Matronly Duties (9 page)

“Mr Denham,” I say, shaking his hand.

“Ms Greene,” he replies. “If you want to take a seat for a moment, we will lead you to the main stage shortly and the ceremony will begin.”

I sit down on the chair he points to and go over my speech. I feel like I am waiting for my own execution. Nothing feels celebratory. It feels ominous.

My thoughts drift from the duty at hand to Howard. I wonder what he is doing today. Will he hear the ceremony on the radio? Will he be happy I have been installed as Matron?

A man clearing his throat breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see George.

“It’s time, Ma’am.”

He leads me to the side of the stage, where Mr Denham is giving a speech about the greatness of the day and how promising our future is. Then he talks about Ms Angelo and what a wonderful job she has done as Matron. Last, he introduces me as Oceania’s new Matron.

“Please welcome to the stage Ms Bethanie Greene.”

With a deep breath, and a silent prayer, I step out onto the stage. Looking around, there are people as far as the eye can see in every direction. It is a sea of humanity.

As is tradition, I wave to the crowd for a few minutes then move to the podium, where Mr Denham greets me officially.

“We are gathered here today to welcome a new leader for our proud and glorious nation,” he says. “As our constitution requires, Ms Greene will now take the oath of office.” He turns to face me. “Please raise your right hand. Do you, Bethanie Anne Greene, swear to support and defend the constitution of Oceania? Do you take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion? And do you swear you will govern this nation to the best of your abilities, keeping in mind the best interest of all its citizens?”

“I do,” I respond. The feeling of relief I’d expected when everything I’ve been working towards came to fruition doesn’t come.

He reaches for my collar and removes my pin. Picking up the gold one I hadn’t noticed was there, he pins it to my right lapel. It is done.

“By the power invested in me by the constitution of Oceania, I now bestow on you the title of Matron of Oceania.”

The crowd erupts into cheers as he shakes my hand and presents me to the public.

I am their leader.
And for the first time ever, I know without a doubt that it is something I do
not
want.

Chapter 7

Glancing around my new room, it’s strange to think that I am, in fact, Matron. I half expected to wake up and find it had all been some horrible dream. Instead, I spend the first quiet minutes of my day exploring my quarters and contemplating what life is going to be like when I open the door.

Looking through the cupboards and drawers, I find that my belongings have been unpacked, including the small duffle bag I had with me yesterday. For a split second, I wonder when someone had time. No point stressing. It’s likely not to be the last time something is done without my knowledge.

The silence, as expected, is broken by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I call out, albeit a little reluctantly.

The door opens and a generously proportioned, redheaded woman enters. “Good morning, Ma’am. My name is Belinda and I’m your head of house. The staff has assembled downstairs. They’re waiting to meet you.”

“Thank you, Belinda. Give me about half an hour to shower and dress, then I will be down.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

I find my robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and my toiletries placed neatly in the shower, as well as on the cabinet next to the sink. When I hop into the shower, I am surprised by the amount of space. Accustomed to the tiny stalls at the institute, having so much room to myself is baffling. This shower stall alone is bigger than the entire bathroom at the Jameses’.

This leads me to wonder what a certain prisoner is doing right now.

Downstairs, Belinda greets me at the bottom of an industrial-looking concrete staircase. Lined up in front of us are two rows of people, all looking straight ahead. They are well-trained. As curious as they must be, they don’t move a muscle. Belinda leads me down the first row, introducing each person and rattling off his or her position within the household. I’m never going to remember all their names, so I am thankful to see them wearing name badges.

When we reach the second row, I inhale sharply when I recognise the first person. Belinda looks at me, the sound having drawn her attention. I school my features into a pleasant smile and signal for her to continue.

“This is Margaret Jackson, your personal assistant,” Belinda says. “She is at your beck and call twenty-four hours a day. Anything that needs doing, call Margaret.”

Margaret curtsies and says, “A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

Howard’s sister’s facade slips for a second and I see the look of relief on her face that I didn’t out her.

“Likewise,” I reply, my tone sickly sweet. “Please meet me in my room when I am finished here. I would like to discuss my needs with you.”
As well as have a little chat about what you’re doing here using a fake name!

“Yes, Ma’am,” Margie replies, and we move on to the next person.

