Chapter Seventeen Ella Blunden sighed and turned off the news broadcast, searching for some music instead. There was enough grey at Grange Hall without having more descend from the outside world. She’d thought of Grange Hall as a prison when she’d first arrived but now, with fear on the streets, it felt like a refuge. Missings, police checkpoints, the Underground poisoning the Longevity supply, people ranting on the radio about death, about God, about conspiracy theories . . . Grange Hall itself had received numerous phone calls from people offering to torch the place, telling her to kill the Surpluses before they had an opportunity to grow up and become terrorists themselves. Chance would be a fine thing, Ella thought to herself with a sigh. Although it would put her out of a job. She found a music station playing swingsong and turned up the volume. The Surpluses were all asleep; they wouldn’t hear, anyway. The House Matron’s rooms were soundproofed – Ella had seen to that.
