There's No Place Like Here (32 page)

“What other photos?”

He stopped at the doorway and suddenly looked even younger than his nineteen years, like a lost little boy. “I don’t know much about what goes on around here, Sandy. I don’t know why we’re all here, how we all got here, or even what we’re supposed to be doing. I never knew that when I was at home with my Mum either.” He smiled. “But as far as I can see, you followed all your belongings here and now, day by day, items disappear. I don’t know where they’re going, but wherever that is, I suggest that when you find yourself there, you have proof that you were ever here. Proof of us.” His smile weakened. “I’m tired now, Sandy. I’m going to go to bed. See you at seven for the council meeting.”

43

B
arbara Langley hadn’t much in the way of clothes suitable for community meetings, most likely because the doomed New York holiday, which resulted in the loss of her luggage more than twenty years ago, didn’t call for being put on trial by an entire community. But then again, you never know.

I chose to stay away from rehearsals at the Community Hall, knowing that my presence there later would be enough and that Helena had the play I really wasn’t interested in being involved in all under control. I passed the day by covering the shop for Bobby, who had quite understandably decided to stay in bed the entire day. I busied myself; I
pleasured
myself rooting around the long-legged people’s section, diving into bargain buckets with all the ferocity of a bear that had stumbled upon a picnic park. Excitedly I pulled out outfits I dreamed of having at home. Ecstasy-fueled purrs escaped my lips as I tried on shirts with sleeves that reached my wrists, T-shirts that covered my belly button, and trousers with hems that fell to the floor. A tingle rushed through my body each time the feel of fabric covered an area of skin so used to being bare and exposed. What a difference an inch of fabric made. Particularly on a cold morning standing at the bus stop stretching the sleeves of a favorite sweater just so it covered a racing, angry pulse. That small inch, insignificant to most, everything to me, was the difference between a good day and a bad, internal peace and outward loathing, denial and the realization of an overwhelming albeit temporary desire to be like everyone else. A few inches shorter, a few inches happier, richer, content, warmer.

Every once in a while, the bell over the door sounded, and just like the end of my playtime at school, the climax would come to an abrupt end. The majority of shoppers that day had come to the shop with one goal in mind: to have a look at me, the one they had heard about, the one who knew things. People from all nations would lock eyes with me, hoping for recognition, and, when there wasn’t any, would leave, disappointment weighing heavy on their shoulders. Each time the bell rang and another pair of eyes bored into mine, I became more nervous for the evening ahead, and no matter how hard I wanted to prevent the many clocks on the wall from ticking, the hands raged on and the night was suddenly upon me.

It seemed the entire village had decided to attend the council meeting at the Community Hall. Bobby and I pushed our way through throngs of people slowly filing toward the giant oak door. News of somebody with the capacity to know all about families at home had caused people of all nationalities, races, and creeds to flock by the hundreds to the building. The hot orange sun was disappearing behind the pine trees, giving the effect of strobe lighting as we walked briskly alongside them. Above us, hawks circled low in the sky, dangerously skimming the treetops. Around me, I felt eyes on me, watching, waiting to pounce.

The carvings of people shoulder to shoulder, upon the giant doors, parted and bodies began to file in. The theater had been transformed from the informal arrangement of rehearsal hours. I felt deceived, realizing it was more than it had originally appeared to be, capable of more than it had shown itself to be, and now here it was, elegantly dressed, standing upright and proud, royalty when I had thought it a servant. Hundreds of rows of seats led from the stage, the red velvet curtains pulled back by a chunky golden twist with tassels bowing, their overturned heads of hair skimming the ground. On stage rows of representatives sat on tiered seating, some wearing their countries’ traditional costumes, others choosing modern dress. There were three-piece suits next to embroidered
dish-dasha,
sequined
jellabahs
, silk kimonos,
kippas
, turbans and
jilbab
, bead, bone, gold and silver jewelry, women in elaborately patterned
khanga
, upon them Swahili proverbs offering pearls of wisdom I could not understand, and men in fine
hanbok
. There was everything from
khussa
shoes to Jimmy Choos, Thousand Mile sandals and flip-flops to polished leather lace-ups. I spotted Joseph in the second row wrapped in a purple gown with gold trimming. The vision was stunning, the mixture of fine cultured clothes side by side a treat. Despite my feelings on the evening ahead, I lifted the Polaroid camera and took a photo.

