A fresh breeze was blowing in their faces as they man-oeuvred into the middle of the river and they were soon passing the great blue-grey hulk of HMS Belfast to their left and pulling steadily towards London Bridge. Out here they could forget about the problems that were going on all around them in the city. The disaster might never have happened. It could have been just another day. From a distance the buildings looked just as they did on all the old postcards. The best thing was that no sickos could get to them here. They could row and row and keep on rowing until they’d left town, right out into the countryside if they wanted, and no diseased mothers or fathers could stop them. The kids had been using the river more and more lately, and were beginning to understand what a useful thing it was to have right next to the Tower.

It was still hard going, though, digging into the choppy water, trying to keep the strokes even and not tangle the oars. Slowly they began to work together as a team and drop into a steady rhythm.

DogNut was soon caught up in it, in sync with Courtney: leaning forward, dropping the oars, pulling back, lifting the oars, forward, back, forward, back. DogNut had always been happier when he was doing something. He could switch his brain off and not worry about things. He didn’t like thinking.

He smiled.

‘You thinking about Brooke?’ Courtney asked.

‘Wasn’t.’ DogNut grinned at her. ‘But now I am.’

‘Do you think we’ll find her?’ she asked.

‘I dunno,’ said DogNut. ‘I hope so. That’s all I got, though, just hope.’

‘You like a dog, ain’t you?’ said Courtney. ‘You’ll sniff her out.’

DogNut lifted his chin and howled.

‘Not so loud.’ Courtney laughed. ‘She’ll hear you coming and run a mile.’

DogNut grew serious. ‘D’you think she likes me at all?’

‘We better hope for your sake she does.’

‘You don’t reckon she likes Ed better?’

‘I ain’t seen her for a year,’ Courtney protested. ‘I don’t know what she likes, do I?’

‘Before then, though,’ said DogNut. ‘What about before?’

‘Who knows the workings of that girl’s mind?’ Courtney raised her eyebrows. ‘She always went for good-looking boys, though.’

‘Like Ed,’ said DogNut. ‘Before he got that scar.’

‘Yeah,’ said Courtney. ‘Always the cool boys that everyone wanted to go out with. She’d track them down, show them no mercy. Then mostly she’d get bored of them after a week. Move on.’

‘Ed thinks she went off him when his face got cut up.’

‘Maybe.’

‘D’you think we’ve left it too late?’ DogNut asked. ‘D’you think we should have come looking for her before?’

‘Dunno,’ said Courtney. ‘But we was too busy just trying to survive. Wouldn’t have risked it before. Wouldn’t have risked it with anyone else, either.’

‘You mean it?’ said DogNut.

‘I mean it. You’re a good guy, DogNut. Used to think you was just some idiot, you know? But you’ve grown up. Not too much, mind. You’re still a good laugh. I mean, I like Ed, but sometimes he’s, you know, he looks like there’s a cloud hanging over him. You act like nothing’s a hassle.’

‘So, what sort of boys do you go for?’ DogNut asked, and Courtney just made a grunt that could have meant anything.

‘Well?’ DogNut pressed her.

‘I don’t have a type.’

What she wanted to say was skinny, funny boys who don’t take things too seriously. Boys like DogNut.

Courtney did miss Brooke. She did want to see her again, but the main reason for coming along on the expedition had been because she saw it as an opportunity to be alone with DogNut for a few days. Well, yeah, all right, not completely alone, but more alone than you ever could be in the Tower with all the other kids around. And now here she was, squeezed up against him, shoulder to shoulder on the bench. OK, so she was sweating too much and couldn’t help puffing and panting as she worked her oar. Already her shoulders were aching, her hands were getting sore and the wooden seat seemed to be getting harder and harder. Despite all her padding.

Her big fat arse.

She was still closer to him than she’d ever been before.

Yeah. That was the truth of it. If it wasn’t for how she felt about DogNut, she would never have come along in the first place. It was just too dangerous. She had a reputation as a fighter, as a big tough girl that you didn’t argue with, but she still got scared, and the idea of leaving the safety of the Tower and setting off across London quite frankly terrified her. She was amazed that her feelings for DogNut were stronger than her fear.

Of course it was stupid. What hope did she have? She knew DogNut’s reason for the trip was to find Brooke and try to persuade her that the two of them were meant for each other. Still, Courtney had this time with him … Maybe she could change his mind? She had pictured all sorts of things happening on the trip.

Like saving his life …

Pathetic.

What were the chances that a skinny pin like DogNut would go for a fat girl like her? Cos that’s what she was: fat. Wasn’t nothing she could do about it. She was born that way. She didn’t eat any more than anyone else, she got exercise, she wasn’t lazy or nothing. She was just fat. Her friends tried to reassure her, tell her she wasn’t fat, that it was all muscle and bone … And she was muscly, stronger than any other girl she knew. It was just that when she looked in the mirror in her little room at the Tower – which was something she tried not to do that often – what she saw there was a big fat lump.

With a big fat arse.

She glanced round at DogNut, working away at the oars. He was a scraggy, stretched-out thing. His arms like twisted ropes. What did he see when he looked at her?

A mate? A soldier? A lump?

She was pathetic.

She didn’t have a hope.

Pathetic and screwy.

Well, they were all screwy, weren’t they, and this whole trip was screwy. Courtney fancied DogNut, DogNut fancied Brooke and Brooke probably still fancied Ed. Despite what DogNut thought.

Who did Ed fancy then? She had no idea. Ed kept himself to himself.

Yes, this was one screwy expedition. And who even knew whether Brooke was still alive? Funny how Courtney could have that thought without feeling anything. It wasn’t a nice thought, let’s face it, but for the last year she had been reminded of the reality of death nearly every day. She wasn’t totally hardened to it. It still got to her when someone died. She still cried a bit, but she was much tougher than she had been before. A part of her could sit back and look at it coldly – Brooke might easily be dead. The part of her that might have been sad was pushed out of the way. She didn’t want it to get any more battered than it was. Another part of her – a nasty, dark, sneaky part – secretly hoped that they wouldn’t find Brooke, that she might be dead – that way DogNut was hers.

I don’t really mean it, God. It was just a thought.

It was all right to have nasty thoughts, wasn’t it? As long as you didn’t hold on to them. And, really, come on, what were the chances of finding Brooke? One girl, out there in the whole of London. If she was even in London still. Brooke and the others had all got away on that big lorry full of food. What would have stopped them from just keeping on going, driving right out of London? All the stories were that it was worse in the countryside, but even so …

‘I hope we find her,’ she said. Trying to convince herself.

‘We’ll find something,’ said DogNut. ‘It’s gonna be an adventure whatever.’

Yeah, thought Courtney worriedly … whatever.

4

‘Didn’t realize it was so close.’

‘Me either.’

They were passing between the Tate Modern, the huge old power station that had been turned into an art gallery to the south, and St Paul’s Cathedral, set back from the river to the north. St Paul’s was gleaming white in the sun and was a solid reassuring sight. It had stood there for hundreds of years and looked like it would stand for hundreds more.