Chapter Twenty
A Lesson In Hatred
Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off the bitter old woman standing before her. It was her, years and years into the future. It was her . . . Lydia turned to Daniel. ‘You lied to me. You said I died in a car crash. How could you do that? How could you?’
‘He only told you what everyone else was told,’ the woman interrupted. ‘We were in a car crash a week before my thirteenth birthday. I was critically injured. And even when I did eventually recover, for a while everyone thought I’d never walk again.’ The old woman paused and looked pointedly down at her walking stick. ‘By the time I was able to leave hospital, our parents decided never to return to Tarwich. So we moved back down to London.’
‘But why did you let everyone think you’d died?’ Lydia asked, bewildered.
‘A part of me did die in the accident,’ the woman said softly. ‘The part of me that believed in other people. That’s why I had the dates put on my memorial. So I’d never forget. I don’t trust or rely on anyone. The monument was built to attest to the truth of that.’
Lydia looked from the woman to Daniel and back again.
‘It’s you!’ she said, dumbfounded. ‘You’re the one who’s making everyone’s life miserable in this town. Everyone thinks it’s Danny, but he’s only doing it for you.’
‘Danny’s doing what he knows is right,’ said the woman.
Lydia looked up at her brother.
‘But it’s not right, Daniel,’ Lydia said urgently. ‘Dad always says that two wrongs don’t make a right.’
‘The people of this town are getting exactly what they deserve,’ Daniel replied.
‘Then why do you look so unhappy?’ Lydia asked. ‘What’re you getting out of it, if it makes you just as miserable as everyone else in Tarwich?’
‘Hensonville,’ Old Lydia corrected softly. ‘This is my town now. Everyone and everything in it belongs to me.’
‘You can’t own people. You can buy all the houses and the roads and the buildings, but you’ll never own the people here. You can’t own how they think and feel. And they hate you. Is that really what you want?’ Arguing with Old Lydia was like beating her head against a brick wall, but Lydia had to try. She had to make her older self see sense.
‘Enough! I don’t remember being like you at all.’ Old Lydia shook her head. ‘I can’t remember ever being that . . . naive.’
‘How old are you?’ Lydia whispered.
‘Forty-nine,’ Old Lydia replied. ‘Going on one hundred and forty-nine.’
And it was true. The woman looked a lot older than forty-nine. Her eyes showed that what she looked like outside was just a reflection of what she was inside – as cold and hard as permafrost.
Lydia’s head was spinning. She didn’t die in a car crash, after all. But as she looked up at the woman before her, Lydia realized it wasn’t that simple. She hadn’t died, but she’d turned into something she didn’t recognize. Something she didn’t want to recognize.
‘Danny, don’t listen to her. She’s wrong. She’s . . . evil . . .’
‘You and I are the same, Lydia. Don’t forget that,’ Old Lydia said. ‘You hate the people in this town just as much as I do. You’re going to grow up into me.’
‘No way. Never,’ Lydia denied vigorously. ‘I’ll never become you. I’m going back to my own time and I’m going to change the future.’
‘You can’t. I exist, just as much as you do,’ Old Lydia scoffed.
‘But . . . but I’m changing things already – just by being here. I must be.’ Lydia spoke her thoughts out loud.
Lydia looked up just in time to see the look which passed between her older self and Daniel.
‘What is it? There’s still something you’re not telling me,’ Lydia confronted them.
Silence.
‘I want to go home. Now. How do I get back to my own time?’ Lydia asked her older self.
‘I don’t know,’ Old Lydia admitted after a long pause.
Lydia stared at her. ‘You must know. Just tell me how you got back when you were my age.’
‘I never came into the future when I was your age. This never happened to me,’ said Old Lydia.
‘I don’t understand. Then how did you get the scar on your arm?’ Lydia asked.
‘On the moors – when I got lost,’ said Old Lydia. ‘I can’t remember much about it, but I always thought I must’ve fallen on some broken glass or maybe been kicked by a moor pony or something . . .’
‘But how is that possible?’ Lydia asked. ‘How can something happen to me that hasn’t happened to you?’
