Chapter Twelve
Deeta
“I like a warm welcome.” Tom takes my hand and the gun in his. “Next time, Deeta, remember the safety catch.”
“Did you find anyone?” asks Ralph.
“Yes.”
Tom doesn’t elaborate, but I know that we are safe again. Before us, rising out of the rubble, is another group of buildings.
“Is that it, Tom? Is it Marshall territory?”
“Yes.”
The disapproval in his voice is pronounced.
“Tom, why is it you and Dad were so annoyed that we had to come here? Dad said it was an unpalatable situation.”
Tom is so silent that for a while I think he will ignore my question.
“The Marshalls have a reputation for being ruthless.”
“They’re cruel?”
“Maybe just canny, but in a certain situation, to a certain set of people, it amounts to the same thing.”
“How do you mean?”
“The Marshalls will help anyone, Deeta, but only for a price. For different people, it’s a different price.”
“What was our price, Tom?”
“We didn’t have any time; we were desperate, and had to agree to anything they offered us.”
Icy cold fear wraps itself around my heart.
“Tom, what is it; what did we agree to?”
“Our tribe was our price, Deeta. Usually when the Marshalls absorb a tribe, they select one of the tribal Elders to serve on the Marshall council. We had no choice but to take whatever they offered us, and they didn’t offer one of our Elders a place on their board. We’re Marshalls now; our lives will be governed by the Marshall high council, and we must obey their laws, our own are obsolete.”
For a while it seems hard to take in, and I don’t understand why it will be so different.
“Will it be so very bad, Tom?”
Tom pauses and, taking my arm, pulls me round to face him.
“They have a draft, Deeta!”
“A what?”
“A draft; all those over the age of thirteen must enter the guard, it’s obligatory.”
“You mean me too?”
“I mean you, Clare, Jan, Ralph, and Ricky; all of you.”
“But we can’t, can we?”
I hear uncertainty in my voice, and I’m rather surprised that I’m not having full blown hysterics.
“You’ll have to; we all will,” answers Tom, beginning to move forwards again.
“Not you, Tom. You don’t have to do anything, technically we’re not your tribe.” I smile. “Is it very bad manners to say that I wish it was your tribe going through this and not ours?”
“If it was my tribe, we wouldn’t be in this position.”
His muttered words are soft, and for a second I think his statement has more than its surface meaning.
As we move into the Marshall territory I begin to notice its difference to our street, and the streets we have passed coming here. Our compound was a grey and dilapidated affair, surrounded by buildings that were no more than ruins. Here all the buildings look as though they are being used.
“Tom, who do these buildings belong to?”
“They’re Marshall lookout posts.”
“You mean they’re watching us right now?”
Tom nods, and I get the feeling that he doesn’t appreciate being observed.
“Their base is actually a complex of buildings with a courtyard in the centre, deep in the heart of their territory. With the lookout posts all around, it makes them very safe.”
“Is very safe, safe enough?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Thanks, Tom, very reassuring.”
The Marshall complex is huge. It’s only opening is a heavily guarded double door, and as we approach we find ourselves face to face with more gun barrels than is entirely comfortable.
“So it’s you?”
The young man gives a signal, and the barrels are lowered fractionally. His back is to the light so I see him only in silhouette. He’s stocky, a little on the short side, but I have the overall impression of strength.
“Are you going to let us in or leave us to stand here all night, Gordon?” Jamie’s voice is icy, and Gordon’s manner changes from curious to insolence.
I guess it must be a bit more difficult for the Clarks; their pride has been touched more than the rest of us. It was Mr. Clark’s father who founded the tribe, did I tell you? Our tribal name is Clark.
Not now though; the Clarks have ceased to exist, just one more tribe that failed to survive.
“Of course not, you can leave the provisions there and we’ll take care of them.”
“What does he mean?” I whisper.
“The provisions will go into the Marshall store rooms, the Guard give out daily rations every morning.”
“You mean they’re taking our food away?”
My voice is loudly indignant, and Tom’s hand covers my mouth quickly.
“It isn’t ours, it’s community property now that we are all Marshalls, Deeta.”
We walk past the barricades, and across the short stretch of ground to the door of the building. There are several men lounging around a fire at the entrance, the flames play over their various weapons. As we pass they evince only minimum interest in us.
