‘Honestly.’ Daisy folded her arms. ‘It was only for a minute, Abi.’
The man who’d come about the car was looking at Daisy intently. He’d better not be some kind of pervert.
‘Birthday girl, is it?’ he said, reading the sash. ‘You’re ten? I see . . .’
His face went funny for a moment, with some expression Luke couldn’t work out. Then he looked at the three of them standing there. It wasn’t a threatening look, but it made Luke put his arm round his little sis and draw her closer.
‘Tell you what,’ the man said. ‘I’ll give your dad a call some other time. You enjoy your party, young lady. Have your fun while you can.’
He nodded at Daisy, then turned and ambled off down the driveway.
‘Weird,’ said Daisy expansively. Then she gave a war-whoop and led her pals in a prancing, cheering conga back round the rear of the house.
‘Weird’ was the word, Luke thought. In fact, the entire day had felt not quite right.
But it wasn’t until he lay awake in bed that night that it all came together. Selling the car. The fuss over Daisy’s birthday. The suspicious absence of nagging over his own exam revision.
When he heard hushed conversation floating up from the kitchen, and padded downstairs to find his parents and Abi sat at the table studying paperwork, Luke knew he was right.
‘When were you planning on telling me and Daisy?’ he said from the doorway, deriving a grim satisfaction from their confusion. ‘At least you let the poor kid blow out the candles on her cake before your big reveal. “Happy Birthday, darling. Mummy and Daddy have a surprise: they’re abandoning you to do their slavedays.”’
The three of them looked back at him in silence. On the tabletop, Dad’s hand reached for Mum’s. Parental solidarity – never a good sign.
‘So what’s the plan? That Abi’s going to look after me and Daisy? How will she do that when she’s at med school?’
‘Sit down, Luke.’
Dad was an easy-going man, but his voice was unusually firm. That was the first alarm.
Then as he stepped into the room Luke noticed the documents Abi was hastily shuffling into a pile. A suspiciously large pile. The uppermost sheet bore Daisy’s date of birth.
Understanding slid into Luke’s brain and lodged its sharp point there.
‘It’s not just you, is it?’ he croaked. ‘It’s all of us. Now that Daisy’s turned ten, it’s legal. You’re taking us with you. We’re all going to do our slavedays.’
He could hardly say the last word. It stole the breath from his chest.
In an instant, the slavedays had gone from being a dull exam question, to the next decade of Luke’s life. Ripped away from everyone and everything he knew. Sent to Manchester’s filthy, unforgiving slavetown, Millmoor.
‘You know what they say.’ Luke was unsure whether he was berating his parents or begging them. ‘“Do your slavedays too old, you’ll never get through them. Do your slavedays too young, you’ll never get over them.” What part of that don’t you understand? Nobody does days at my age, let alone Daisy’s.’
‘It’s not a decision your mother and I have taken lightly,’ Dad replied, keeping his voice steady.
‘We only want the best for you all,’ Mum said. ‘And we believe this is it. You’re too young to appreciate it now, but life is different for those who’ve done their days. It gives you opportunities – better opportunities than your father and I had.’
Luke knew what she meant. You weren’t a full citizen until you’d completed your slavedays, and only citizens could hold certain jobs, own a house, or travel abroad. But jobs and houses were unimaginably far off, and ten years of servitude in exchange for a few weeks of foreign holidays didn’t seem much of a trade.
His parents’ reasonableness knifed Luke with betrayal. This wasn’t something his parents just got to choose, like new curtains for the living room. This was Luke’s life. About which they’d made a huge decision without consulting him.
Though they had, apparently, consulted Abi.
‘As she’s eighteen,’ Dad said, following Luke’s gaze, ‘Abigail is of age to make up her own mind. And obviously your mum and I are delighted that she’s decided to come with us. In fact, she’s done rather more than that.’
Dad put his arm round Abi’s shoulders and squeezed proudly. What had the girl wonder done now?
‘Are you serious?’ Luke asked his sister. ‘You’ve been offered places at three different medical schools, and you’re turning them down to spend the next decade saying nin hao every five minutes in Millmoor’s Bank of China call centre? Or maybe they’ll put you in the textiles factory. Or the meat-packing plant.’
‘Cool it, little bro,’ Abi said. ‘I’ve deferred my offers. And I’m not going to Millmoor. None of us are. Do what Dad says: sit down, and I’ll explain.’
Still furious, but desperate to know how you could do days without going to Millmoor, Luke complied. And he listened with a mixture of admiration and horror as Abi told him what she’d done.
It was insane. It was terrifying.
It was still slavedays, and because he was under eighteen it wasn’t like Luke had a choice one way or the other. His parents could take him wherever they wanted.
But at least they weren’t taking him to the hellhole that was Millmoor.