“Hey!” Bobby grabbed the camera from my hands. “Stop wasting the cartridges!”

“Wasting?” I gasped. “Look at that!” I pointed to the stage of representatives from all nations, sitting grandly overlooking the sea of villagers, who watched them expectantly, desperately awaiting news of the old world they had left behind. We sat in seats halfway up the auditorium to ensure I wasn’t in the first row for the firing line. We spotted Helena toward the front of the room, desperately scouring the crowds with an alarming look of concern or fear, I couldn’t tell which. Assuming it was us she was looking for, Bobby waved at her wildly. I couldn’t move. My body sat frozen in this new fear I was experiencing, in a theater that had very quickly become filled with the noise of hundreds of people becoming louder and louder in my ears. I glanced over my shoulder. Dozens more stood at the back of the hall, blocking the exits, unable to find seats. The banging shut and locking of the gigantic doors reverberated around the room and everybody instantly fell silent. The breathing of the man behind me was loud in my ears, the whispering of the couple in front of me like a loudspeaker. My heart began a drumbeat of its own. I looked at Bobby for reassurance I didn’t get. The harsh lights from above didn’t allow anybody or their reactions to hide. Everyone and everything was revealed.

Helena had been forced to take her seat when the door had shut and silence had ensued. I tried my best to keep thinking that this was a silly little place, a figment of my imagination. It was all a dream, unimportant, not real life. But no matter how much I pinched myself and tried to zone out, the atmosphere pulled me back in, leaving me with the foreboding sense that this was as real as the beating of my heart.

A woman walked up the outside aisle with a basket of earphones. They were taken by the person at the end seat and passed along the rows like a church collection. I looked to Bobby questioningly and he demonstrated, plugging the headphone set into a socket in the chair in front. He placed them over his ears as a man stood before the microphone on stage. He began speaking Japanese, not a word of which I could understand, but I was so transfixed by the scene before me I failed to remember to put my earphones on. Bobby elbowed me and I jumped, quickly placing them over my ears. A heavily accented English voice offered the translation. I had missed the beginning of his announcement.

“…this Sunday evening. It’s rare that so many of us all gather together. Thank you for the wonderful turnout. There are a few reasons why we are here tonight…”

Bobby elbowed me again and my headphones came off. “That’s Ichiro Takase,” he whispered. “He’s the rep president. It changes person every few months.”

I nodded and the headphones went back on again.

“Hans Liveen wishes to speak to you about the plans for the new mill scheme, but before we address that we will deal with the reason why so many of you have attended this meeting. Irish Representative Grace Burns will speak to you about this.”

A woman who appeared to be in her fifties stood from her seat and made her way to the microphone. She had long wavy red hair, her features were pointed as though chiseled from a rock, and she was dressed in a sharp black business suit.

I removed my headphones.

“Good evening, everybody.” Her accent placed her from the north of Ireland, Donegal. Many of the non-Irish English speakers put their headphones back on for the translation. “I’ll make this brief,” she said. “I was approached this week by many people from the Irish community with news that a newcomer from Ireland had information on various villagers’ families. Despite the rumors, this of course isn’t unusual, given Ireland’s size. I was also told that an item belonging to this person, I understand that it’s her watch, has gone missing,” she said in her matter-of-fact tones.

People who understood English immediately gasped, although the majority of them were surely aware of this rumor already. A few seconds later, there was a second gasp as the interpreters translated. Murmuring began in the hall and the Irish representative held her arms up to silence everyone. “I understand this news has had an effect on the entire village. News like this disrupts our attempts for normal living and we are keen to put the rumors to rest.”

