Chapter Seven
Deeta
“How… why… would you say that?” gasps Mr. Denby. “Tomasz Jepsjon, have you no feeling at all that you can calmly announce to Keya's parents that their daughter has been captured by a band of murderous psychopaths, a thing that you cannot know?”
Tom has stiffened, even at this distance I can see the fire and ice burning in his eyes, and the room seems suddenly cooler.
“Keya Green was captured by an Andak soldier, whom she then knowingly or unknowingly, told of Dec Daxman Andak’s whereabouts.”
There is a surreal moment of silence before the inevitable shouting begins.
“You brought the spawn of an Andak here?” splutters Mr. Denby. “What were you thinking of? What of your allegiance to the tribe?”
“Which one?” asks Tom coldly. “Tom Jepsjon may serve this tribe, but Tomasz Dexter Andak’s allegiance lies elsewhere!”
I can almost feel the crowd recede from him, as though he had shouted ‘unclean’. Nella’s graceful pose by the fire place has become awkward, and her mouth is sagging open in surprise. Jamie’s head has lifted sharply, and Ralph is staring at Tom quizzically. I have an uncomfortable feeling that he’s going to laugh.
My eyes meet Tom’s across the room, and I see a look in them that I haven’t seen for sixteen years, since the first time I ever saw him.
“You, you…” Mr. Denby turns on Uncle Jep. “You bought two of the filthy swine here!”
“David, be careful what you say!” interrupts my father sharply. His voice, although not loud, is nevertheless effective. “You have some explaining to do, Tom.”
“That may be, sir, but I’m afraid that I’m not going to do any,” answers Tom.
Into the tense silence there is a shout of laughter.
“So sorry, do carry on.” Ralph’s voice is hoarse as he wipes his eyes.
I’m not sure why but I feel better now, as though the ice that has crept around my heart has melted.
“Dad, it’s Tom, just as he’s always been. Why does he have to explain himself to people who are treating him like a criminal?”
“You know nothing, young lady! He is a criminal, born of criminals, so keep your mouth shut.”
Mr. Denby has advanced, his overflowing anger spilling over and on to me. Somehow Tom is between us, and my father’s hand has fallen on Mr. Denby's shoulder, restraining him.
“Control yourself, David. My daughter has a right to express her opinion, you however, have no right to force your opinion on the rest of us.”
As Mr. Denby turns from me, I expel a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
I had expected the reaction to Tom’s confession to be strong, but I had not expected it to be so violent. Tom, still standing between me and Mr. Denby, surreptitiously takes my hand. It’s only when my fingers are encased in his warm steady clasp that I realise that my hand is cold and trembling.
“Tomasz and I have lived peacefully and helpfully in your tribe since we arrived sixteen years ago. In nothing did we prove to be trouble makers, but to the contrary we have been assets to your community.” Uncle Jep’s soft, accented voice has commanded the attention of us all. “Tomasz’ parentage may not be as you wish, but he is your only chance of recovering Keya. However distasteful we are to you, please remember that.”
“Is that some sort of a threat, Andres Jepsjon?” demands Mr. Denby angrily.
“Not at all; it is a statement of fact. It is you who is threatening, and not only Tomasz and I, but Deetina because she dares to oppose you,” answers Uncle Jep.
The room seems to have settled into two camps: those who are violently opposed to Uncle Jep and Tom, and those who are faintly ashamed of those who are violently opposed.
“I don’t think that anything can be gained from discussing this anymore at this time,” says Mr. Clark. “We have a lot to think about, and our minds cannot be clear in the heat of anger. We should all go home and think things over before we try to find a way forwards.”
The murmur of assent that greets this suggestion is rather relieved, and people begin to leave awkwardly. Jamie appears at my side as I begin to help Mrs. Green from her chair.
“If you like, Mrs. Green, I’ll walk you up stairs,” he offers.
Like I said: I’ve never been a fan of Jamie’s, but I’m liking him better and better. I’ve always thought it rather odd that the Clarks could have one son like Jamie and another as nice as Ralph. Watching him lead Mrs. Green away, I realise that Uncle Jep is right. We all have different faces to our personality, and the one we show one person might not be the one we show to others. Ralph has stopped to exchange a few words with Tom, and Nella has her arm tucked through Uncle Jep’s. My father’s hand on my arm prevents me from joining them.
“No, Deeta. You’ve made your sympathies known publicly, any more and there will be talk. I don’t need to tell you what about.”
