“Yeah that’s true,” she says. “The deck is stacked and we’re set to lose. That is unless we change the rules,” she adds with a wink.
I look over at Lake, who’s been feverishly drawing up copies of the map with Redd and talking in hushed voices. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but he doesn’t look like his normal relaxed self tonight, and it gives me a terrible sense of foreboding. Tucking my mother’s diary and pen into my jacket, I walk over to them. They stop talking as soon as they see me approach and start shuffling papers under other papers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Just making copies of the map,” Redd replies.
“Why?”
“In case the original gets lost or damaged,” he replies, but I’m unconvinced.
I look directly into Lake’s eyes, asking him a silent question which he answers in a low but calm voice. “We’re making copies so everyone has access to the map when we break off into smaller groups.”
“Is that tonight?” I ask, despite the fact that Neve has followed me over. I see him nod slightly but he doesn’t say anything.
My heart flutters like a fledging taking its first flight from the safety of the nest. This rooftop has felt like a sort of prison, but it’s also a safe haven and the idea of leaving it suddenly worries me. I’m desperate to ask whether Lake and I will still be together. It’s not difficult to imagine him volunteering to embark on the most risky mission and insisting that I don’t go, but I couldn’t bear not knowing if he was okay. I must look quite panicked because I suddenly realise that Redd’s glaring at me and make a conscious effort to let the tension from my face go.
Lake finishes off his drawings in the last of the light whilst I sit in nervous anticipation. I know that whatever’s going to happen will take place once night has fallen. Kim sidles up beside me; she can sense that change is in the air but unlike me this fills her with excitement.
“Finally, it’s happening,” she says, offering me a wide smile.
“What’s happening?” I ask half-heartedly.
“I don’t know, but as long as it involves getting off this roof then I’m all for it.”
I nod slowly, wanting to end the conversation before Redd starts glowering at me again.
I watch as a couple of members of the group scrape the remains of last night’s fire into a corner, break up the last of the pallet wood and light a fire beneath it. Before long the fire acts as a beacon, drawing the group towards it like moths to the flame. Lake and Redd are the last to join, but when they finally do the group falls silent and makes space for them to sit down.
This time there’s no uncertainty about who will lead the speech. Lake begins in a soft melodic voice that makes people lean in closer to listen more intently.
“As you know we can’t lead a revolution from on this roof. The time’s come for us to lead the charge from the front and we now have enough supporters to conceal our presence on the ground,” he pauses to look around the group. “Sadly this means that it’s time for us to split up into smaller groups that will carry out tasks working towards our end goal. Freedom.”
A murmur rushes around the group as we exchange anxious glances. Suddenly I realise how much we’ve gelled as a group. When I first met these people I thought they were a bunch of boys playing at being men, but now I see before me a group of driven and brave people who are prepared to die for what they believe in. I smile to myself as I think, there’s not a person here that I wouldn’t be proud to call my friend.
“So what are the tasks, do we decide what mission we want to do?” asks Dave.
“We’ve drawn up a list of people for each mission according to where we think their strengths lie, but you’re more than welcome to change if you think your strengths would be best utilised elsewhere,” replies Lake, ever the diplomat.
Dave nods, seemingly satisfied.
“Okay,” Redd begins looking at a piece of paper with writing scrawled all over it. “Possibly the best place to look for information about who’s keeping us in here is going to be found in the governor’s building, but getting in is not going to be an easy feat. So on the basis that Zia has her mother’s key and is also friends with Alice who knows someone that works as an official, it seems clear that she should make up part of this mission.”
My mouth’s dry and makes it hard for me to swallow. I guess at this stage there aren’t any easy tasks, and I’m reeling from the enormity of the mission ahead. Don’t make me do this alone, will Lake be with me?
“Also doing this task will be Lake, because for some reason they can’t be separated,” Redd adds in an annoyed tone.
I beam at Lake because I know it was his stipulation, and I’m thrilled that he feels the same way I do. Suddenly the task ahead feels more manageable. I’m sure there’s still a better chance of us both dying than getting out alive but maybe that’s okay. If I’m going to spend my last days with anyone I’m glad that it will be just us two.
“The next group will be comprised of Kim, Scott, Max and TJ.” I look around to locate them. TJ is listening intently with worried lines on his forehead, but Kim’s grinning, showing her missing teeth. “Your primary function is to mingle unseen, to recruit and coordinate things at the ground level.” They all nod but the instructions are very vague and they take turns exchanging puzzled expressions.
“We’re not able to give you any more instruction at this time because we don’t know what you’ll find when you get down there,” Lake adds. “We’ll leave it up to your judgement, and we’ll see you on the other side of the wall.”
A cheer rises up from the whole group. It feels like we are being given a speech on the battlefield to rally the troops before the final charge.
Redd shouts over the cheers. “The final group will be led by myself and that includes Neve and Dave.” I see Neve’s eyes roll but I don’t know whether it’s because she’s been put in a team with Redd or Dave. “We intend to access the sewerage system to see whether we can get under the wall.”
