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her own. Jude, who’d been brought up with plentiful supplies of everything except love, didn’t begrudge her more than her share of anything – he’d have given her the shirt off his back if she’d asked for it.
    ‘I don’t need tea,’ he said quickly. ‘Really, I –’
    ‘Yes you do,’ Sheila said quietly. ‘I think actually there might be one tea bag left. I’ll go and look.’
    She disappeared into the kitchen and Jude forced himself to look back at Pip.
    ‘Are you OK?’ the leader of the Underground asked, sitting down next to him. Jude nodded.
    ‘I’m fine,’ he said, in his mind’s eye seeing Sheila taking one of her treasured tea bags out from wherever she’d hidden it.
    ‘It must have been a shock.’
    ‘I’m fine,’ Jude insisted. ‘I’m not a complete weakling, you know.’
    His tone was more sarcastic than he’d intended and he saw Pip frown slightly.
    ‘I don’t consider you to be a weakling at all,’ he said after a short pause. ‘Tell me what you saw, Jude. Don’t leave anything out.’
    Jude sat back in his chair and told Pip everything – about the raid, the cameras, uploading the film, hearing the gasping and finding the woman. Pip listened attentively, nodding every so often, his face serious.
    ‘Her skin was blackened?’
    ‘She looked almost like she’d been burnt,’ Jude agreed, shuddering slightly. ‘She looked like a skeleton.’
    Pip nodded, deep in thought. Then he looked at Jude, his eyes, which had clouded over, suddenly bright and clear.
    ‘What do you think was wrong with her?’ Jude asked him searchingly. ‘Do you think it was something to do with Pincent Pharma?’
    ‘I think it seems likely,’ Pip said gently.
    ‘So let’s find out. I’ll get in there somehow, find out what’s going on.’ He looked at Pip hopefully. Just a year before, Peter had gone to work for Pincent Pharma, pretending that he wanted to work for his grandfather, Richard Pincent, pretending that he had severed all links with the Underground. Pip had trusted him to spy for him, to uncover the vile secrets that Richard Pincent had been hiding. Peter had been a hero; even now everyone spoke his name almost with a whisper. Jude longed to have a similar chance to prove himself, to show himself worthy.
    But Pip was shaking his head. ‘No, Jude,’ he said, standing up. ‘You must stay here. There is much to do.’
    ‘Like what?’ Jude asked defensively. ‘I can spy too. I got into Pincent Pharma last time. I can do it again. Just give me a chance to –’
    ‘No,’ Pip said again. ‘I need you here. I need you to study.’
    ‘To study?’ Jude sighed irritably, his eyes resting on the pile of books Pip had given him to read: political biographies, history books, books on survival, on disasters, books on leadership, books on plumbing … They both knew that reading books wasn’t going to achieve anything. Pip just didn’t rate him, didn’t believe in him. And, Jude thought heavily, maybe he was right.
    ‘Studying is very important,’ Pip said seriously, moving towards Jude. He raised his hand and for a moment Jude thought he was going to put it on his shoulder, but then he appeared to change his mind and instead brought it back down to his side.
    Jude didn’t say anything; a thud of disappointment was threatening to bring tears to his eyes, choking his voice. Yet more evidence that he was no hero, he thought desperately.
    Sheila appeared with a cup of tea and handed it to Jude, who took it miserably.
    ‘Thank you, Jude. That has been most illuminating,’ Pip said, standing up, not noticing – or perhaps not choosing to notice – the look of irritation on Sheila’s face as she realised she’d missed everything. ‘And now there is a great deal to do.’
    ‘Like what?’ Jude asked suddenly, his usual defence of sarcasm finally kicking in. He took a slurp of the hot drink and felt it warm his insides.
    Pip frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’ he said.
    ‘You said there’s