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The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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few, Hesketh. Hold on to that.’We’ve reached the centre now. It’s asdeserted as the rest of London. <strong>The</strong> rainhas eased off, and the sky is both brightand dark. <strong>The</strong>re’s a double rainbowahead, with one foot in Covent Garden,the other to the west. <strong>The</strong> colours pulse, asif breathing. Near Waterloo BridgeProfessor Whybray touches me on the armand points.‘Over there.’On the other side of the river is amuddy sandbank dotted with the smallfigures of children. I count fifteen, butthere may be more hidden in the shadowsof the bridge. Some are up to their thighsin the river, peering into its brown water,as if searching for something. Others squatnear the river’s edge, their bare hands

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