly, all this fuss is so unnecessary,’ Mrs Sharpe said lightly, but Anna could sense the worry in her voice.
    ‘Are they searching cars too?’ Peter asked.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Mrs Sharpe said. ‘At least, the man I spoke to didn’t say anything about cars.’
    ‘I think we should get out,’ Peter said. ‘I think we should go the rest of the way by foot.’
    Anna’s eyes widened.
    Mrs Sharpe sighed. ‘It’s still such a long way. Ten miles at least,’ she said, but she didn’t sound like she was disagreeing with Peter.
    ‘It’ll be safer on foot,’ Peter said firmly. ‘For all of us.’
    There was another pause. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right,’ Mrs Sharpe said eventually. Her voice sounded defeated, disappointed. ‘We’re due east of London here,’ she continued. ‘This road takes you right into the centre. I don’t suggest you walk along it, but the general direction is right. Are you . . . are you sure about this?’
    ‘Yes,’ Peter said tensely. ‘How are we going to get out, though?’
    ‘I’ll turn off the road,’ Mrs Sharpe said. There’s an exit just ahead. I’ll drop you around the corner and then I’ll come back the way I came.’
    Anna felt the car begin to move, and she clenched her fists and thought about her Decorum classes, about being brave and Focusing On The Task At Hand.
    The car stopped again, and Mrs Sharpe got out and the door of the boot opened. Anna and Peter got out awkwardly, their limbs not working so well after being cramped up for so long.
    And then it was time to say goodbye, but they had to be quick, Mrs Sharpe said, they had to get themselves hidden. So Anna reached out her hand and took Mrs Sharpe’s and she squeezed it, and she found that she had tears in her eyes, because Mrs Sharpe didn’t have to help them at all, and Anna was sure that she didn’t deserve such kindness. And then Peter pulled her away and into the shadows, and Mrs Sharpe pretended to be looking at her tyres.
    ‘You look after yourself, Anna,’ she whispered softly, staring intently at her car.
    Anna didn’t say anything, but stood very still with Peter, watching silently as Mrs Sharpe got back into her car and drove slowly off into the darkness.
    ‘Right, we need to walk this way,’ Peter said eventually, pointing up a grass verge when he’d made sure that they couldn’t be seen by anyone. Then he looked over at Anna.
    ‘Do you . . . do you want to hold my hand?’ Peter asked, his voice and demeanour bashful and hesitant.
    ‘I’d like that very much,’ Anna replied, and, slipping her hand into his, they started to walk.

Chapter Twenty
    Julia Sharpe was humming to the radio when she pulled into her driveway later that evening. She felt alive, she realised, more alive than she’d felt for years. She didn’t know if the Surpluses would make it, of course, or what kind of life they’d be able to carve out for themselves even if they did. But for the first time in far too long, Julia hadn’t felt like a spectator, hadn’t felt detached and impotent as though she were watching her