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not?’
    The policeman jabbed a finger towards the tree. ‘Illegal protest,’ he said. ‘These trees have got to come down sooner or later. We’ve got instructions to stop anyone else
trying to join him up there. So don’t even think about it.’
    ‘For God’s sake,’ said a voice directly above Gil, ‘he’s just a kid. Leave him alone.’
    The man in the tree had rolled over so that now he was draped along the branch like a lazy leopard. He didn’t look all that old, thought Gil, maybe only twenty or so, and although it was
March his face was still really tanned, as if he spent most of his time outdoors. His fair hair fell over his face as he grinned down at Gil, one arm dangling casually just out of reach of the
policeman.
    ‘He can talk to me, can’t he?’ the man went on. ‘Or are you trying to ban that too?’
    The policeman growled and muttered. ‘Stay this side of the wall,’ he said to Gil eventually, and retreated a few metres.
    Gil watched a bus pull up at his bus stop, and decided he could afford to miss it.
    ‘So . . . uh . . . what are you doing up there?’ he said.
    ‘Well, they can’t cut the tree down if I’m living in it, can they?’ said the man.
    ‘You’re living up there?’
    ‘Yup. Been here four days now.’
    ‘Why do they want to cut the trees down?’
    ‘Usual stuff,’ said the man. ‘More shops. Greed. Money. Capitalism. All that.’
    Gil considered the possibility of living in a tree. He imagined the phone call he’d make – if he had a phone, of course. Oh, hi, Dad. No, I’m not coming home for dinner.
I’m staying in a tree. I’m going to be here for a while, actually. You see, I’m a green activist now, trying to make up for the total mess you’ve made of the world. He
thought about how furious Dad would be and it gave him a shiver of enjoyment.
    ‘What’s your name?’ asked the man.
    ‘Gil. Gil Walker.’
    ‘Gil, eh? Cool name.’
    ‘Oh. Thanks. Who are you?’
    ‘Jude,’ said Jude.
    ‘Jude who?’
    ‘Just Jude. It’s simpler that way.’
    ‘How do you . . . manage ? I mean, do you come down from there at all?’
    Jude laughed. ‘You’re wondering how I go to the toilet, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘All the kids ask me that.’
    Gil opened his mouth to say that he wasn’t a kid , but then he closed it again.
    ‘That’s what the bucket’s for,’ Jude went on. ‘Although sometimes I do pee straight out of the tree if no one’s around.’ He laughed again.
‘It’s not like anyone’s using the park now.’
    He dug into his pocket and pulled out a packet of tobacco, then swung himself round to sit on the branch. Gil watched Jude roll a cigarette carefully between his fingers. He licked the edge of
the thin paper and pinched it together, then lit the end and took a big sighing suck of smoke. He looked as comfortable as if he was sitting in a deckchair. Another bus pulled up at Gil’s bus
stop, and after waiting a minute or two it drove off again.
    ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Jude. ‘You’re thinking I shouldn’t smoke.’
    ‘Uh – I guess not,’ said Gil, although the thought hadn’t entered his head.
    ‘It’s a risk. I know that. But at least it’s a risk I only take for myself. Pollution, now – that’s far worse than smoking. If you drive a car you’re
poisoning the air for the whole planet. Anyway, life is full of risks. Falling out of a tree is a risk.’
    Jude blew smoke through the bare branches. He didn’t look for one second as if he was about to fall.
    ‘Really though, don’t start smoking,’ he said. ‘It’s expensive, for one thing, and – oh, I’m sure you’ve heard all the other arguments . .
.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Gil. ‘I have.’ He stood up straight, folded his arms and gave his best impersonation of Dad delivering a lecture.‘Smoke from cigarettes damages the
cells in your body, especially cells in the lungs. Or rather, it damages the DNA inside the nucleus of the cells.