The days fell into a semi-regular pattern. I went to the river every morning, either making an excuse not to accompany Carter or going by myself when he didn’t want to go at all – which was usually the case. I did all the cooking and Carter did what he called the cleaning, which wasn’t worth much. We played cards and chess, at which I got better and Carter got worse. Sometimes I’d look up from the chessboard to find him watching me, the strangest expression on his face and his mind obviously not on the game. Such was life for about three weeks. Easy in an uneasy sort of way. I knew I should move on but my life had taken on some semblance of normality and I was loath to give it up. My stay with Carter was close to being the longest time I’d ever spent in one place since the civil war began.
One evening I asked him, ‘Why don’t you have any books of your own? The way you read and re-read my books, I would’ve thought you’d be surrounded by them.’ I sighed inwardly as Carter’s face took on the same hateful, vengeful expression it always did when he was about to mention his wife.
‘The back room used to be full of them. Shelf after shelf of books.’
‘What happened to them?’ I asked. The back room was totally empty.
‘My wife made a bonfire of them. I was meant to be away for two days but I came back early and caught her burning the last batch.’
‘Why on earth did she do that?’ I asked, scandalized. Books were now like gold dust. In fact, books and gems were the new country-wide currency. No one valued anything else.
‘Apparently I cared more about my books than I did about her. So she and her lover decided to teach me a lesson.’
‘What happened?’
‘I got this scar on my face.’
My blood ran colder. I wanted to ask what had happened to his wife and her lover but I was afraid of the answer so for once I kept my mouth shut. As if guessing my thoughts, Carter smiled – a hard, bitter smile. I looked away.
On good days Carter would talk to me. But sometimes it was as if he couldn’t bear to even look at me, to be in the same room as me. He would disappear out of the house after gruffly asking if it was going to rain. Then I wouldn’t see him for hours. We still played chess, but when Carter was in a mood I never spoke. He inevitably became furious with me when I talked too much. It took me longer than it should have to realize what the problem was. Carter was lonely, so lonely he was only just beginning to realize it himself.
One evening, a few hours before the rain I’d predicted was due, I went to the river for my last swim for the next three days. The air was fresh and clean and I felt more relaxed than I had done in a long time. Carter had gone off somewhere, so I was looking forward to an uninterrupted swim. But first I lay down in my favourite spot, a few metres from the water and the midges, and closed my eyes. The calm I felt was so rare and new that I couldn’t help smiling. I really ought to be thinking about moving on but I was so tired of travelling. Hell! I was just tired! Sometimes I wondered if it was worth surviving like this, existing like this, but only sometimes. Life was special – Mum had drummed that into me and I believed it. Some of the time. Most of the time.
I lay still, enjoying the peace and not thinking of anything in particular. But then the whispered sound of breathing made me open my eyes. Carter’s face was only a few centimetres away from mine. He kissed me before I could stop him, but as soon as I pushed at his shoulders he let me go.
‘What the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing?’ I gasped. Ohmigod! Carter had kissed me! How had he guessed? How did he find out? I’d been so careful.
Carter ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I … hell!’
It was the look on his face that stopped me from leaping to my feet and running. He was angry and appalled, but not with me.
‘You’re … you’re gay!’ I breathed with relief.
All this time I’d been safe and never knew it. The irony of my situation struck me and I started laughing. In fact, I roared with laughter. Carter sprang to his feet and, after a bitter look in my direction, marched off. Guiltily I stifled my giggles. I wasn’t laughing at him. My laughter was just a release. I was safe. For the first time since my mum died, for the first time since the war, I was safe. But how could Carter know that? I shrugged. Never mind. I’d explain it all to him when I got back to the house. Carter was gay! Maybe that was the cause of the trouble between him and his wife, or maybe his wife had put him off women for life. No, it didn’t work like that. But hell! What did I know? Carter was gay. That was all I cared about. It struck me that he had never told me his wife’s name. I’d have to ask him when I got back.
I finished my swim and walked quickly back to the house, not bothering to strap my breasts down as I usually did. Carter was in the kitchen. It looked as though he was making dinner, but it was difficult to tell because he had his back to me. If he was making dinner, then I was in trouble.
‘Carter, I—’
‘Rob, I want you to leave. I want you to leave this house now,’ Carter interrupted, his back still towards me.
‘But it’s going to rain before morning,’ I protested.
