Chapter Nineteen
Deeta
I don’t understand Mari.
I don’t understand anything about this place, but Mari’s behaviour today has proved particularly confusing.
My tribe has been wiped out. I have no idea what has happened to my family and whether or not they are safe. I’ve been kidnapped and brought to a strange place, filled with weird people, who behave oddly. Yet for some bizarre reason, Mari thinks that the most important thing to do, and the best way to spend our time, is to shop. She dragged us first to a dress makers, where she purchased a great many highly impractical dresses for us. Then on to a shoe maker, where she presented us both with several pairs of shoes that, although pretty, are of very little use. Then she took us to something that I remember hearing my mother talk about: a hairdresser.
I think that she was trying to be kind; she seems to think that we should view this excursion as some amazing treat. I can tell she’s puzzled by our lack of enthusiasm. I guess she doesn’t know that we have witnessed the elegance and relaxed atmosphere of complete luxury in the Andak compound with confusion and horror. Everything is so jarringly disparate from the world that we know exists just outside the walls of this compound.
So now I sit in my new dress, with my hair arranged with the utmost care into perfect curls that have been gathered on the crown of my head to fall softly down on one side. The make-up that has been applied to my face somehow manages to make my eyes look huge. I feel different, like a doll, a toy brought in from the outside to be played with.
It’s as though Mari is trying to make over the savages from the outside world, forming us into the more acceptable Andak image. If that was her purpose then she has succeeded; I do look like one of them, like an Andak. Somehow my own identity has be swallowed up and redefined so that I fit in better with the aesthetics of this place.
In a way I am relieved, because I will be meeting these people in their own guise. These clothes and the polish, they are a veneer, a type of armour to hide behind and take confidence from. The trick will be in keeping them as just that, and not being taken over completely.
“I’m afraid that from now on I can’t help you very much. I can try, but I don’t guarantee that I’ll be of much use.”
We’re in Jan’s room, the boxes of our recent purchases scattered everywhere. We relax gratefully on the sofa, sinking into the feather cushions, and drink tea that Nan brought up for us, along with the daintiest sandwiches I have ever seen.
“Why, what’s next?” I ask, selecting another bite sized morsel and popping it into my mouth.
“Next is lunch,” replies Mari.
“Oh, no! Not that!” cries Jan dramatically.
Mari laughs.
“Actually, to be more precise, it’s a barbeque. We have a barbeque lunch every Wednesday in the Italianate pleasure garden; tomorrow you will attend.”
“Why?” My voice is startled.
“You girls will have to meet everyone at some point, so tomorrow you’ll have lunch with us and tomorrow night you’ll have dinner with us at the dining room.”
“Why does the ‘dining room’ sound creepy?”
“You saw the park in the middle of the complex?”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“Well, the pavilion in the middle is known as the dining room. It’s the tradition of the tribe that the blood Andaks have dinner as a family there along with their friends. Some families have an open invitation, you know, families with unmarried daughters. Pretty, unmarried daughters, who because of that invitation think it their right and their right alone to be included. They will not look on your interloping with friendliness.”
“Then why go?” I ask.
Mari looks uncomfortable, and for some moments she doesn’t speak.
“Ryder has his reasons for the way he does things; I just don’t know what they are. Your presence here is not a secret, Ryder occupies one of sixteen seats on the board and he can do nothing without the board’s consent. To gain that consent he must put his trust in them all. How can he do that when he knows that one of them is a traitor?”
We must look surprised because she smiles sadly.
“Of course I know; do you really think I would have given up my son to strangers for any other reason than knowing him to be in danger? It was bad enough worrying about Dax; I could hardly bear that.”
Her voice is roughened with emotion as she mentions her husband’s name, and a single tear traces a lonely path down her otherwise controlled face. I find myself wondering at her strength, wondering if, in the same position, I could be similarly selfless. If it were better for Dec that he live here, could I let him go?
Outside darkness has begun to settle. Soon we will don the beautiful silken creations that are even now hanging in our dressing rooms, and go to the pavilion in the middle of the pleasure gardens. There, if Mari is to be believed, the only thing that awaits us are snide comments and unpleasant insinuations of most of the people we meet.
Suddenly in my mind’s eye I see the girl from the grand hall; her flawless beauty, her perfection of movement. Mostly I remember the hatred and spite spilling out of her beautiful eyes. I look down at my dress, the beautiful dress that Mari bought this morning, feeling that it is too fine. Against that girl in the grand hall I will look ridiculous; tricked out in all the finery, but missing the sophistication and elegance. Next to her all will see I don’t belong.
Unbidden a feeling of loneliness engulfs me, and I long for something more familiar, something safe and comforting. I long for my father… or maybe Tom.
--------
“Have you ever been sailing, Deeta?”
Mari’s daughter Tina has directed several polite and unthreatening questions of inanity towards me, but this last question takes the cake.
“No, I haven’t.”
