Breakdown (26 page)

Marcy stays away from me for the rest of the day. She's furious as well.
And
in disgrace. As I move about the house doing boring duties, I hear her alternately weeping then cursing.

Apart from Marcy I don't see another soul for the rest of the day.

I'm desperate for news of Lenny and Tarquin. I must leave, find a way to see them. I get down the lane and across one field. The soldiers stop me, roughly get hold of me, escort me back, shove me around, insult me.

‘Try that again, you little slag, and watch what we'll do,' one of them threatens.

He twists my neck and forces my face down onto his trousers, rubbing himself against me.

‘We ain't all as sporting as the General,' he laughs.

He pushes so hard I can't breathe.

‘And you'll get it from all of us,' adds another.

I don't try again.

I check out the area I'm allowed to roam in. The house, big and rambling, but mostly locked up. The grounds, overgrown rolling lawns. A walled garden. The glass greenhouses where the General grows orchids. Some pens with livestock. I watch and wait and go about my duties: mopping floors, cleaning, polishing, dusting, putting out rubbish, taking in deliveries.

At last someone comes. A knock at the kitchen door.

‘Deliveries.'

I cross the flagged floor, open it. There stands Harold, the guy who gave Lenny the strawberry.

‘Settling in?' he says.

He eyes all the produce. I don't say anything.

‘You'll want the news.'

‘Thanks for yesterday,' I say.

‘You'll want to hear how the little boy's doing.'

Is it so obvious I'm desperate for news? ‘Why're you here?' I say.

‘And how your young man's making out in the slammer.'

Tarquin? I open my eyes wide. ‘He's not my young man,' I say.

‘Bet he'd like to be.'

I close my mouth. Let him think what he likes. I remember Nan. ‘Them as stay quiet, learn more.'

‘Well I don't have long, so what news d'you want first?'

Who exactly is he? This is the third time he's just turned up. He seems to be able to do what he likes, go where he wants, be everyone's friend, be invisible to soldiers, even. That means he's got to be dodgy.

‘I'm never any good at remembering names,' he says. He offers me his hand.

I take it. ‘I'm Melissa,' I remind him. ‘And it was Lenny. You were kind to Lenny.'

‘Pleased to meet you, Melissa. I suppose you know your name means
queen bee
?'

I nod. I like the addition of ‘queen'.

‘Mine, Harold, means
leader of the army
. It's something I'm working on. Obviously.'

I smile. That was funny.

‘Now have you thought any more about magic?'

‘No,' I say. ‘Sleight of hand and fooling six year olds isn't magic.'

‘Pity,' he says. ‘I was going to offer to solve all your problems.'

‘I wish.'

‘You could try believing,' he says. ‘After all, it can't get much worse, can it?'

He's right. It can't.

‘I want something more than news or strawberries,' I say. ‘I want to know how to get out of here.'

He shrugs. ‘Isn't that what we all want?'

‘I don't know about everybody else,' I say. ‘That's what
I
want. Right out, and not back to London.'

‘It's not impossible,' Harold says. He eyes me warily.

My eyebrows raise a little.

He makes a motion like he's washing his hands. ‘You help me. I help you.' He continues gazing at me, unsmiling, thoughtful. ‘Takes two,' he says. ‘One hand to wash the other.' He pauses. ‘With cooperation,' he adds, ‘anything is possible.'

He unloads some baskets onto the kitchen table. All the time keeping his attention on me, watchful. ‘Perhaps we have some common ground?'

He carries on unloading the deliveries, piles carrots on the table. He goes out, disappears round the side of the house, reappears with a box of cherries and some onions. ‘Perhaps we could come to an understanding?'

He steps back into the kitchen, hangs the string of onions on the back of the door. ‘We're all human after all,' he says, ‘and this camp was only designed by humans.'

I take a handful of cherries and wait.

Nan always said, ‘You can tell when a horse wants to go home. Just give it a free rein and it'll carry you with it.'

I never even saw a horse till yesterday, let alone rode one. But I give Harold free rein. I want to see where he'll take this.

‘But only a very few humans control it. One, the current internal manager – he controls the black market – and two, the adjutant.' Harold sits down and watches me closely, his eyes cautious, calculating.

‘That foul man in camouflage?'

‘And three, the General, of course.'

The cherries are sweet beyond belief. I try not to look like I've never eaten any before.

‘Power,' he says, ‘isn't given. You have to seize it. Every time you don't take power you allow others to take it from you.'

Carefully I spit the stones into the palm of my hand.

‘We can change things,' he says. ‘We can achieve the impossible, but we must be ready to cooperate, ready to seize power, ready to use it, don't you think?'

I stay quiet. I don't think I'm supposed to say anything.

He looks at me. ‘Are you ready to seize power?'

The air seems to suddenly crackle with a dangerous energy. I'm supposed to say something now. But I hesitate. I change the subject.

‘I'd like to hear the news first,' I say. ‘Lenny and Tarquin?'

He nods, still attentive. ‘Lenny's in a house two doors from where you slept last night with a nice young woman, and your young man's in the prison cells.'

