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  I just wanted my share.

  I wanted the choices, the options that money would give me.

  My mobile phone roused me out of my mega-brood. Who was phoning me? I wasn't in a particularly talkative mood. But it was Dan. I took the call.

  'Hi, Dan. You OK?'

  'I'm fine,' Dan replied, 'but I need your help.'

  'Help with what?' I frowned.

  'I need to make some deliveries before eight tonight and I won't be able to do them all by myself.'

  'Dan, I've already told you I'm not working for McAuley. And I don't appreciate you dropping my name to him either.'

  'I didn't drop your name.'

  'McAuley cornered me on the street a couple of days ago and he knew all about me.'

  'Not from me, he didn't,' Dan denied.

  Hmmm . . .

  'Or at least . . .'

  'Yes?'

  'Well, I might've mentioned you in passing as a friend of mine who's cat-clever, but that's all.'

  'Dan, you arse. To someone like McAuley, that's enough,' I said. 'So you can forget it. I'm not doing a damned thing for that man.'

  'You wouldn't be doing it for him. You'd be doing it for me. You just need to drop off two packages for me whilst I do the other three and—'

  'Which part of "no" don't you understand? The N or the O?'

  'Tobey, it's just packages. You drop them off and that's it.'

  'Why can't you deliver them?'

  'I told you. I have to be somewhere at eight o'clock and I won't make it without your help.'

  'What's in the packages?'

  'I don't get told and I'm not stupid enough to ask,' Dan replied. 'It's healthier that way.'

  'No frickin' way, Dan. This conversation is over.' I was about to hang up on him, but what he said next brought the phone back to my ear.

  'I'll pay you. I'll give you half of what I make tonight.'

  Half my brain told me to hang up anyway. But the other half turned my left hand into a magnet and wouldn't let me put down my phone.

  'How much are we talking about here?' I asked at last.

  The figure Dan mentioned made me catch my breath. No wonder Dan could afford designer threads and top-of-the-range watches. It would take me six months at my Saturday job to make the kind of money he was talking about.

  'Come on, Tobey. It's just two packages,' Dan cajoled. He could sense that I was wavering.

  Not wavering but drowning.

  'Just two packages . . .'

  I was on dangerous ground now. In my mind, two deliveries was already turning into a few. If all I had to do was deliver a few packages, then really, where was the harm? In fact, if I delivered a limited number of Dan's packages, think of the money I'd make. Enough to pay my university fees. Enough to live off when I was studying. Enough.

  I liked the sound of that word. Enough.

  I had to admit, the spectre of bank loans that I might never be able to pay back and debts up to my eyebrows didn't appeal massively. But there was no way I'd get to go to university otherwise. Mum just didn't have the money. And I needed to go to university like I needed to breathe. For too many Noughts and for far too long, the door to higher education had been locked, sealed and bolted. But others had given up blood, sweat and rivers of tears to kick that door open for me. How could I not walk though it? Failure just wasn't an option.

  And more immediately, with the currency Dan was talking about I could buy a store-bought birthday card and a proper present for Callie. She deserved so much more than I could give her and she never once threw that fact back in my face. I still had one last year at school, plus university to get through before I could even hope to start making serious money. So where was the harm?

  I mean, how long before Callie got fed up with me because I couldn't afford to take her anywhere or buy her anything? How long before money came between us? I hated money. The lack of bits of metal and paper was ruling, not to mention ruining, my life. But this . . . Dan's packages . . . Dan's world . . . this was something else again.

  'It's just two packages?' I said, holding my phone like it was the enemy.

  'Yeah, just two. I'll give you the easiest two,' said Dan.

  'Thanks, mate. I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

  'You knew more than me then,' I said sourly. 'Where are you and what time do we do this?'

  'I'm outside your front door and how does now sound?'

  Like the beginning of a long, slippery slope.

  I sighed. 'I'll be right out.'

  After a moment's thought, I took my lightweight hooded jacket out of my wardrobe and headed downstairs. 'Mum, I'm going out for a while.'

  'Have you finished your homework?' Mum emerged from the sitting room to ask.

