Chapter Thirteen
Deeta
“Deeta! I thought I told you to go to bed?” My mother’s voice is faintly irritated and she pushes me towards the twin room. “You’ll be shattered tomorrow as it is, now go to sleep.”
I feel her kiss my cheek, and then she bundles me into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. Jan is sitting in the middle of her bed brushing her hair; I hear her reach a count of fifty and then change hands.
“It feels odd doesn’t it?”
Although I hear her question, it takes a moment to sink in.
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
I move to sit on my bed, and start to pull my jumper over my head. I’ve changed into my pyjamas before she speaks again.
“I feel as if something should happen, as if there should be something more.” She puts her comb down on to the bedside table and hugs her knees.
“I know what you mean; after all that’s happened, to go to sleep seems like an anticlimax.” I climb into bed and turn to lay on my front, propped up by my pillow.
“I think it’s been good for us, in a way.” Jan leans back, and gazes at the ceiling. “You and Tommy have gotten over your little tiff…”
“We didn’t have a little tiff, Janny!”
“Clare has finally gotten spliced…”
“I assume you mean married?”
“And last, but by no means least, we have more victims to fill the hunk pool. I think you’ll agree it has been sadly deficient! I predict interesting consequences.”
“You’re a bad girl, Jan, leave the poor boys alone. Didn’t mum tell you not to flirt?”
“I don’t flirt; I socialise with intent!”
“Which is, of course, totally different?” I ask.
“Entirely.”
I shake my head, and in the silence that ensues turn on to my back and stare at the ceiling. A thousand and one worries coalesce in my mind, unsettling thoughts that I don’t want to face. What happens next? Are we really safe? What about Dec? Is he alright? Is he scared and unhappy? More importantly; how are we ever going to get him back?
-------
I don’t know at what point we fell asleep last night, but neither of us stir until mum comes in to wake us. Yesterday’s work, last night’s stressful trek, and our preparations on our arrival, had tired us out more than we’d known. Yet now it’s back to the mundane; there is breakfast to be made, and I didn’t even look at the kitchens last night. It’s quite possible that they will need a good clean before we attempt to use them.
Dragging ourselves out of bed to the prospect of dressing in a freezing cold room is almost too difficult to contemplate. Somehow we manage it, and negotiate our way down the hall to the grand staircase. The cold light of day is not as kind as the warm glow of lamps had been. This morning I can see the shabbiness that had been hidden last night.
“Does anyone even know where the kitchen is?” asks Jan, as she pulls her hair into a ponytail.
“It’s off the corridor through that door,” answers our mother, leading the way across the hall.
The kitchen is huge, sunken down two steps, with a very high ceiling. Metal cupboards line two walls, a range fills the other, and a metal surface with three sinks is stretched across the last. There is a very large metal topped island in the middle of the room.
“Hello, Gloria, how do things look?”
Mrs. Clark’s smile is relieved as she bids us hello.
“It’s clean, which is the main thing, and Tom and Ralph went over to the depot and managed to get rations for the whole tribe. The Guard said tomorrow we’ll have to queue like everyone else.”
“They must have been up at the crack of dawn to sort that out!” exclaims Jan, tying a tea towel around her waist.
“Goodness yes, I was down here at half past six and the boys had already sorted it out, and were bringing the provisions in,” answers Mrs. Clark, kneading bread vigorously. Flour covers the front of her apron, and a tendril of hair has escaped from the French plait running down the back of her head. Every few words are punctuated with the sound of her blowing it from her eyes.
“Where are they now?” I ask, searching through the cupboards to find a bowl.
“Tom went to get the children ready, and Ralph is helping Nella down with some furniture from the rooms on the top floor.”
The glass bowl I’m holding rattles a little as I place it on the side, and my startled eyes collide with my mother’s. She shakes her head at me, and I stifle the involuntary exclamation that rises to my lips. Turning back to my work I try not to smile. After all, it only took a small war to bring them together.
It’s strange how everything has changed. If someone had told me a week ago that we would be here in this new place, part of another much larger tribe, that I would have been ‘out’, and that Ralph and Nella would be moving furniture together, I would have called for a straightjacket and the men in white coats.
Yet it isn’t only that; it isn’t only Nella and Ralph who have changed, we all have, even me. So much, and in so many ways, I can’t enumerate. The only constant has been Tom. Through all of this confusion he has remained unshakable and calm, knowing exactly what to do. It’s weird, but in practically every book I’ve ever read someone has been ‘coldly calculating’. Why does calculation always appear in such a bad light? Tom is at his most impressive and useful when employing his brain in a calculating way. In fact, it’s one of the best ways to describe him. He is steady, cool, calm, and yes, calculating.
