‘When do the Resistance plan to attack us?’ asked Old Lydia.
‘I don’t know,’ Lydia said coldly.
‘Yes, you do. You were spotted by an aerial probe with Anne Joyce and Fran Lucas on the moors this morning.’
‘We were just out walking,’ Lydia said.
‘Anne Joyce is the leader of the Resistance, isn’t she?’ Old Lydia’s lips twisted.
Lydia realized that this was the old woman’s version of a smile. She obviously hadn’t smiled in so long that she’d forgotten how.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Lydia replied.
‘Answer my question.’ Old Lydia abandoned all attempts to be pleasant.
‘I’m not saying a word to you,’ Lydia hissed.
Old Lydia grabbed her by her arm, her bony fingers like pincers.
‘Ow!’ Lydia grimaced.
Old Lydia had purposely grabbed her over her wound.
‘Lydia, let her go,’ Daniel told the old woman.
‘Not until she answers my questions,’ said Old Lydia. ‘Daniel, go and get Anne Joyce’s brat.’
Daniel looked at both Lydias uncertainly.
‘Do as I say,’ ordered Old Lydia.
Daniel left the room without another word.
Old Lydia thrust Lydia down into a chair and immediately bent over her so that Lydia couldn’t get up.
‘You are me,’ said Old Lydia, softly. ‘You think as I think. You feel as I feel. Just remember what this town did to you. How they all called you a thief and made your life a misery. How they all blamed you for Frances Weldon being knocked over. Even when Frances woke up and said it was an accident, most of the town didn’t believe it. Just remember the phone calls and the paint and the hate mail. The people here made us what we are. They owe us.’
‘But you didn’t have to let them turn you into . . . into a monster.
You
made yourself what you are, not the people of this town,’ Lydia argued. ‘And I’m not like you – not any more. I don’t hate anyone.’
‘No?’ asked Old Lydia.
‘No!’ Lydia said adamantly.
‘We’ll see.’ Old Lydia smiled.
A noise on the landing outside had Old Lydia straightening up. Lydia jumped out of her chair immediately and put as much space as possible between her and Old Lydia.
The door burst open and Mike fell into the room, thrown in by a Night Guard who waited for Daniel to enter the room before he began to shut the door behind him.
‘You! Stay here,’ Old Lydia commanded.
The Night Guard walked over to Old Lydia and stood by her side. Daniel leaned against the closed door, without saying a word.
‘Lydia, are you OK? I thought . . . I’d hoped you’d got away.’ Mike got to his feet and went over to Lydia.
‘I’m fine. Are you OK, Mike?’ Lydia asked.
Mike nodded.
‘Save your concern,’ Old Lydia said with contempt.
Mike turned to her, his head held high. ‘Who are you?’ he asked arrogantly.
Lydia couldn’t help smiling at Mike. She admired his courage.
‘Lydia, why don’t you tell him that?’ Old Lydia taunted.
‘She’s a mean, spiteful, old trout,’ Lydia retorted.
His eyes watchful, Mike regarded Old Lydia suspiciously.
‘I’m Lydia Henson,’ the old woman stated. ‘The real ruler of this town.’
‘But . . . but you’re dead,’ Mike whispered, aghast.
‘Ah! I see your mother
has
told you about me,’ Old Lydia said with satisfaction.
‘Please let him go,’ Lydia pleaded.
Old Lydia turned to the Guard. Her words rang out, cold and clear.
‘I’m going to ask . . . this girl a question. If she doesn’t answer,’ Old Lydia pointed to Mike, ‘kill him.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Lydia said, appalled.
‘D’you know whose son this is?’ Old Lydia asked.
‘He’s Anne’s son,’ Lydia replied. ‘I know that already.’
‘Then you should want him dead.’ Old Lydia’s eyes glinted.
‘I only came here with Lydia so I’d get a chance to kill the Tyrant,’ said Mike fiercely. ‘But now I’ll make sure I get both of you.’