We enter into a great hall which, to my amazed eyes, seems to be carved from solid marble. Its ceiling is vaulted, with four marble pillars reaching up to support it. Before I can truly take in the splendour, we’ve moved through the hall and out into the courtyard. It’s spacious, sectioned into four areas with paths in between.
In one section I see livestock, and in another what looks like winter wheat. It is too dark to see the contents of the two further sections. As we reach the entrance to the other side I see a man step out of the shadows.
“Hello, Tom, Jamie.” He looks a little bewildered. “Who should I speak to?”
My father, Mr. Grey, and Mr. Clark step forwards.
“Your instructions should be addressed to these men, Mr. Alton,” replies Tom.
I screw my eyes up against the darkness, trying to see the man clearly. He’s short, a few inches shorter than I am, and he looks slightly stooped, suggesting that he is an older gentleman. Other than that I can’t tell much about him, still my curiosity is roused by the respect in Tom’s voice.
Mr. Alton inclines his head, and bids the tribe at large to move into the building.
Despite the fact that I hadn’t been cold outside, it’s nice to escape from the chill breeze. The hall is dimly lit with torches and lamps. Startled, I blink up at a huge marble staircase, before realising that the whole of the hall is paved in large marble slabs.
“These are the quarters that the council has assigned to you.” Mr Alton shifts uncomfortably. “It’s the first time that they’ve been used for anything but storage, so it hasn’t been converted as well. The rooms do not contain fires or kitchen facilities; all the cooking must be done in the kitchens here on the ground floor.” His tone is vaguely apologetic, and he looks uncomfortable. “We have provided you with all the blankets and cushions that we could spare, I hope they will be of help to you.”
“That was very kind, thank you.”
Mr. Clark’s voice is unusually subdued and Mr. Alton hovers nervously for a moment, before inclining his head and moving past us to the door.
“I’ll leave you to settle now.” He pauses uncertainly, one hand on the door knob. “I have been required to request the presence of your tribal Elders before the Marshall council tomorrow morning. Someone will be sent to fetch you.” He lingers as though he will say more, and then slides through the door as though to safety.
It is a relief to be alone and I hear the entire tribe releasing a held breath. I put the bag I’m carrying down, and slip the strap of the other from my shoulder. My shoes make a faint clicking noise as I walk across to the stairs. In places the brass spindles and handrail are green and have l
ost their shine. I trace a finger over the roughened surface.
“What sort of a place is this?” Jan’s voice is low as she too begins to ascend the steps close behind me.
“I don’t know, but it’s… nice, somehow…” I search for the right word.
“Cosy,” finishes Jan.
“That’s it; cosy.”
The fire from the torches is bathing the hall in a warm light, sending dusky shadows dancing around the walls and floor. Looking up I can see ornate plaster mouldings on the ceiling, and a few gaps where it’s damaged. The stairs come to a landing and branch into opposite directions. We take the right side and find ourselves standing in a corridor. Cautiously I push open the first door I come to. It creaks on its hinges, and then swings inwards, but the room it opens on to is in complete darkness.
“We should have brought one of the torches with us,” laments Jan.
A flickering, warm glow comes down the passage towards us, and instinctively we move aside to let Tom pass. He touches the flames to a torch hanging from its bracket on the wall, and the room becomes visible.
There is a table with four chairs around it in, what closer inspection proves to be, walnut. A thick cream carpet, that bears many stains, covers the floor. A fireplace at one end of the room is flanked by two blue sofas. A large, deep pile rug in blue and cream covers the carpet between them. In the dim light it seems to have stood up to the ravages of life better than the light coloured carpet. The curtains, that fall from very tall windows to the floor, are in the same fabric that covers the chairs.
Despite the fact that all of these aforementioned things are unquestionably tatty, nothing can hide the fact that they were originally expensive items.
“What sort of place is this?” asks Jan again, as she fingers the heavy fabric of the hangings.
“It was originally an exclusive hotel. You couldn’t have afforded to stay here unless you had a ridiculous amount of disposable income.”
Tom moves to the door set in the wall across the other side of the room. It leads into a bedroom, opulently hung with embroidered cream velvet. An imposing canopy hangs above the large bed, the first thing that I see. It takes me several minutes to prize my gaze away from it.
“Will all the rooms be like this?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, most of them; but the top floor will have been more expensive still.
“What a monstrosity!” Ralph’s voice startles me, the sound of his footsteps had been swallowed up by the carpet. “Alright, I suppose, if you don’t mind sleeping in something that wouldn’t look out of place in a harem.”
