Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,75

that was open — McDonald’s. I’d got enough money for a cup of tea and an Egg McMuffin. I always used to like that smell, the smell you get in a McDonald’s, but as I waited for the guy behind the counter to fetch my order it was making me gag. I took my stuff outside, grateful for the fresh air, and wandered back up the street.

There was an archway leading to a square with loads of seats and a huge tree planted in the middle. I was right in front of the big church with the tower. As good a place as any. I sat down and put my drink on the bench next to me.

I unwrapped the muffin. The egg yolk had broken and was oozing out of the bun. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat that. I put it down on the bench, picked up my tea instead, and eased off the plastic lid. I took a sip, the hotness in my mouth making me realize just how cold I was.

I looked at the massive building on my left. Notices at either corner said BATH ABBEY. There was a big wooden door in the middle. Above it was a gigantic arch-shaped window. All the way up on either side there were horizontal lines carved in the stone, with figures perched on them; looked a bit like people on a ladder. Actually, that’s what they were: stone ladders with stone people climbing up. Some of them had bits missing, made them look like a smudged drawing, but the ones that were whole had wings. Angels? They were definitely trying to get up there, although some of them were the wrong way ’round, looked like they were about to drop off. Daft buggers, why didn’t they just fly?

I drank my tea and studied the weird carvings. The drink was warming me, making me feel more like a human being. I picked up the muffin, which was cold now, the liquid egg congealed. I took a little bite, but my stomach lurched as I chewed. No way. I spat my mouthful back into the wrapper.

There were more people around now. They were making for the area to the side of the abbey; through a makeshift arch I could see some little wooden huts, some sort of market. I could sense the sideways glances, the unease, and started to feel exposed again. Better to move on, find somewhere more out of the way to sit, until I’d figured out what to do. I stood up and hitched my bag onto my back. I was about to walk away when I thought better of it, picked up the empty cup and the vile muffin in its wrapper, and put them in a trash can a few feet away.

“Thank you,” a guy in a long coat and scarf said as he walked past, “for keeping the abbey churchyard tidy.” He held up his hand in a kind of greeting and breezed over to a little door at the side of the main one, a big bunch of keys jangling at his waist. I turned away and made for an alley to my left, out of the square.

There was someone in uniform at the other end.

I swiveled ’round and headed back to the archway where I’d come in.

Two men in suits were striding toward me — could have just been office workers on their way to work, but they were looking straight at me.

Shit, this was it, then. All those people I’d thought were taking no notice, one of them had clocked me, perhaps loads of them had. Or that woman in the fields. Bloody busybody. I wanted to shout, No! To hear it echoing ’round this square. I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was anyone behind me. The guy with the keys had got in now, was just swinging the door shut. I ran toward him.

“Wait, wait. Please.” He looked up, startled, then put his hand ’round the edge of the door, stopping its movement.

“Help me, please. I’m scared. Please let me in.” My voice was breaking. His pale blue eyes searched mine and then looked beyond me. He hesitated for an agonizing second, then grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. I stumbled into the darkness while he pushed the heavy door with both his hands until it slammed shut. Then he drew the bolt across. From the other side came the sound of footsteps and hands thudding