CHERUB: The Sleepwalker (5 page)

The reporter nodded earnestly. ‘Earlier information suggested that the crew heard an explosion aboard the aircraft approximately ten minutes before the airliner ditched into the Atlantic. Is there any indication at this stage that this was caused by a bomb?’

‘I can confirm that an explosion was heard, but no terrorist group has claimed responsibility. Presently the FBI is working closely with the Federal Aviation Administration and the British authorities to determine the cause of the crash.’

‘And with tomorrow being the sixth anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Centre, the finger of suspicion must surely be pointing at Al Qaeda or another militant Islamic group?’

The spokesman cleared his throat and repeated himself firmly. ‘At this stage we’re ruling nothing in and nothing out.’

James turned away from the screen and looked across the table at Dana. ‘Gotta be terrorists,’ he said. ‘The timing’s just too perfect.’

Dana nodded as she stirred honey into a bowl of porridge.

‘I don’t mind flying, but when you’re all strapped in and you look at how many people are crammed between you and the nearest exit my stomach always does a somersault.’

Callum – who’d got his ear pierced the same day as James – nodded in agreement, but his identical twin shrugged.

‘We’re all gonna die of something,’ Connor said. ‘I’d rather go quick in a plane than let something like cancer get me.’

Shakeel was coming towards the table with a tray of food and a smile on his chubby face.

‘Morning,’ James said. ‘You look pretty cheerful for someone whose golf cart turned into a flaming wreck.’

Shak shrugged as he sat down. ‘I wasn’t taking it as serious as you, and you know how luck has a way of evening out? I passed Meryl Spencer as she was pinning our assignments for work experience on the noticeboard.’

Dana’s eyebrows shot up – which was a rare occurrence for someone who acted disinterested as a matter of principle. ‘What did you get?’

‘Angel Graphics,’ Shak said happily. ‘It’s run by an ex-cherub. They do computer graphics and design mostly. 3D animation for adverts, kids’ TV and stuff like that.’

‘Sounds good,’ Dana said. ‘Did you see what everyone else got?’

‘You got Copthorne Racing.’

James broke into a big grin. ‘Cool, we’ll be together.’

Shak made a little grunt. ‘Do you think, Mr Adams?’

James stalled with a forkload of scrambled egg halfway between his plate and his mouth, but then carried on because he knew Shak was more upset about the golf-cart race than he was letting on and a successful wind-up would help him earn back some points.

‘You’re full of it,’ James sneered.

Shak grinned. ‘Go see for yourself. It’s pinned on the board outside Meryl’s office.’

James didn’t want to get sucked into a wind-up, but Dana had nothing to lose by enquiring further. ‘So who’s with me if James isn’t?’

‘Clare Lowell,’ Shak said, as he hooked an entire rasher of bacon on to the end of his fork and squeezed it into his mouth.

‘I thought you were Muslim,’ Connor said.

Shak grinned. ‘Some days I’m more Muslim than others.’

‘So,’ James said, still concerned that Shak was winding him up. ‘
If
I didn’t get work experience at Copthorne Racing, where am I going?’

‘Oh, that’s the beautiful part.’

Dana was starting to enjoy watching James suffer and she smiled. ‘What did he get?’

‘Deluxe Chicken,’ Shak said. ‘You know that crummy place in the car park outside the leisure centre?’

‘Yeah right,’ James said, shaking his head.

Shak reached across the table and put his hand out to shake. ‘Five pounds says I’m not lying.’

Shak was tight and James’
I don’t believe you
expression wilted. ‘You’re really serious?’

Shak wiggled his fingers, inviting a handshake on the bet. ‘Five pounds, James.’

‘But I spoke to Terry Campbell about this,’ James moaned. ‘He knows how much I like motorbikes and he’s an old mate of Jay Copthorne. He all but promised that I’d get it.’

‘All
but
promised,’ Connor emphasised. ‘And who knows, maybe you’ll learn to love the polyester shirt and those orange and brown striped baseball caps …’

‘It’s chicktacular,’ Callum added, deepening his voice to sound like a man in a TV commercial. ‘Feed the whole family for under a tenner with our summer sizzlers.’

‘That’s not even a Deluxe Chicken advert,’ James said bitterly. ‘They’re so crap they couldn’t afford TV ads.’

‘You guys still haven’t heard the best bit,’ Shak beamed. ‘Guess who James’ little work-experience companion is going to be?’

