Free The Citadel and the Wolves by Peter Goodman Page A

himself when he was in town with mum. I gave him another hug and kiss.
    “Tommy loves Fade,” he declared.
    “Fade loves Tommy.”
    When we rubbed noses, the others laughed.
    I stood my birthday cards on the sideboard in the sitting room before I breakfasted with the others.
    “Looking forward to the party tonight, Jade?” inquired mum unnecessarily.
    “Much,” I answered through a mouthful of breakfast cereal.
    I noticed it for the first time, and it puzzled me.
    I sat in the back seat with Wendy as daddy gave us a lift to school in the Jeep. He constantly checked his mirror. Although our father is a careful driver, especially when he’s got Wendy and I in the back, I’d not seen him using the mirror so much as now. We were driving along Brooks Wood Grove, which is a quiet, residential road of pretty, painted semi-detached houses that were built at the end of the 19 th century. A few vehicles including a white tradesman’s van were parked on either side, but there wasn’t much traffic about. We were travelling at around 20-30 kph. We slowed down when a small, red car pulled out of a side road. It was rather odd. What was daddy looking at? I was intrigued. I turned my head, looking over my shoulder. I didn’t see anything. The road behind us was clear. Perhaps it was my imagination. I glanced at Wendy. She hadn’t noticed anything unusual because she was too busy playing with her mobile, sending text messages to all her friends at school including, I suspected, the obnoxious Kevin Willis. When daddy checked his mirror again, I did likewise. I saw the green car for the first time. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. Maybe it was nothing. The car, a Japanese hydrogen fuel cell motor vehicle (the new electric car) had probably turned out of a side road somewhere back there. It was nothing.
    We joined the heavy, rush hour traffic on Streatham High Road. It was always a bit of a bottleneck in the mornings. We got stuck behind a bus, which in turn was stuck behind a truck or whatever. I wondered if we were going to be late. Daddy is a schoolteacher. Would he be late for his classes? When he checked his mirror, I did likewise. What was I looking for? What was he looking for? A big biscuit lorry with a picture of a young girl pretending to enjoy a very sugary (not good for your teeth and gums) biscuit on the side was stuck behind us, so I couldn’t see anything else. The lights ahead of us changed. We were on the move once more…slowly.
    When we finally swung out of the high road onto the long Leigham Court Road, (taking us up to Crown Point and West Norwood) having lost five or six minutes of our journey time, the traffic was a little lighter, and we were able to make up for lost time. Daddy, who had been driving since he was seventeen, smoothly let out the clutch. The Japanese Jeep responded well. She was new. She was only a year old. Daddy buys a new car every two or three years. We put on a little spurt by the common with a stretch of clear road ahead of us. I caught him again as he checked his mirror once or twice. I waited a moment or two this time before I looked over my shoulder, observing the traffic behind us, a big, red bus and a plain, white van. It was electric, I thought. The lights changed against us at Crown Point. I let out a sigh, opened my bag, and took out a packet of mints. I offered one to Wendy. She shook her head. I sucked a mint. When daddy checked his mirror again, I did likewise over my shoulder. The traffic behind us at the lights hadn’t changed, white van, big, red bus…then I spotted it. The green car was tucked in behind the bus. It was probably just a coincidence. They were obviously going our way. Half of South London was probably going our way. I dismissed the other idea from my mind, though I had to be sure of it. As the lights changed, we turned down Knight’s Hill from Crown Point towards West Norwood. I watched our back curiously. The white van went straight ahead while the bus