The Hunt (25 page)

But there was a related matter she needed to discuss with
Yuke, and when they were in bed that evening, Mara tentatively broached it by showing Yuke the jar of Hunex. “I've been using this,” she said as casually as possible, “since Monday. It helps a lot. Strangely enough, I didn't feel any pain during the weekend. When you were staying over.”

Yuke
looked embarrassed.

Mara kissed her gently, and whispered the words
“Thank you” in her ear, adding, “You must have been in agony.”

“
It wasn't that bad. It made me feel good knowing I was helping you.”

“
Can you control it? When I took the pain from your hand, it was completely involuntary.”

“
I'd never tried doing anything like this before. But I think I could control it. I wouldn't have been able to do it unless I'd wanted to. It's the same with your dreams. I don't actively seek them out, but if I wanted them to disappear, to go back into your head, I know they would.” Yuke laughed, perceiving the craziness of what she was saying. “Oh Mara, what's happening to us?”

“I don't know. But I'm sure it's something good. Something important.”

They both slept peacefully that night, and when Mara left the following morning, she felt rejuvenated. Even her customary sadness upon departing from
Yuke was eased by the knowledge that they'd be together again the following day.

When she returned home, Mara found an email from Kate
Mackendrick. Kate thanked Mara for everything she'd done during the Hunt, and mentioned that if she ever made it to Glasgow, she'd be welcome to stay with her. Mara responded with a similar message offering Kate accommodation in London. She greatly admired this woman, who had sailed through the Hunt without so much as a scratch and effortlessly humiliated her would-be tormentor.

Mara believed she was finally ready to do some serious work on
A Kill is Just a Kill
, but the novel continued to progress sluggishly, and when she looked back over the completed sections on Friday morning, she was dismayed to find them as dull to read as they were to write. She had just made the decision to scrap what she'd done so far and start again when the doorbell rang. Standing outside was a postman, though happily not the one who had delivered her induction notice. He handed her an envelope without saying a word, not even “banooseferoo.” As Mara looked at it, her heart sank, for the 'Department of Corrections' logo was stamped on the front. After placing her thumb on the postman's scanner, she slammed the door, tore open the envelope, and read the letter it contained.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Mara Gorki.

Following a complaint, supported by photographic evidence, from a member of the

public, you have been found guilty of appearing out of uniform in a public place on

March 26th of this year.

As this is a second offence, you have been sentenced to twenty strokes of the cane.

You are hereby ordered to present yourself at Camden Punishment Centre on April 13th

at three p.m., at which time the sentence will be carried out.

Paul Booth

Department of Corrections.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mara felt like punching the wall. So Tyner had carried out his idiotic threat! And the DoC had taken him seriously! April 13th was the following Friday, and Mara already had an appointment with her lawyer scheduled for Monday. Perhaps Madeleine could file an appeal on her behalf. The whole thing seemed ridiculous, but she needed to mentally prepare herself for more punishment. She went to the bathroom, lowered her jeans and looked at her buttocks in the mirror. The marks from the Hunt barely seemed to have faded, and she still needed to apply the cream she'd been prescribed, the last thing she wanted was another caning.

As soon as
Yuke arrived, Mara showed her the letter, as well as Tyner's email. She didn't want there to be any secrets between them. Yuke seemed optimistic about the appeal, but Mara could tell she was upset. For the next few days, Mara tried pushing the sentence to the back of her mind, telling herself she'd been subjected to so much physical abuse lately that twenty strokes of the cane would be almost insignificant. She was only partially successful. It was a shame, because otherwise the weekend turned out to be wonderful.

