BooksBarbecue
Back The Source Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. The Source
  2. Dedication
  3. Contents
  4. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  5. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  6. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  7. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  8. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  9. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  10. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  11. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  12. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  13. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  14. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  15. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  16. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  17. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  18. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  19. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  20. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  21. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  22. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  23. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  24. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  25. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  26. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  27. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  28. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  29. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  30. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  31. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  32. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  33. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  34. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1998
  35. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  36. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  37. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  38. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  39. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  40. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  41. Marie ~ Just outside Warchester ~ 2006
  42. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  43. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  44. Carly ~ Deptford ~ 2002
  45. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  46. Marie ~ Deptford ~ 2004
  47. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  48. Marie ~ London ~ 2005
  49. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  50. Marie ~ London ~ Six months later
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  53. Copyright

I let my eyes close as we slide out of the station, sleep washing over me with the rock and roll of the engine. My last thought before I fade out is the tinned peaches Jason used to bring us. When it had been a good week. Katie won’t remember that if I never remind her.

193

Marie ~ London ~ 2006

‘You still look awful,’ Dominic says as I pass him his coffee, hot through the thin takeaway plastic. ‘Did you rest, at least? Don’t pretend you’ve slept.’

‘It’s the light. Even you look crap in it, trust me.’

I smooth my hair over the lump at the side of my head as he smiles up into Liverpool Street Station’s cavernous ceiling. There are even birds flying overhead. I can pretend we’re outside, if I can’t pretend anything else.

‘I’m starving. Have we got time for breakfast? I couldn’t bring myself to even open the fridge this morning, let alone eat anything. I could have cultured penicillin in the salad last time I looked.’

‘But you hate salad, so that’s alright, isn’t it? Why did you even buy it in the first place?’ I peer behind him at the departure board as I try to engage in small talk.

‘I like occasionally pretending I lead a normal life. If buying enough food to make myself a decent dinner on the off chance I’m ever home from work counts as normal, mind you.’ He twists around to check the time just as the tannoy calls our train.

We weave our way through the rush-hour crowds to the platforms. At least everyone else here is also in a hurry.

‘Are you serious?’ I say as Dominic beckons me over to the first-class carriage. ‘We can’t get away with that, can we?’

‘It’s only a tenner extra,’ he says, climbing in as the doors slide open. ‘I don’t get much out of this network so I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much. And besides. I’m willing to bet you’ve never sat in first before, have you? Legally, anyway…’ I can’t stop 194my jaw hanging open as he winks at me. ‘It’s the least I can do after all that people smuggling you’ve willingly engaged in for my sake.’

I twist and turn, drinking it all in in spite of myself, as we move down the aisle to a table at the window. The carriage feels endless, one seat for every three in the other cars; cushions, plastic-wrapped snacks, even packets of tissues. I barely even notice as a woman with a buggy struggles in behind us, baby starting to cry almost immediately.