And yet, that isn’t really doing him justice. Although he is every one of those things he is, I don’t know, somehow more. It’s just that side of him is all most people ever see, it’s his projected image, if you like. The other, different side of him, is hidden deep within, seen only by the children and Uncle Jep, and through them by the rest of us whom he calls his friends.
“It’s funny how all we ever see of people is the things that they want us to see. They hide the rest, the part of themselves that if you saw, you could truly say you knew them.”
“That’s very deep for this time of the morning, dear.” My mother’s voice is half amused, and I blush. I hadn’t realised I was speaking out loud.
“You needn’t look quite so depressed about it, Deet.” Jan’s words are soft so that only I hear them. “If you intend to get any kind of stiffness into those egg whites, you should try moving the whisk.” Something in her eyes makes me feel that she knows my thoughts.
Jan has always been like that; capable of seeing things that are hidden from most people. Sometimes I think that Jan is wiser than me and Clare put together, with an innate wisdom that I don’t quite understand.
The morning passes quickly. At around half past twelve a messenger arrives from the Marshall Council, requiring that the tribal Elders should go with him. My father, Mr. Clark, and Mr. Grey leave with him, taking Tom, Jamie, and Ralph along. I think it’s more to swell the ranks than anything else.
The rest of us spend the time waiting, and setting our new home to rights. The men bring furniture down from the upper rooms to put in the communal rooms down stairs, and us women scrub everything in sight. The heavily stained carpets, and the walls of the great dining room and sitting room are filthy. It isn’t until we are halfway through scrubbing down the hallway, that the others come back.
“Even think of stepping on the floor and I’ll strangle you with my apron strings!” Nella warns as she sits back on her heels and pushes an errant curl out of her eyes. “What did they want?”
As she gets to her feet she sways slightly, and Ralph puts out a hand to steady her. Nella grimaces and stretches her back.
“Oh, will I ever stand straight again?”
“What happened, Ralphie?”
Ralph rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment or two, driving his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
“It looks much better in here; you must have worked hard all morning.”
Nella’s clo
th hits his chest and falls to the floor.
“Stop being difficult.”
“I think you’d better wait and hear it from the Elders,” answers Ralph.
Mine and Janny’s cloths follow Nella’s, and then suddenly, struck by the same thought, we rise.
“I think I’ll go and make a drink,”
“I’ll help, Janny.” I call, running after her.
The kitchen is full when we enter it. In the middle of the crowd I see the Elders talking quietly together. Over in the corner Tom is leaning against the wall, talking seriously with Uncle Jep. Without thinking I make my way towards them, Jan close behind me. Tom levers himself upright as we approach. It’s a habit he’s got, and something which I’ve always thought courteous. I never realised until just now, that it’s actually an unfriendly gesture of withdrawal.
“Hello, Tom, how did things go?”
“As expected,” answers Tom.
“Your explanatory prowess is unbeaten, Tommy,” laughs Jan.
“You’ll hear about it soon enough,” replies Tom. He has hardly finished his sentence when Mr. Clark stands and calls for quiet.
“The Marshalls were kind enough to explain to us the laws by which their tribe is governed, this morning. It will mean changes to all of us. Firstly there are greenhouses and animals to be cared for, which we shall be assigned to by rota. Also they have a system of daily rationing which will mean that every person, including children, will have to queue at the storage depot every morning for their food for the day. The provisions that we brought along with us, including the animals, are now communal property and have been added to the stores and livestock already here.”
There is a general murmur of unrest at this juncture, and Mr. Clark raises a hand to silence it.
“I think we should all remember that we too are Marshalls now, and that in our hour of need they have helped us. Every law that they have asked us to abide by is fair, and no more than what they live by themselves.” He pauses allowing us to think over this for a second.
“There is also a draft; all persons from the age of thirteen upwards must be ready to act in the tribe. Now, we explained how things worked in our own tribe, and that some of us had no training. The Marshall council proved very understanding; they have agreed that those in our guard will take up duties immediately. Those who have not had any experience are exempt from duties outside the compound for twelve weeks whilst they are trained. For a further twelve weeks after that, they will be on active duty only within Marshall territory.”
I turn to Tom, a slight frown drawing my brows together.
“You expected that?”
“The Marshalls aren’t stupid. Our amalgamation into their tribe is at its most vulnerable now. To be unreasonable and harsh would cost them a great deal. Showing a little understanding costs them very little and earns them a lot of brownie points.”
“You make something kind sound mercenary.”
Tom’s eyes narrow as he looks at me.
“That’s because it is.”
