The Legacy

stream down her cheeks and Peter pulled her into him, out into the corridor. Then he closed Molly’s door behind them.
    ‘Sheila wouldn’t do that,’ he said gently, stroking Anna’s hair.
    ‘It was my fault she ended up at Pincent Pharma,’ Anna said, her voice hoarse. ‘She asked me to take her with me. I didn’t. I left her behind.’
    ‘You had to,’ Peter said sternly. ‘And she’s fine now anyway. She’s with Pip and Jude in London. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing.’
    ‘I looked after her. In Grange Hall,’ Anna whispered. ‘When I left . . .’
    ‘When you left you were brave and strong and courageous. You saved my life. Stop this, Anna. Stop finding problems where there aren’t any.’ Peter’s voice was sterner now. ‘No one’s going to take Molly away. Not Sheila, not the Catchers, no one.’
    ‘I know,’ Anna said, wiping her eyes and shaking herself. She looked up at Peter earnestly. ‘I know that. I don’t know why I keep having these horrible dreams . . .’
    ‘Because you’re not working hard enough during the day,’ Peter said, a mischievous glint suddenly appearing in his eye – the glint he employed whenever Anna worked herself up. ‘I dug up all those potatoes yesterday and you just sat and watched.’
    ‘I didn’t!’ Anna protested earnestly, even though she knew he wasn’t entirely serious. ‘I dug up carrots. And scrubbed the potatoes. And –’
    ‘I’m teasing,’ Peter grinned. ‘Look, the dreams will stop eventually. But no more creeping around at night. You need your sleep and so do I. OK?’
    ‘You think she’s OK? Sheila, I mean. You think she’s happy in London?’
    ‘I think she’s very happy. I also think she’s her own person now. She’s not your responsibility. Not any more.’
    ‘You’re right.’ Anna nodded.
    ‘Of course I am.’ Peter grinned. He took her hand and Anna squeezed it, allowing him to lead her back to their bedroom. And if she had a sense of foreboding, a feeling that something terrible was going to happen soon, very soon, she suppressed it. Peter was right – she had to learn to trust, she told herself. She had to learn to be hopeful.
    Jude’s hand was shaking. It wasn’t nerves – at least he told himself it wasn’t. It was his cramped position which was causing his muscles to spasm, to rebel, to quiver indignantly. He took a deep breath and returned to the wires in front of him, painstakingly making connections, checking and double-checking. He was ready to upload the film, ready to show the world what he’d just seen. He looked at his watch – 4 a.m. Looking around him one more time to make certain that he hadn’t been followed, that the dark shadows beneath him were just that and not a gathering army of Pincent guards ready to pounce, he held his breath and pressed the blue button on his hand-held computer. Upload. He heard a familiar whirring, the comforting sound of the device flicking into action. And then, for the first time in three hours, he allowed himself to relax slightly.
    It had been his idea, filming the raids on Pincent Pharma. After all, they had been going on for years and nothing had ever happened – a few batches of Longevity had been destroyed but Pincent Pharma had just made more. In the battle of David and Goliath, Jude had pointed out to Pip, Goliath wasn’t just winning, he was triumphant, arrogant. They were barely making a dent. But Jude knew technology – knew how to harness it, how to make it work for him. And so he’d persuaded Pip to let him help. Initially they’d just tracked the raids through the Authorities’ network of CCTV cameras so that Pip, Jude or anyone else who wanted to, could watch the Underground soldiers bring the Pincent lorries to a halt and destroy the Longevity drugs within them. It had made everyone feel better, made them feel part of it, more entrenched in the rebellion. And then Jude realised that if more people saw the attacks, they too would feel part of the rebellion or, if not, at least they’d know it was happening. At least the Authorities and Pincent Pharma couldn’t deny it any more.
    He pulled himself up and shook out his aching muscles, trying not to wince. He hated being reminded of his physical weaknesses, of his slim frame, his pale skin. He was nearly seventeen but still looked like a boy, not a man. Every time he glanced in the mirror he cringed at his reflection. He wanted to be strong, powerful, but instead