“I think it’s pretty,” says Jan. “And you can wipe that silly smile off your face, Ralph! I know just what you’re thinking, and you’ll be fortunate if I don’t tell your mother.”
“What me?” grins Ralph, holding his hands up in front of him. “I haven’t done anything.”
We wander back through to the hallway.
“Aunty Deet, have you seen the beds here? They’re huge!” Carris screeches to a halt in front of me and pulls me up the corridor. “The boys have gone up to explore the top floors; if we hurry we’ll catch up with them,”
She drags me through the door and into the stairwell. I can’t believe the difference between this one and our stairwell at home. The steps are richly carpeted and, though very soiled, it stands as a testament to past opulence. Even now the grandeur is still tangible, and it’s a stark contrast to the concrete that our staircase was made up of back at the Clark compound.
The door on the landing above us opens, and Ricky and Roydon emerge.
“Ricky, Ricky: wait for me!” pleads Carris, struggling to go faster.
Ricky stops halfway up the next flight, and turns to her, his hand outstretched.
“Oh! Hello everyone, are you all coming?” asks Ricky.
I’m startled to hear Tom reply behind me and, looking over my shoulder, find that behind him are Nella, Ralph, and Jan. I hadn’t heard them follow us.
Carris reaches Ricky and he takes her hand in his, beginning to climb the steps again.
“We’ve looked at three floors so far, but they’re all the same.” Roydon's voice is disappointed.
I’m not sure what he expected to find but obviously it is something more exciting than he has yet seen.
The stairs stretch endlessly before us, and I begin to wonder if perhaps we should have stayed and got things ready for the night. At the moment we have no idea where our quarters are to be. My mind goes back to the rooms. I only saw one of course, but it had one sitting room, and one bedroom with a double bed.
I wonder vaguely where Jan, Clare, and I will sleep. Maybe on the sofas? Unfortunately there were only two, so one of us will get the floor. I look at Jan; it must be tough being the youngest.
The top floor hallway, when we finally reach it, is carpeted in red. That’s the only difference, so far as I can tell. As we come to the first door and push it open, Carris dances with impatience at the gloom. Tom again lights the lamp on the wall with his torch and the darkness vanishes to be replaced with a pinkish glow.
The room is a little bigger than the first room, draped in the same opulent way in saffron coloured material embroidered in cherry red. The seats are all matching, as before, but in this room the settees are more delicate, with ornate wooden legs. There’s a stool near the fire place, and an armchair next to the rug. The bedroom is dominated by a huge bed, draped in dark burgundy. To one side there is a chaise lounge, and on the other a beautiful dressing table.
At some point there has been a leak in the roof, and some of the furniture has been damaged. On the whole though, everything has stood up to the ravages of time well.
“It's a pity these rooms are up here, it makes them unusable,” says Nella, her voice a little regretful.
“We could move some of this stuff downstairs if you like,” offers Ralph.
Nella looks surprised.
“I guess you’re right, Ralph, maybe we could. For now we should be going back; it’s late and we have to find out who gets which rooms.”
There is a surprising amount of order as we get back down to the lower levels. I see Clare rushing down the hall with her arms full of blankets.
“Have we been allotted quarters yet?” I ask.
“Yes; you’re on the second floor. You’d better get some blankets and stuff from downstairs first though.”
Jan and I stagger into our rooms, arms over flowing with blankets and pillows.
“Where do you want these, Mum?”
“Not in here, through that door; it’s a twin room.”
Jan and I exchange glances.
“That’s Janny on the floor then, is it? Or could we move one of those settees into the twin for her?” I ask.
Mother tucks a blanket under the mattress; she doesn’t look at us as she speaks.
“No, Janny will share the twin room with you.”
“What about Clare?” asks Jan.
“Clare will stay with her husband; they have a room further down the hall.”
“That’s ok for when they are married, but what about now?”
“They are married,” answers my mother.
“What!”
The exclamation breaks from me and Jan at roughly the same time.
“Be quiet!” hisses my mother, she turns to us and whispers quietly. “Philip talked to your father; we don’t know about the laws here, they may not allow Philip and Clare to marry. Clare is very pretty, and one of the Marshalls may take a liking to her. To save any trouble Mr. Clark married them in front of your father and Mr. Grey twenty minutes ago. There’s nothing the Marshalls can do now, and if anyone asks, they’ve been married for six months.”