I fancy I hear the sound of admiration in his words. Shades of his father perhaps? An unpleasant shiver runs the length of my spine and bite my tongue. I’m horrified that even I have been tainted by the hate that is directed towards the Andak, that I could besmirch Tom in my own mind with such glib thoughts.
“Deeta?” Jan’s hand on my arm shows her concern. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, I’m fine.”
I look up to find Tom’s eyes upon me and have a funny feeling that he followed the direction of my thoughts. I look away, embarrassed.
Things change. I guess it’s in the nature of ‘things’ to change, but to have changed this much and this quickly leaves me feeling very lost and alone. It isn’t a feeling that I like, but for Tom I guess it’s a way of life; maybe he doesn’t even feel it any more. For some stupid reason the thought that Tom is impervious to the pain is horribly depressing, more so than the thought that he is suffering in his loneliness.
Everything has gotten so messed up. I used to be happy, but not now. I don’t feel like laughing any more; I just feel tired, all the time so tired and weighed down. Yet worse are the times when I’m numb and feel nothing at all.
Suddenly I’m angry; white hot, burning angry, because I can’t do anything. Dec is gone, dragged off by strangers, all alone and scared, and what can I do about it?
Nothing.
Zip.
Zero.
Nada.
An exhausting rage floods through me at my helplessness, at knowing that there is nothing I can do.
As for Tom, that’s another thing. I never knew how much I depended on Tom. Somehow my friendship with him is different than those with Nell and Ralph. In a way it seems more important. Yet now, just when I need him most, when I need to cling to his strength, he has deserted me.
I feel lost and bewildered and… betrayed. We carry on a façade of friendship, and yet deep down we are not connected at all.
And guess what? That’s right; there’s nothing I can do about that either! Tom just isn’t interested in things going back to the way they were. Why, I don’t know. Maybe he just put up with me for all those years; not really wanting me around, but not wanting to tell the kid who had decided to cling to him and his family like a human limpet, to get lost. The thought is mortifying to the highest degree.
I come to myself, and the sense of my surroundings, to find a large teardrop has fallen from my bowed face. It spreads a dark stain over my blouse. I hear Tom straighten and excuse himself, and sense rather than see Uncle Jep’s hand move out towards him. Whether he catches Tom’s attention or not I don’t know, I only know that Tom carries on walking.
“I think we’d better get back to our scrubbing, don’t you Jan?” My voice is rough in that horrible way that confirms to everyone you’ve been crying.
Janny walks with me back to where our scrubbing brushes and bowls of water lay as we left them. She chatters pleasantly of nothing in particular, careful to make answering unnecessary. It’s only as we again start work that she stops talking and begins to sing.
Janny’s voice is very sad when she sings and the song that she has chosen is very depressing, doing little to lighten my mood. It is several moments before I realise that her soft voice has stopped.
“Deet, you would not believe the prime specimen that has just walked in.”
I look up to see a particularly good looking young man conversing with Mrs. Trayman by the front door.
“You’re right, he’s very good looking,” I answer disinterestedly.
I see Mrs. Trayman smile and point in our direction, and the man thanks her before coming our way.
“Deet, I think that Marshall is going to try and chat us up.” Jan’s voice is amused and mocking. Her words bring a feeling of dread to settle in my stomach.
A moment later he stands before us.
“Hello again, Deeta.” He smiles as he comes to a halt in front of us. “You’re even prettier in daylight.”
“Robin!”
At the sound of my startled voice his face creases into a smile, and he thrusts his hands into his jacket pockets.
“So you do remember.”
I blush. Of course I remember. I remember exactly how awkward it had been.
“This is my sister, Jan. Jan this is Robin… we met briefly last night.”
“Brief but sweet, Deeta.”
I blush again, uncomfortable with his brash familiarity. He seems to notice belatedly, and holds up his hands in front of him.
“Okay, okay; no more sweet stuff. How did things go last night, did you have all you needed?”
“Yes, everything was fine, thank you.”
Robin nods and looks around.
“Kate came through with a few of the women yesterday, they didn’t have much time, but they pretty much straightened things out. Still it looks better for a scrub down; I’d forgotten that the walls were cream in here.”
?
??Who’s Kate?”
Robin looks vaguely uncomfortable.
“She’s a girl I know… well she sort of… I mean it’s not like she’s just any girl, because she’s kind of…” Robin breaks off clearing his throat. “She’s my girl.”
He shifts awkwardly, looking away and beginning to whistle.
“Have you been a Marshall long?” asks Jan, taking pity on him.
“Twenty six years and seven months,” replies Robin.
“And that’s a cryptic way of saying?”
“All my life; my name is Robin Marshall.”
For a second no one says anything, and Robin grins.
“Ouch; that was a conversation stopper!”
