‘So,’ Benjamin had said as they were brought into his room, Evie’s eyes darting round and taking in the low seating, the lack of objects, the simplicity of the space. ‘How do you like this Settlement of ours?’
Evie stared up at him. He was tall, a mountain of a man. And broad; his frame was twice the size of Raffy’s, and even though it was covered in long hessian robes, it was clear from the way he moved that he was strong, muscular, a man not to be challenged lightly. But his eyes were kind, his face genuine. Immediately Evie knew that she would do everything she could to make him like her, to like them both, to make sure that he let them stay here.
They both nodded fervently.
Benjamin smiled. ‘You know, when we started to build this place, I was angry. Very angry at what had happened, at the destruction, the devastation that the Horrors had created. But I knew that anger is itself a destructive force, that I had to let it go if we were going to build a truly good place to live.’
He looked at Raffy, then at Evie; they both blanched. It was as if Benjamin was looking deep inside them and seeing the anger within, the frustration, the resentment.
Evie opened her mouth to reassure Benjamin that they, too, were ready to let their anger go, but to her surprise, Raffy got there first. ‘Anger serves a purpose when there is something to direct it on,’ he said, stepping forwards. ‘Now we are both ready to let go of our anger. We want to be happy. We want to be here.’
As he spoke, Evie’s mouth fell open because she had never heard him sound so earnest; there was no undertone of sarcasm, no knowing look. He felt her gaze; turned towards her. And she’d felt a surge of happiness, because for the first time in her life she saw Raffy looking like he had found his path. He didn’t look tortured; he wasn’t angry, nor sullen. Instead his face was full of determination and focus, and it was infectious.
Benjamin smiled again. ‘I’m glad to hear it. You see, what we’re doing here is building a new life, a new future. The past is another place. Your past, my past, everyone’s past. Our pasts cannot be changed. But we do not have to dwell on them either. We can learn from what has happened and we can move on, look to the future. Out of the worst pain can come strength; out of suffering can come resolve, out of desperation can come love and community. And that is what we have here. A community. A place owned by those within it, ruled by them, organised by them. A place where everyone has a role, where everyone contributes. Does that sound like a place you’d like to live?’
‘Yes,’ Raffy said immediately. Evie nodded too.
‘Good,’ Benjamin said. ‘So let me tell you a little bit about the Settlement. You see, many years ago, there was nothing much here. But there was the river to the north and hills around us for protection; I knew it would be a good place for a new start. There was just a few of us at first, about ten families. We built the first houses, and ploughed the first fields about thirty years ago. We wanted to build a safe community, a peaceful one where no one would go hungry, where no one would be afraid. But more than that, I wanted to build a settlement where people could reach their potential, where they could learn, and discover new things, where no one would be held back. Where children would be the responsibility of everyone, not just their parents. Where everyone would be encouraged to find their purpose, to find fulfilment. Life is nothing if we are not fulfilled, if we don’t feel valued, wouldn’t you agree?
Evie nodded, but again it was Raffy who spoke, who said a resounding ‘yes’. And as Benjamin continued to talk, Evie had watched in wonderment as Raffy transformed in front of her, his cynicism replaced by wide-eyed adoration. He had listened to Benjamin talk, transfixed by his story, by his hopes for the Settlement, for its people. He had listened in silence, not looking down, not shuffling from foot to foot as he usually did, but eyes wide, looking intently into Benjamin’s. Like a hound, Evie had found herself thinking. Like the farm dogs that followed their masters around the City, never leaving their side, waiting patiently at their feet for the smallest scrap of food.
‘So,’ Benjamin had said eventually, after he had told them about the Settlement’s foundations, about its egalitarian nature, its back-to-basics philosophy, about his own determination to ensure that everyone could be fed, clothed and cared for, their bodies and minds nourished, ‘what is it that you think you can contribute to our community? What is it that you two will bring to the Settlement?’
