THE H-BOMB GIRL by Stephen Baxter (beach books txt) 📕

came after them. “I’m not missing this,” said Bert Muldoon.

Agatha led them around the counter, to the small kitchen area at the back of the cellar. Lit up by a single fluorescent strip, there was a sink, a fridge, a chopping board with white-bread sandwiches stacked up.

And at the back, Agatha pulled away a piece of stained hardboard to reveal a hole in the brick wall.

Bernadette stared into darkness. “You had this prepared.”

Agatha said, “Where I come from, you always need an escape route. They’re coming. Let’s go.”

Bernadette led the way. The others followed, Laura and Joel tense, the group members giggling and joking.

Bernadette’s stomach seemed to be hurting. She worked her way through the hole with one hand on her belly.

They were in the cellar of the house next door to Big Jimmy’s. It was disused, blocked off. It had been easy for Agatha to pull away the stones in the dividing wall, as the mortar was old and rotten.

Agatha left a chink of light while they found places to sit, all nine of them, on dirty old boxes and heaps of stone from the wall. Then Agatha put the bit of hardboard back in place, and they were sealed in darkness.

Laura helped Bernadette to sit, but Bernadette waved her away. “Just cramps.”

They huddled together, their knees touching.

Bert Muldoon asked, “Can I have a ciggie?”

“Don’t be a div,” Mickey Poole said.

“I smell damp,” Paul Gillespie said.

Nick said, “That’s Bert’s coat.”

The group members giggled explosively.

Bernadette snapped, “Shut up or bog off.”

Laura, Bernadette, Joel and Nick put their heads together, a little away from the others.

Nick said seriously, “Tell me what’s going on, H-Bomb Girl.”

He already knew about Miss Wells, Laura from the future. Now Laura told him as much as she could, that she was apparently being pursued by Miss Wells and the American military. Bernadette and Joel listened intently, knowing some of this.

Nick laughed. “H-Bomb Girl, you’re more trouble than a camel in a sweetshop.”

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Laura said. She was genuinely scared now, here in this dark hole; she felt panic brush her mind.

“Well, you can’t go around hiding like this for ever.”

“It’s the Key they want,” Joel said. “The V-bomber Key.”

“Maybe we should hide it,” Bernadette said. “We could bury it down here. Or take it somewhere else.”

“No,” Laura hissed immediately. “I can’t take it off.”

“Why not?”

“My dad made me promise not to.”

There was a silence.

Nick said, “There’s still a lot you’re not telling us, isn’t there, H-Bomb Girl?”

There was a hand on Laura’s knee, in the dark. It felt like a hot, muscular spider. It slid up her thigh and under her skirt.

She grabbed a little finger and yanked it back. Somebody yelped and the hand pulled back.

Nick snapped, “Who was that?”

Laura hissed, “The letch with his hand on my leg.”

Somebody sniggered. “It was worth the pain, sweet cheeks.”

Bernadette poured all her anger into a hot, tearful whisper. “Billy Waddle. You sod. Oh, you lousy faithless sod. I’m sitting right here and you do that—”

Laura heard a scuffle, the soft sound of blows landing, muffled ouches. The others piled in to separate the fighters.

When they were calm again, Laura said carefully, “Are you crying, Bern?”

“No. Bog off.”

Laura hunted for a tissue and held it out. “Come on. I’ve never heard you cry before.”

“And nor,” Nick said, “have I, and I’ve known her a long time. Heart of stone, our Bern.”

“She’s pregnant.” That was Agatha’s flat voice.

There was a stunned silence.

Then Nick said, “Wow. This is turning out to be quite a day.”

“Bog off,” Bernadette said.

Laura said, “The stomach cramps. The throwing up.”

Bernadette hissed, “All right. I’m in the club. Happy now?”

Billy laughed softly.

Laura asked, “How long, Bern?”

“Don’t know. About a month, I think.”

“Agatha—how did you know?”

“I have an instinct for these things.”

“How come? Have you got kids of your own?”

“No.”

Nick said bleakly, “And the proud father, I suppose, is the drummer who’s head I’ve just been sitting on.”

“Got it in one,” Bernadette said.

“Rang the bell, did you, Billy?”

Billy said, “Could be me. Could be somebody else. Have to see if he’s got my rhythm when he comes out.”

“Don’t you joke, Billy Waddle,” Bernadette said. “I lost my virginity to you, you sod. It could only be you. And as soon as you got a sniff of a baby you bogged off, didn’t you?”

Laura reached out in the dark until she found Bernadette’s hand. “How did it happen? Didn’t you use anything?”

Bernadette whispered, “When we started, Billy said we’d be OK, we could take a chance.”

“I got off at Edge Hill,” Billy said. “Usually works.”

“I didn’t know any better. How stupid I was.”

Laura wouldn’t have known much more herself. All she knew about sex and contraceptives and pregnancy she’d learned from whispers and rumour, from classmates, people her own age.

“Not my problem,” Billy said. “Up to the judy to stop a kid.”

Nick said, “You really are a piece of work, Billy.” The hurt in his voice surprised Laura, as if he’d been betrayed himself.

“I think that’s why they’ve been searching my stuff at school,” Bernadette said. “They can smell a bun in the oven a mile off.”

“Have you been to the doctor?”

“For what? A lecture?”

“What will you do?”

The options were bleak. Abortions were illegal. You could always find somebody to do it, some struck-off doctor maybe. But it was dangerous, even lethal. And if you had the kid, it might be taken away for adoption.

Bernadette blew her nose. “You think you’ve got problems, H-Bomb Girl.”

“Yes,” Laura said. All she had to worry about was meddling from the future, and the end of the world. Somehow all that paled compared to this.

“We’ll help you,” Nick whispered.

“Yes,” Joel said. “You’re not alone, Bern.”

Bernadette was silent. Then she said, “Thanks.”

“But I’m alone.”

That was Agatha. In the dark she had come to sit next to Laura, moving silently again. Laura felt her cold, thin frame next to her body. A hand pressed against Laura’s arm.

Laura took it, feeling a bit frightened. “Agatha? Are you OK?”

“You asked me