‘And I’ve told you before, you should lend me that special cook book. I’d be glad to cook for Sebastian.’
As she said this, the hostess looked sympathetically to the boy, the poor pale boy. Yet he looked only at Toby, looked at him with cold hate.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen. Young, preparing for maybe only his second or third sickness. But not his first, Toby knew. For though the lad was young, his eyes were old with experience.
Toby had a lot of faces to learn or re-learn on his first day back, and his mind was working at full speed. Yet it came to him, as he knew it would. Sebastian. Food allergy. Yes, last winter had been the boy’s first; and it had been bad. At one point it had taken three Deputies to calm him.
Toby recalled Sebastian backing into a glass display case, earning the boy a cut along the back of his left arm. Toby remembered how it bled, how he’d had to wipe that blood from his own face after grappling with Sebastian afterwards. How he had handed his landlady a ruined shirt that evening to launder.
The parents were introduced to Toby, but then there was a pause.
‘Sebastian,’ began his father. ‘You say hello and shake the Deputy’s hand now.’
Yet the boy offered neither.
‘Sebastian!’
But Toby spoke to the father, looking at the son,
‘That’s fine, sir. I understand entirely. It’s hard for those living through the sickness. You can’t blame your son for having mixed feelings when seeing this uniform again.’
‘It’s not your uniform. It’s you.’
His parents and their hostess gasped at this. Even Toby needed to brace himself, before saying slowly,
‘I can remember. The scene in your father’s study. The display cabinet.’
At this the boy’s mother winced.
‘You’re in the very worst of it, Sebastian. It’s new to you. Last year was your first. And it’s about to start again, will start again for another four or five years as likely. I’d be a monster if I didn’t understand that.’
Toby went on, ‘I was under the club once. As was your father, I expect. As was every man in this town. You might say it’s what we go through to become a man. You see me here in my uniform as a bully, as your jailer even. You think we Deputies have the ruling of you boys. But it’s not true. It’s we who are bound to you. You’re our responsibility, Sebastian, you and all the boys like you. It’s for us to get you through these winters, nothing else. We gain nothing for ourselves.’
It was an old speech, tried and tested, and Toby hoped he hadn’t used it in this company before. He waited for the retort, but there was none. The boy, for whatever reason, said no more. Yet his look had not cooled, Toby’s words had changed nothing.
Toby did though note a flickered glance between Sebastian and Letitia, the eldest daughter of the house. Love forged in the crucible of a Stove winter. Toby wondered if this pair would ever make it out? Or whether their town and their responsibilities would destroy them, as they had he and Janey? Toby wanted one Romeo and Juliet to make it, just one.
‘I have another house to visit,’ explained Toby as his host showed him out.
‘I fully understand. I was one of your number once.’
‘I thought you might have been.’
‘You know you can always count on the Council’s full support. Anything you fellows need...’
‘Thank you.’
The man asked then, ‘That lad, Sebastian, was under your club?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘And so will my son be in a few years.’
‘It would seem likely.’
‘We do it for their own good. You can’t expect them to understand at that age.’
‘No.’
‘We need your diligence, you and those like you.’
‘You can count on it, sir.’
‘We know,’ said the man as Toby departed.
Chapter 13 – House Two
One dinner-party down, a second to come. Toby dashed along dark and empty streets to find the house. The whole town seemed to know the closedown was upon them – bars already shut, weekend socialisers instead getting serious and staying home. At one point Toby nearly ran into a mirror of himself – another uniformed Deputy, though not one he knew well.
‘How’s the old suit fitting?’ he asked Toby.
‘Same as always.’
‘That bad?’ joked the man, as he darted off with a smirk. This wasn’t impoliteness – each was busy, and would meet again within the hour.
Passing by the Town Hall, Toby saw a Councillor haul a box of forms into the back of a low-bed station wagon – they wouldn’t be needing those till spring. The man called across to Toby, ‘Ten o’clock. Don’t forget!’
