Necropolis

from North Dulwich Station, which was in turn about a fifteen-minute walk from her school. Her father, Paul Adams, specialized in international business law. Her mother, Vanessa, ran a travel company that put together packages in China and the Far East. The two of them were so busy that they seldom had time for Scarlett — or, indeed, for each other. From the time Scarlett had been five, they had employed a full-time housekeeper to look after all of them. Christina Murdoch was short, dark-haired, and seemed to have no sense of humor at all. She had come to London from Glasgow, and her father was a vicar. Apart from that, Scarlett knew little about her. The two of them got on well enough, but they had both agreed without actually saying it that they were never going to be friends.
    One of the good things about living in Dulwich was that Scarlett did have plenty of friends and they all lived very nearby. There were two girls from her class on the same street and there was also a boy —
    Aidan Ravitch — just five minutes away. It was Aidan who had prompted her to cross the road.

    Aidan was in his second year at The Hall, yet another local private school, and had come to London from Los Angeles. He was tall for his age and good-looking in a relaxed, awkward sort of way, with shaggy hair and slightly crumpled features. There was no uniform at his school, and he wore the same hoodie, jeans, and sneakers day in, day out. Aidan didn't understand the English. He claimed to be completely mystified by such things as rugby, tea, and
    Doctor Who.
    English policemen in particular baffled him. "Why do they have to wear those stupid hats?" he would ask. He was Scarlett's closest friend, although both of them knew that Aidan's father worked for an American bank and could be transferred back home any day. Meanwhile, they spent as much time together as they could.
    The accident happened on a warm, summer afternoon. Scarlett was thirteen at the time.
    It was a little after four, and Scarlett was on her way home from school. The very fact that she was allowed to walk home on her own meant a lot to her. It was only on her last birthday that her parents had finally relented…until then, they had insisted that Mrs. Murdoch should meet her at the school gates every day, even though there were far younger girls who were allowed to face the perils of Dulwich High Street without an armed escort. She had never been quite sure what they were so worried about.
    There was no chance of her getting lost. Her route took her past a flower shop, an organic grocer's, and a pub — The Crown and Grayhound — where she might spot a few old men, sitting in the sun with their lemonade shandies. There were no drug dealers, no child snatchers or crazed killers in the immediate area. And she was hardly on her own anyway. From half past three onward, the streets were crowded with boys and girls streaming in every direction, on their way home.
    She had reached the traffic lights on the other side of the village — where five roads met with shops on one side, a primary school on the other — when she noticed him. Aidan was on his own, listening to music. She could see the familiar white wires trailing down from his ears. He saw her, smiled, and called out her name. Without thinking, she began to walk toward him.
    The van was being driven by a twenty-five-year-old delivery man called Michael Logue. He would have to give all his details to the police later on. He was delivering spare parts to a sewing machine factory in Bickley and, thanks to the London traffic, he was late. He was almost certainly speeding as he approached the intersection. But on the other hand, the lights were definitely green.
    Scarlett was about halfway across when she saw him, and by that time it was far too late. She saw Aidan's eyes widen in shock, and that made her turn her head, wanting to know what it was that he had seen. She froze. The van was almost on top of her. She could see the driver, staring at her from behind the wheel, his face filled with horror, knowing what was about to happen, unable to do anything about it.
    The van seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as it drew closer. Even as she watched, it completely filled her vision.

    And then everything happened at once.
    Aidan shouted out. The driver frantically spun the wheel. The van tilted. And Scarlett found herself being thrown forward, out of the way, as something — or someone — smashed into her back with