CHERUB: The Killing - Robert Muchamore Page 0,30

He didn’t want to be around when Lauren, Kerry and everyone else got back from the hostel with their golden tans and anecdotes about all the fun they’d had.

The flat was twenty metres along the first-floor balcony; four doors away from the two homes occupied by the Tarasovs. It had the musty smell of a place that hadn’t been aired in months. You could only guess at the original colour of the carpets and the previous owner’s taste in patterned wallpaper and plastic chandelier light fittings was pretty horrific.

‘Not much furniture,’ James said, as he stuck his head into a living-room containing a single sofa and a coffee table with a cracked glass top.

Dave nodded. ‘You read the briefing. Kids released from care get a three hundred quid grant for furniture. We can drive out to Ikea in the week and get beanbags and stuff, but nothing flash.’

James carried on inspecting. The kitchen and bathroom weren’t too horrible, but the main bedroom contained only a metal clothes rail and a brand new bed. It had flamingo pink carpet and flock wallpaper.

‘Gross,’ James said.

Dave barged in behind him. ‘The other bedroom’s white, you want that one?’

James shrugged. ‘OK.’

‘Cool,’ Dave grinned, as he bounced on the double bed. ‘I’m gonna have a different chick in this every night.’

James grinned back and shook his head. ‘You reckon, do you?’

James’ room was smaller, with a few girlie touches and a single bed. It made him a little sad because it reminded him of the room he’d had when his mum was alive. As he sat back on the mattress – which was still sealed in plastic with the price ticket on it – he could imagine banging on the wall to tell Lauren and her mates to shut up during one of their sleepovers, or his mum’s snores vibrating through the wall.

*

James was boiling by the time he’d made ten trips carrying things up the stairs, so he took a shower and changed into clean shorts and one of his Arsenal shirts. They’d brought a few cans of Coke and some junk food from campus, but the boys needed milk and other fresh stuff. They’d spotted a Sainsbury’s down the road when they arrived, so James headed off while Dave washed.

He stocked up on the basics, like bread, milk and breakfast cereal, before heading towards the ready-meal cabinet. He grabbed microwave Chinese, some pasta dishes and a couple of curries for Dave. As he headed back into the courtyard around the flats he got his first sighting of a Tarasov: thirteen-year-old Max and a couple of his pals whizzing past on bikes.

James got up to the locked door at the bottom of the stairs and realised he’d forgotten to put his keys into his clean shorts when he’d changed. He hit the intercom button for their flat and waited. After half a minute he pressed the button again and shouted tersely into the speaker.

‘Dave, let me up.’

After another thirty seconds, James started getting seriously impatient. He glanced at his watch, and after deciding that Dave couldn’t possibly still be in the shower, he jabbed the buzzer half a dozen times and yelled:

‘Dave you moron, buzz me in. Are you deaf or what?’

A girl’s voice came at James from the first-floor landing directly above his head. ‘Are you stuck?’

James stepped backwards so that he could get a good look at her. He guessed the girl was a year older than he was.

‘My brother won’t let me up. He’s either gone deaf or he’s trying to wind me up.’

The girl smiled. ‘I’ll open up for you.’

James watched her come down the staircase through the safety glass in the door. First a set of flip-flops and purple-painted toenails on the top step. Tanned legs and a little denim skirt emerged as she moved further down. She gave James a big smile through the glass and flicked back her long hair as she released the catch on the inside of the door.

‘Cheers,’ James grinned back.

‘I saw you and that other guy carrying your stuff in. My name’s Hannah. I’m next door but one.’

‘I’m James,’ he said, as he followed the girl up the stairs with a Sainsbury’s carrier bag in each hand. ‘That other guy was my brother, Dave.’

‘I only saw the two of you. Where’s your parents?’

‘Six feet under,’ James said, as he rounded the top of the staircase and stepped out of the half-light on to the balcony.

‘Oh … I’m sorry.’

James realised he’d imparted the information

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