Toby muttered, ‘As if I’m damn-well likely to.’
For the sickness wasn’t only physical. It got to the nerves as well, deep into the emotions.
The second house, when Toby found it, was less formal. The sounds from inside were louder, and the front door was already ajar. Toby went up to it and pushed, a voice calling,
‘We’re in here.’
Following it, Toby entered a large sitting room to find what seemed a Mardi Gras in full swing. Music was playing, looming rhumba or bossa nova, something Toby couldn’t identify, and which was not turned down at his arrival. What must have been at least eight people in cocktail dress swam and swooned, in the atmosphere of a Nineteen-Thirties ocean liner lounge.
‘Oh oh, it’s the party inspector!’ called one.
‘Who ordered the stripper?’ bellowed another.
Toby was the only one in uniform and not seemingly drunk. Had he found the right house? Who were these people? He was exceedingly uncomfortable. And then the music silenced, and it got a hundred times worse.
For, as the music stopped, so did all conversation. All eyes were now on Toby in his absurd get-up. How on earth could he announce himself now? What form of words would possibly do the job?
Yet it was a carousing woman who broke the ice with,
‘You know that you’re the reason why we don’t have children?’
‘Come now, Carol,’ said her drinking partner. ‘That’s hardly this man’s fault.’
‘No, no. He’d want me to be honest. Wouldn’t you, “Deputy”?’ She over-emphasised his title to absurdity.
‘Always. I’m only wondering why you have me here?’
‘But isn’t that what people do on the night before the town goes into curfew? Invite the Marshal in to tell us why we’re under martial law?’
‘I should be going.’ Toby went to leave, thinking the Sheriff must have made some terrible mistake. But the woman held him back,
‘No, no. You can’t go. There’s someone here who wants to meet you.’
At last, thought Toby. Maybe this then would be the householder. He followed the woman’s gaze through the bodies and the furniture and the pot plants, whose leaves nearly touched the ceiling. He followed it all the way through to the figure of a man at the back of the room. The figure of Jake, from Carvel, last seen that lunchtime being contrary on the railway platform. Toby saw him staring right back at him, standing beside the record player. He had orchestrated the whole thing.
Toby was gripped by fear. It seemed to fall from him like sheets of glass that never landed or shattered, just left him blinded in a light of dazzling horizontal planes. His blood was mercury, his skin metal. Detached from his surroundings, Toby wondered whether he would black out? It seemed a genuine possibility. It felt under his control whether he did so or not. Weren’t there people who could do that? Narcoleptics, weren’t they called? Maybe he had been one all his life, unidentified and undiagnosed?
One instant panic response was quite rational. It was for Toby to ask himself a question: what would Jake do? In that atmosphere anything was possible. Toby wondered how many of the people in the room were in on the joke? But it was none of them, and Jake, when he walked over, played it straight. Saying only,
‘Good to see you again. Shall we fetch some ice?’
Chapter 14 – Two Worlds Collide
Jake could have led Toby anywhere, so numbed was he. In the end though, they went no further than the kitchen. Jake did actually collect some ice, though he left the cubes melting in their tray on the unit they stood beside. The music had resumed in the sitting room, and so the pair were quite inaudible, alone in the kitchen.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ began Jake, shaking his head and having a look of bedazzlement in his eyes. ‘To see that such creatures as you Deputies really exist. That you aren’t a myth, not something from a story made up to scare small children.’
Toby stood there listening to this, still in shock.
‘Even after all I’ve heard, and after having it confirmed from multiple sources, a part of me still refused to credit it. And worst of all, that you are one! Mild-mannered Toby from the lab, Carvel’s adopted son. Stood before me now, in all seriousness, in the fancy-dress getup of a Junta boogieman.’
Toby, in his embarrassment, was fuming. Jake continued,
‘You’re really going to do this? Go on after those children like some half-cocked black-clad Cardinal of the Spanish Inquisition?’
‘Red.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The Spanish Inquisition, they wore red. They were Papal Cardinals.’