‘Shut up, child. You’re as repulsive as your mother,’ said Old Lydia. ‘And far from killing me, you’re the one who’s about to breathe his last if I don’t get what I want.’
Lydia turned to Daniel. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Old Lydia. Looking at her as if he was only just seeing her for the first time.
‘Now tell me what I want to know. When do the Resistance plan to attack us?’ Old Lydia asked.
Lydia looked from the Night Guard to Old Lydia. She had to do something – anything.
But what?
‘Answer my question,’ Old Lydia ordered.
‘I don’t know,’ Lydia whispered.
Old Lydia turned to the Night Guard.
‘Kill him,’ she said.
The Guard levelled his laser gun at Mike.
‘No!’ Lydia called out.
Then everything happened at once. Lydia stepped in front of Mike and the room was suddenly full of laser light. Lydia froze. She looked down at her chest, wondering why she couldn’t feel any pain. A shadow passed over her and when Lydia looked up, Daniel was standing beside her, a small laser gun in his hand. Lydia could see the sprawled-out body of the Night Guard in front of Old Lydia.
‘Lydia, you’re my sister and I love you, but enough is enough,’ Daniel told Old Lydia. ‘I want something better for us than this.’ Daniel nodded in Lydia’s direction. ‘She can go back and change things and, like I said, we have nothing to lose. I’m tired of living with all this hatred.’
‘You traitor! I thought you were on my side,’ Old Lydia said bitterly.
‘DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT TO ME!’ Daniel exploded.
He shook with rage, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to regain control of himself.
‘I’ve made everyone in this town suffer because I was on your side. I’ve never had a life of my own because I was on your side. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We have a chance to put things right and I’m going to take it.’
‘Over my dead body,’ said Old Lydia.
‘It’ll be over your heavily stunned body if that’s what it takes,’ Daniel replied quietly, raising his gun.
Old Lydia stared at him. Whatever answer she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.
‘Lydia, for years I’ve done as you’ve asked because you’re my sister. We made money, we bought this town, we . . .’ Daniel’s lips clamped together as he bit back what he was going to say. Moments passed before he continued. ‘Whilst it was all we had, it was enough. But now we have the chance for something
more
. Can’t you see that?’
‘I don’t care about that,’ Old Lydia replied bitterly. ‘
Now
is all I care about. Crushing the rebellion and punishing every member of the Resistance is all I care about. I’ll destroy them all – except for Anne Turner. I want her to suffer. And delivering her son’s dead body to her doorstep will be only the beginning.’
The twelve-year-old Lydia shook her head as she watched her older self spew out all her poison like vomit. It was like watching a total stranger.
And a stranger is all you are, and all you’ll ever be, Lydia thought with fiery determination.
Daniel turned away from the old woman. ‘Lydia, you and Mike go downstairs and wait for me in the hall. We’re going to the moors,’ he said.
‘What about her?’ Mike pointed at the old woman.
‘I can’t get through to her any more. No one can,’ Daniel said, dejected.
Lydia took one final look at her older self. She memorized every down-turned line, every bitter crease. She studied the acid look of anger and hatred and promised herself that she’d never forget it. Ever.
‘Come on, Mike,’ Lydia said.
They left the room and ran downstairs.
‘Quick! We’ve got to get out of here before the Tyrant catches up with us,’ Mike urged. He grabbed Lydia’s arm and headed for the front door.
‘No, Mike,’ Lydia said, pulling away. ‘We have to stay here. We must wait.’
‘No. He’ll be down here at any moment,’ Mike argued.
‘I’m staying here,’ Lydia repeated firmly.
‘But . . .’
Daniel came down the stairs. At Lydia’s enquiring glance, he said, ‘Don’t worry. All I’ve done is lock my sister and the Guard in that room. By the time Lydia manages to get out of the room via one of the secret passages, we’ll be on our way. Now let’s get going.’
