brochure when we booked up.’
‘So you’re going?’ James asked.
‘I know it’s not your cup of tea James, but the girls went to the dune buggy place because they knew you’d like it.’
‘I guess,’ James said, clearly not convinced.
‘Besides, there’s five of us lads, so I expect we’ll just stand around taking the piss out of each other.’
‘Who knows, maybe I’ll even like it, eh?’
‘Exactly,’ Kyle said. ‘See you down at breakfast.’
After waiting for Kerry and the others to head off to the dining-room, James crept down the back stairs to the lobby and stole a rose from the floral display. When he reached the dining-room, he put it between his teeth and knelt in front of Kerry.
‘Good morrow my sweet,’ he said, making a poor attempt at a posh accent as he handed her the rose. ‘Please accept my apologies for my caddish behaviour last night.’
Kerry smirked. She twirled the rose between her thumb and forefinger and addressed the whole table.
‘Who thinks I should kiss and make up?’
Everyone started to laugh, and comments flew around the table ranging from kick his arse to marry him and get it over with. James was a little bit scared because he’d left himself open for Kerry to humiliate him if she wanted to.
‘I tell you what,’ Kerry said, as she leaned forward and kissed James on the cheek. ‘I’ll accept your apology, so long as you go and fetch me another piece of toast from the counter.’
*
It was early Sunday afternoon when Lauren arrived at the Aldrington Care Centre, or the ACC. She’d spent the entire drive with a set of detailed paperwork spread across the back seats of a Range Rover Sport. As well as ploughing through a series of briefings on human trafficking, she had to read and remember all the details of a background story that had been carefully prepared by John.
Her name was Lauren Yuran, daughter of an English mother who’d died in childbirth. She’d lived in eastern Russia with her father until the age of eight, but had been sent back to live with her British grandmother when he was imprisoned for his role in an armed robbery. Unfortunately, her grandmother died of a heart attack within a year and she’d spent the last three years living in children’s homes and with a succession of short-term foster parents.
She was returning to Aldrington Care Centre following an unsuccessful placement with foster parents in Croydon and as she spoke Russian the chief supervisor at the care home – who knew nothing about the CHERUB operation – had agreed to place her in a room with the mysterious Anna.
Lauren Adams’ previous experience of a care home had been in London, in the time between her mum dying and her being accepted into CHERUB. She’d expected a similar type of building with shabby corridors and mildew in the bathrooms. But ACC was less than two years old and modern care facilities are built quite differently.
There was a small office and a central kitchen where main meals were prepared, but the home itself consisted of five self-contained units. Each unit was built like a terraced house, with a kitchen and living-room downstairs and six large bedrooms upstairs with accommodation for two children in each.
John had packed a large bag of Lauren’s things and with Lauren in tow, he wheeled it across a deserted playground and up to the front door of unit three.
‘It’s open,’ a kid shouted.
Lauren pushed the door and stepped into a large kitchen, with two washing machines running and notices taped everywhere: You must clean the worktops before preparing any food. Stack ALL cups and plates inside the dishwasher after meals, and in giant orange letters, No snacks or other treats before homework is complete and signed off by the house parent on duty.
The kitchen was extremely hot and Lauren was slightly flustered by the bare chest of a good-looking teenager sitting at the dining table reading the latest Caroline Lawrence book.
‘I’m looking for Chris Powell,’ John said hopefully.
‘He’s off today,’ the kid explained. ‘Madison is on duty. She’s in the front room playing video games.’
Three little kids sitting on the carpet all turned around when Lauren and John stepped into the room. Madison appeared to be in her thirties. She wore a pair of inexplicably large glasses with red plastic frames and a T-shirt with Lego men on it.
‘Hi Lauren,’ Madison said brightly, as her giant earrings jangled. ‘I’m one of your house parents. Welcome to ACC. These three