“Fantastic,” Neve interrupts, unable to hold in her discontent any longer. “Crawling through crap with these two turds,” she says bitterly, but she doesn’t request to change group.
“So where are we going to stay?” asks Dave.
“Wherever we can,” Redd replies. “And if we’re not able to find anywhere then we can always come back here, but it just doesn’t make sense to remain in a large group anymore.”
Kim’s the first to rally her group and usher them out of the door without looking back. This is closely followed by Neve, who strides off in front with Dave trailing close behind her, saying something that’s clearly intended to get her going. Redd and Lake stand face-to-face before Lake instigates an awkward hug. It’s the first affection that I’ve seen between the two brothers and they quickly break apart.
“Good luck,” Lake says quietly to his brother and then shouts it louder in the direction of the door. “Good luck all of you. We’ll all meet again on the other side.”
“That better not be a metaphor for death,” I hear Neve call back faintly, and laugh.
“The other side of the wall,” Lake replies.
TJ nods at me, then him and Redd hurry down the stairs after the others. I listen until they reach the bottom. When I turn around the rooftop looks different now it’s empty, less safe somehow. Lake scans the floor for anything that might be useful, but gathers up only our copy of the map. I might have known that Redd would take the original version, I think to myself.
Lake makes his way towards the door and gestures with his head for me to follow. I check one last time that I have my mum’s diary and catch up with him. As we walk down the stairs I slip my hand into his and I feel a buzz of energy rush through my body when he gives it a quick squeeze.
Outside, I look up and down the street but the others are already out of sight. It’s strange how quickly the darkness can swallow people up.
“Where are we going to head?” I ask
, hoping that Lake already has a plan.
“Not sure really,” he replies, which not the answer I was hoping to hear. “I thought that we should maybe go to my Dad’s.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Why are we going to your dad’s, won’t people look for you there?” I ask, because I was half expecting that we would be heading back to Lankyan Palace in Narrowmarsh.
“I very much doubt it. Everyone keeps their noses out of other people’s business around there, and besides, there are a lot of people with good reason to want fight the system,” Lake replies.
I pause, finding the idea of socialising with Lake’s father’s friends almost as repulsive as the idea of meeting his father. “Do we really want to enlist drunks?”
Lake gives a snort. “I understand your reservations, but people aren’t going to follow someone who’s highly educated and well spoken but knows nothing about their lives. They don’t trust them.”
“You mean someone like me.”
“How you were. Have you looked at yourself recently?” he jokes. “We have to get down and dirty with the people.”
Well I’ve got the dirty part sorted, I think to myself, inspecting my filthy fingernails. I can’t even remember the last time I had a shower and my hair’s so greasy that when I scrape it back it stays in place without the need for any product.
The walk takes us past my old apartment block and, judging from the amount of spray painted graffiti and broken windows, it’s still uninhabited. We walk past the place where I first saw Lake’s drunken father beat him; although it seems like a different lifetime now or that I saw it on a television program.
We walk until we arrive at an area of densely populated back-to-back terraced houses. Lake leads the way through the maze of side-streets and back alleys until he arrives at a house with an old bath outside. The bath has at some point been used as a planter, but all the plants have long since withered and now it just holds brown sludge. Lake bangs on the door, which is opened by a large red-faced woman in her late forties. She pays enough attention to see that it’s Lake, then hobbles back over to the sink and continues scrubbing pans. I look at Lake, who points towards a door that leads off from the kitchen.
Once open I see that the door conceals a set of stairs with carpet so well-worn that in some places there isn’t any left. Lake begins to ascend the stairs and I follow.
“Who was that lady?” I ask curiously.
“Oh, just the woman that lives downstairs,” Lake replies.
“Lives downstairs?”
“Yeah, the house has been divided into flats, one upstairs and one downstairs.”
“So you have to go through the downstairs flat to access upstairs?”
“Yeah,” he replies causally, as if this is the norm.
I go to ask another question but stop short when he puts his finger over his lips and pushes a door open that leads off from the hall. From my position in the hallway I can see that the room functions as a living room with a television set in one corner and a well-worn brown leather chesterfield armchair facing it.
“Dad?” Lake calls out.
When Lake gets around the front of the chair, he suddenly straightens up and looks back at me.
“He must be out.”
“What about his bedroom?”
“Nah, I can’t remember him ever going to sleep in there, he just passes out in the chair. Actually me and Redd used to sleep in the bed. You hungry?”
I nod. “Why, is there a kitchen up here too?”
“Certainly not. Dad would burn the house down in an evening, but Mrs Ford downstairs will make us something. She acts pretty fierce but she’s got a sweet heart under it all.”
We head back downstairs where the plump short woman has finished washing the pans and now stirs a large pot of something on the range. The smell as she lifts the lid is divine and she turns around to find us both captivated by it.
“Oh,” she says in a deep voice with a thick Narrowmarsh accent. “I wondered how long it’d be till you were back down.”
Without waiting for an answer she reaches into a cupboard and produces two roughly turned wooden bowls. Stirring the ladle in the pot she fills both bowls with the heavenly scented broth. Then hobbling over to a small pine kitchen table she sets them down and this is followed by half a loaf of fresh bread and two spoons. I copy Lake as he pulls out one of the stools pushed beneath the table and begins spooning the hot, thick liquid into his mouth. It tastes even better than it smells.