My young man? That's the second time he's said it. For a moment I catch a glimpse of Lenny and Tarquin and me from the outside. A little loving unit.

Harold watches me.

A little loving unit split up and scattered. A lump forms in my throat.

‘They're alive,' says Harold. ‘That is the most important thing, and with life and
cooperation
' – he stresses the word – ‘anything is possible – even a reunion.' He pauses as if he's asked a question.

‘Reunion isn't enough,' I say. ‘We need to get out.'

He nods again as if I've passed some kind of test. ‘With
cooperation
,' he repeats, ‘
everything
is possible.'

‘
Theoretically
,' I say bitterly. ‘There's a huge fence and the army between us and out there.'

‘True,' says Harold. ‘But the army are only
human
and entirely controlled by
only
three people. Imagine if there were a change of power. Imagine if Billson, our current internal manager, were replaced by someone who had a mind to help you?'

‘There's still the adjutant and the General,' I say.

‘But this new internal manager would have access to all kinds of things.'

‘Like?' I take more cherries.

‘Well, he'd control all the comings and goings, all shipments in and out.' Harold smiles, a sly curl of the lips. ‘To be precise –' he taps the table –

‘Food out to London,

‘Food out to Newcastle,

‘Coal in from Newcastle,

‘All rations to all camp inmates,

‘All work details, paperwork and supply checks.'

‘The army don't do any of that?' I ask, surprised.

He shakes his head. ‘Prisoners do everything.'

‘So what work detail are you on now?' I ask, suddenly aware that he too is a cog inside this huge prisoner-run system.

‘General deliveries,' he says. ‘I almost forgot.' He disappears outside again, round the side of the doorframe, and reappears after a minute with a stack of boxes on a trolley. ‘General's special supplies,' he says. ‘Last of the crop. Let's hope he can make them stretch.'

The boxes are full of bottles.

‘Wine: six crates. Brandy, three star: one crate. Produce of Biomes Seven and Eight. You must sign here.'

I've never seen wine or brandy before. I take care not to let my jaw go slack.

‘Do you think you'd
like
to cooperate?' he says after I've signed. ‘Because when everything's said and done, all you need to do is ask yourself: would a change of internal manager be in your interests? Ask yourself what the current manager does for you now. Then consider what another, one who you'd helped up the ladder, could do for you – if he had the means.'

I smile.
The horse has found his way to the stable, Nan, just like you promised.
‘Tell me more,' I say.

‘Here's the thing,' he says. ‘I've got access to every house in the camp.' He stacks the crates up by the cellar door. ‘I've got cooperation in every terrace, barrack and biome going. I control all the news. That much power I have already seized. I've cooperation on every shift, detail, work gang, train arrival and departure, but I haven't got cooperation in the General's quarters, not since Dora jumped.' He hastily crosses himself and adds, ‘Poor Dora.'

‘So that's where I come in?'

‘So while you consider the offer, d'you want the news in full?'

I nod. I do want more news.

‘Lenny's fine. He's in that house, as I told you, on the old village high street. The woman's given him a second apple. She's kind and is looking out for him. Lenny doesn't seem to mind. He's made friends with her kids, 'specially Tommy. He's missing you, though.'

‘And Tarquin?' I say.

‘He's settling down in the slammer,' says Harold. ‘His trial is set for sometime next month. The officer he mangled had to be transferred and won't be back for a while.'

I let myself relax, just a little.

‘It's going to be a big case. He'll probably get a flogging and, if he survives it, ten years. He's happier, though, since I gave him news of Lenny, and he's my cooperation in the old police cells at the moment.'

A flogging. If he survives.

‘We've got to get out of here before that trial,' I say.

‘So, are you going to cooperate or not?' says Harold. ‘He's got a fortnight's solitary, by the way, to start off with.'

Ten years.

‘Can you get us out?' I say bluntly.

‘Yes or no?' says Harold, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

I nod, my mind racing. ‘When does the General get back from Andover?'

‘Maybe a few days, a week at most,' says Harold.

I look up at him. ‘What've I got to do?' I ask.

‘Just keep your eyes and ears open for now, remember who comes, who goes, what they bring, what they take, what they say, who they say it to. Think about seizing power. How the forest can be felled. News is what I want. Insider knowledge. Intelligence is my business.'

‘Is that all?' I ask.

‘For now.'

‘And later?'

‘A bit of borrowing and a bit of replacing, maybe.'

‘Thieving and lying you mean?'

‘Well, all property is theft if you want to get moral,' he says. ‘And, before you ask, I also deal in blackmail.' His eyes go snake cold. ‘So if you're in, you stay in.' He watches me steadily, so I get the point. ‘Are you in? Speak up, because I told Lenny I'd bring him word.'

I look at him. He's got all the cards, hasn't he? He pulls the last one out.

‘By the way,' he says, ‘this is yours.'

On the table he puts the key ring. My key ring. With its little picture of the cottage.

‘How'd you get it?'

‘Ways and means.'

‘Can you get my coat too?'

‘I get what I like,' he says.