Hostage Three by Nick Lake Page A

which was parked just down the street, but we didn’t; we walked right past it. We crossed the common, passed the duck pond, then went along the cycle path by the Wilderness. Eventually we got to Richmond Park and then carried on towards Roehampton along the bridleway.
    We walked past the Long Water, along the path that crosses between Ham Gate and Roehampton Gate, the red deer grazing beside us. A stag stood up out of the heather, huge antlers prehistoric against the high-rise apartment blocks.
    â€” Where are we going? I asked. It wasn’t like Mom to go for walks for no reason. I mean, she walked, of course she did. She was a person, not a bird, or something. But she didn’t do hiking or rambling. She only walked to get somewhere.
    â€” It’s a surprise, she said.
    She winked at me and led me up the hill towards the Royal Ballet School, where there’s a bench that looks out over the ponds, the heather-covered ground, the backdrop of trees, and you can imagine you were in Scotland, or something. When we got to the crest of the hill, I saw something that, if I was in a cheesy old TV show, would have made me blink and take a step back, like, really ? It was a table, a dining table, with a white cloth on it, set out with this incredible lunch, all on china plates, with wine glasses, everything. I could see a roast chicken, chocolates, salads, cheese, quiches.
    â€” I wasn’t sure what you like now, she said. Your taste is always changing.
    â€” I . . . I . . . Jesus, Mom.
    â€” You don’t like it.
    â€” Of course I like it, I said. It’s amazing!
    This is not what I should have said. What I should have said was, I love you. You are amazing. But I didn’t, and now I can’t.
    Still, she was pleased that I liked it, I could tell. And it was amazing. It was a bit chilly to be eating outside, I was aware of that, even though it was the kind of thing Mom would never think of. But it didn’t matter. There were no people around, apart from a couple of guys on rollerblades who had stopped to stare at the table, which was set about three metres away from the main path. I couldn’t work out how she’d done it, how she’d pulled it all off.
    â€” How did –
    She held a finger to her lips.
    â€” A magician never reveals her tricks, she said.
    So, we sat down and ate this astonishing lunch in the middle of Richmond Park, with all these different foods, and wine, so that by the time I went out with my friends that evening I was already tipsy. That was OK, though, because Mom said she’d pick me up from the pub at 11 p.m. exactly, and I’d better be there, otherwise she was taking back the watch. That was another great thing about Mom: I was way too young to drink, but she was cool about it.
    After a while, a park warden turned up in one of those green Land Rovers they have. He parked up and got out.
    â€” I’m sorry, he said. You can’t just . . . I mean, the table. You can’t do that.
    â€” Oh? said Mom. Funny. We just did.
    After that, we had to leave. But that didn’t matter because I remembered every minute before they made us go. I remembered eating and drinking while the stags wandered below us, and the sun was shining, and there was a smell of leaves and fire in the autumn air, and birds were calling, and no one ever, ever died.

The pirates gathered all of us on the sofas and armchairs in the cinema room. I was sitting next to Dad and he was holding my hand.
    â€” It’s OK, Amy, he whispered. We’re worth more alive than dead.
    How reassuring, I thought. Then I looked at him.
    â€” Wait, I said. You ’re worth more alive – you’re rich. I’m just your daughter.
    â€” Don’t be silly, said Dad. We’re all valuable here.
    â€” Are we? Felipe said. I don’t have any money.
    â€” That’s not the point, said Dad. It’s simple economics – if any of us dies, the pirates know they