“So where’s your brother?” Mrs Ford asks, leaning against the sink.
“Oh, he’s just visiting some friends,” Lake lies convincingly, but from the sparkle in her eye I don’t think that she’s fallen for his story.
“I hear you’ve been getting yourself into all sorts of bother,” she adds, although I could swear that I saw a smirk on her face.
“Oh yeah, who did you hear that from?”
“People,” she replies nonchalantly with a shrug.
“Well people should know better than to go around talking,” Lake replies, tearing off a chunk of bread.
“What did they say?” I ask, because I’m curious to know whether people think of us as violent outlaws that murdered an official doing his duty, or brave liberators standing up for the rights of the people.
“Well,” she begins, drawing the word out. “Opinion’s still pretty divided but there’s discontent about the days when the deliveries didn’t arrive that can’t be attributed to you. It was seen as the officials yanking the chains of power, and that definitely put more than a few jaws out of line. And there’s certainly agreement that the conditions in the compound have worsened recently.”
“Thanks.” That sounds pretty positive, I think to myself.
“Who are you anyway?” she asks directly.
“Oh I’m just...” I look at Lake, who doesn’t meet my gaze. “A friend.”
She nods and looks back at Lake. “And why are you back here?”
“I was looking for my father. Where is he?” Lake replies.
“It’s 11 o’clock at night, where do you think he is?” she scoffs, walking off through another door.
We eat the rest of our meal in silence, enjoying not being surrounded by a crowd of other people. Lake finishes before me in that way that boys always can; they must have faster swallowing mechanisms or just bigger mouths. He patiently waits for me to spoon in my last mouthful, and then instead of heading back upstairs he opens the front door.
“Come on, let’s go and find him,” he says, ushering me out.
We walk back out towards the main street. On the way I slip my hand into Lake’s, but this time there is no affectionate squeeze; in fact he makes no effort to clasp my hand at all so I let it drop. It starts to rain as we walk and I pull my hood up over my head. The weather seems to echo Lake’s mood and I wonder what has brought on this sudden foul temper; perhaps it’s because he knows that his father’s going to be drunk.
I feel a wave of humid air hit me as Lake pushes open the door of the alehouse, releasing the noise and commotion within. The alehouse is so full that we have to make a path through the crowd as we walk. In the corner behind the door is a thin tall man with a grey beard that extends halfway down his chest playing the fiddle. With his foot he moves a tambourine rhythmically along to the beat. I watch the fingers on his left move swiftly and adeptly over the strings as the other hand pulls the bow back and forth with increasing speed as the tempo increases.
Turning back I realise that Lake’s walked off, and spot him making his way towards the bar. By the time I catch up through the crowd, I find him talking to a man resting so heavily on the bar that I think without it he’d fall over. Lake’s father. They both have pale brown eyes flecked with green, but where the green in Lake’s eyes makes me think of spring and living things, the green in this father’s only conjures up thoughts of decay and infection. Even the creases next to his eyes, often described as laughter lines, do nothing to
warm his glare.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growls at Lake.
“Busy with friends,” Lake replies in a calm voice, although he’s having to nearly shout to be heard over the fiddler who’s now frantically jumping up and down.
“Oh I bet you ‘ave,” he sneers, leering at me. “Not your usual type, my lado. You usually like ’em in so few clothes that their arses are hanging out one end and their tits are falling out the other,” he bursts into laughter which subsequently turns into a coughing fit.
I’ve never been as repulsed by someone as I am by him. I watch as he taps a cigarette out of the packet on the bar, puts it in his mouth and then closes one eye whilst he tries to light the other end.
“I was wondering if we’d be able to stay for a while?” Lake asks.
His father doesn’t appear to be listening, instead pooling his cognitive resources to stand and smoke at the same time. Lake repeats the question and this time gets a shrug, which I presume means that it’s okay.
Lake turns to leave. “Right, well we’re just gonna go back to the house then.”
“Oh that’s just great that is. I haven’t seen him in over a month and he won’t even stay for a drink,” his father roars.
I see Lake’s eyes shift quickly as he thinks up an excuse. “I haven’t got any money.”
“That’s alright, I’ll pay,” a rough man’s voice says, and a hand claps Lake on the shoulder. “I’ve heard all about you from Frank,” says a balding man, looking at Lake’s father. “It’s high time that I met you.”
He offers me a wide smile but there’s something not entirely pleasant about it.
“Adelaide,” Lake’s father says, outstretching a hand to shake. “This is the bloke I’ve been drinking with since you pissed off,” he hisses at Lake.
“Ale all round,” Adelaide yells to the woman standing behind the bar. “And you my dear, what’s your name?” he asks, looking at me.
I pause for perhaps slightly too long before answering “Lisa.” I don’t know why I give that name and Lake shoots me a strange sideways glance.
“Well,” Adelaide says, raising one of the mugs of ale that have just been set down on the bar. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” we respond in chorus.