  'Yeah. It's all done except chemistry and that doesn't have to be handed in until next week.'

  'Where're you going?'

  'Just out with Dan.'

  'Where to? Another football match?'

  'No. Not today. We're just going to hang out for a while. After all, it is Friday.'

  'Tobey, I don't know about this . . .'

  'We won't be long. A couple of hours at most,' I tried to reassure her. 'We'll probably go for a meal or something.'

  'What's Dan up to these days?' Mum asked.

  'Same old, same old.'

  'Is he still working for the postal service?' asked Mum.

  'That's right,' I replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

  'How come you hang around with Dan more than your other friends from school?'

  That wasn't true. That was just Mum's perception 'cause she wasn't keen on Dan.

  'Dan's been my friend since infant school.' I shrugged. 'Just because he didn't get into Heathcroft doesn't mean I'm going to drop him.' Besides, I didn't have to try to be something I wasn't when I was with him. At least, that's how I used to feel. I wasn't so sure any more. Now it felt like I needed to work out who I was, rather than who I wasn't. I wasn't the same Tobey I was six years ago. I'd changed. Dan hadn't.

  Mum scrutinized me. 'All right, then. I'll see you later. Just . . . just keep your head down. OK? And if you see any trouble . . .'

  'Walk away.' I finished Mum's mantra. 'I'll do my best.'

  'Better than your best, Tobey,' she retorted. 'I don't want the police knocking on my door – for any reason. Understand?'

  I nodded and headed out the door before Mum could say anything else.

  Keep your head down . . .

  I'd bet my next ten Saturday job pay packets that Lucas Cheshie was never told to keep his head down. I bet he was always told to do the exact opposite.

  Dan wasn't lying. He stood outside my front door, bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. We immediately headed off along the street.

  'Thanks, mate,' said Dan.

  I nodded, ignoring the gnawing in my gut that kept telling me this was a really bad idea. Anything could happen.

  If I got caught . . .

  But all that money . . .

  'Dan, I'm just helping you out because I need the money. OK? I don't intend for this to become a habit.'

  Dan raised appeasing hands. 'Don't worry, blanker. I know you're just helping out a mate.' He grinned at me. 'But I really wouldn't mind your help on a few other deliveries I got lined up over the coming weeks. And at least I know I can trust you. You'd get fifty per cent of everything I make and that's more than I'd do for anyone else. Can't say fairer than that.'

  'No, Dan.'

  'You say no, but your empty pockets say yes. And after all, the desire for money is the most infectious disease on the planet.'

  'It's not a disease I intend to catch. I need some money to tide me over and then that's it,' I told him.

  'Whatever you say, Tobey.' The smug grin on his face was very eloquent.

  'This is just to buy a belated birthday present for Callie,' I insisted. 'I'm not thinking beyond that at the moment.'

  Dan smiled at me. We both knew that wasn't true.

  fourtee
n. Callie

  After school, I couldn't bear to face anyone so I hid away in the library for over half an hour, hoping that by then I'd be able to walk home in peace. I didn't want to be with anyone. I just wanted to be left alone, to think. I headed out of the school gates, every thought finding its way back to Uncle Jude. What if . . . ? What if he really was still alive?

  'Callie Rose. Wait up.'

  I turned round at the sound of my name. Lucas. I glared at him as he came running up to me, not bothering to disguise exactly what I thought of him.

  'Hi, Callie,' he said diffidently.

  'Hello, Lucas,' I replied. My tone could've frozen water. What did he want?

  'I'm having a birthday party next week. Would you like to come?'

  'Why?'

  Lucas blinked in surprise at my question. 'What d'you mean?'

  'Why're you inviting me?'

  ''Cause I'd like you to be there,' said Lucas, as if the answer was obvious.

  But it wasn't, at least not to me.

  'I'm not turning up at your party so you and your friends can make jokes at my expense,' I told him straight.

  'We wouldn't do that.'

  I raised my eyebrows.

  'OK, I wouldn't do that. And I wouldn't let my friends do it either.'

  'Yeah, I was very impressed with the way you reined them in this morning,' I said with contempt.