‘We don’t know,’ Daniel admitted. ‘I wish we did. Maybe the past, present and future all exist simultaneously so each can be reached and each can have an effect on the other? I don’t know.’
‘Then this future isn’t for definite?’ Lydia frowned.
Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it is – no. Maybe this is just one possible future. I believe there are many others.’
From the expression on his face, Lydia knew that Daniel was aware of what she was asking. She wanted to know if by going back to her own time she could change the future. Could she change the present as Daniel and Old Lydia knew it and as she had seen it?
‘I think I understand,’ Lydia said slowly. ‘But how does that help me? How do I get back?’
‘You said you were on the moors in the middle of a storm when you were knocked unconscious. Maybe the storm had something to do with it,’ Daniel suggested.
The storm . . . The swirling colours and the lightning flashes . . . That had to be it!
‘There’s an electrical storm over the moors now,’ Lydia remembered. ‘That must be how I get back to my own time.’
‘How?’ asked Daniel.
‘I don’t know, but I have to go back there. And this time I have to go into the storm instead of away from it. The moors are where it all started,’ said Lydia.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ said Old Lydia silkily.
Lydia stared up at Old Lydia.
‘What’re you talking about?’ she asked. ‘I have to get back to my own time. I don’t belong here.’
‘You’re not leaving this house until you tell us who the leaders of the Resistance are and when they’re planning to attack us,’ said Old Lydia.
Lydia couldn’t believe her ears. Here she was with a chance – albeit slim – to change this . . . this nightmare, and all Old Lydia cared about were the names of the leaders of the Resistance.
‘Don’t you understand? I have to get back to the moors,’ Lydia pleaded. ‘The storm might fizzle out and disappear at any time. Then I’d be stuck here.’
‘Why should I care about that?’ Old Lydia raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what I want to know. Then we’ll make sure that all the members of the Resistance are dealt with.’
‘Daniel, you’ll help me, won’t you?’ Lydia appealed to her brother. ‘I can change all this – I know I can.’
‘And if we don’t want it changed?’ asked Old Lydia, feigning patience.
‘You don’t mean that . . .’ Lydia thought for one brief moment that she’d misheard, but the expression on Old Lydia’s face told her otherwise.
‘What’re you so afraid of?’ Exasperation made Lydia’s voice grow louder and more desperate by the second. ‘If I go back to my own time and I fail then nothing changes here. But if I succeed . . . Danny, please.’
‘Don’t you see what this means, Lydia?’ Daniel spoke to the old woman before him. ‘If we can get her back to her own time, she might be able to change the future – for both of us. We won’t have to live like this any more.’
Old Lydia stared at her brother as if he’d lost his mind.
‘You want to help the people of this town?’ Old Lydia scorned.
‘No. No way. But I do want to help us. You and me. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.’
‘Don’t let that one . . .?
?? Old Lydia pointed a disdainful finger at her younger self. ‘Don’t let her make you forget why we’re doing this.’
‘I haven’t forgotten, Lydia. And I never will. But I’m getting tired.’ Danny sighed. ‘When we crush the Resistance, within months a new one will spring up in its place.’
‘And we’ll crush them as well,’ Old Lydia said at once.
‘And then what? Is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life?’ asked Daniel.
‘There is nothing else.’
‘But there might be – if we help Lydia to get back to the past and she changes her present. There must be something more than this. And we’ve got absolutely nothing to lose.’
The old woman’s eyes took on an icy glint as she looked from Lydia to Daniel and back again. Lydia glared at the old woman and hated what she saw. Old Lydia was what she’d let herself become. She’d grown bitter and twisted, both inside and out, and here was the end result. Old Lydia leaned more heavily on her walking-stick as she continued to scrutinize her brother.
Lydia remembered what she’d heard about the motorway accident. But it wasn’t the town’s fault. A lorry had ploughed into them. Daniel had told her that. More than ever, Lydia longed to get back to her own time. She knew with absolute certainty that once she got back, even if she couldn’t prove that she didn’t take the Collivale sports cup, she would never turn into the embittered, old battleaxe who stood in front of her. Never in a million years.
‘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 ask
ed 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.