‘Who cares? Why does that matter when you’re wielding your club?’ Jake looked to Toby’s belt, to see that the instrument itself was missing.
‘We don’t get them till after Council,’ offered Toby in shameful explanation. It didn’t even occur to him how much Jake may have known, and what extra he was giving away each time he spoke.
Jake went on, shaking his head,
‘Even after knowing for a fact that you were one of those Deputies, still, to see you here before me... And you really mean it, too. Months and months I’ve spent on this. I tracked you down. I got a job at Carvel just to see one of you, to judge your cover, watch you hiding out in real life. To get a look at you before you went native.’
‘Well, here I am native.’ Toby attempted to summon his authority, ‘So what are you doing here?’
‘You’ve not quite got your water up yet, have you Deputy? Maybe you’ll feel more your old self once you have your weapon back.’
Jake hadn’t answered. He didn’t have to, Toby knew. He was shaking at the knees. Jake’s little surprise had destroyed him.
‘These people,’ asked Toby – he looked around as if seeing them through the wall to the lounge – ‘They broke the secret?’
‘So what? You’ll round them all up?’
‘We don’t round people up.’
‘We both know that’s a lie.’
Jake had moved closer and was staring right into Toby’s eyes. Toby felt a hatred rising in himself. Jake went on,
‘For the record, no. It wasn’t they I learnt the secret from. Not one person in this house knows who I am.’
‘So who does?’
‘A good investigator never tells on his sources. My hosts tonight are simply people I met on the journey up – I skipped the train, and found a freeway services I’d learnt was a rallying point on Returners’ Weekend.’
(He has it all, thought Toby. The dates, our equipment, the town’s own secret phrases.)
‘Interesting people, actually,’ continued Jake. ‘Our hostess runs the dress boutique in town, another runs the cafe-bistro. This is their last chance to dress up. They think I’m a local, been away but grown up, and from the other side of whatever part of town I learn they’re from. I convinced them by my knowing so much about the secret.’
‘You’ll never keep that up.’
‘Wouldn’t I? No matter, I’ll be off soon anyway, now I’ve met the guest of honour.’
‘You’re leaving town?’
‘And what good would that do? The drama’s hardly started.’
‘So what..?’
‘So what do I intend to do? To witness it, of course! I have my digs arranged. Don’t worry, you won’t find them out.’
‘And what if I follow you the moment you leave this house?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Toby quivered, ‘I could sound the alarm on you right now.’
‘You won’t. We both know you won’t.’
Toby’s silence confirmed this – the first moment that they had been on the same side. Jake went on, the music coming loudly through the walls again,
‘You know, you’ve really got these people scared. Don’t let me put you off by laughing at your little reign of terror. It’s obviously working. There’re people partying out there who are leaving sixty-thousand-a-year jobs behind for three months to come up here. All because of what happened to them as children. You’d think they’d get as far away as possible.’
‘Many do.’
‘There’s a man here tonight,’ Jake gestured in the direction of the music, ‘who’s here to look after his nephew. The boy’s father’s lame and couldn’t handle him last year. This man has lied to his wife that he’s working abroad. Instead, he’s come back to the town he thought he’d gotten away from for life. And all to care for a hurting nephew. Why wouldn’t I be fascinated by stories like that?’
Toby was silent.
‘Numbers are down this year, they’re saying,’ reflected Jake, confirming he’d heard those rumours too. ‘Now, I’ve got my bed to make up; and you’ve got Council.’
‘You’re not coming?’ asked Toby stupidly, as if inviting a friend along. But Jake only smiled,
‘Even I can’t trick myself into that one. I’ll see you sometime, maybe.’
And with that, leaving his fluted glass and the sloppy ice-cubes on the kitchen unit, Jake was gone. Firstly to bid his hosts goodnight, then to squirrel himself away wherever he had found to hide out in town that winter.