“We have sailing dinghies on the big lake; if you like I’ll take you out on the water. Don’t worry; I won’t drown you!”
I laugh along with her, easily but superficially, and secretly heave a sigh of relief.
Tina, Jennet, Fay, and Jojo, Mari’s daughters, seem friendly enough. Yet ever since we left Wisteria House the conversation has been strained and uncomfortable. It isn’t that we have a mutual dislike of each other or anything; we just can’t seem to find a common ground.
They have little idea what our lives are like, and what we see of their lives fills us with a kind of disgust. I can’t really explain it, because it isn’t that I dislike these girls. They seem to be very nice, but it is as though they have blinkers on. They, like everyone else that lives in Andak city, seem to have lost touch with reality. I guess it’s because my reality isn’t the same as theirs.
I mean; what is Tina thinking of, asking me if I’ve ever been sailing? Ask me if I’ve ever had to fight for my life, for survival. Yet my life is to some as theirs is to me. I might not live in the luxury of this place, but I am fully aware of how fortunate I am. I have my family and my tribe who have protected me and safeguarded me. For others it has not been like that. To some the struggle of life has been an all consuming adversary that has taken everything from them, including their lives.
Why can’t these people see the suffering just outside their walls?
Don’t they care?
Are other people’s lives so unimportant to them?
It’s as though they don’t think about it. It doesn’t seem to have registered to them that out there, in the City, there are people dying because they have no food or clean water, things that the Andak take for granted.
“Besides you’ll probably want an excuse to get away after a while,” observes Tina morosely.
“What? Why?”
“Because Nova will be there.”
Fay’s voice is depressed, and I notice a faint droop to her shoulders.
Nova, Nova, Nova!
Who cares about Nova and her petty ways? More important things are at stake! Their father is dead,
and his killer is even now systematically killing their uncles. How can Nova’s sniping have the power to hurt them after having endured the pain of losing a loved one? I have an urge to shake them both senseless.
“That’s good, at least we won’t be short of someone to laugh at,” drawls Jan lazily.
I see Fay, Tina, and Jennet cast shocked glances her way, and smile.
“Why does Jan think Nova’s funny, Deeta?”
Jojo, Mari’s youngest daughter, slips her hand into mine as skips along beside me.
“Because Nova’s so silly,” I reply.
“She isn’t very nice,” Jojo observes at length.
“Well, let’s just say Nova doesn’t always do the nicest things,” I temporise.
After all; what do I really know about Nova anyway? She might have had a horrible life; who am I to judge her actions and motives? I look down at Jojo’s slight form as she hops from one foot to the other, a sudden disquieting thought forming in my mind.
“Jojo, how old are you?”
She smiles up at me, a familiar cheeky glint in her laughing eyes. She looks so much like Dec; sweet and yet deeply mischievous.
“I’m as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth!”
“How old, Jojo?”
“Eight and a half,” she answers proudly.
Her fingers slip through mine, and she runs a little way ahead.
Eight and a half.
The awful significance of her words is not lost on me.
“Dax never even knew about her.”
Mari’s voice startles me, and I turn to find her eyes on the excited figure of her youngest child.
What should I say?
I know that there is no way to alleviate the pain that she must feel, that my words could not help her. I never knew Dax; had never even heard of him until a few short days ago. Yet all that I do know of him, all that I have been told, fills me with sadness that such a good man should have lost his life in such a way.
“I didn’t know until two months after he had gone.” Mari shivers, wrapping her scarf around herself a little tighter. “All I could think of was that he would never know. It helped to have her to look forward to; to have ever more proof of Dax, and of our life together.”
“How do you do it, Mari?” My voice is roughened with tears. “How can you stand it; knowing that the man you loved has gone, and the person who took him from you is right here and still killing?”
Mari looks at me, her delicate features sad and wistful.
“Because I have to,” she answers simply. “When I’m feeling bad I think that I could have had none of this pain, but I wouldn’t have had Dax either. I wouldn’t have our children and the memories of our life together. No matter what, through all that’s happened, it was worth the pain.”
The path we are walking along opens up onto a flagged courtyard. Small tables cover the stone surface, and down the length of one side there is a long table groaning under the weight of our lunch.
Mari squeezes my hand and smiles, directing my attention to one of the statues that are dotted around the garden. I know she’s trying to divert my mind from the sadness we’ve just been discussing.
Many people are already present in the courtyard, talking together in small groups. I see Nova talking to a handsome man with dimples, and can’t help but gasp.
“What’s wrong, Deeta?” asks Fay.
“I think Nova forgot her skirt this morning!”
“From the looks of it she forgot half her top too,” comments Jan dryly. “Very classy.”
“I’m surprised that man can talk to her! With the amount of leg she’s got on display I’d be tongue tied; I’m surprised he’s not blind. Who is he any way?”
