‘Before we settle tonight, let’s have a vote on which plan to go for first.’ She waved her hands to quieten some of the dissenters. ‘I’m sure we’ll succeed this time,’ she added. But she said it out of habit, like it was one of those phrases you use all the time without thinking about what it really means; she didn’t even try to smile to make it look like she was hopeful. I wondered how long ago it was that she’d given up.

We stayed up late that night talking and planning. Long after I’d lain down I could hear the murmuring of voices and the rustling of plastic bags from others who couldn’t sleep. But the Jellyfish was still: unmoving, unusually stiff, unusually calm.

Chapter 17

17

We had all been awake since before dawn. It would have been a good night for sleeping, I imagine, because there was far less snoring and sleep-talking in the Big House than normal. But by the time light was breaking, we had all got bored with pretending to sleep. We still lay there, though, because at the same time, I don’t think anybody wanted to start the day. There’s this glorious bit of excitement that you can have before you try anything big. It’s mixed in with nervousness about the fact that you’ll probably fail, of course, but because the two emotions are mixed in together, it’s really hard to tell the difference. There’s maybe a bit of hope thrown in there as well, but, like I said before, that’s not really a feeling I’m very familiar with, so I can’t be sure. I think we all wanted to savour that glorious mix of emotions, before . . . well, you know. . .

The weather had settled, so we could clearly see the coastline, even the far edges of the bay. The sea had calmed too, and we could even make out some of the concealed wrecks of the houses normally covered by the waves. That would be useful, if we made it close to the shore.

It was a ‘raw fish breakfast’ day, which is my least favourite start to the day, but we were low on firewood. So anyway, all of that meant that we were ready far too quickly. If we failed, we’d know about it before people would have even got out of their beds in the old days – back when people used to sleep in beds, that is.

James had his arm round me and was leaning his head on my shoulder. He’d been like that since we woke up (well, pretended to wake up, anyway). Quiet, and clingy, and unusually sweet. I would have been worried about him, or stopped to tease him, but there wasn’t time today.

‘Morning all,’ said Soldier John.

There were polite murmurs in reply. But mostly, people just gathered around John in silence, grim-faced and tense.