Daniel threw open the front doors – and there stood Mike’s mother, Anne, and the others of the Resistance. At least fifty people stood before them – men, women and children. With a triumphant laugh, they raised their laser guns higher, pointing them straight at Daniel and Lydia.
Chapter Twenty-One
To The Moors
Lydia didn’t dare move. One blink in the wrong place and it’d be her last. Amongst those before her, Lydia saw Fran’s dad. And by his side was Fran, who glared at her with very recognizable contempt.
‘Put your hands up – both of you,’ Mrs Joyce said.
Frightened, Lydia looked up at her brother. ‘Please, you don’t understand . . .’ Lydia began.
‘Oh we understand all right,’ said Fran’s dad. ‘You tried to betray us to the Tyrant but we got here before he could summon his security police against us.’
‘That’s not true,’ Lydia cried. ‘Mike, tell them that’s not true.’
Mike looked from Lydia to Daniel and back again. Uncertainty warred with his hatred of the Tyrant.
‘Mike, are you OK? Did he hurt you?’ his mum asked anxiously.
Mike’s expression cleared. He stepped away from Daniel and Lydia to join his mum.
‘You arrived just in time, Mum,’ said Mike. ‘I told Lydia to make a break for it but she wanted to stay here with him.’
Lydia blinked back the tears as she listened. All the faces, all the expressions, the feelings – they were mirror images of Old Lydia’s upstairs.
‘Fran, please – you know why I wanted to see Daniel. Tell them. Tell them why.’ Lydia couldn’t believe this was happening. Not now she was so close . . .
‘You mean your story about coming from the past?’ Fran scoffed. ‘I’m ashamed to say I actually believed you until Mrs Joyce and I realized what you were up to. You were sent by the Tyrant to infiltrate us, weren’t you? The whole time I thought we were friends and all you wanted was to find out who the leaders of the Resistance were and when we were going to launch our attack against him.’ Fran pointed to Daniel.
Lydia was speechless. Every word she wanted to scream in denial faded to nothing in her mouth.
‘I don’t need the help of a girl or anyone else come to that to crush this mob,’ Daniel scorned.
‘Yeah? Then how come you’re the ones with your hands up and not us?’ Fran’s father said.
The mob around him laughed and cheered and whistled.
‘Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.’ Daniel pointed at Lydia.
‘You expect us to believe that,’ Mrs Joyce mocked. ‘Take them inside and tie them up. We’ll use them as hostages until we’ve taken care of the security police and the Night Guards.’
‘They’ll shoot you on sight,’ Daniel said.
‘Oh yeah? Where are the security police who’re supposed to be protecting your precious mansion? D’you see them? ’Cause I don’t,’ sneered Mrs Joyce. ‘We’ll get rid of all your other Guards just as easily as we got rid of them.’
Daniel looked around the mob, but said nothing. Lydia wrapped her arms around herself so that no one would see how much she was trembling. She moved a step closer to Daniel. Over the heads of the mob, through the branches and leaves of the trees in the wood, she could see a pink and orange sky towards the horizon. That was where she had to get to. Lydia was more convinced of that than ever before. But how?
How?
‘Take them inside,’ Mrs Joyce commanded.
Fifteen minutes later, Lydia and Daniel were sitting in two chairs placed back to back and tied up tighter than Christmas parcels. They were back in Daniel’s living room, and even though it wasn’t cold, a fire blazed in the fireplace.
Fran’s dad and two others came into the room.
‘We’ve checked the entire house. There’s an unconscious Night Guard upstairs and we caught two more security guards eating in the kitchen. That’s it,’ said Fran’s dad.
Lydia turned to Daniel to ask about Old Lydia but a warning nudge from his elbow brought her to her senses. Mrs Joyce studied the two people tied up in front of her.
‘OK then. You, you and you – you’re responsible for the Tyrant and this traitor,’ said Mrs Joyce, indicating Daniel and Lydia. ‘If they so much as breathe the wrong way, you know what to do. The rest of us are off to the Night Guards’ camp. This is it, people! Nothing can stop us now!’