James was starting to get angry. ‘How should I sodding know? Bugs Bunny?’

‘Think of someone you used to have a very close relationship with,’ Shak teased. ‘And by close, I mean hands down the back of her jeans.’

Dana laughed. ‘Not Kerry.’

‘Bingo bongo,’ Shak whooped.

James shot out of his seat. ‘Meryl’s got to be having a laugh. She knows how awkward it’s been since we broke up.’

‘Since you dumped her, you mean,’ Callum said. ‘Kerry might be going out with Bruce now, but she still hates your guts.’

James shook his head. ‘That’s a
bit
strong; I don’t think she hates my guts.’

Dana and Shak spoke in unison. ‘Yes she does, James.’

‘Totally,’ Connor nodded. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was a little James doll with pins in it in her room.’

‘It must be a mistake,’ James said disbelievingly. ‘If it’s Kerry in Deluxe bloody Chicken I’ll refuse to do it.’

Connor shook his head. ‘Work experience is part of the campus curriculum. It isn’t optional and if you bunk it Meryl will dish out
serious
punishment laps.’

James grabbed his tray off the table. He threw it on to the conveyor belt that led into the washing-up room before storming off towards the lift. When he got up to the sixth floor, he checked the print-out pinned on the cork noticeboard. Just as Shak promised, his name was next to
Deluxe Chicken
and Kerry’s was on the next line down.

‘Tits,’ he spluttered, before turning around and pounding on the frosted glass in Meryl’s office door. But the light was out inside and rattling the handle confirmed that it was locked. It was too early for Meryl to be coaching and she hadn’t been in the dining-room, so James figured that she was most likely to be in the staff lounge on the first floor.

As he steamed back down the corridor towards the lift, Rat and Andy emerged from a bedroom.

‘Morning James,’ Rat said cheerfully.

‘All right?’ James asked half-heartedly. ‘How’s it going?’

He thought the pair were happy because of their victory in the golf-cart race the night before, but once he’d gone past they started making loud clucking noises and flapping their arms like wings.

‘Can I have fries with that?’ Rat shouted, before diving back into his room with Andy right behind him.

They stood behind the locked door howling with laughter. James wanted to have a go back, but the lift was waiting and he had to catch up with Meryl before first lesson.

Cherubs weren’t allowed into the staff lounge and James had to stand outside the door and wait for a member of staff to enter, then ask if they could see if Meryl was inside. It was a couple of minutes before anyone came by and Meryl took her sweet time coming out, which only made James angrier.

As well as being a handler who looked after the everyday needs of thirty-five cherubs, Meryl doubled up as an athletics coach. She came out of the lounge wearing a Nike waterproof and she had a whistle around her neck.

‘What’s up, James?’ Meryl asked. She was usually pretty cheerful, but today she seemed distant; as if she wanted to be anywhere other than standing in a corridor listening to a moaning teenager.

‘My work experience,’ James said indignantly. ‘What happened to Copthorne Racing? I spoke to Terry Campbell about it and everything.’

Meryl nodded sympathetically. ‘I know you had your heart set on that job, but Jay Copthorne called up and said that he’s always had boys in previous years and he’s keen to encourage more girls to go into engineering.’

‘But how come I ended up with Deluxe Chicken? I mean, what made you think I’d want to do
that
?’

Meryl shrugged. ‘Twenty-six cherubs will be doing two weeks’ work experience at some point over the next couple of months. I got together with the other handlers and we looked at your application forms. We gave everyone we could their first choice, but inevitably not everyone could have it and we had to assign them to the less desirable slots like Deluxe Chicken and the bowling alley.’

‘But it’s so dumb,’ James spluttered. ‘I mean, I’m not even sixteen but I’ve already got top grade A-levels in Maths and Further Maths. It’s hardly likely that I’m gonna spend my life frying chicken and wiping down tables, is it?’

‘Maybe you won’t,’ Meryl said. ‘But work experience is about going out into the world and finding what real jobs are like. We use all of our connections to get as many interesting job placements as possible and I’d love to send everyone off to some fantastic job. Unfortunately that’s not how it worked out this year.’

‘But it’s gonna be so crap,’ James moaned.

‘How can you even know if you’ll like something until you’ve actually tried it?’