“Jayden,” answers Fay. “That would be my uncle, Jayden. Or, wait… maybe it’s Cayden?” Her brow wrinkles thoughtfully. “It’s impossible to tell them apart without making them take their shirts off. Cayden has a scar on his stomach from when he was shot last year. No, it’s got to be Jayden; Cayden rarely leaves the lab, he’s not really very sociable.”
“That’s brilliant; more girls our age should have uncles that look like that, it would be so useful,” observes Jan.
“How did your uncle get shot? I wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone who wanted to harm him to get past the Great Hall.”
The girls look from one to the other nervously, then Jennet answers.
“Cayden was out in the City at the time. Orin was furious when he found out what had happened; he banned the twins from leaving the compound afterward. Cayden’s still grumpy about it now; he says he’s too old to be forbidden to do anything.”
“Why wouldn’t… Orin, was it… let him go out into the City?”
“If Jayden hadn’t managed to get him back when he did, Dr Burns said that Cayden would have died.”
“Oh, I see.”
I take another look at the man conversing easily with Nova. He looks so nice, cheerful, yet he could be a killer. The blood thickens in my veins.
“Are any of your other uncles here?” I ask.
“Sure, most of them. Not Ryder or Jeshua, and Tom’s never here, he lives outside the compound.”
“Hello, Fay, how are you?”
The speaker is a tall man with curly dark hair, and brown eyes that contain an expression of sardonic amusement. He smiles at Jan and I, and for a second I struggle to remember my own name.
“I’m fine thanks, Val. I didn’t expect to see you here; I know how much you hate these gatherings.”
“And why would Val hate gathering with his family?”
The new voice enters the conversation from over my shoulder causing me to jump violently.
“Jayden; you scared Deeta half to death!” reproves Fay.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jayden’s voice sounds genuinely regretful, and his grin is rueful.
“That’s alright, I’m fine.” My voice is unsteady and quiet, partly because he did startle me, and partly because I’m wondering if I’m standing in close proximity to a murdering psychopath.
I turn to look at the first interloper of our little group. What had Fay called him? Val! A frown has settled on his face.
“What are you doing here, Jayden?”
The question is extremely abrupt and sounds very rude.
“I’m socialising,” responds Jayden coolly.
“I thought you were meant to be supervising the repairs on the east wall?” continues Val.
Jayden stiffens.
“You seem to know a lot about my movements, Val. I didn’t know I was such an interesting person.”
Both men stare at each other, hostility simmering beneath their pleasant veneer. I feel as though I’ve been dropped into the middle of a battle zone. Fay doesn’t seem to see anything odd in their verbal sparring; I hear her prattling away to Tina about the lace on so and so’s dress.
“Can either of you sail?” I blurt out into the uncomfortable silence. Both men turn to look at me in vague irritation.
“If its sailing you want, then I’m your man!” replies a voice just behind me.
I wish these people wouldn’t insist on creeping up on me and making me jump; it’s tearing my composure to shreds. He is younger than Val I would say, but older than Jayden, and though he smiles at me his attention is on the other two men.
“I’m sorry; I don’t know your name,” I begin, helplessly looking for Tina or Fay. They have drifted off, leaving me stuck in the middle of a hostile trio.
“My fault, I forgot my manners. My name’s Dagny.”
“I see and, have I got it right? You’re all brothers aren’t you?”
There is a momentary, and very telling, pause before they all hasten to assure me that I am correct.
“To be precise we’re half brothers,” amends Dagny. “Same father, different mothers.”
“Oh, that’s… interesting.”
I smile nervously from one to the other of these strange
men reflecting that, going on first impression, any one of them could be a power hungry murderer.
“Perhaps you’d like me to take you out on the water later?” asks Dagny.
“You mean in a boat?” My voice cracks.
Great! The possible psycho wants to get me alone in a boat with him so that he can sail into the middle of the lake, chuck me in, and let me drown.
“No, no! I don’t think so, I can’t swim and…”
“You don’t need to be able to swim, you’ll be in the boat not the water,” laughs Dagny.
“And I get sea sick! Really, really, quite horribly, sea sick!”
“But I thought you said you’d never been sailing before, Deeta?”
Fay, rather callously, rejoins the conversation at this point, and for a few seconds I flounder.
“Deeta gets very car sick, as one of your platoons could tell you. What she means is that often people who are car sick are also sea sick, and are prone to altitude sickness too.” Jan enters the conversation, handing me a drink and smiling at everyone. “If I were you I wouldn’t risk it!” she ends, addressing Dagny.
Introductions are again made, and my heart rate returns to a more relaxed speed.
“So you’re the girls Ryder is… looking after?” asks Jayden.
“Yes, we’re Marshalls,” answers Jan, ignoring the faint pause in his question.
I see by the involuntary tightening of her hand that his meaning wasn’t lost on her.
“Marshalls, huh?”
“Marshalls,” affirms Jan.
“I guess we aren’t in your good books then,” hazards Val.
“Let’s just say that there’s room for improvement,” answers Jan.