Evie had looked up at Benjamin worriedly; even though this was not the City, even though she was no longer ruled by the System, by Labels, by a mother who constantly criticised her and berated her, she still found it hard to shake her fear of those in charge. ‘We will work hard,’ she managed to say. ‘We have skills. I can sew. And we’re determined.’
‘I’m please to hear it,’ Benjamin had said gently, then turned to Raffy. ‘And how about you, young man?’
Evie had held her breath at that point; if she had a residual fear of those in power, Raffy had only loathing and resentment; whenever he had been asked a question like that in the City, his answer, always insolent, had often landed him with some punishment or other. But instead, Raffy stepped forwards.
‘What will we bring?’ he asked, looking Benjamin right in the eye. ‘We’ll bring ourselves. Completely. Wholeheartedly.’ And Evie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, because she’d never heard him sound so sure of anything.
Benjamin had laughed. But not unkindly. ‘That’s all I can ask,’ he’d said, his eyes twinkling. ‘In which case I am happy that you are joining us. As a matter of fact, I am always delighted when young people join our Settlement, because we need youth here; we need your energy, your ideas. But we also need the next generation. Do you two intend to get married and have children?’
Evie had looked over at Raffy, not sure what to say, but he showed no such reticence. ‘Yes,’ he’d said immediately. ‘Yes, we do.’
And if there had been an opportunity for Evie to step in, to say that nothing had actually been decided yet, then she hadn’t seen it; couldn’t see it now, either. Because to contradict Raffy would have been to say that he wasn’t telling the truth – hardly a good start for two people looking for acceptance.
And anyway, she was in love with Raffy. Had always been in love with Raffy. She wanted to marry him.
Didn’t she?
She opened her eyes again; back in their bedroom, Raffy was still staring at her, just like he always did, dark curls framing his face. He grinned. ‘Just wait till everyone sees us on our wedding day,’ he said, his eyes lighting up. ‘Just wait till everyone sees once and for all that you’re mine.’
Evie exhaled slowly. She couldn’t let this one go, however hard she tried. ‘Raffy,’ she said, in a tone of voice she seemed to use a lot lately, a tone that was considered, careful. ‘Raffy, I wish you wouldn’t keep talking about me like that. Like I’m a possession––’
‘I know,’ he said quickly, his brown eyes wide and warm like a dog’s. ‘I’m sorry. But I can’t help it. I want to belong to you; I want you to be mine. Want everyone to know it.’
He looked so earnest, Evie found herself melting. ‘And they will,’ she promised. ‘We will totally belong to each other.’
Raffy smiled. ‘And then no one else will ever look at you again,’ he said, lightly. ‘No one will ever look at you and think they’ve got a chance.’
Evie stared at him, all the warmth suddenly gone. ‘No one looks at me,’ she said, her voice strained now. ‘No one, Raffy. It’s all in your head.’
Raffy stared at her incredulously. ‘You have no idea how beautiful you are,’ he said, sitting on the bed and watching her as she got dressed. ‘You don’t know what men are like.’
Evie didn’t reply; she walked instead towards the small bathroom they shared with four other couples, who they often ate with, talked and laughed with. At least Evie did. Mainly with the girls. If she spoke to their partners when Raffy wasn’t there and he found out, he would fly into a rage. It sometimes felt like Evi
e had left the City where the System monitored her every move, only to find that Raffy had taken over the job himself, watching her, monitoring her, checking up on who she had spoken to, who might have caught her eye inadvertently.
But while his jealousy was debilitating, frustrating, restrictive, Evie knew that it wasn’t his fault. It was hers. Because a year ago, on a day when her world had come crumbling down around her feet, on the day that she and Raffy had gone on the run, she’d kissed Lucas, Raffy’s brother. She’d told Raffy about the kiss; had hoped that he might forgive her, perhaps even understand. But he hadn’t. And ever since then, he hadn’t allowed her out of his sight.
