Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (23 page)

              “Who the hell was that?” Violet asked, suddenly spooked. “That was you, wasn’t it? Oh my god, that was one of you!”

              “That wasn’t me!” Winter gasped.

              “We shouldn’t be doing this, guys, we really shouldn’t be doing this!” Zach moaned. “Throw it out of the window!”

              “Come on,” Winter said, leaning forwards. She placed a shaking finger on the plachette and asked another question, just as Violet and Zach’s fingers joined hers. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

              “There’s no yes or no,” Violet said.

              “Move this to the first letter of yes or no. Are you a boy?”

              Winter thought she could feel the heart shaped wood move below her fingertip. When it didn’t move she was sure it was all part of her mind.

              “Move to the letter N if you are not a boy.”

              Zach whimpered next to her as the plachette began to move forwards. It stuck to the board, juddering, before momentum was picked up. It slid forwards, and stopped above the letter N. By now Zach was moaning, and Violet looked pale.

              “Good,” Winter said. “Move to the middle once more.”

              Nothing. Then it moved, slowly.

              “Please start spelling your name.” Violet said.

              “Oh no, oh no,” Zach whispered to himself.

              The wood began to move, dully scraping against the burnt surface of the Ouija board. Winter eyed it, unable to believe her eyes. She tried to ignore Zach next to her, infecting her with nerves. She watched the letters move from M to O to L and then something happened that made her heart flip.

              “RAGH!” Violet screamed.

              Winter’s scream was drowned out by Zach’s, who rolled backwards over the floor and came to a stop by the wall. Winter found herself a distance away, having propelled herself backwards with her good foot once more.

              Violet was laughing to herself, her eyes watering.

              “You horrible, horrible girl!” Zach called, leaning against the wall. His face was pale.

              Winter tried composing herself, but Violet pointed at her, laughing.

              “You idiots,” Violet gasped. “Oh my god, you both fell for it!”

              “I didn’t, it was Winter that made me jump!”

              “Shut up,” Violet laughed. “You screamed louder than her!”

              Zach jumped up and strode over to the board while Violet laughed, lying on her back on the floor. She was wiping tears from her eyes as Zach stepped over her carrying the board, walked to the window and threw the board out into the street below. Winter heard it clatter on the floor, heard Zach breath in deeply. An owl called through the night as Zach turned back to face the room, his face paler than the silver light of the moon above.

              “We are
never
doing that again.” Zach breathed. “Never.”

              “Oh, it’s all bull anyway.” Violet waved her hand. “That was probably designed to look burnt. It’s just a board with letters on.”

              Zach looked at Winter. She gave him a look that told him not to say a word. He did just that, instead walking over to the piled boxes and looking for blankets once more.

              When he found some, he handed a thick blanket to Winter and kept a ragged looking one for himself, which he set up on the ground. He managed to find another blanket, one that looked a little warmer, and would prevent him from sleeping on the rough floorboards.

              Violet curled up in Zach’s sleeping bag and turned her back on them. When she thought they were asleep, she began to cry. Winter met Zach’s eye and they said nothing. They listened to Violet cry until sleep washed over all three of them.

              The next morning, Winter woke up to weak sunlight shining down on her, making her sweat. She realised she hadn’t taken off any of her clothes last night, and the blanket she was under was very heavy and itchy. She threw it off her, feeling a slight draft from the window play over her skin. Violet was leaning against the window in her laced underwear, looking at the town below.

              Winter made to stand up, then realised her ankle had twisted last night. She thought back to how everything had happened so quickly. She looked over at Zach, his bare back turned to her, and thought how lucky they were that he had followed them. Without him they probably would not have survived.

              Winter stumbled up, breathing in as pain shot up her leg. She limped across to Violet and was relieved to find herself against the wall.

              “Shouldn’t be walking on that,” Violet shook her head slightly. She didn’t look at Winter because her eyes were puffy and red.

              Winter placed a hand on the bottom of Violet’s back. Violet didn’t flinch at the touch, she smiled.

              “I couldn’t do anything, could I?”

              Winter shook her head.

              “There was nothing to be done.” Winter said softly. “You tried. You really did.”

              A tear rolled down Violet’s cheek. She dropped her head, sniffing.

              Winter tried to give her privacy by looking out at the town below. By day it was much prettier. The sun shone on golden coloured cobbles and pearly white cottages. A few towns’ people hurried across the courtyard, glancing up at the clock tower in the centre of the town. Hurried words were exchanged, but many people had their eyes on the little shop open in the corner of the town, full of supplies.

              Winter noticed newspapers, bread, baskets of water bottles, shovels and spades, fruit and vegetables, various confectionaries and, if she wasn’t mistaken, weapons hung at the back of the shop.

              “There are weapons.
”
Winter remarked.

              Violet was looking at the shop.

              “You’re thinking of Connor, aren’t you?”

              “Do you think he’s…?” Winter couldn’t finish the sentence.

              “I don’t know, Winter,” Violet sighed. “If he stayed where he was then he could still be alive. But even so, we don’t know if he got attacked on the way there. We don’t know if he made it to the weapon shack at all.”

              “I just hope he wasn’t heading back to us. I hope he knew to run, to find somewhere else to go.”

              “If he spotted any sign of trouble he would have escaped. I don’t think he would have been eager to find us.”

