The Power of Five Oblivion

turned back. The village was on fire. Even on the other side of the hill, he could see the red glow, spreading through the sky. He glanced at Holly, wondering how she must be feeling. He had only been there for a few weeks. For her, it had been her entire life.
    But Holly’s face was empty. Perhaps she was unable to accept what had happened. More likely, she was in shock. She was standing with one hand resting on the railing, the other on the roof of the cabin, oblivious to the cold of the night. Was she thinking about George? Well, that was all over now. The three of them were lucky to have got away. They had slipped through the net even as it closed all around them.
    “One of you had better make some coffee.” The Traveller nodded in the direction of the kitchen. The galley. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jamie remembered that was what a kitchen was called when it was on a boat. “We have to keep going. God help us if they notice that the Lady Jane has gone. But if they don’t, we can put fifty miles between us before it gets light.”
    Holly didn’t move so Jamie pushed open the little door and went down the three steps into the living quarters.
    The boat was long and barely six feet from side to side. That was what they were called. Narrow boats. Jamie thought that “cramped boats” would have been a good name too. All the furniture was packed in on top of itself: the cupboards, the fridge, the worktop, the two main beds and the table and benches that converted into a third. A corridor stretched from one end to the other with dim electric bulbs lighting the way, and Jamie found himself stooping as he made his way around the obstacle course that was the living accommodation. Everything was in its right place – plates, mugs, pots and pans, knives, tools, books and maps, gas canisters for the cooker – but somehow it still looked jumbled and untidy. The Lady Jane might have been attractive once. It was painted green and red and the floors and walls were all polished wood. But it was old. The Traveller had lived on it for too long. There was no longer any fresh water to keep it clean and although the toilet and shower were still in place, the one virtually on top of the other in a tiny compartment, it had been years since either of them had worked.
    Jamie filled the kettle from a plastic bottle by the sink and made coffee as he had been instructed. It was only as he opened the jar of granules that he realized that the Traveller was giving Holly a rare luxury. There had never been any coffee in the village. Rita and John had drunk an unpleasant, bitter tea made out of acorns. The Calor gas for the cooker was also remarkable – as was the fuel that was propelling them along the canal. He wondered what other secrets the Lady Jane concealed.
    And who was the Traveller? Matt had said he could be trusted. But Jamie still didn’t know his name, where he had come from … anything about him.
    It was going to take a while for the kettle to boil. The flame was tiny, the gas reserves low. Jamie left the kettle on the cooker and wandered through the boat, opening cupboards and drawers. He knew he was snooping but he didn’t feel guilty. The Traveller seemed to be on his side but even so he had to be sure. He knew that his job was to reach London, to find St Meredith’s and hope that the door would work. Nothing else mattered.
    The Lady Jane was packed with supplies of one sort or another. Every cupboard was filled with tinned food, medicine, spare parts for the engine and for different sorts of machines. There were maps covering the entire country on the shelves. One wardrobe contained fresh clothes – in the village nobody had owned anything more than what they were dressed in. As Jamie went from one section to the next, he realized that this was more than a canal boat. The Traveller might have spent seven years living in the village but all the time he had been secretly concealed in a world of his own.
    He wasn’t certain what drew him to the two benches on either side of the dining table but as he went past he noticed a hinge and realized that they were actually storage facilities and must open. He pulled the cushions back and, sure enough, there were handles underneath. The seat bottoms opened like trapdoors. Jamie looked inside.
    There were guns. Rows of them. Also bullets, still in their original boxes, wrapped in waxed paper. There were two clips to one side holding a sword – Jamie assumed it was