-------
As we walk down the stairwell, I begin to get panicky. After all; my mother was not keen on my friendship with Tom in the first place, what if she demands that I never visit the Jepsjons again?
Strangely enough it’s not my mother who begins the inevitable inquisition, it’s my father.
“Don’t go to bed just yet, Deeta, I’d like a word.”
I gaze longingly at my bedroom door, and then sit obediently on the edge of the sofa.
“Did you know, Deeta?” asks my father quietly.
“No, Dad, not until tonight.”
“You and Tom spoke for some time in the girls’ bedroom; what did you discuss?”
“He asked me about Dec, and I told him all I knew.”
“Is that all you talked of?”
I pause, looking down at my tightly clasped hands.
“No, Dad, we talked about other things too.”
“Like, for instance, his reason for being here instead of with his own people?” Dad asks gently.
“Yes, Dad, and other things.”
There is a slight pause in proceedings.
“Was it a good reason, Deeta?”
For a moment surprise leaves me speechless.
“Yes, it was a very good reason.”
My father settles back in his chair.
“That’s good enough for me.” He looks around and sees Clare and Jan. “You can go to bed now girls, it’s getting late.”
They say a reluctant goodnight, and my father turns to me again as soon as the door is closed behind them.
“I’m sorry, Deeta, but your friendship with the Jepsjons will have to be a little different for a while.”
“But… why? It’s not fair to just stop being friends…”
My father raises his hand to silence me.
“Easy does it, Deeta, I’m not saying that at all. I wouldn’t wish any of my daughters to be fair-weather friends, but you have to see that this changes things. The Andak have a reputation, and like it or not Tom is tarnished by his association with them. You could have a horrible time of this if you give foolish tongues the ammunition they need. Believe me, Deeta, when I tell you that they don’t need very much. All the while Tom was a Jepsjon the time you spent with him, Uncle Jep, and the children, was innocent. Now he is Andak it will not be classed as such.”
“Dad!” A hot blush sets my face aglow.
“It’s the truth. You’re an adult and a female; a pretty one at that. I know exactly how Tom regards you, and I’ve never once had a doubt that he would behave in an exceptional manner. But if you want to be seen as unexceptionable you will have to have the children down here during the day, and Professor Jepson and Tom can come down for their meals and eat with us.”
“Tom won’t do that,” I answer quietly. “He has too much pride.”
“And there’s no reason why he should!” declares my mother. “Poor boy, after all he’s done, all the help he’s been… oh, it makes me so mad!”
“That’s a bit violent for you, my dear.”
“Well of al
l the — Tom is a good boy!”
I put my arms around her neck, and hug her tightly.
“Can I just go up and see the children, Dad? They’ll be upset.”
My father looks undecided for a minute, and I have a horrible feeling he’s going to say no.
“I’ll go with her, if that will make it more acceptable.”
“Go on then, Deeta, but only fifteen minutes.”
My mother gathers her knitting together and stuffs it into her knitting bag.
“Let’s give those old biddies something to gossip about!”
-------
Uncle Jep opens the door, and lets us in. The light shows the tired droop of his shoulders and I’m filled with renewed anger.
“How are the children, Uncle Jep?”
“Tom is putting them to bed.” He sighs shaking his head. “The girls have spent most of the evening crying; even Ralph could not cheer them.”
“May I go and see them?”
“I think that they would like that.” His smile is soft and warming.
I hear the boys muted voices as I near their door.
“Goodnight, boys.”
“Aunty Deet!” It’s Roydon’s voice, and I hear the springs of his bed creak metallically as he sits up. “Uncle Tom said you wouldn’t come.”
I move into the room, and sit on the edge of his mattress.
“Well I have come, but I’ll wish I hadn’t if Tom comes in and finds me getting you excited after he’s put you to bed.”
I lean forwards and plant a kiss on his forehead. The boys’ have all reached the stage where that’s all the soppiness they’ll take from me. I’m rather surprised when he leans forwards to hug me tightly, before turning and flinging himself back on the bed as if ashamed of his own softness.
I bid Ricky goodnight, and slip from the boys’ room and into the girls’. Tom is sitting on Carris’ bed, one arm around Carris herself, and Tarri on his lap as he reads to them.
“Aunty Deet!” Carris’s voice is husky from crying, and I see the red puffiness around her and Tarri’s eyes with seething anger.