‘Did that just really happen?’ asked the shaken Deputy. After several minutes’ delay, Toby followed Jake out of the kitchen. But he took the backdoor, avoiding the hosts, leaving like a thief.
There he stood outside the house and caught his breath, his back resting on the rough brick wall. Beside him, a window threw bright light across the garden, illuminating shrunken shrubs and leafless trees. The garden had prepared itself for winter, and was now only hoping to see the spring. All joy and gaiety was gone from it. Toby knew how it felt.
Having left a long-enough time for Jake to have made his getaway, Toby re-entered the night.
Chapter 15 – Extraordinary Town Council
Toby jogged along cold deserted streets, back the way he had come, and soon was back at the Town Hall. Where earlier he’d seen the man loading his car, now there were two Deputies standing at the back door of the building that served as playhouse more often than in any official capacity. They bore the look of extras on a movie set, their outfits stiff and freshly ironed.
‘Thank God you’ve made it. Is Eddy with you?’ one asked.
Toby shook his head, though glad to learn his friend was still in town.
‘He’ll have to make his own way, it’s nearly starting.’
Ushered inside, these last three – and a dashing-in Eddy – joined the other black-clad officers waiting in the hallway. Toby quickly counted eleven of them, including Sheriff Thornton. Toby peeked through the door to the Hall, to see the notaries and compulsory-attendees already seated in the front rows. The Sheriff’s Office were always the last to enter.
It was pure theatre then, when the Sheriff led his uniformed men into the spotlight. He walked on to take his place sat beside the Mayor at the centre of the stage, while his shock-troopers followed to form a standing line behind them along the back of the thin raised area. But important theatre, for this was their show of strength, their reassurance to the town.
‘All present?’ called the Town Clerk. ‘Then we can begin.’
The Town Clerk, the Mayor’s right hand-woman, was standing where she had been sitting in the front row of the audience. S
he took the few steps up, and moved to a lectern at the corner of the stage. From there she delivered the familiar address, the same each year, only dates and details changed:
‘Mayor, Sheriff, Ladies and Gentlemen. I declare this Extra-ordinary’ (she’d paused for the hyphen) ‘Town Council open, and call order for the following statement to be read. There will be time for questions for all parties later.
‘Apologies first of all, to those rushed to get here by the date being brought forward. This was regrettable and a direct result of the worsening forecasts.
‘We hope the weather will hold long enough for many more of us to return during Saturday, and maybe even Sunday. But we could not risk delaying Council until tomorrow evening. For, as you know, when the cold comes, so does the sickness.
‘The details of this statement will be available from me for the entire season – please let people know who are not able to be here tonight...’
Toby was remembering it all now. ‘The details of this statement will be available from me,’ the Town Clerk had said. Not ‘Copies will be available,’ which would have been much more practical, yet impossible, for not one word of the sickness or its treatment was ever written down.
As she spoke, so Toby looked out from his standing position on the stage. He felt like a member of the chorus-line in whatever was showing in the multi-purpose Town Hall the previous week. Usually for meetings the Councillors would be up there on stage. They would sit along a table, facing the assembled townsfolk gathered to join in debates and witness voting. But tonight the Council Members were all in the front rows of the audience. Only the Mayor, Sheriff and their crow chorus occupied the elevated position. Something of a minor coup d’état, Toby always felt.
‘Not many Deputes this year,’ he caught someone in the crowd saying. It seemed to be the catchphrase of the season, and Toby wouldn’t disagree. He was sure there’d been sixteen at this time last year, and as many as thirty when he’d been a trainee.
Along the front rows of the audience among the Councillors, were the Head Mistress of the School for Girls, Doctor Lassiter, the traffic warden, the pharmacist, the owners of businesses and figureheads of local institutions. It always reminded Toby of the scene in Jaws when they met to hire a bounty hunter. Toby’s landlady was there in her best dress. So too was anyone with the importance or the clout to demand a seat at the figurative table, whether or not they were actively involved in the sickness or its treatment. To some degree though, all were involved. If only in their silence.