Hollingsworth is kneeling next to a sobbing Ursa, trying to convince her to let go of Mama. It’s the sight of my sister, of her tiny fingers clenched tightly round the material of Mama’s skirt, that brings me back to myself.
‘Don’t you dare speak to her!’ I say.
I prise Ursa’s fist open and lift her bodily from the ground as she howls. Hollingsworth stands up, her lips pursed.
‘Remember what I told you,’ Mama whispers to me in Bulgarian.
There’s a hardness in her eyes now. The back of her handbrushes against mine, an invisible gesture of tenderness that says a hundred things at once. Then she kisses Ursa’s cheek and steps into the motorcar, disappearing behind a shaded window. I can still smell her perfume. I let out a choked sob as the car drives away and nausea rises in my stomach. Ursa has gone limp in my arms.
‘Class pass,’ a Guardian barks at me. ‘Let me see it.’
I reach for the pass round my neck and offer it to him.
‘Second Class. Age seventeen,’ he says to his superior.
‘And this one?’
The superior gestures to Marquis, who is staring at the empty spot the motorcar containing his father has just pulled away from. The other Guardian seizes his class pass.
‘Second Class. Age eighteen.’
The superior nods and the Guardian grabs Marquis by the shoulder, then handcuffs him.
‘No!’ I cry. ‘He did nothing wrong. He’s—’
‘Vivien Featherswallow, as a minor, you are not currently under arrest. But by order of the law you must remain housebound until your parents undergo trial and your innocence can be proven.’
Marquis stares from me to Ursa, a pulse flickering in his jaw.
‘The penalty for disobeying this order is immediate imprisonment,’ the superior continues. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes, but my cousin—’
‘Is an adult and will be tried as one,’ the superior snaps.
Ursa hiccups in my arms and reaches out for Marquis, but he is already being pushed into the last remaining motorcar.
‘Don’t worry, Marquis,’ I say, throwing myself at the carbefore they can stop me. ‘They’ll let you go as soon as they realise you’re innocent, all of you!’
He gives me a look of utter despair before the door slams in his face and someone pulls me away.
I turn round as another Guardian emerges from the house carrying a box, a knife in a leather sheath hanging from his belt.
‘The Prime Minister will want to see this. Found it in a secret cupboard in the office.’
A secret cupboard? In our house?
The Guardian sets the box down. ‘The key was beneath the mother’s dress.’
Rage seeps through me like a fever. He looks at me and grins.
‘Smile, beautiful.’
‘If you lay a hand on my mother—’
The slap comes out of nowhere. I stumble backwards as spots dance before my eyes. Marquis roars inside the locked car and Ursa’s hysterical cries ring through the street. The Guardian lifts his visor and looks at me with vague amusement.
‘Now, now, Guardian 707,’ says his superior. ‘That’s no way to treat a Second Class citizen. Miss Featherswallow is simply asking you to treat her mother with the respect her class deserves. Even if she is a Bulgarian leech.’ He laughs loudly through his helmet and I turn away.
