Page 59 of Break Out the Girl

“Keep that on,” I bark.

We can’t have another one going down with hypothermia or whatever.

Basil scowls, then hobbles over to a corner. He comes back a minute later with a pile of old newspapers. Scrunching the sheets into balls, he hands them to the little girls. “Insulation, tuck it into your clothes.”

I don’t want to think about why this twelve year old knows about makeshift insulation. “Thanks, Basil.”

He nods stoically, and keeps crumpling paper.

Ricky’s scrawny back shudders as another wave of dry heaves leave his body. “Come on, little man, just keep breathing.”

I’m so scared right now. So fucking helpless. It feels like this boy could just slip away in my arms and I’ve no way of helping.

A low whine echoes from the doorway and I almost cry out with relief. Tally shifts back to his human form and takes in the scene for a second. “The house is empty, but alarmed. Let’s move them up there. We can at least be more comfortable in the garage.”

London blinks. “Alarmed? No probs. I love crash and smash challenges.” The next second the air shimmers and he’s back in faun-form. “I’ll run up and disable it.”

He disappears out the door without looking back.

“Crash and smash?” I ask Tally. He shrugs, picking up Lil' Hare.

Basil lets out a cough. “It’s a wonder you fuckers can exist, you haven’t a clue. Crash and smash is when you break a door or window, then you’ve got like thirty-seconds to find the alarm panel and smash it.”

I nod at the boy. “Thanks, that seems entirely London’s field of expertise. Let’s start moving.”

I have to swap Ricky for Lil’ Hare because I’m too fucking feeble to carry the boy. Basil, who is still wearing the goggles on his head, has Pepper and Sheena on their feet, giving them words of encouragement, and obviously ignoring his own pain.

London meets us when we’re half way up the stone steps. He swoops the two girls up in one movement. “Shall we trot, little peas?” he asks, before skipping away towards the house. Basil hobbles along following them, still dragging the harpoon gun.

I’m moving like an old lady. Dehydration, lack of sleep, and no food are taking their toll. Tally is behind, nudging me along, keeping me steady if I wobble.

“You’re sure this is safe?” I mutter to him as the house comes into view.

“Fuck, Rory, I really fucking hope so.”

London already has the front door open and beckons us in. “Welcome to ‘Vista View’.” He points to a carved wooden sign screwed into the wall which displays the name. “I wonder if the owners know Vista means view, so this place is called view-view?” he says to no one in particular as we enter.

Within twenty minutes, the large living room has children tucked under blankets on every sofa. We haven’t risked a fire, but the central heating is cranked high, forcing glorious hot air out of the vents.

Basil and I are in the kitchen while London tells the kids a very confusing story about some green children from a town called ‘Woolpit’.

As Tally runs the perimeter outside, and me and Basil go through the cupboards, pulling out all the shelf-stable goods. “Chocolate!” Basil whispers reverently, pulling out a unopened bar.

“Eat it,” I tell him.

“Nah, it’s for sharing.” He places it on a serving tray along with the olives, crackers, pickled asparagus, and tinned ham we found.

The kid may act tough as boots, but in truth he’s all heart.

Also rail thin and sodden through. “I’ll raid the wardrobes after this,” I tell him. “Find us all dry clothes.”

“Whatever.” He grabs the tray and takes it to the kids. London has got to the part in his story where the green children can only eat broad beans. I’m truly not sure if this is coming straight from his imagination or it’s a traditional tale.

Tally’s glowing eyes suddenly appear in the long French windows, checking on us. I give him a thumbs up and after a beat, he retreats, doing another circuit presumably.

Having him out there on patrol allows my shoulders to at least partially relax.

By the time I come back from my upstairs closet exploration of Vista View, everyone in the room is asleep, including London. Everything on the tray has been eaten apart from the pickled asparagus.