Page 52 of From Now On

‘But I’ve got money. I need to get to London.’

‘Shall I call someone for you? A parent? Your school?’

Duke hurries away.

Outside the station is a cleaner.

‘Excuse me,’ Duke asks. ‘How far away is the next station?’

He chews his gum, leaning on his broom handle as he thinks.

‘I reckons about ten miles.’

‘Is it easy to find?’

‘Yeah.’ He gives Duke directions and Duke jots down the names of villages he has to pass through before he’s in the next town.

Ten miles. It can’t take long to walk ten miles, can it? When he gets to the next station he’ll take off his school jumper and tie and tell the ticket officer that he is twelve.

The rain is lashing down harder. Duke is soaked, his clothes, his hair, his rucksack feels like a dead weight.

This is awful. Terrible. Horrible.

His shiny black shoes that he’d told Aunt Violet pinched in the shop have rubbed blisters on his heels. He’s scuffed the toes as well so he’ll probably be in even more trouble than he already is.

He passed through the first two villages okay but then he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. The piece of paper he’d scribbled directions on is sodden, the writing smudged and he daren’t switch his phone on because Evie had said not to and she knows everything.

If she were here, she’d know what to do.

A car approaches. Duke thinks about waving it down but what if it’s an axe murderer or a paedophile? Instead, he cowers in a ditch as it passes, the long grass dripping rain down his collar. He stands up after it passes and clambers up the slippy mud, thinking how street-smart he is. How Evie will be proud when he tells her about his adventure even though it doesn’t seem very thrilling right now.

It feels awful. Terrible. Horrible.

The sky is bunched with angry clouds. It’s already growing dark. Duke doesn’t know if it’s the weather or dusk sucking away the light and he briefly thinks of turning on his phone to check the time before dismissing it. He feels like he’s been walking for a million hours. He’s tired and hungry but he knows it will be worth it when he reaches London.

He carries on. He’s smiling to himself as his mind wanders. Perhaps one day someone will write a book about his arduous journey,The Boy Who Saved His Family,or something. Maybe Charlie could even write it. He’d wanted to be an author once.

He’s barely aware of the van pulling in behind him, the opening of the door, until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nina

The last of the stragglers are mooching down the steps away from the school. Nina chews her gum harder, faster. Agitated. Where is Duke? She tries to ring him again.

‘It’s still going straight to voicemail,’ she says to Maeve, who shrugs helplessly.

A loud clap startles her. ‘Nina Johnson. Maeve Kelly. Chop chop. Off you go. School’s out and all that.’

‘Miss Rudd, I’m just—’

‘Making the place look untidy.’

‘I’m waiting for—’

‘Then wait outside.’

‘But it’s raining.’

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