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expected to do anything. Whatever you need, add it to the Garden House List. Oh, what am I thinking? Is there anything right now? Personal things, toiletries, er, tampons?’
    Heidi needed clothes. The purple suitcase had not yet turned up. She needed socks, underwear, jumpers. But she was too ashamed: she couldn’t make herself say it.
    â€˜Not really, thanks. I won’t need tampons. They give you a long-term contraceptive injection at the Indentured Teens Facility. It stops your periods too. ’
    â€˜Oh!’ Brooklyn’s mum swallowed tea as if it hurt her throat. ‘Heidi, I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what to say. The way you’ve ended up here, it’s so awful.’
    â€˜I’m fine. What’s the Garden House List? I don’t know what you mean.’
    Mrs Healey frowned. ‘You’re registered on the WiMax now, aren’t you?’
    â€˜I think so. I can’t really tell, as I haven’t had any calls or messages.’
    â€˜No messages? Well, that isn’t right! Let me see your phone.’
    Heidi handed it over. Mrs Healey put on her reading glasses, flicked and tweaked like a pro, and finally sighed in relief. ‘Ah, just a step missed in the activation. Here you are. You have mail! Your access to the Garden House domain, my invitation to the vegetable sorting, and I don’t know what else—’
    The kitchen was warmer and brighter, when Heidi looked up from the little screen. The roots and greens in the vegetable box actually glowed.
    â€˜Thanks. That’s great Mrs Healey. I’ll be happy to come to the veg sorting; I’d like to pull my weight. As long as it’s okay with Tallis. Who looked after them before?’
    â€˜Please call me Rose. I suppose it was me. I wouldn’t say Tallis and I were friends, but I did what I could, and, well, I noticed things were getting beyond a joke. Poor woman, she’s only seventy or so. She was always eccentric. Had some kind of arty career in London, before she came back here, but I don’t know about that. Anyway, her mind had started to go. Something had to be done.’
    So it was you, thought Heidi. You grassed on her, that’s why she hates you. You told someone she needed help, and Angel Care sent me. You are the actual reason I’m here.
    Mrs Healey was welling up, brown eyes swimming. ‘I’m so sorry, Heidi. How could I have known? Truly, I never thought they’d send a fifteen year old girl!’
    â€˜It’s all right, honestly. What about the brother, Roger?’
    â€˜Oh, Roger. He used to be an artist, long ago. I’d stay out of his way, if I were you.’
    â€˜I do,’ said Heidi. ‘Is it true their father burned their house down?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so! Florian, that’s Mr Maylock senior, was a real “wild child” of the Sixties. A hopeless alcoholic by the end. Or so they say: it was before we came here.’ Mrs Healey hesitated. ‘You’ve noticed the steel door in the basement stairwell? Well, there used to be an underground passage. For smuggling, or something to do with the French Revolution; I don’t really know. It had to be blocked up after the fire, it’s very dangerous. Don’t try to explore anything like that, will you?’
    â€˜I won’t.’
    â€˜Heidi, I have to get on. This snow! I’ll pick you up in the van on sorting day, but I’m sure we’ll be in touch before that. And if there’s anything , give me a call, day or night—’

    After lunch she ran to the village, her phone glowing in her pocket. The Inspector had come through. He needed a biometric signature for the travel warrant, and to hell with wet feet, Heidi could not wait. The Learning Centre hummed with activity. Primary kids buzzed in a classroom; a chorus of nursery voices could be heard, belting out ‘The Three Gos’. But Heidi’s nerves had vanished.