The Vanished (9 page)

I left the rest of the bunting group, who hadn’t even realised anything was going on, to finish the decorations. As far as they were concerned the bunting was tied to the tree and the job was done.

Daniel showed me his handiwork for the fete – beautifully carved children’s stools and games. I ran my fingers along the smooth, sanded wood.

“There isn’t much varnish in the Compound, so I’ve had to leave it without a finish,” he said. In typical Daniel style he had been almost silent while showing me his work, nervous and shy.

“Stunning as always.” I grasped his hand and squeezed it.

“Looky-looky here.” Ali strode up to us, grinning. “If it in’t the two love-birds – reunited at last.” He carried a sack tossed over one shoulder.

“What’s in the sack?” I asked, poking the material. It was soft inside.

“A few things I’ve scavenged over the years, bits o’ material.” He dumped the contents of the sack on top of a trestle table and out rolled luxurious wads of fabric in the most vibrant colours I’d ever seen. There was sheer satin with beading framing the edges, and pieces of the most delicate silk or sturdy taffeta. I ran my fingers over a section of soft magenta cotton.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Asian fabrics. Most are used in saris or as throws and curtains.” Ali shrugged, fingering a beaded corner. “They remind me of ma parents.”

“These are far too fine to use for the fete,” I said, shaking my head.

Ali sucked in a deep breath. “No they aren’t. The nicest ones are in ma trailer, I can spare these fer table-cloths – if ye’ll help me set them out?”

“Sure!”

Daniel kissed me on the forehead. “I need to finish off these stools. There’s still sanding to do.”

“Okay, I’ll call Hiro.”

He squeezed my hand and disappeared behind a stool, his hands working over the curves of the legs with a piece of sandpaper. I realised I could watch him work all day, the concentration on his face and the way his skin wrinkled just a tiny bit between his eyebrows.

“Oi, lover girl.” Ali snapped me out of my thoughts. “Ye helping or what?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I looked around for Hiro. He was playing with Daniel’s garden building blocks. “Hiro! Want to help us with these fabrics?” He ran towards me, and as I watched him come to me, I felt a strange and intense sensation in my stomach. It was the sort of sensation that woke you up to something, a piece of knowledge. I knew that I would protect this little boy with my life. I loved him. I’d never realised that before. I really did love him.

There was quite a gathering in the space usually used as the market, and the sun shone down on us. It pricked at the skin on the back of my neck and I realised that I would have sunburn soon. Sebastian and Ginge appeared to help Mary and Stevie move the trestle tables into position whilst my dad and Mike helped out a group of farmers shift the hay bales. The air began to buzz with excitement and for the first time I was looking forward to the celebration.

We followed Mary’s instructions, pushing the tables together in one long line and moving the hay bales up as seating. We draped the exotic fabrics over each table, weighing them down with plates and cutlery gathered from the Compounders. There were children running all around us, whipped up with anticipation of a change to the norm. Everything was exhilarating when you were a kid – especially when it was bright and colourful like the fete. Plastic toys had been spread out on the grass to help keep the children entertained, the bright blue, red and yellow items dotted around in the green. The tables and hay bales were coated in luxurious shades of magenta, turquoise and emerald while patterned crockery held them in place. The bunting, made from tent fabric, flapped in the soft breeze; waving green and blue triangles. I inhaled and relished the smell of the roasting pig, spitted by the farmers, as well as the aroma of freshly baked bread, straight from the old-fashioned ovens in the castle kitchen. Large piles of apples picked from the farm orchard and gooseberry pies were laid out, tempting me. My mouth-watered.

“This is what I call a welcome.” Dr Woods sauntered over to us and clapped me on the shoulder. “You guys are lucky, eh?”

My dad answered for me. “Very lucky indeed. This is fantastic, Stephen. What a great idea.”

I shared a look with Hiro. Mike appeared at my side, his nose scrunched up. He wanted to know more about this man, just like me.

Dr Woods grip tightened on my shoulder, just for a fraction, not long enough for me to cry out but long enough for me to get the message. He was strong. “You’re welcome, professor. It really is just a privilege to get to know you and your… unique team of children. Perhaps we could get together later for a cognac? I have some in my office. I would just love to pick your brain.”

“Absolutely,” Dad replied, grinning. “I would love that.”

Dr Woods smiled at us all and with a flick of his coattails, and a strange glare in my direction, he disappeared. I watched him leave, so intrigued that I didn’t notice Daniel appear at my side.

“I saw him touch you,” he said, breathless from running. “I do not trust that guy.”