‘Because it’s with Kerry and we don’t get on these days. What if I can persuade someone to swap jobs with me?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Meryl said firmly. ‘It took ages to sort all the placements out. If you’re allowed to swap or dodge out, everyone will start asking. And I know you and Kerry have a few problems, but you regularly hang out with the same group of friends. It’s two weeks in Deluxe Chicken; it’s not like we’re abandoning the pair of you on a desert island.’

James was annoyed about not getting the job at Copthorne Racing, but Meryl was a fair person. She’d done her best for everyone, and like Shak said, luck had a way of evening out.

‘I guess I’m the chicken boy then,’ he sighed.

‘So what’s your first lesson this morning?’ Meryl asked.

James shrugged. ‘Spanish, which is OK except that Lauren’s in the same class and she runs rings around me.’

‘I guess your day can only get better,’ Meryl smiled. ‘Can I get back to my coffee, if that’s everything?’

As Meryl said this, she pushed open the door of the staff lounge. James glanced at the adults sitting inside and was surprised to see the grey head of CHERUB’s former chairman by a bay window.

‘Is that Dr McAfferty back there?’ James asked. ‘I haven’t seen him for yonks. He was a big help when I first came to campus and I wouldn’t mind saying hello if he’s around later.’

Meryl’s lips thinned as she let the door close and stepped back into the corridor. She leaned towards James and checked who was around before speaking quietly.

‘Zara Asker had to drive out to Mac’s house early this morning. His wife, daughter-in-law and two of his grandchildren were on the aircraft that crashed into the Atlantic last night.’

James felt like he’d been hit by a steamroller. ‘Bloody hell,’ he croaked, as he realised why Meryl had been acting so odd. ‘He must be in a right state.’

Meryl nodded. ‘Mac has six children, but none of them live near campus. He broke down completely when he heard the news. Zara brought him back here because there was no way he could be left on his own.’

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Nobody can,’ Meryl said. ‘Mac’s not fit to drive, so we’ve arranged for him to be taken down to his son’s house in London. Everyone on campus will hear about this eventually, but we’re keeping it quiet until Mac is off campus. We don’t want things to be any more awkward for him than they are already – and some of the little red shirts aren’t exactly masters of tact.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,’ James said as he shook his head numbly. ‘Poor bloody Mac.’

Fahim Bin Hassam sat on the edge of his bed pulling a long grey school sock up his chubby leg. The eleven-year-old lived in a newly built six-bedroom house which overlooked Hampstead Heath, six kilometres from the centre of London.

His room was large, with a computer, an LCD TV and Nirvana posters on the wall. CDs and Playstation games were scattered across the floor and a trail of damp footprints led from the en-suite bathroom to a luxurious salmon-pink towel and a designer bathrobe balled up on the oak floor. His mum would complain if she saw the mess, but Fahim expected the cleaning lady to get there first.

He found a pair of grey shorts and a short-sleeved beige shirt in his wardrobe, then picked a pre-knotted brown and yellow tie off the floor. It was the uniform of Warrender Prep, a fee-paying school with a proud record of preparing students for entry into the finest English upper schools. However, if the one o’clock showdown between Fahim, his mother and his headmaster went badly this might be the last time he ever wore it.

After buckling a digital watch to his wrist, Fahim exited through a set of double doors on to a thickly carpeted balcony that overlooked his home’s grand entrance. There was polished marble below and a miniature dome above.

His feet enjoyed the bouncy flooring as he moved down a curving staircase to the ground floor. At the bottom a blue-smocked housekeeper polished the marble tiles on her hands and knees. They had a machine, but Fahim’s dad hated the noise.

‘Good morning, Fahim,’ the woman said, in a dense Scottish accent.

He’d preferred her young Polish predecessor, who his dad had sacked after catching her on the phone to her boyfriend in Warsaw.

‘I left a skid mark down the side of my toilet,’ Fahim said, grinning cheekily. ‘Enjoy!’

The woman tutted, but she didn’t blame Fahim for his attitude. He’d picked it up from his father, who expected her to work overtime for no pay, despite the fact that he lived in a three-million-pound house and had two BMWs and a Bentley in the garage.

Fahim was tempted to glide into the kitchen on his socks, but he was in trouble at school so it wasn’t a good time to go around the house looking cheerful.

‘Mum,’ Fahim yelled, when he stepped into the kitchen and found it empty. ‘Mum, I’m starving.’