Atop a rolling hill overlooking the town of Westfordshire, resided a residence of great renown: Mrs. Kensington’s Home for Children of Uncertain Parentage.

The manor home surrounded by wrought iron fencing was perhaps the most politely named orphanage in the whole of Britain.

Inside, ten-year-old Ollie Alsworth sat at the edge of his bed, fidgeting nervously. Though it was past midnight, he was fully dressed in pants, a tweed jacket and flat cap, waiting to spring into action.

The gentle knock at his door didn’t rouse his slumbering roomates, but Ollie hurried out into the hallway.

There, his best friend Maggie awaited him. At twelve, she stood half a head taller than Ollie, and was similarly dressed for their serious task.

“Ready to go?” she whispered.

“Um. Yes…?”

Sensing his unease, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Courage, Ollie.”

With a shared nod, they were off, tiptoeing through the winding hallways.

They were an unlikely pair of escapists. Ollie and Maggie had always been rule followers, but fate forced their hand. They’d overheard they were to be separated, Maggie moved to the new all girl’s orphanage several towns over. And that, they’d decided, simply would not do.

Quiet as mice, they moved past Mrs. Kensington, slumbering in a chair in the front lounge, and out into the front yard.

There, in the circular driveway, sat their target. A pristine 1933 Bentley, only a few years old.

Door flung open, they were inside in a flash. Maggie pulled a pair of wooden blocks from her bag and began tying them beneath Ollie’s feet.

“Can’t you drive?” Ollie asked. “You might see over the dash.”

“You’re our wheelman. You’ve got the expertise!”

Ollie frowned. He’d ‘driven’ a car once as a boy, on his uncle's lap before his passing. That hardly made little Oliver feel an expert.

“Besides the driving, though… What’ll we do for food? Or money? Or—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Maggie replied as she finished the last knot. “Together.”

“But…”

“I promise you it’ll be alright, little brother.”

Ollie nodded, stiffening his upper lip. A promise from Maggie was not a trifling thing. She was his sister in all but name and shared DNA. She’d never lead him astray.

With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life.

Awoken by the racket, lights turned on all over the manor, and Mrs. Kensington burst out the front door.

“Go!” Maggie shouted.

Ollie began rolling forward, but quickly spotted a problem. “The gate’s shut!”

“Oh, sod it. Give it the beans, Ollie!”

Closing his eyes, Ollie stomped hard on the gas and they burst through the gate with a tremendous, clattering crash of metal on metal.

Maggie glanced back. Finding no pursuers on their tail, she stuck her head out the passenger and let loose a Whooooooooop! of joyful freedom. Ollie mirrored her.

The car sped down the narrow country lane, a head poking out of each window, shouting and laughing all the way.