‘Then the sooner you leave the sooner you’ll find shelter somewhere else.’ Carter still didn’t turn to face me. ‘You can use one of the Marauders’ suits.’
‘If I get spotted wearing that thing by anyone who’s not a Marauder, I’ll be torn apart as I’m on my own. And if I stumble across Marauders, once they find out that I’m not one of them, I’ll get torn apart anyway.’
‘You’ll just have to take your chances like everyone else,’ Carter said stonily.
‘Carter, is this because—?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ he denied harshly.
‘But I understand. Really I—’
‘There’s nothing to understand.’ At last Carter swung around to face me, his expression furious.
I grinned at him. ‘You should’ve told me, Carter,’ I said lightly. ‘I couldn’t care less about your … sexual preferences. But if you’d told me sooner I wouldn’t have had to strap down my breasts and pad out my waist. You have no idea how uncomfortable—’
‘You’re a woman!’ he said incredulously, staring at my body.
‘Every cell!’ I beamed again at his statement of the obvious. ‘My name’s Roberta, but I call myself Robby. Before my mum died she told me it wasn’t safe to travel around alone as a girl. That’s why I pretended to be a boy …’ My voice trailed off as I watched Carter. He was rigid with fury.
My smile faded. ‘I didn’t mean to deceive you. I mean, well I guess I did deceive you deliberately but only because you’re a man and I didn’t know you were—’
‘You damned liar!’ he roared.
‘I never lied to you,’ I said, annoyed and suddenly nervous. ‘You never said to me “Are you a woman?” and I never said “No”!’
Carter took a step towards me. I took a hasty step backwards.
‘I don’t see what you’re so angry about,’ I snapped. Carter was frightening me. The look on his face was like nothing I’d ever seen before. ‘Unless of course you’re disappointed that I’m not a man …’
Mistake!
He grew even more angry at that. I stepped back again, only to bash into the water tank behind me.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your wife.’
Another mistake.
He stood in front of me, his eyes burning into mine. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at him, desperately trying to figure out my next move. Without warning I darted to my right, hoping to run round him.
That was my biggest mistake.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me round to face him. Instinctively I knew I should’ve held my ground and tried to reason with him. He started shaking me hard, his face contorted with rage. He wasn’t Carter any more, I wasn’t Robby. He was just a furious, deceived man and I was the girl who’d deceived him. His fingers were biting into my arms like raindrops.
‘Carter, let me go,’
I tried to demand through chattering teeth. He shook me harder at that, before suddenly releasing me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hands, clenching and unclenching. I started to take a step backwards but he was too fast for me. He made a fist and punched me just as hard as he could across my face. I dropped like a stone. The rusty nail taste of blood was in my mouth and everything around me had turned brilliantly, blindingly white. I blinked, then blinked again, too stunned to even cry. Colours started appearing before my eyes again. Dazed, I looked up. My dad was staring down at me, breathing hard.
His face was a blur of shapes, swirling in my head like wet paint, but it was definitely my dad. Except now the shapes were beginning to solidify. And it wasn’t my dad. It was Carter. How strange that I’d never noticed just how alike the two of them were. Disgust swept over Carter’s face as he regarded me. Without saying a word, he turned and slammed out of the house.
I told myself to get up, but I couldn’t control any part of my shaking body. It was five minutes before I managed to get my breathing under control. And at least another five before my limbs began to obey me. But once I’d staggered to my feet, I managed slowly but surely to get some momentum behind my movements. I washed my face and rinsed the blood out of my mouth. My tongue felt like it was two sizes too big. I touched it gingerly, then examined my fingers. They were covered with blood. I must’ve bitten my tongue when … when … I spat in the sink and rinsed the blood away. After that I just swallowed it. I couldn’t waste any more time waiting for my tongue to stop bleeding.
I got dressed quickly, my chest strapped and the padding back around my waist. I took the matches out of my pocket, picked up my novel and set fire to it. The flames danced upwards as I held the book. I waited until they seared my fingers before leaving the burning book on the wooden table. I went into each of the downstairs rooms and set fire to whatever would burn. I left my final match on the bottom step and walked slowly out of the house, ignoring the flames crackling all around me. I walked some metres away before turning to watch it burn. The sky was now a dusky blue-black, a perfect backdrop for the conflagration. I watched the flames grow higher and higher each moment, licking hungrily at the sky. I sniffed the air, satisfied, sad.
