Drink and drugs were obviously off limits, however much they might have helped with ‘contemplation’. Ruth had made that clear enough early on. Still, someone on the island must have had some. Maybe one of the painters or the poets had some weed and a bit of spare booze. Maybe they were happy to give some away or there was a pervy one getting wanked off in exchange for a couple of joints or whatever, but either way, boys were getting stuff from somewhere, then going out after dark for a drink and a smoke. Fires were lit and empty cider bottles were found in the fields or down on the beach.

Funny thing was, whenever the screws found out about it, it was always the ‘environmental impact on the island’ that got everyone hot under the collar. That was what the bollockings got dished out for; fires in the fields and plastic bottles not being disposed of properly. That was all there ever was: bollockings. The guilty party trying their hardest to keep a straight face, while Ruth shook her head and looked sad and talked about how many different people they were letting down, not to mention themselves.

Simon always remembered that joke about the inflatable kid with the inflatable mum and dad and inflatable school and everything. ‘You’ve let yourself down, you’ve let your family down and worst of all you’ve let your school down…’

Maybe they were all set to rethink the whole discipline business after what happened to Hunter, toughen things up a bit, but nothing much seemed to have changed when it came to checking on all the comings and goings.

How piss-easy it was.

Stuart only told him they were going that morning. It didn’t leave much time, but maybe that was the whole point, Simon thought. Not too long to get worried about it or chicken out; to get cold feet and do something stupid.

Yeah, it made sense.

Not that Simon was about to question Stuart about anything.

He was thrilled to be asked, to be included in the first place.

All day long, he was buzzing with it. Looking at the other boys and thinking what a bunch of losers they were. Digging their veggies or making pots or writing some rubbish in their notebooks like goodbye letters to drugs or crime or whatever else Ruth had told them to do. One boy had spat and stuck his chin out and asked Simon what he was looking at and Simon had told him to go and fuck himself.

His heart was thumping and his mouth was dry for a long time after that, but it was a good feeling. He wasn’t scared, because he knew he wasn’t going to be there for much longer anyway and he knew this boy wasn’t going to do anything, not so soon after what had happened with Hunter.

Mostly though, he wasn’t scared because of Stuart.

The two of them smiled at each other all through that last dinner and afterwards, while they were washing up. Simon could feel their shared secret passing back and forth between them. He felt it like a shock whenever their shoulders brushed at the sink or one of them laid a clean, warm plate down on top of the other’s.

For those last few hours in the lounge, while they were supposed to be reading, Simon was making mental lists: the first ten things he was going to eat; the first five places he was going to go; the three people he was not going to let anywhere near his mum…

The dealer, obviously.

The dickhead boyfriend who always made sure she went back on the gear.

The ‘best friend’ who was more of a hopeless junkie than she was and just wanted his mum to end up the same way, so she could feel better about herself.

Simon was going to make sure they stayed well away, would hurt them if he needed to. Maybe he could nick a car and sell it for a change, get enough money together so they could move out of London to the countryside or somewhere by the sea. Maybe Stuart would help him. He’d ask him what he thought as soon as they were off the island.

They went about an hour and a half after lights out. Long enough for the staff to have gone to their own rooms. Simon had thought they might have to climb out of their bedroom window but, in the end, they just marched straight out of the front door. There was a bolt, but it was on the inside!

How stupid was that? Who the hell was going to be breaking in?

There was no moon, which was probably a good thing. Simon guessed that Stuart had planned it this way, checked on a calendar or whatever, so it would be harder for anyone to see them. Stuart had stolen a torch from the supply cupboard and some bottles of water and a few chocolate bars for the journey. Then he’d told Simon to steal something too.

Simon thought it was like a test, or something.

There wasn’t any money left lying around, nobody was quite that trusting, so in the end he’d grabbed a few of the tiny china animals that were on the mantelpiece in the lounge. He thought it would be wrong to take them all, so he chose quickly and stuffed them into his pocket.

A cat, a bear, a dog, a monkey.

It was a warm night and the fields looked black. Stuart was good at leading them safely around the edges, using his torch, keeping it low on the ground ahead of them. There was the odd startled sheep, something scurrying in a hedge, but that was all.

Stuart had told him that they would have to wade out to the boat that was waiting, that it wouldn’t be able to get close in because of the rocks. That was fine, Simon didn’t mind the water. Stuart told him that his friend would have towels on the boat and maybe a bottle of whisky or something to warm them up.

It only took them about twenty minutes to get to the right place.

Stuart told Simon to wait and moved forward on his own, close to where the land fell sharply away. Simon watched Stuart raise the torch and flash it on and off, twice. When he saw a flash come back from out there in the darkness, Simon almost wet himself with excitement.

Stuart came back, asked Simon if he was ready. Simon started to take his shoes off, but Stuart told him not to be so stupid. There was no way he could make it down to the sea in bare feet without cutting them to pieces on the rocks. He would need to take them off at the last minute, Stuart said, tie the laces together and put them round his neck when they waded out.

Simon laughed, nervous. Said, ‘Yeah, course…’

They walked towards the edge, Stuart in front and Simon’s eye fixed on the small beam of light up ahead. Simon could not stop jabbering, shouting to make himself heard above the noise of the sea.

‘I was thinking, what I said before about having a spare room? You staying whenever you liked, remember? Well, you could come and stay there permanently if you want. I don’t think my mum would mind and it would be fun to be together a bit more, I reckon.

‘Then, when she’s cleaned herself up and maybe I don’t need to be there all the time, you and me could find somewhere on our own, a flat or something. We’d have such a laugh, I reckon. I’ve been thinking about some of the things we could get up to. The terrible twosome! Oh yeah, I’d be happy to do the cooking, by the way. I can make loads of different meals now and I know you’re not really bothered. I mean we’d have chips or a Chinese some of the time, obviously, but I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind cooking us a few things. I could even find a couple of recipes with chocolate in them. Puddings, stuff like that.

‘We could go out, we could stay in, wouldn’t matter. Just talking or whatever, watching telly…

‘Cheaper too, I reckon, two of us living together and who cares if people might think it’s a bit weird. Doesn’t matter what people think, does it and anyone who wants to say anything needs to be careful or they’ll end up like Hunter.’

Simon stopped when he heard Stuart shushing.

At first he’d thought it was the sound of the water against the stones down below.

He stared into the blackness, thinking about the boat out there waiting for them, wondering how big it was. Thinking about what it would be like when he introduced Stuart to his mum and what she would say, hoping she was straight. He was pretty sure they would get on and Stuart would help him sort out the dealer and the dickhead boyfriend. Maybe they would end up like Hunter, too.