“Me neither,” Mike joined in. “He stinks like a festering old house. There’s something rotten but I can’t figure out what it means. I’ve never come across this emotion before. Usually bad guys are just mad or frustrated or trying to forget something terrible. But this guy is different.”

“What are you talking about?” Dad interrupted. “You don’t like the doctor?”

“Do you?” I blurted out. “You seem pretty chummy.” I folded my eyes and looked away; worried I was glaring at him.

“It’s nice to have a man of science to hold a conversation with, yes.” I felt my dad’s eyes staring at me but didn’t look up to see them. I wondered if he’d removed his glasses yet. “But if you kids think there is something awry…”

“He tried to hide his thoughts around me,” Hiro said. “But I don’t think he likes Mina. He says things like ‘that’s the girl’ and ‘wrong, so wrong’ around her.”

Daniel moved closer to me. “That sounds creepy. I don’t want him around Mina.”

I scoffed. “I could take him.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Daniel retorted.

“He could just be unnerved by us. Mina does have an usual talent which can frighten people,” Dad said.

“I am here you know,” I snapped. “There’s no need to talk
about
me.”

He ignored my outburst. “Perhaps it would be good for me to get to know him better, keep an eye on him.”

“Or maybe we should all just ignore him and hope he ignores us,” Mike suggested. He seemed quite rattled by this man.

“We can’t ignore him, he’s in the Council,” I pointed out.

“I’m going to tell Kitty about all this,” Mike said. “I don’t want her anywhere near him. I feel it guys. I feel it in my stomach that there is something really wrong with that guy, but I don’t know how to express it.” He backed away, his face pale and tense.

We went back to the preparations. Daniel arranged his stools around some smaller children’s tables. I watched him work with a smile, the way he sanded a few rough edges and took out a tape measure to make sure everything was perfect. He’d turned chunks of wood into something beautiful in just two weeks. I continued to watch him, lost in my thoughts until Ali returned from his trailer with a large box.

“Glassware,” he explained. “These tin cups are unsightly.”

I laughed. “What do you care about decor?”

“Let’s just say I appreciate the finer things in life. Why do ye think I spend ma time out with the Scavengers, eh? I can tell ye now it in’t fer Stevie’s singin’.”

I laughed. We pulled the glasses out of the box, there was a variety of tumblers and wine glasses with long stems. “What brought you here, Ali?”

He placed a glass on the table next to a plate, positioning it carefully with his fingers, turning the base so that the sunlight caught and reflected the glass. “Ach, it’s a long story.”

Hiro was sat in the grass playing with blocks. Dad was helping to plate fresh sandwiches. Mike had gone to find Kitty. Daniel was arranging his handiwork. Sebastian and Ginge were giggling and flapping tarpaulin at each other.

I shrugged. “I’ve got time.” We moved along in a system. I held the box while Ali arranged the glasses. Every so often we shuffled up the long line of tables.

“Well, the short answer is ma parents were killed by GEMs and Mary found me living on the streets in one of her Scavenger trips,” he said with a sigh. “The long story is where I tell ye about how we were a happy little family until they started targeting us.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, taken aback by Ali’s bluntness. “Why would anyone do that to you and your parents?”

“I grew up in Area 3 – close te London. I can’t remember its real name now, although ma parents did tell me. It was when England split an’ the non-clone families were either forced te adopt a GEM or move outta London te get shoved into a district. Our family were too poor te adopt a bairn, so we were left te rot in the ghettos of Area 3, along with the other Blems.” He let out a sigh, settling into his story whilst never stopping from his task with the wine glasses.

“The rich residents hated the changes an’ hated us. They adopted GEM kids. Some moved te London but by then London was overrun. Many got turned away. Even rich GEM families had te stay in Area 3, looking at us across the road in our slums. They hated it. They blamed us fer everything; businesses closing, schools and shops being boarded up from lack of people. It was the Area the Enforcers forgot. We had no Commander and no one te tell us what to do.

“Then one year there was a flood and many of the rich GEM families lost a lot of money and property. With a twist of fate the damage te the ghettos turned out to be insignificant compared te the GEM district. That’s the price ye pay fer wanting ye riverside views, if ye ask me.” He paused to position a wine glass and I had to hold my breath to stop myself hurrying along his story.

