CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,16

third time I’ve lived with a child in a hotel.’

Dante smiled. ‘So I’m special.’

Ross laughed as he checked the time on the TV. ‘Special like every other kid I’ve ever worked with. Now, if I order us room service for between nine and nine fifteen that gives us half an hour for a splash in the pool. Does that sound cool?’

‘My swimming shorts are drying off on my towel rail; I’ll go put them on.’

Dante’s shorts were still damp from swimming the night before and he shivered as he pulled them up his legs. When he walked back into the other room, Ross was on the phone ordering breakfast and Dante was shocked to see the Führer’s face on the TV screen. It was a black and white photo, and he looked much younger than the man Dante knew.

He found the remote on Ross’ pillow and turned up the sound.

‘Police say that fifty-four-year-old Ralph Donnington will appear in court later today. Donnington, who is the president of South Devon Brigands and more commonly known as the Führer, was arrested in the early hours of this morning. He is expected to be questioned in connection with the murder of four members of the Scott family on a farm near Salcombe on Wednesday.’

Dante hadn’t seen the Führer’s face since the murders three nights earlier and it chilled him.

Ross hurriedly put the phone down and stepped towards Dante. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ Dante lied, as Ross put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘How long will all this take?’

‘Six months,’ Ross said. ‘But it could drag on much longer.’

‘That’s ages,’ Dante tutted.

‘The wheels of justice turn slowly I’m afraid.’

‘You left my sleeping pills lying around yesterday,’ Dante said after a minute. ‘I thought about swallowing them all so that I could be dead like Jordan and Lizzie. But if I died now, the Führer would get away with everything.’

‘He would,’ Ross said, then changed the subject because Dante’s emotions were so fragile. ‘We’d better get to the pool now if we want to be back before breakfast turns up.’

6. GUILDFORD

Two and a half months later

Dante and Holly now lived with foster parents in suburban Guildford, two hundred miles from the South Devon Brigands. Donald and Linda Graves were full-time foster parents. More than a hundred children had passed through their care over three decades, most recently in a large detached house that was licensed to house eight foster kids at a time. Some only stayed a few nights, others for months or years.

Dante’s room was on the first floor and his day always started with an invasion from Holly. He laughed to himself as her tiny hands battled with the doorknob outside, then buried himself under his duvet and pretended to be asleep as she charged into the room and dragged the covers away.

‘I want to sleep,’ Dante giggled, as his little sister clambered on his mattress and whacked her sticky hand against his tummy. She couldn’t manage to say Dante so she called him Ant.

‘Ant, Ant!’

Dante hid his face under his pillow. Holly shrieked with delight, burrowing alongside and finding herself nose to nose with her brother.

‘Up,’ Holly giggled, as she thrust her finger towards Dante’s face.

Holly had no sense of danger and Dante sat up quickly, an instant before she would have jammed her finger in his eye.

‘Crazy baby!’ Dante laughed, giving her a quick kiss before surveying a room lit through thin curtains.

There was an unused bunk above and his school clothes and backpack were scattered across the floor. Normally Dante rumbled with Holly for longer, but an electric wheelchair stood in the doorway.

Its occupant Carl was thirteen. He’d lived with Donald and Linda since he was a toddler and had severe cerebral palsy. Violent spastic movements contorted his hands and face as he nudged a control stick and whirred into the room.

‘Happy birthday,’ Carl said, holding out a gift as Linda walked in behind him.

Linda was short and chunky, with big glasses. Her permed hair was turning grey and her faded clothes seemed to have been through far more washes than was good for them.

Dante sat on the edge of his bed and smiled as he studied the tissue paper wrapped around Carl’s gift. It was all scrunched and the Sellotape was at weird angles, but Dante appreciated it because simple manual tasks like wrapping a present could take Carl a significant amount of time.

‘Cool, thanks,’ Dante said, as he tore the paper to reveal a travel chess set.