              Winter sighed. She kept her foot off the ground as she leant against the wall, turning away from the window.

              “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Violet.” Winter whispered. “I just don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

              Violet said nothing. Winter listened to her tapping her fingers on the side of the window frame.

              “Where ever we go, we get chased out.” Winter said. “I wish we could just go and get out of here right now.”

              “At least we’re alive,” Violet said quietly.

              She didn’t sound angry, but her tone shamed Winter. It made her feel guilty. There she was moaning about being far away from the river Thames and missing Connor, when Violet had only last night lost her whole family.

              “I didn’t mean that, Violet…” Winter sighed.

              “I know.” Violet said, turning away from the window and looking at Winter. Her eyes were red. “But it’s no use to moan. We get out of here because we have to. We can’t let them win.”

              Just then Zach climbed out of his bed on the floor. He had his bare back turned to the two girls at the window as he stretched. He ran a hand over his messy hair, which stuck up at odd angles and turned around to survey the room. Looking at Violet, in nothing but her underwear, he stopped dead. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked embarrassed.

              “Put some clothes on,” Violet said, with the hint of a grin. “Me and you are going across to that shop. We need weapons.”

              Zach did as he was told, quickly pulling on a t-shirt and buckling up his jeans. Violet was less speedy getting dressed, but when she was ready she looked disgusted.

              “I can’t wear this anymore,” Violet said, surveying her hooker dress, her fishnet tights and her plastic heels. “I really do look like a whore.”

              Zach was trying not to admire her lean legs. Instead, he stared at the wall opposite him.

              “Are there any clothes shops around here?” Violet fired at Zach.

              “Y-yes,” Zach squeaked. “Yes, around the corner.”

              “Do you want anything?” Violet asked Winter, looking at her stained designer dress.

              “Get me something designer, darling,” Winter mimicked a posh voice, something she had learnt to be good at in the past.

              “Of course, my lady.” Violet bowed. She clapped her hands and looked at Zach. “Come on.”

              She led the way down the stairs and Zach trailed after her, looking slightly out of place. When Winter heard their footsteps fade, she walked to the window to watch them walk across the courtyard.

              Zach was a few steps behind Violet, as if he was afraid being too close to her would offend her. Winter was pleased to see that Violet was talking to him, but she had no idea if the words were cold and cruel or encouraging and kind.

              Winter turned away from the window and ran a hand over her skin. She picked at a scab on her arm; a cut that she hadn’t noticed she had got. She desperately wanted a shower. Her whole body felt dirty and tired. She needed refreshing.

              She hobbled across the room, not wanting to sit down but needing to. Her dress tugged at her thighs and she couldn’t wait just to get out of it.

              Winter thought that maybe this was a new chapter for her. Maybe, with her parents gone, she could look at starting afresh. After all, there were no more socialite parties to attend. There would be no more reporters trying to create a dramatic story about her. There would be no more pretending to be pleased about her parent’s new deals with celebrities, or about their new boat, or about their successful day clinching a deal.

              That part of her life was gone, and as soon as this dress was off, it would be finalised.

              Yet Winter couldn’t help feeling slightly lost without the presence of Nathan and Olivia Smith. They had always been there; regardless if most of the times weren’t happy. She tried to remember any good things they had ever done together.

              There was the time Olivia had shown up at one of Winter’s sporting events in school. It had been the final in a summer tournament, and Winter’s team were points ahead in netball against another rival private school. When Winter scored the winning goal, her mother had jumped for joy. Winter had felt like her mother was there for her, until photographers swarmed out and Olivia Smith gave a speech about funding she was giving to the sports department of the school.

              Nathan had proudly displayed Winter on his arm at a charity ball once in the father/daughter dance. The pair had had a good few weeks learning ballroom dancing, while both enjoyed spending time together. But when the dance was over, Nathan was more concerned about where his next pay cheque would be coming from.

              They had never really had enough time for their only child, and they didn’t really seem to care. All Winter had been to them, really, was a fashion statement. When Winter had turned out different than expected, her parents desperately tried to back track on bringing her into the public eye.

              Winter felt her foot seethe with pain and sat on the sofa, leaning backwards and resting her eyes.

              Life with Nathan and Olivia hadn’t been cruel, far from it. Winter always got the care she needed, and her parents presented her with things they thought she might like, albeit away from public eyes. But she had been emotionally neglected, especially when she was fourteen and fifteen. The aftermath of what had happened had upset her parents, naturally, but they were more concerned about keeping the business alive and separating themselves from that horrible time. If that meant they had to separate themselves from their own daughter, so be it.

              She heard a noise downstairs and thought it might be Violet and Zach. She waited to hear their footsteps but there was nothing. She felt a little on edge, and listened intently for any other sound that could possibly prove threatening.

              All that could be heard was chatter from the square below; doors shutting, cars driving, birds singing. Being here, you’d be forgiven if you mistakenly took London to be a safe city.

              This time, the noise from downstairs was the arrival of Violet and Zach.

              “Carry that through, idiot,” Violet was heard snapping from downstairs.

              There was the sound of a scuffle, probably wrestling of an item through the small hatch they climbed through. Violet sighed loudly before stomping to the steps. Winter heard Violet by the heavy footsteps before she saw her.