Sister Clementine: The Next Chapter - Merchant Taylors’ School 11+
Source extract
The building work at Battersea Power station had been abandoned without warning. ‘SITE UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT’ billboards had been hurriedly put up years ago. The army of cranes, bulldozers and diggers lay silenced, their only visitors an occasional seagull and deepening layers of rust. It was late and London was asleep. As always, the River Thames flowed quietly by, disturbed only by somebody brave enough to be dropped off in a taxi nearby.
Deep inside the old power station, the air began to move. Behind a crumbling wall, water pipes trembled. Broken tiles lay crumpled on the floor. Rats scurried from shadow to shadow, the only survivors of what had been before. If anything else could have lived here, which it couldn’t, it would have run. In the dark London night, only the four vast chimneys could see how these shadows twisted and turned, before revealing a mud-splattered, silver-haired nun.
Sister Clementine was tired, tired of running, tired of always being afraid. Ever since she’d agreed to carry the message, they’d had her scent. No matter how well she’d hidden, no matter what tricks she’d used, they’d always found her. Her chest was tight and her legs ached from the chase. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer, desperately seeking release from her ribcage. Beads of sweat formed on her brow like condensation on a hot summer’s day. She had to think fast; any minute now they’d be on her. She couldn’t outrun them, especially not the little one. By the time she’d made it to the fence, they’d have her, and if they had her, there was no hope of keeping quiet. No one ever kept quiet.
Looking out towards the river, she saw a sliver of hope. If she could make the crane in time, she might get high enough to go unnoticed. She climbed the ladder quickly and quietly, her robes perfect cover under the pitch-black sky. She was absorbed into the darkness of sleepy London.
But Sister Clementine did not go unnoticed. Finally, at the crane’s arm she slowed enough to hear them. The same two men that had tricked her since the beginning, one short and barrel-chested, the other impossibly tall. They were studying their new surroundings carefully. The shorter man sniffed at the air’s unique aroma like a foxhound, while the tall man’s pin-sharp eyes scanned the horizon. The experienced arm which held his gun aloft was steady, it mirrored the slow, repetitive thudding of his heart. Their kind might usually have been nervous, afraid even of being on private land. But not these men. It was not their job to fear, but to be feared. They were the things that went bump in the night.
In no time they had zeroed in on their target. They moved fast, the tall one climbing with all the skill of a spider while the other charged with the excitable brute strength of a predator nearing its prey.
Sister Clementine moved further down the crane arm as her assailants reached the top.
‘Gimme the co-ordinates, Clementine. Just two sets o’ numbers and you go free,’ said the tall man, in a thick dark American accent.
Clementine’s foot slipped, finding only air instead of metal. There was nowhere else to run. The tall American pulled a revolver from his hip, aiming it squarely at the woman’s head.
‘Don’t kill her, just wound her; she’s worth nothing if she can’t talk,’ snarled the barrel, edging down the crane’s arm towards her.
The nun looked down at the void of black, before closing her eyes for one last prayer.
‘He wants the child, Clementine,’ said the American.
But the nun’s mind was already made up. Sister Clementine opened her eyes and smiled.
‘Go to hell.’
She stretched out her arms like wings and pushed hard on the crane beneath her, launching herself into the air. She made no sound as she fell into the darkness of the night. There was no hard crunch of concrete below, only a splash as she landed in the icy River Thames. The tall American waited, peering into the darkness, before firing a single perfect round.
Writing task
Write the next chapter to this story. (25 marks)
You may wish to write about:
- What happens to Sister Clementine
- What the men chasing her decided to do next
💡 Writing Tips
- •
- Pick up straight after the shot over the Thames.
- •
- Keep the pursuers and the mysterious child relevant.
- •
- Build suspense through changing dangers.
- •
- End with an unresolved question.
📝 Sample Answer
The freezing water closed over Sister Clementine’s head. For a moment she could see nothing but drifting bubbles and a faint ribbon of light above her. She kicked towards it, fighting the weight of her soaked robes.
A sharp crack echoed through the water. The shot had missed, but she knew the men would search the river. She forced herself beneath the shadow of an old landing stage and clung to a slimy wooden post. Her breathing was loud in her ears. Above her, footsteps rang along the embankment.
“She's gone,” said the shorter man.
“Not until we find her,” the American replied. “She knows where the child is.”
Sister Clementine closed her eyes. So that was why they wanted the message. She reached into the lining of her sleeve and felt the small waterproof envelope still tucked safely against her wrist.
A low engine hummed nearby. Through a gap in the boards, she saw a narrow boat sliding towards the landing stage. Its pilot lifted a lantern twice, paused and lifted it again: the signal she had been told to expect.
She gathered her strength and whispered, “Here.”
The boat drew closer, but across the river another light flashed in answer. Someone else had seen the signal—and Sister Clementine could not tell whether it belonged to a friend or an enemy.
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