and maybe a few sandwiches.’
The man shook his head disdainfully. ‘Money? Money doesn’t mean anything right now.’
Jenny could see he was nervous, twitchy.
‘Are you in charge here?’
He nodded. ‘I’m the shift manager,’ he replied.
‘And the others?’
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the people inside, looking warily out through the smoky glass to see how their boss was handling the situation.
‘What’s left of yesterday’s shift,’ he replied. ‘They’re the ones who get the bus in. Those who had cars buggered off, leaving these poor sods behind. They’re mostly immigrants, speak very little English and they’re frightened and confused by what’s going on.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re better off here with me, whilst things are like this. And anyway, we’ve got power here - an auxiliary generator.’
‘That’s good.’
‘And they’re helping guard the stock,’ he added. ‘We had some little bastards tried to force their way in last night, before we’d managed to lock up the front entrance. They beat up Julia, my deputy shift manager, when she tried to stop them.’
‘Little bastards? Do you mean kids?’ asked Paul.
‘Kids - no. Most of them were teenagers. You know the kind, townies, hoodies, chavs, pikies, neds . . . I’m sure you know the type I mean.’
Townies. Jenny knew what those were. That was the term Leona used to describe the sort of mouthy little buggers who gathered in surly, hooded groups on street corners.
Ruth craned her neck around the manager to look at his staff peering out through the glass. ‘Is she okay?’
‘Of course she’s not. They broke her arm, and her face is a mess.’
‘I’m a nurse, let me have a look at her,’ said Ruth.
Jenny and Paul turned to look at her. ‘You said you were a—’
‘I was a nurse first.’
The manager looked at Ruth. ‘Oh blimey, would you? I just don’t know what to do for her. She’s in a lot of pain. She’s been screaming, crying all morning, disturbing the other members of staff.’
‘Can we all come in?’ asked Paul.
The manager looked them over quickly. ‘Well I suppose so.’
CHAPTER 44
11.31 a.m. GMT Shepherd’s Bush, London
Leona looked out of the lounge window, across Jill’s small front garden, on to the leafy avenue outside, lined with parked cars, mostly very nice ones. Last night she had sat up in bed, terrified, unable to sleep, listening to the noises outside.
Several groups of kids, mostly lads judging by their voices, had been up and down the street in their cars, the bass from their music systems pounding so loud the bedroom window had rattled. She heard them running around kicking over bins, having a lot of fun by the sound of it.
They were drunk. She heard the clinking of carrier-bags full of booty, and the shatter of empty bottles casually tossed on to the pavement. Leona guessed they had been to Ashid’s Off-licence at the top of their road, and swept the shelves clean. They were making the most of it, celebrating the total black-out, and the total absence of police.
What she found most disturbing was the sense of ownership these lads - there’d been teenagers and young men among them too - had of the street. It was all their playground now that it was clear the police weren’t likely to come calling any time soon.
Leona wondered how long the novelty of messing around up and down the narrow avenue would last, though. She wondered when they’d decide that the houses on either side of it were a part of their playground too. She shuddered at the thought that the only reason they hadn’t broken into any of the houses along St Stephen’s Avenue last night was that the idea simply hadn’t occurred to them yet.
They’d been having too much fun drag-racing up and down, messing around with the wheelie bins, smashing up some of the sillier garden ornaments and uprooting someone’s willow saplings.
They hadn’t worked out yet that in fact they could do anything they wanted right now.
Anything.
Until, that is, the police got a grip on things again - whenever that was likely to happen.
Leona noticed Daniel had managed to sleep beside her through most of it. But then he was a little more used to this kind of ruckus, coming as he had, from various foster homes in Southend, overlooking the sea, and the parking strip used most nights by joyriders showing off their PlayStation-honed driving skills.
Jake had somehow managed to get some sleep as well.
The noises had continued until the first grey rays of dawn had stained the