There are cooks, and housecleaners, and maintenance men for both inside the house and out, but the only other person I am able to pay any particular attention to is Red, my new head of security and chauffeur. He has that gentle giant look about him, but the stern expression on his face assures me he will do what is necessary to protect me. When introductions are over, Belinda heads for the kitchen and I return upstairs to my room.

I expect Margie to be waiting for me in my room. When she’s nowhere to be seen, however, my spirits fall, and I can’t help worrying that maybe it was an elaborate hallucination. My fears are eased by a knock on the door. It’s Margie.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as soon as the door closes behind her.

“Hey, Bethanie. Nice to see you, too,” she says as if it’s perfectly natural for her to be here.

I glare at her. I’m in no mood for games.

She huffs. “Fine. I’ve worked in the Matron’s household for two years now, although this is the first time I’ve been personal assistant to the Matron.”

“What? How is that possible? ” I ask, running my fingers through my hair.

Margie sits on the bed. “I keep a fake identity so I can work.”

“But what about the background checks?” Having fake papers wouldn’t be enough to obtain a job in the government. There are registers that would need to be doctored.

“You’d be surprised the reach the Trads have. After all, as far as the government is concerned, the James family only has one child, and he’s in jail.” It takes me a second to digest her words, and the truth of them is like a punch to the gut. I obviously make a funny face because she is quick to continue. “Don’t worry, Bethanie. I didn’t take this position for nefarious reasons. It was more to keep an eye on you. My brother is very happy that I’m here.”

That gets my hackles up. “Why would he be happy about that? It’s not as if he gives a crap about me. He organised my kidnapping. I was just a means to further his cause.”

“Is that what they told you?” she asks, sounding shocked.

“Well, he’s not in jail for walking down the street with me,” I snap.

Her expression softens. “Bethanie, after everything you saw while you were with us, you can’t possibly believe it’s as black and white as all that. At least give my brother the chance to explain.”

“And how is he supposed to do that?” I ask with far more venom than is probably warranted.

“He would like you to visit him.” The look on her face is so hopeful that I feel a tad guilty.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed to.” Even though I would love to see him and get some answers.

“Why?”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m Matron. I’ve sworn to uphold the laws of our nation. One law in particular states that those who have been accused of a crime cannot speak to their accuser until the trial has taken place. As a representative of the government, I’m considered an accuser, even though I’m not one hundred percent sure Howard is guilty.”

“But you’re Matron. Can’t you just change the law?” Margie asks.

“Sorry to say, but no. If I could, I would be no better than a dictator. But the laws aren’t the only reason. The doctors think I’m suffering from something called Stockholm syndrome, that I have been brainwashed by my captors to sympathise with them.”

“That’s poppycock! We didn’t brainwash you!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t believe it. I did a little research, and it’s almost impossible for that to happen in the short time I was with your family. I think they just don’t want me going to see him. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Guess we’re just gonna have to sneak you out of here, then,” she says with a smile.

“Don’t be silly. I can’t sneak out, I have duties to attend to. I haven’t even been Matron for twenty-four hours.”

“Well, are you going to the trial?” She sounds a little exasperated.

I shake my head.

“Why the hell not?”

“OSP thinks it’s too much of a safety risk to be there in person. They are, however, going to organise it so that I can listen over a secure radio feed.”

Margie’s face drops in disappointment.

“Margie, I know it’s not ideal, but it is better than nothing.”

I sympathise with her because I do wish I could be there in person. I had been asked to testify on Howard’s behalf by his lawyers, but it was deemed a conflict of interest.

“Okay, well, we’ll have to see if we can find another way for Howard to explain.”

Whether Margie is talking to herself or me, I can’t tell, but I don’t respond. I don’t have the patience to talk about the trial anymore. I wish that it were over and done with already.

***

My new chauffeur, Red, takes me to my office in the afternoon, where I’m introduced to yet another group of staff members. April, my office assistant, shows me around and gets me settled. The first item we discuss is my schedule. My first day as Matron and already I have appointments lined up for at least the next six months. The most important meeting is my first M5—Matrons of the Five Sanctuaries—tele-briefing scheduled for tomorrow.

In preparation for the briefing, I spend the afternoon going over dossiers on the other M5 members and each of the topics to be discussed.