My heart began to beat a little less dramatically.

“We’ve called the meeting tonight to assure you that the matter is in hand and it will be dealt with. As soon as it is, we will immediately inform the community, as we always do, as to the outcome. I believe this newcomer is among us tonight,” she announced, “and so I wish to address this person.”

Instantly my heart began to palpitate again. People around me looked about, murmuring, jabbering excitedly in foreign tones and eyeing one another suspiciously, accusingly. I looked to Bobby in shock. He gaped back at me.

“What will I do?” I whispered. “How do they know about the watch?”

The nineteen-year-old in him shrugged, eyes wide.

“We all think it’s best to deal with this privately and quietly so that the person can remain anonymous—”

There was a heckling of boos from the crowd, some people laughed, and my skin crawled.

“I see no cause or need for dramatics,” Grace continued in her official, no-nonsense tone. “If the newcomer could just present us with the alleged missing item, then this will be dropped and forgotten once and for all so that the congregation can get back to spending their valuable time in their usual greatly productive ways.” She smiled cheekily and there were chuckles from around the room. “If the person in question could familiarize themselves with my office tomorrow morning and bring the watch with them, then this can be dealt with swiftly and privately.”

More boos by members of the audience.

“I’ll take a few questions on this and then we will move on with the more important matter of the plans to build farther past the wild farm.” I could tell she was being deliberately blasé about the whole thing. An entire village had turned out to hear about me, about how I knew intimate details of people here and their family members. In a few sentences she had brushed it all under the carpet. People looked around at each other unhappily and I sensed a storm brewing.

Many people raised their hands and the representative nodded to one. A man stood. “Ms. Burns, I don’t think it’s fair that this matter be dealt with privately. I think it’s clear from the turnout tonight that this issue is more important than the manner of how you have chosen to address it, which is a deliberate attempt at playing down the significance.” There were a few claps. “I put forward that the person in question, whom I know to be a woman, show us the watch right
now
, right here,
tonight
so that we can see it with our own eyes and therefore allow the matter to be dropped and for our minds to be put at rest.”

There was a healthy applause to this suggestion.

The representative looked uncomfortable; she turned to look at her colleagues. Some nodded, some shook their heads, others looked bored; some shrugged and left it up to her.

“I’m concerned only with the welfare of the person in question, Mr. O’Mara,” she addressed him. “I hardly see it fair that she has arrived here only this week and is also faced with this. Her anonymity is vital. Surely you can appreciate that.”

This wasn’t so strongly supported by people, but there was a light round of clapping from a few dozen and I silently thanked them and cursed Grace for confirming my sex.

An elderly woman standing beside the man speaking from the audience shot up out of her seat. “Ms. Burns, our well-being is more important, and the well-being of all the villagers. Isn’t it more important that if once again we have heard rumors of somebody’s belongings going missing we have a right to know if it’s true?”

There were noises of support from among the crowd. Grace Burns held her hand up to her forehead to block the harsh stage lights in order to see the person belonging to the voice. “But, Catherine, it
will
be revealed to you tomorrow after the person has come to me. Whatever the outcome, it will be dealt with appropriately.”

“This doesn’t just affect the Irish community,” a Southern American male voice called out. Everybody looked around. The voice came from a man standing at the back. “Remember what happened the last time there were rumors of things going missing?”

There were mumbles of agreement, and nods.

“Everybody here remember a guy called James Ferrett?” he shouted now, addressing the hall.

There were loud murmurs of yes and heads nodded.

“A few years ago he told of the very same thing happening to him. The representatives did the same thing then as they are doing now,” he addressed the crowd, who were unfamiliar with the story. “Mr. Ferrett was encouraged to follow the same procedure as our anonymous woman tonight and instead he disappeared. Whether it was to join the rest of his belongings or whether it was the work of the reps, we will never know.”

There was an uproar at this but he shouted over the noise. “At least let us deal with it now before the person in question has a chance to escape once again without us learning about what is happening. It’s not as though any harm will come to her and it’s our duty to know!”