“Hi, Carry; I’ve just come to kiss you goodnight.”
Carris’ warm arms wind themselves around my neck as I kiss her soft pink cheek.
“Aren’t you going to stay with us?” she asks tremulously.
“Sorry, Carry, not tonight.” I give her a slight hug. “Besides you don’t need me; not when Uncle Tom is here.”
Carris rubs her eyes, but seems content with this reminder as she cuddles back up to Tom. I kiss Tarri’s cheek as she lies against him and he stirs restlessly.
“You two had better go to sleep now. If you like you can both sleep in one bed and keep each other company.” He climbs off the bed and tucks both girls in.
It isn’t until we are outside their room that he talks to me.
“What are you doing up here, Deeta?” His voice is flat and unwelcoming, even a little angry.
“I came to say goodnight.”
“I’m surprised your father let you, it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Is that what you think of me?”
Tom hears the faint inflection of hurt in my voice, and glances down at me sharply.
“Do you really think that I’d let those gossiping old biddies get in the way of my friendship with your family? What sort of a person do you think I am?”
“It would be better for you if you didn’t do this.”
“How?” I ask belligerently.
“What I’m saying is that people will talk, they’ll say…”
“That we’re an item?” Despite my every effort I feel a hot blush spreading over my cheeks. I can only hope that in the half light he can’t see it.
Tom takes my arms and pushes me against the wall, deliberately crowding me and making me feel small and vulnerable. Suddenly I see him in the guise that most people must see him in. Tom is very daunting; taller and broader than most, for sheer mass I have never seen his equal. He oozes power, smouldering with intent even as he remains calm. People have always been a little nervous of him, now they will believe they have reason to fear and hate him.
“What they’ll say about you will be much, much worse than that or anything else you can think of.” His voice is bitter and angry.
I stare up at him for a long while with neither of us speaking. The pressure of his hands on my arms is still fierce, and I find myself thinking vaguely that tomorrow I’ll be bruised. It’s strange, but I had thought my father overreacting when he had told me that my position in the tribe was to come under scrutiny. With Tom so clearly in agreement with him, I feel a sudden chill of dread.
“I don’t care, Tom.”
For a second I think that he will relent, laugh and tell me that I’m a nutter. However he turns sharply, pulling me towards the door and shoving me through it. We stand there for a moment, one on each side of the threshold, as my mother bids Uncle Jep goodnight. She passes Tom and I where we stand, and begins to descend to our floor, but I remain fixed in place.
“I care, Deeta.”
Before I can make a reply the door has been closed in my face with something very like a thud.
-------
I kiss my parents goodnight, all the while feeling strangely detached. This wasn’t me calmly saying my goodnights as if earth shattering events hadn’t taken place. These people weren’t my family; they were strangers, not real, but part of some horrid nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from. That’s why I feel so numb, and everything seems so unimportant and stupid.
This wasn’t reality, there was no reality where our tribe would turn against each other. Tom would never send me away; he wouldn’t turn from me, almost in disgust.
Was his upset with me?
Or was it directed at himself?
I don’t know. I only know that it isn’t possible for the people I love to act like this.
I sit on my bed, and stare unseeingly at the floor. The enormity of everything suddenly hits me. Things will never go back to the way they were, no matter what happens. If we were to find Dec and Keya, if the tribe comes to terms with Toms parentage, things will still be different. Words will have been said, things that cannot be taken back, nor ever truly forgotten or forgiven.
We will all be changed by this experience, perhaps only imperceptibly but still altered. The next time we meet a problem, we’ll meet it differently, knowing that the experience will change and refine us in different ways. It’s what makes us who we are.
I give in to the overwhelming desire to weep, saddened at the thought that I’m losing so many things that I’ve taken for granted. The peace and unity once found in our tribe, our blissful ignorance of Tom’s family are all things of the past now. Yet mostly I cry for my friendship with Tom. It seems ever more likely that it will also become a thing of the past, forbidden not by my father or mother, or even the tribe, those I could have fought with varying degrees of success, but by Tom himself.
I can’t fight Tom.
It would be a fight I couldn’t win on any level, and t would leave us both with a bitter memory of our friendship. I would prefer to cling to the recollection of something sweet if that is all that can be salvaged from the debris of our relationship.
For me at least it will be a long time before I can look back on this day and find anything to treasure. As for the rest; only time will tell if Tom is right in his actions, or wrong.