“Man, they were pissed off. Teenage GEMs started hangin’ around in gangs, threatening Blem kiddies on their walk te school. I was five years old and I still remember the sting of the stones as they hit ma skin.” Ali pulled up his sleeve to reveal a small, half-moon mark on his forearm. “That’s from a sharp one.” He yanked his sleeve down. “Things were worse after the floods. The GEMS were poor, their houses ruined. They were just like us, and they hated it. My family had made a little money selling South Asian food an’ managed to buy a small shop.” He reached into the box with a smile. “The three of us would work all night on the sauces and ma pa tried to make it into a game, racing each other te chop onions. Sometimes we sang old Pakistani songs. I cannae remember them now.” The smile faded. “I think it was because we were happy that they targeted us. One morning we found our shop trashed, money stolen, food smeared along the way, racist graffiti. We weren’t just Blemished we were
Pakis
,” he spat the word and I found myself flinching at the old-fashioned racial slur. I knew that before the Cloning humans found other ways to hate each other. I just didn’t realise it still existed.

Ali continued. “Ma pa was a proud man, and there was only so much he could take.” He laughed without humour. “The stupid old fool confronted them. He walked right up te the gang and threatened them. I was watching from the window of our house. They just laughed in his face.” He paused and fingered the stem of the long glass between his fingers. “Instead of walking away ma pa threw a punch. He was so
stupid
.

“They turned on him and then Ma went running out to stop him. They threw stones. I don’t think they meant te kill her but… I watched from the window as she went down. They beat ma father te death and it took just one stone te the temple te kill Ma…
Ammi.
”

Ali stopped talking and the silence filled the small space between us. Finally, I said, “I’m so sorry.” It was so lame but the only thing I could say.

“Why?” he said. “It’s not yer fault.” He laughed that bitter laugh again, and I looked down at the box of glasses in my hands. “I’m sorry, Mina. It’s just a hard memory te go over.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it all back.”

He placed the glass down on the table and with a smile stroked the bright red silk fabric we had laid out as a table cloth. “Sometimes it’s nice te remember, even if it hurts.”

It was lunch time and the preparations were finished. Barrels of beer were rolled in, along with a spicy fruit punch laced with alcohol and a non-alcoholic version for the children. Bottles of red wine appeared along the tables and everyone rushed to help themselves, slopping sizeable chunks of meat pies into their bowls. I caught Ali watching the people with narrowed eyes, shaking his head just a fraction every time some gravy splattered onto his fabric. He was so generous to lend something so treasured to this event. I hoped that it meant he was dedicated to its message. That he really believed we could fit in here.

The weather stayed warm and dry, but the air was thick and hung like a curtain. It was the kind of air that made you feel like you were going to have a nosebleed. I was too hot to eat. Crammed in between Daniel and Kitty I fanned myself with a napkin and blew at my hair which kept sticking to my forehead. My dad, sat opposite with Hiro, tutted at me. Hiro sat with his hands over his ears and his face pained.

“Dad, Hiro shouldn’t be here. There are too many people,” I said.

“Just ten minutes and then I’ll take him back to the barn. He has to learn to control his power.”

“It’s cruel,” I snapped. “Do you want me to take him? I’ll stay with him.”

“No,” Daniel interrupted. He had been quite protective since the bunting incident, and while I was partly grateful, it was also getting on my nerves. “You should stay here to enjoy yourself. After all the hard work you put in. You know, climbing the trees.” He widened his eyes at me in an effort to remind me I’d been attacked. How could I forget?

Dad sighed. “You’re right Daniel, and as soon as Hiro has eaten a little we’ll leave. Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I get some food? That pork does smell delicious.”

Before I could protest he was hauling his awkward shape over the back of the hay bale and joining the queue for the pork sandwiches from the make-shift hog roast. As I watched him leave something caught my eye. There hadn’t been enough seating and tables for all the Compound members and many were sitting on extra bales of hay, or sprawled out on blankets on the grass. In between these people, standing upright and whispering to each other was a group of women all wearing colourful headscarves. Right in the centre someone was glaring at me with a level of hatred, I didn’t think possible for a person. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The hottest day of the year and I felt a chill, all because of that person. All because that person was Angela.

“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, coming up for air from her meat pie. She had an uncanny way of sensing when I was upset, a lot like Mike.

“Angela is over there,” I said.

“Who is she with?” Daniel asked.

“Two of those women were there when she threatened me that time,” I said. “I don’t know about the others but I guess they must be farmers.”

“They all have their hands in their pockets,” Kitty observed. “I don’t like this. I wish Mike was here to sense what they’re feeling.”

“I don’t think we need him, it’s written all over their faces,” I said. “They hate us. They hate being here.”

“But do you think they’re planning something?” Kitty licked her lips, trying to taste something. “It’s no good. I taste people, not their plans. And there are too many people here.”

I looked at Hiro. He had his hands over his ears and was rocking back and forth, attracting the attention of the Compounders around us. At the hog roast queue Dad was just being served his pork, at least he would be back soon. Sebastian and Ginge were on their way to join the queue.