A few minutes later, she came back into the bedroom, determined that today things would be better, today she wouldn’t rile him, wouldn’t bring him out in a jealous rage.
Their room was one of many in a low one-storey building that housed nearly a hundred people, each given space according to their needs. Their room had space for their bed, a chair, a desk and a bookshelf. Down the corridor was the shower room that they shared with the other couples. Outside was a quadrangle of grass that anyone in the building could use; around it were dedicated allotments where personal food could be grown to supplement the weekly camp provision but some were allocated to the planting of flowers because, as Benjamin always liked to say, feeding the soul was as important as feeding the belly.
‘What are you working on today?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to help plough one of the far fields,’ Raffy yawned, ‘although my shoulders are killing me.’ Evie turned and appraised Raffy’s shoulders: broad, rippled, so different from how they looked just a year ago. It was as though here, in the Settlement, Raffy had suddenly become a man. He was taller, too, but his sudden broadness was what surprised her the most. He suited it. Suited being here, his face tanned by the sun, framed by his unruly, tousled hair that he refused to keep short. He suited working hard, Evie found herself thinking, suited laughing with the other builders, sharing jokes. He came back every evening with a spring in his step, even as he collapsed on the bed in exhaustion.
It was what she’d dreamt about when they’d lived in the City, when even talking to each other was a terrible crime. Here, she and Raffy could walk down the road hand in hand with no one to report them, no one to stare at them, no one to tell them how wicked they were.
And no Lucas.
Evie caught her breath, as she always did when she thought of Lucas, as the image of his face flooded her mind.
‘Right, time to get up,’ Raffy said, putting his tea down then leaning in to kiss her. He framed her face in his hands, kissed her tenderly on the lips, then pushed his fingers into her hair, pulling her towards him. Evie loved his hands, nutmeg brown from the sun, full of strength yet so tender with her.
She closed her eyes briefly, allowed herself to enjoy the moment, then reluctantly opened them again to look at the clock on her bedside table. Nearly 5 a.m. As work in the Settlement started on the dot at 6 a.m., breakfast would be served shortly in the communal dining areas, one for each Area. And if you got there later than 5.40 a.m., there wasn’t much point, they’d discovered, as all the good food had already gone.
‘Today’s going to be a good day,’ Raffy said suddenly, jumping out of bed and grabbing a towel. ‘And not just because of the fitting. Everything’s good, Evie. The new field could produce enough food for a month if we do it well. Simon’s going to show me.’
Evie smiled. Simon was one of the established farmers; he had taken Raffy under his wing and under his tutelage Raffy had blossomed. He’d told her, a few weeks ago, that for once in his life he felt like he was achieving something, that he was part of something, that his life actually had a point to it.
‘They really trust you to plough a whole field?’ Evie teased.
Raffy flicked her around the ankles with his towel. ‘Watch what you say,’ he said, grinning. ‘People respect farmers around here.’
Evie looked at him thoughtfully. That’s what it was, she realised suddenly. That’s why he was so happy here. For the first time in his life, Raffy had earned the respect of others. For the first time in his life he could walk tall. And this tall farmer loved her. Had always loved her.
As he got to the door she called out to him. ‘Wait.’
‘What?’ Raffy asked, turning just as Evie put her arms around him. Her future. The only one that mattered. Once they were married, he would stop being so jealous; he would know that he had her. And things would be good. They would be completely good.
‘I love you,’ she said. ‘That’s all.’
‘And I love you,’ Raffy said as he leant down and kissed her again, tenderly, holding her tight against him. ‘More than you could possibly know.’ Then he smiled, and wandered out of the room.
2
It was early morning. Gabby noticed that the street she was walking down, one of the larger streets in the City, was almost empty and walked a little faster. She was five or so minutes late for work, which wasn’t good, but nor was it the end of the world. Not any more. Still, ten minutes might be pushing it. Ten minutes and she might be forced to work into her lunch break.