Performing well in my first major meeting is important and I don’t want to look unprepared. Unfortunately, it seems no matter how much you prepare for something, there is always more that could be done.

The next day, I walk into the M5 tele-briefing and stop at the sight in front of me. The tiny room with the dinky table and a strange-looking phone was not what I expected.

“Good morning, Ms Greene.” Chief Minister Smythe’s cheerful voice surprises me.

I turn around to see him grinning at me. “Mr Smythe. How are you?”

“Fine.” He pulls out a chair for me. “Please, take your seat. The meeting will start soon.”

I do as asked, and soon a booming voice echoes from the phone. “Hello, everyone. It’s Chairman Ralph Colder from North America here. I now call this meeting to order. Please announce your presence.”

One at a time, the sanctuary heads give their name, position, and the name of their sanctuary. Some of their accents are extremely hard to understand and, at one point, I’m not sure if a couple of them are even speaking in English. They leave me to last.

“Bethanie Greene, Matron of the Municipality of Oceania.”

“Thank you, everyone. We will start with status reports and then move to any general business. Oceania, would you like to go first?”

I stare at the phone, unsure what to say. No one mentioned anything about a status report or had given me any such thing to read. How could they send me to this meeting so unprepared? “Um . . . I’m sorry I don’t actually have a status report—”

“Actually, I have it right here.” Mr Smythe pushes my chair to one side. “Please forgive Matron Greene. She is new at her job.” I dig my fingernails into the arm of the chair to stop me from clawing the smug grin off Mr Smythe’s face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he set me up on purpose to look like a fool.

I do my best to keep my anger in check for the rest of the meeting. Once back at my office, I ask April to join me.

“What can I do for you?” she asks as she takes a seat in front of my desk.

“As you can probably tell by my demeanour, today did not go well. I need you to see if you can find out why I was not informed that I had to give a status report. Also, I would like the transcripts of the last couple of briefings.”

“Is that all, Ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you, April.”

As April leaves I can’t help but wonder if today’s events are just another sign that everything isn’t as it seems.

***

The next two weeks are a blur of meetings and public appearances. I barely have time to scratch myself let alone do any actual governing. They keep telling me things will settle down, but I am off to yet another public engagement today.

I have been making the rounds, visiting government facilities to talk to the workers and give them a cursory inspection. I’ve been to the hemp-processing plant and the water-treatment facility. Next is the power plant.

Of course, the mere mention of the power plant sends my thoughts immediately to Howard. Though I have been extremely busy, he has not been far from my mind. Between Margie and her mum, they relayed a message to Howard with my apologies for not being able to visit him. Margie said he understood the difficulties I faced. She didn’t hesitate to tell me that he asks how I am every time her mother goes to visit. It shouldn’t matter that he thinks about me, but it does and I can’t stop my heart from beating just a little bit faster at the thought.

Tomorrow is the start of his trial, and I am still of two minds about it. Thankfully, I am saved from yet another round of mental “did he” or “didn’t he” by our arrival at the power plant. As Red helps me out of the cart, I am surprised not to see the workers gathered around waiting like they had been at the other facilities. There are, however, two men waiting for us.

“Hello, Matron Greene. I am Zane Taylor, the facility manager, and this is Paul Woo, the shift supervisor. Welcome to the power plant.”

I shake both of their hands. “It is nice to meet you.”

“If you’d like to follow us, we’ll begin the tour.”

The first room we stop in is massive, with a large body of water contained inside. “This is the dam for the hydro part of the plant,” Mr Taylor says. “The water cascades down the spillway into the generator that creates the power. This water is recycled as much as possible.”

Two workers in yellow jumpsuits walk by. They both mumble something as they glare at me, but I can’t make out what they say.

We move on to the generator. The massive piece of machinery is impressive and makes me appreciate how much work it must take to keep it running.

Another worker walks by while Mr Taylor is explaining the generator’s mechanics. There is no mistaking it this time.

“Traitorous bitch.”

“Excuse me, what did you say?” If the man’s glare was a weapon, I’d be dead where I stand.

Mr Woo pulls the man aside, and from the animated way his mouth is moving and the red colour of his face, he is giving the worker a thorough dressing down. After a few minutes, he returns to our group.