In the distance I hear Clare calling Jan. Janny smiles, excusing herself.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?”
I hear genuine concern in Robin’s voice.
“We’re fine; in fact it’s beautiful here, everything is.” I smile thinking back to our tattered blue rug and beat up sofas.
“Say…” Robin looks around apprehensively. “Your boyfriend isn’t around is he? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t? But, that guy you were with last night…”
“Tom,” I interject.
“So that was who it was! It was so dark I couldn’t tell… come to think of it he called me by name, didn’t he? Should’ve known it was Tom.” His face takes on a vaguely hunted expression. “This just keeps getting worse; did you say you weren’t an item?”
I shake my head and he relaxes again, but still there is a worried furrow between his brows.
“Deeta, would you take a bit of advice? Keep quiet about the fact that you have no boyfriend. In fact, make one up. Laying claim to the best lookers of a new tribe is a time honoured Marshall tradition; you and that pretty sister of yours had better be careful.”
I don’t know why, but I get the impression that this ‘time honoured tradition’ is not one he takes part in. Unaccountably I feel much more at ease with him.
“We’ll be careful, thanks for the warning.”
“Good girl, now are you sure there isn’t something you need?”
“I don’t think so, but thanks, Robin.”
“Well if there is, just tell me and I’ll have it added to your daily ration.”
“You can do that?”
“My family founded this tribe, one day I’ll be head Elder. What’s the point of having all that influence and not pulling some strings now and then?” Robin smiles and salutes. “I’ve got to get going. Be seeing you, Deeta, and remember what I said.”
He waves a cheerful goodbye, and vanishes into the courtyard. After a few moments deliberation I decide I like Robin Marshall.
“Making new friends, Deeta?”
I jump at the sound of Tanya’s voice.
“I suppose I was; he was asking if there was anything we needed.”
“I’d be careful if I were you, goodness only knows what he’ll want in return.”
“Tanya!” I flush red, angry, and embarrassed by her snide innuendo. “He just wanted to make sure we were comfortable, that all of us are comfortable.”
“Yeah, whatever. Trust me, Deeta; he spells trouble.”
“I think that’s a little harsh…”
“That’s the trouble, Deeta; you’re not such an authority are you? You thought Tomasz was fine, and look what he turned out to be; a slimy Andak!” A spiteful glint enters her eyes. “He’s ruined you, you know. None of the boys will want you now, not after…” Her voice trails off suggestively, and she looks after Robin. “Come to think of it; perhaps you should be nice to that Marshall. Or had you already thought of that?”
I watch in silence as she walks away, a self satisfied smile plastered over her face. I’m horribly aware that everyone in the hallway is looking at me, but not meeting my eyes. Dropping the cloth I’m holding, I walk sedately toward the stairs.
I don’t have any destination in mind, but feel a kind of numbness come over me. Everything disappears: there’s no thought, no pain, not even the sensation of passing time.
I come to a sense of my surroundings to find myself face to face with a large door. From its shape and size I know that it is the door to the roof, my often used place of refuge. The handle puts up resistance in my fingers, and with both hands I begin to pull madly at its unresponsive locks. The tears are coursing down my face as I beat a rhythmless tattoo against the hard wood.
I cry for everything in those moments. I cry for Dec and for Keya, for Jamie’s misery, and Tom’s coldness, for the huge and strange changes that have tangled us all in their intricate web. My fist is suddenly arrested in a warm, firm clasp, and I’m turned and pulled into a comforting embrace. Only one person I know radiates the comfort that I can feel tangible in the air, and I allow myself to relax in Tom’s arms.
For a while my shuddering sobs continue, his left arm around my waist remains tight, while his right hand smoothes my hair back from my face. Yet even tears must stop eventually, and I become quiet.
“I didn’t mean to be silly, Tom, it just—”
“I saw, Deeta.”
I lean against him, absorbing the kindness and gentleness of him, just as I absorb his warmth. Tom understands, he understands what I can’t even put into words, and his understanding is a relief. I stand there with my head resting against his shoulder, and time rolls back so that I don’t feel awkward. My next question is as frank as we have always been with each other.
“Are we good, Tom?”
“Yes, Deeta. We’re good.”
He draws away from me, and hands me his handkerchief. I take it from him, wiping my eyes.
“Is my face red and puffy?”
“Honesty decrees that I say yes.”
“I thought so... thanks, Tom.”
“What for?”
“For being there when I need you most. That’s what matters isn’t it; being there for your friends when things are tight?”
“I guess so.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we begin to walk down to the lower levels. Outside my door he does something he’s never done before. He leans forwards and kisses my cheek, much like he would have kissed Tarri or Carris.
“Goodbye, Deeta, be good.”