“No!” Hiro shouted. “No… !”

“What is it, Hiro?” I leaned across the table to grab his hand, but he curled up into a small ball.

Then everything happened so fast it was a blur. Angela and her friends removed their hands from their pockets and threw something at Sebastian, it looked like stones. Sebastian took cover but then lost his temper and flew at the women, knocking some of them down. My dad dropped his pork sandwich and grabbed hold of Sebastian, pulling him away from Angela and the girls before Sebastian pushed him away, grabbed a bottle of wine from the table and disappeared away from the fete. Everyone else, Ginge included, watched him storm off, with their mouths gaping. For a moment Angela looked unsure of herself, as though she realised just what she’d done. There was a flicker of guilt, something more like herself. But then one of the scarf women clapped her on the shoulder, and that expression disappeared into self-satisfaction. I turned my head in disgust.

“I should go after him,” I said, standing to leave.

“No.” Daniel placed a hand on my arm. It was gentle but firm. “It’s not safe for you. I really don’t want you to.”

“But I can take Hiro.”

“I’ll do that,” Dad appeared at the opposite side of the table. He seemed troubled. “Come on, Hiro. Let me take you away.” Dad coaxed the little boy out of the foetal position and pulled him into his arms. I hated myself for it, but I felt a pang of jealousy.

Slowly and surely the Compounders turned their attention away from us and back to their food, but the whispering never really stopped. Mary and Ali both came to our little section of the table to check, pretending to make polite conversation. I couldn’t stomach it. Daniel put some pie on my plate and pointed at it with raised eyebrows. I forced in a few mouthfuls but my stomach churned.

“Here, have some punch.” Kitty poured me a large glass and winked.

I leaned across to her. “Isn’t that the alcoholic one?”

She put her finger to her lips. “We’d may as well have some fun. Your dad isn’t here to yell at us. Besides, we’ve already had the big showdown. It can’t get any worse.”

She was right. I shrugged and sipped on the punch. At first I tasted nothing except oranges and cranberry but then something kicked in and I nearly choked. It was bitter and reminded me of the fumes from Elena’s nail polish back in Area 14. I swallowed it down and then a not unpleasant heat spread to my fingers and stomach.

“Nice, huh?” Kitty took another glug.

“What are you two doing?” Daniel glared at us.

“Just having some fun Danny-boy.” Kitty reached across me and ruffled his hair. For some reason it seemed really funny, so I did it too.

“Oh great, you two are going to get really drunk really fast.” He sighed.

I stroked his face and shushed him. “Have some, it’s nice.”

He frowned at the reddy-brown liquid in my glass. “I watched my mum get drunk on this stuff every night.”

“You’re not your mum,” I said.

“You’re right.” He poured a drink and sipped it. “I’m not my mum. Just because she was an alky doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.”

“What’s an alky?” Kitty asked.

“An alcoholic,” Daniel said.

“Oh!” Her face brightened. “I get it now. That’s funny.”

“You find that funny?” I said with a laugh. “Wow, you really are easily entertained.” I gulped down some more punch feeling much better and hungry again. “I want gooseberry pie.”

“Then I shall get you gooseberry pie, madam,” Kitty said with a fluttery hand gesture like a salute. She leaned over an old man to reach for the pie who cowered away from her as though she might kill him. “Chill out, wrinkles. I’m just getting pie for my girl over here.”

The man leaned away from her, his expression one of pure horror. Suddenly, Daniel started to laugh.

“People are so ignorant,” he said between giggles.

“Why is that funny?” I asked.

He stopped laughing and helped himself to more punch. Somehow he’d finished his first glass already. “I don’t know. It just is.”

“You either have to laugh or cry about it,” Kitty said, slopping gooseberry pie into my bowl. “I always choose to laugh.” She plucked a jug of cream out of a young woman’s hands and tipped it over my pie. “What are you staring at?” she said to the woman.

I stifled a laugh at the woman’s facial expression. She was a plump red head with pimples on her chin.

“That’s enough, Kitty!” I pushed her hand away and the cream spilled onto the table cloth. “Oh no! Ali’s fabric.” I grabbed a napkin to mop up the liquid. It was going to leave a stain, there was no way of redeeming myself.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be the only ones to spill something today,” Kitty said. She drank more punch and then burped. That was when I had a proper look around. Everyone had helped themselves to free wine, beer or punch, and there were a lot of red-faced and tipsy people.

I shoved more pie into my mouth before washing it down with a second mug of punch. I grinned, thoroughly enjoying myself and the warm glow from the alcohol. It was then, after that moment of pure enjoyment, when everything started to go wrong.