  'I'm sorry about that,' Lucas said. 'I was just . . . I'm sorry.'

  'You were just – what?' I prompted.

  'I hate seeing you two together,' said Lucas. 'Tobey is trouble and you're going to get hurt.'

  'What're you on about? Tobey is my friend. And my next-door neighbour. He wouldn't hurt a fly.'

  'He's a Nought.'

  Lucas had better not be saying what I thought he was saying. 'So?'

  'Well, you're a Cross. It doesn't hurt Tobey's street cred to have everyone think of you as his girlfriend.'

  I was a Cross now, was I? Funny how my status seemed to change depending on the eyes of the beholder. To Drew I was a Nought and would never be anything else. Lucas called me a Cross. Where did that leave me? On one side or the other or stuck somewhere in the middle?

  'Lucas, what's your point?'

  'I'm just trying to warn you to be on your guard. Tobey isn't the open book you seem to think he is.'

  I shook my head, trying to figure out just what Lucas was playing at. Was it malice? Jealousy? What?

  'And you know Tobey is with Misty, don't you?' Lucas continued. 'Everyone in the school knows those two are an item.'

  Well, Misty had told enough people, so that was hardly news.

  'What's that got to do with me? I told you Tobey and I are just good friends,' I replied.

  'The way you and I used to be "just good friends"?'

  I frowned at Lucas. Where was he going with all this?

  His eyes slowly narrowed. 'Or maybe Drew was right. Maybe us Crosses just aren't your thing.'

  'Excuse me?'

  Us Crosses? Lucas's exclusive club of which I was no longer a member? It hadn't taken much to get me kicked out.

  'I guess you're more like your mother than I gave you credit for,' said Lucas.

  I straightened up, trying to quash the tidal wave of hurt rising inside me. 'And that, Lucas, is why you and I together will never work,' I said quietly. 'Say what you like about Tobey, but he'd never, ever say something like that to me.'

  Lucas looked genuinely remorseful, but it was far too little, much too late. He put out his hand to touch my cheek, but I flinched away from him. 'I'm sorry, Callie. That was . . . I didn't mean it.'

  'Yes, you did,' I replied. 'You always make me feel like I have to constantly apologize for my mum and dad and for being who and what I am. Well, I'm not going to, not any more.'

  I stepped round Lucas and this time he didn't try to stop me. A couple of steps on and I turned back. 'Lucas, you've never made me feel more than I am. But for your information, Tobey never makes me feel less. So thanks for your party invitation, but I think I'll pass.'

  I headed home without another backward glance. Why did life have to be so complicated? Tears pricked at my eyes. First the news about Uncle Jude, then Lucas. What would Lucas say if he knew about my uncle? Probably think he'd had a lucky escape? Judge me as guilty by association? Or just guilty full stop?

  Uncle Jude . . . Was he out there somewhere? Watching? Waiting? My uncle occupied every thought all the way home. Much as Lucas's words had hurt, Uncle Jude had the power to hurt me more. So where was he? Just waiting for the right moment to do the maximum amount of damage? He was really good at that.

  Where was he?

  'Hello, Ann. Is Tobey in?'

  Tobey's mum shook her head. 'You've missed him by about twenty minutes. He went off somewhere with his friend Dan.'

  'D'you know where?'

  Ann shook her head again. 'Callie, are you OK? You look . . . out of sorts.'

  My attempted smile slid right off my face. 'I'm fine. I just wanted . . . to talk to Tobey.'

  'D'you want to come in and wait for him?'

  I shook my head.

  'He'll be back in a couple of hours if you want to come back then,' Ann told me. 'Jessica's off to a party later and I've got to go to work.'

  Tobey's mum worked all kinds of unsocial hours. She was used to me coming and going in her house, just as Tobey treated my house like his second home. That's the way it had always been. Tobey's dad had gone off years before to 'find himself ' and he'd stayed lost ever since. Jessica only mentioned him to curse him to hell and back. Tobey never mentioned him at all.

  'If Tobey isn't in by the time you come round again, just use the spare key.' Ann lowered her voice even though there was no one around us. 'It's in its usual place.' Its usual place being under one of the plant pots in the tiny front garden.