Lunch break was one of the improvements since the System had been deactivated. Or ‘taken away’ as her parents liked to put it, fear in their eyes, resentment in their voices. Her parents didn’t like Lucas, the City’s new leader. They believed that what he was doing would bring devastation and evil back within the City walls. But that was mainly because her parents could no longer use the System as a threat; at least that seemed to be the thing that vexed them most. They couldn’t tell her what time to get back home every night any more; couldn’t insist that she sit with them after supper listening to her father give them both a lecture on the importance of contemplation or something else utterly boring. Now she could go and meet her friends on the green after work; now she could choose who she was going to marry, choose everything.
Although, she reminded herself, as she broke into a light jog, there were still rules about getting to work on time. And anyway, she wasn’t ready to make any of the big choices yet. She couldn’t imagine getting married, having a house, being all serious like her parents. Mainly she just wanted to play ball on the green, feel the exhilaration of running for a catch, the thrill of winning, the pain of losing. Until the System had been deactivated, the only winning or losing in the City was determined by the System and involved labels: an upward movement meant you won, a downward movement meant you lost. But the System was no game; it determined everything: where you worked, who you married, who you associated with. Whether you won or lost, things could still turn against you. Whether you won or lost, you had no control.
Then again, back then no one disappeared either.
Gabby stopped for a second, caught her breath, looked around. Was someone watching her? Following her? Then she shook herself. Of course they weren’t.
What Clara, her best friend, had told her was probably made up anyway. There weren’t any Informers in the City. The Disappearances weren’t what Clara had said they were. There would be some other explanation. There had to be. Clara’s terror had seemed genuine; Gabby had noticed how her hands were shaking as she told her the story, had seen the fear in her eyes. But Clara got scared easily; she believed what people told her. And Gabby refused to believe that she would disappear just because Clara had told her about the people in the hospital. Otherwise, Clara herself would have disappeared.
The truth was that Gabby was as scared about the Disappearances as everyone else, but she refused to let on, refused to let them cower her. Because that’s how things had been with the System: people afraid all the time, not going out after dark, worrying about what lay ahead. There was something terrible happening, of that she had no doubt, but she wasn’t going to let it affect her. She wasn’t going to let things go back to how they were. She’d rather die.
Maybe not die, she corrected herself. But she certainly wasn’t going to run scared from the D
isappearances like everyone else. She was just beginning to see her life as something worthwhile, something worth waking up in the morning for.
Until the change, there hadn’t been any sport in the City, not openly anyway. There hadn’t been any dancing, either, any music, any real conversation. People had been too scared, had limited themselves to furtive whispers followed by the clenching fear that confidences would be betrayed, that the System had heard, somehow. Now it was common to see people clustered on street corners arguing about things; now people were invited round to other people’s houses for supper; now old guitars and accordions had been dug out from wherever they’d been hidden and music could be heard everywhere once work was done for the day.
Gabby’s parents saw it as the beginning of the end; Gabby saw it as a miracle.
She increased her speed; the pottery workshop where she worked was just a minute away now. She wondered if Clara was already there; they had both been up late last night, which was why Gabby was late now, why she had slept in, in spite of her mother’s attempts to rouse her.
So when Clara had told her about the shadowy strangers in the hospital, her voice trembling as she spoke, Gabby had listened, but only partially; had reassured Clara but not in any meaningful way. Because when she’d begged Clara to tell her what she knew, Gabby had hoped and expected to hear that the Disappearances were something else completely, that the others had run away, found something more exciting, somewhere better. So she had listened to Clara only half-heartedly, had told herself that probably Clara was making it up, that it couldn’t be true because … Because …
It was only as she turned the corner that she noticed the shadow under her feet. Only as the workshop came into view that she felt her heart start to thud in her chest, felt her legs speed up. The Informers. Clara had told her that they knew everything, that they had tracked down everyone who knew, everyone who had seen them. Everyone except Clara.