There is silence as we stand, feeling cold and threatened by the Marshalls, by their power and the fact that they are an unknown entity.
“Was it necessary?” whispers Jan.
“I don’t think they wanted to wait and find out,” answers ou
r mother. “Now come on girls; it’s late. Go and set your bedroom to rights and then go to bed.”
“Can we go and see her?”
“What do you think? That she’ll have sprouted donkey ears since you last saw her?”
“No, but—”
“No but nothing,” states my mother flatly. “Clare’s just got married; the only person she wants to see is her husband. You’d be decidedly de trop, now go to bed.”
“Can I go and check on the children first?”
My mother heaves a large sigh.
“Yes, you’d better take Jan. Those poor children should have been in bed hours ago.”
Jan and I race up the corridor to the Jepsjons apartments, and find Roydon and Ricky helping Tom to make up the beds. Carris is rummaging through the bundles trying to find their night things. She looks relieved as we enter.
“Did either of you pack the pyjamas? I don’t know which bag they’re in.” She spreads her hands out in front of her helplessly, and looks from one to the other of us.
“I think I put them in the… yes, here they are.” I pick out the parcel, and throw it into her waiting arms, before moving through to where the boys are efficiently making beds.
“Tom, where’s the water?” I ask. He glances over his shoulder, surprised to see me.
“There’s no running water up here, but I brought some up from downstairs; it’s in a pail in the sink.”
“Thanks. Come on then girls; let’s get those faces washed and those teeth scrubbed.”
I pick Tarri up; she’s holding her toothbrush in one hand and her nightshirt in the other. Her curly black pigtails are askew, and her eyes heavy with sleep.
“Come on, baby, you can go to sleep soon.”
“I’m not tired,” she asserts, rubbing her eyes.
I place her on the side before taking the pail out of the sink. After securing the plug, I tip some of the icy cold water into the basin. Tarri flinches a little as the flannel comes into cold contact with her warm face.
“Are we going to stay here very long, Aunty Deet?” she asks suddenly.
“Of course we are, dolly; this is our home now.”
“And the people?” she asks around her tooth brush.
“What about them?”
“Well, what if I don’t like them?”
The comb I’m pulling through her hair wobbles.
“Why wouldn’t you like them?”
Tarri shimmies round on the side until she can lean over and spit into the sink.
“I don’t know, but supposing I don’t?”
“I think you’d better ask uncle Tom about that.”
I plait her hair neatly and tie the end, then pull her round to face me.
“Don’t worry about it, Tarri. No matter what, your uncle Tom will make sure you’re safe and happy.”
When we enter the living room, Jan is just finishing Carris’ hair.
“Where are we going to put them?” she asks.
“The girls get the big bed,” answers Tom, entering the room.
His leather jacket has been discarded, and he’s wearing a heavy woollen jumper, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looks tired and pale in the way he always does when exhausted.
“Is there anything else that needs to be done?” I ask.
“No, the rest can wait until tomorrow.” He rubs his eyes in a boyish gesture that strikes me as very attractive. Strange, because I’ve seen him do it plenty of times before and never really noticed.
“In the big bed?” asks Jan.
“The boys said they weren’t sleeping in a girly bed so they’ll sleep in here on the sofas; Uncle Jep and I will take the twin for now.”
“Come on then, girls, let’s get you into bed.”
The girls run to where Tom leans against the door, and he bends to kiss and hug each of them. It’s the first time I’ve seen them go to bed quite so willingly. Jan and I tuck them in and kiss their soft cheeks before leaving them to sleep. As I pass through the door Tom reaches out and takes my arm, before looking to where Jan stands near the door ready to leave.
“You were a great help, Janny.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And you, Deeta, the girls will sleep better for having seen you.”
“Talking of sleep I’m off to find some, g’night Tommy.” Jan waves an airy goodbye and leaves the room.
Tom shakes his head, a smile pulling at his lips.
“You know; Jan’s one of only two people in the whole world who call me Tommy.”
Through my jumper I can feel the warmth of his hand on my skin; it’s a strangely searing heat.
“Who’s the other one?”
“My brother Rye.” His gaze returns to me and alters, and he drops my arm abruptly. “Sleep well, Deeta.”
He turns and, before I can reply, has vanished into the twin room.