Yuke
gave Mara an old paperback of a novel called
Lilith
by J. R. Salamanca, insisting she'd love it. It was exactly the kind of poetically evocative Americana Mara adored, and the two women spent more than an hour reading out random passages to each other. It was usually Mara who introduced Yuke to rare books, and Yuke who introduced Mara to obscure films, but this perfect gift suggested they were exchanging roles and personalities, merging into a single entity. Maybe this was what their dreamcatching and painsharing had been leading towards. Mara suspected that the point at which she ended and Yuke began was gradually being obscured. She thought back to something Julie had said about loss of identity and individuality, and how death was the ultimate loss of individuality. Perhaps her identity was being submerged in Yuke's, but it certainly didn't feel like a loss. On the contrary, it was as if she were being expanded. When she was with Yuke, she believed herself capable of anything.

On Sunday morning, Mara read
Yuke some of the news reports relating to Julie that had appeared over the last few days, and Yuke suggested trying to find out more about Robert Price. Predictably, the name was a familiar one. Wikipedia alone listed more than a dozen Robert or Bob Prices, including an American theologian, an eighteenth century judge, and a seventeenth century bishop. But by using Google Images, Mara managed to locate the creature she still thought of as Let's-Make-a-Deal. It turned out he was an examiner at the British Board of Film Classification, the UK's state censor board for films and DVDs.

The BBFC's website included a profile of Price, together with a photo of him smiling pleasantly, and quoted him as saying,
“I joined the BBFC because I admired its efforts to stem the tide of cinematic filth. In recent years, films that portray homosexuality as a normal activity and plumb the depths of depravity have been widely seen in America, Asia and Europe. I am proud to live in a country where such things are unacceptable.”

Mara wondered what Price's colleagues would have thought if they'd seen this depravity-hating censor during the Hunt. Perhaps they wouldn't have been shocked at all. The Hunt was
legal, and Price associated depravity with homosexuality, not torturing young women to death. Yuke was appalled, but not surprised. She had several friends who used to run Arthouse DVD labels, but were forced out of business because they couldn't afford to pay the BBFC's 'certification' fees. According to her, film examiners, who charged by the minute, and literature examiners, who charged by the word, made more money than most directors and writers. Mara wasn't surprised either. In 1821, Heinrich Heine wrote a play entitled
Almansor
, which contained the line, “Where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people also.” It seemed obvious to Mara that a society which privileged censorship over art would end up creating something like the Hunt.

She thought of Julie singing her beautiful song, and imagined Price censoring his daily quota of films. She recalled hearing of a censor in ancient Rome who began a speech with the words,
“Gentlemen, were we ever to find a means to live without women, thereupon unto us should true happiness be known.” The battle lines were drawn with stark clarity: creativity against suppression, freedom against control, femininity against masculinity, Life against Death. At the moment, Death seemed to be winning.

Chapter 20

When Mara walked into Madeleine's office on Monday morning, the lawyer greeted her with an affectionate embrace. “I'm so glad to see you,” she said. “I heard somebody had died during the Hunt, and my first thought was that it could have been you.”

“
That's partly what I wanted to talk about,” said Mara as she sat in the chair opposite Madeleine's desk. “But something else has come up.” Mara showed Madeleine the letter she'd received, and explained the story behind it, mentioning that she was especially eager to avoid a caning, since there was already a danger of permanent scarring.

After reading the letter, Madeleine said,
“This Stephen Tyner could get into trouble for trying to blackmail you, but I suspect he has his reasons. If your scars are still visible six months after the Hunt, you could sue him. This way, he can claim they were caused by your judicial punishment. I think we have solid grounds for an appeal, but it wouldn't surprise me if Tyner turns up to give evidence. That shouldn't make much difference, though. Leave it with me. What was the other thing you wanted to discuss?”

“
That's more serious.”

During the next thirty minutes, Mara told Madeleine everything
she recalled about Robert Price, about the deal he'd attempted to make with Mara, and the way he'd forced her to collaborate in Julie's torture. By the time Mara had finished, the lawyer's face was pale. After a long silence, Madeleine said, “Price can't be allowed to get away with this. Are you willing to repeat what you've just told me in court?”

Mara didn't hesitate before saying,
“Yes.”

