Chapter 30
Ludo
When I stepped out of the ballet studio, I felt like a million dollars.
It was one of those bright late-April days when the sun has heat in it, the bluebells and tulips are out, and the trees have turned fully green, even in traditionally Conservative electorates where turning green is still punishable by hanging.
I looked up at a big blue sky above me and sucked in a lungful of oxygen (diesel particulate, really; this was London, after all).
I had just replied to Sunny’s message on GayHoller saying I’d love to join him and his mates at Miss Timmy’s when a large four-wheel drive stopped right in front of me, blocking my sunshine.
The smooth whirr of an electric window winding down was followed by an all-too-familiar voice.
“Ludo, sweetheart.” Mummy never picked me up from ballet class, even when I was seven and taking the class rather than teaching it and the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang could have kidnapped me on the walk home at any point.
“What are you doing here?”
She slipped her sunglasses up onto her head, and I could see she was upset about something.
“You better get in, bubby.”
I knew from the crack in her voice it was serious.