  'Thanks, Ann.'

  'No problem. I'd much rather Tobey hung around with you than Dan. I don't trust Dan.'

  'Why not?' I asked.

  'Every time he comes into this house, he's always telling me how much everything cost – as if I didn't know already. Dan is a boy who knows the cost of everything and the value of nothing.'

  I smiled faintly. I wasn't particularly keen on Dan either. Every time we met, he looked me up and down like he was working out how best to dissect me.

  'If you see Tobey before I do, tell him I've left him some chilli in the fridge if he's still hungry. He just needs to heat it up. That goes for you too, Callie. Help yourself if you're hungry.'

  'Thanks, I will,' I replied.

  I turned round to head back home. Usually I would stand and chat with Ann, but not now, not today. Even though Tobey and I lived next door to each other, I still turned my head this way and that to see if I was being watched. Was Uncle Jude out there somewhere watching my every move? I shook my head, warning myself not to be so paranoid. It didn't help.

  Usually I didn't mind coming home to an empty house – not that it happened that often. But today I did. The silence bounced off the walls and echoed around me.

  I went straight up to my room. Sitting on my bed, I drew my legs up so that I could wrap my arms around them and rested my head on my knees.

  Should I ask Nana Meggie when she got back home? Surely Uncle Jude would've got in touch with her by now? She was probably the only one on the planet who truly knew if Uncle Jude was alive or dead.

  The bomb I'd made had killed an innocent man.

  Uncle Jude could be out there, somewhere.

  And if he was, nothing would be the same again.

  fifteen. Tobey

  Dan took me to a lockup I never realized he owned. It was secured with a combination-code padlock, opened by pressing a series of digits. Dan had to input his code three times before the thing finally clicked open. By his third frustrated try, accompanied by a lot of swearing and the muttering of several numbers, I had his code memorized – not that I'd ever use it. So much for his security then! I walked into a small,
windowless room which was a bit like a narrow garage. It smelled of damp walls and mould, like the air in the place was several months old. The only furniture was an old wooden table covered in packages and boxes of assorted sizes and shapes. The floor was strewn with rubbish, more boxes and carrier bags.

  'So when did you get this place?' I asked. Thinking better of it, I raised a hand to ward off Dan's reply. 'You know what, don't tell me. I don't want to know.'

  My two packages were covered in brown paper. Both were quite small. One was about the size of a bag of sugar, the other was the shape, size and weight of a pack of playing cards. Both had been wrapped to within a millimetre of their lives, with sticky tape covering the brown paper so that none of it could be peeled back to take a quick peek at what lay beneath. Dan placed both my packages in a supermarket carrier bag snatched up off the concrete floor. He gave me specific instructions.

  'Guard those packages with your life. If some bastard thinks he'll take them off you, you make sure that doesn't happen. The only time that bag leaves your hand is if the cops put in an appearance. Then you drop the bag and run like the wind.'

  Like I needed to be told that.

  'I thought you said these packages were safe,' I said, liking this whole idea less and less with each passing second.

  'I never said they were safe. That's your brain telling you what you want to hear.'

  'So what's in them?' I asked again.

  'I still don't know,' Dan said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. 'And asking too many questions in this line of work can get you into a whole heap of trouble.'

  So whatever I was carrying, it wasn't something you'd pick up in the local supermarket. It was illegal and that meant dangerous, and dangerous meant I could end up in a youth detention centre or in prison. Or worse still, dead.

  Just this once. Just this once and no more, I promise.

  Please let me get away with it just this once.

  Dan contemplated me.

  'What?' I asked, irritated.

  'D'you want some protection?' Dan asked slowly. 'Something to calm your nerves?'

  'Like what?'

  After giving me a scrutinizing look, Dan struggled to pick up one of the closed boxes off the floor, before dumping it on the only clear space on the table. I peered inside, then recoiled. The box was filled with meanlooking knives. I mean, double-edged, big-arsed, wickedlooking, eviscerating combat knives, switchblades, kitchen knives. In fact, every knife known to man was represented in that box.