Madeleine made a note in her diary.
“I'll get in touch with the family's lawyer. You'll need to make a statement at some point.”

“
Just try and stop me,” said Mara, adding, “Though the Weiszs may not want anything to do with me. I broke the news of Julie's death to them, and they asked me to leave them alone. It was obviously because they couldn't accept what I was saying, but don't be surprised if they'd prefer me not to be involved.”

***

Madeleine phoned Mara the following day to inform her that the appeal would take place on Friday at one-thirty. “It'll be heard at Camden Punishment Centre, and if it isn't successful, you'll receive the caning more or less immediately. At least that way you won't have to wait around. And I'm reasonably certain of a positive outcome.”

“
Any news about the Weiszs?”

“
I've written to Aaron Rosenbaum. Hopefully, I'll hear from him soon. One more thing. Could you send me the email you received from Tyner?”

As soon as Madeleine hung up, Mara forwarded the email. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and resume work on a novel stubbornly refusing to flow. Perhaps when the appeal was over and, one way or another, she didn't have the threat of another flogging hanging over her, she'd be able to concentrate on her writing. But then there would be the painful task of reconnecting with the
Weiszs, and whatever followed from that. It seemed the Hunt would be casting its shadow over her for some time to come.

***

The night prior to her appeal, Mara had trouble sleeping. She lay awake, trying to prepare herself for the ordeal she believed was inevitable. Madeleine had sounded confident, but Mara did not share her optimism. She now knew a great deal about how the system worked. And she felt afraid. Which was exactly the way she was meant to feel. Fear was the oil that kept the gears of oppression turning. Far more than pain or humiliation, fear was what Britain's rulers wanted the country's female inhabitants to become familiar with. Fear usually kept women in line, and should they be caught breaking the law, their anxiety while waiting for a sentence to be carried out was itself part of the punishment. This was surely why 'criminals' were informed at least a week in advance of the date on which they'd be caned, or have one of their limbs amputated.

The fear Mara was now experiencing demonstrated just how skilled the authorities were at manipulation. They were playing her like a harp. Mara thought of Tyner, who seemed to thrive on her terror. He was the perfect representative of
malinism, the living embodiment of an ideology dependent upon the subjugation of women and the suppression of femininity. And if Mara regarded her forthcoming appeal as futile, she was even more pessimistic about the chances of Price being made to pay for Julie's murder. Defeating Price would mean defeating the regime responsible for his actions, and that was not going to happen.

Mara fell asleep just after seven a.m., and woke around eleven. She took a shower and checked to see how much
Hunex she had left. The jar was still half full. She hadn't used the cream in almost four days, but strongly suspected she'd need it later that afternoon. Unable to eat anything, she made some coffee and watched her bedside clock as it counted down the minutes to twelve-fifteen, at which time she put on her uniform and headed for Camden.

The punishment centre looked much as she remembered it from her previous visit. It was a remarkably anonymous building, and one would never have guessed what went on inside. She'd arrived ten minutes early, but Madeleine was already standing outside, holding an impressive-looking briefcase. Her professional demeanour filled Mara with confidence. They shook hands - embraces would have been out of place here - and Madeleine suggested they wait a few minutes before going inside.
“I'd rather not be in there any longer than I have to. I was heavily involved with the protest movement during the '40s - that's how I got to know your parents - and it was these places that killed it off. Back then, the police would arrest anyone taking part in demonstrations, but all they could do was lock us up for a few days, a week or two at most. With the women's prisons full of protesters, they became meeting places for radicals. We'd sit in our cells planning the next march. It was one big party. But then the courts began sending us to punishment centres. I had to report for a caning once, and as soon as I felt the first stroke, I knew the party was over. Most of us abandoned the cause, or channelled our anger in another direction. That's why I became a lawyer. Later on, the amputations started. When the Hunt was introduced, not a single person dared publicly protest, though I suppose anger about the February 16th bombings might have had something to do with that. Nobody wanted to be perceived as a feminist.”