‘That’s for you, Mum,’ I whispered.
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t turn round. I continued to watch the house. The flames were lovely, blood-red, blood-orange, blood-yellow. The heat warmed me. I wrapped my arms around myself.
‘What’ve you done?’ Carter stood beside me, incredulous. And afraid.
I didn’t flinch away from him. We watched the fire together, the house a mass of flames now. It was almost impossible to discern the original structure. I sniffed again.
‘It’s going to rain within the next few hours – and sooner rather than later too,’ I whispered.
‘But without shelter, you’ll die.’
‘So will you.’ I turned to face him for the first time. ‘As my mum used to say to me, Carter – such are the times we live in.’
I turned back to the blaze, unable to keep the tears from streaming down my face.
The fire lasted for over an hour, crackling, then dying before our eyes, without another word passing between us. And the rain was closer. Very little of the original structure remained in place as the fire died down. Most of the house was razed to nothing but carbonized rubble. I turned slowly and started to walk away. I wanted to be alone when the rain started, but Carter grabbed my arm, turning me round to face him.
I flinched out of his grasp, my fists clenched. But only for a moment. If he wanted to take his revenge by killing me, then he’d be doing me a favour. Being caught in the rain would be a slow, excruciating death.
‘Robby, what d’you want me to say? I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …’
I stepped away from him.
‘Oh hell,’ Carter said harshly. ‘Look, I … I don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die either and we … we can survive this. We can both survive this.’
I looked up at him, saying nothing. It was strange how ghostly-silver his face looked in the fading moonlight. Gaunt and ghostly. Did I look as strange?
‘If we … if we can clear the rubble from over the cellar door, we could stay down in the cellar until the rain stops.’
Still I said nothing.
‘But I can’t do it without you. Hell! Even with you we might still die, but with your help maybe … maybe we stand a chance. You’ve survived this long … Surely you don’t want to die like this …’
And we watched each other – silently.
16
THE LOOK THAT passed between Roberta and Carter was filled with such hopelessness that I couldn’t watch any more. I really couldn’t. I wasn’t able to deal with what their expressions were saying to each other. I pulled away – and found myself back on the train. And what’s more I was grateful for it. The rain was at last beginning to ease.
‘I don’t understand how I’m supposed to stay inside these dreams when they always end so … They end,’ I said. ‘I mean, there’s nowhere to go after the dreams are finished.’
‘Yes there is,’ Rachel said softly. ‘You can accept your fate, just as all your friends and your teacher have to accept theirs.’
I stared at her.
‘That’s the main reason why you keep falling out of their dreams – you won’t accept the inevitable,’ she continued.
‘Nothing’s inevitable. We all have choices.’
‘Who’re you trying to convince – me or yourself? Roberta had the right idea.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, it’s all pointless, isn’t it?’
I didn’t even try to disguise the shock I felt at that moment. ‘Not necessarily,’ I argued finally. ‘Some things are worth dying for, but aren’t there more things worth living for?’
‘We both know you don’t really believe that,’ said Rachel. ‘Your dad did what he set out to do. And you’ll do the same. The train, school, your friends, it’s all meaningless. Haven’t you reached the same conclusion recently?’
We exchanged a look then, a look that told me she knew exactly what had been going through my head over the last few weeks.
‘So all I have to do is accept my fate or the fate of my friends, and then what?’ I asked.
‘Then you’ll find what you’re looking for.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Peace.’
Peace … That word sounded so good.
‘And how exactly do I go about accepting my fate?’
‘You enter a dream and you stay put.’
Oh, was that all? She made it sound as easy as breathing.
‘I couldn’t stay in Robby’s dream, OK – and don’t give me a hard time about it,’ I said as she opened her mouth to give me a hard time about it.
‘I won’t, but that thing will,’ said Rachel, pointing down the carriage.
The mist now had mass. It was forming itself into something frighteningly solid. Well, I’d seen enough, thanks. I certainly didn’t want to find out what Death looked like in the flesh. Time to pick a dream and stay put. Conor … I hadn’t been inside his head yet.
‘Kyle, wait for me …’
Yeah, right! The whisper inside my head came from the dark mist at the other end of the carriage. Nothing on earth could’ve kept me in that carriage. I focused on Conor, Rachel took my hand and we leaped.
17
Conor’s Nightmare
BEFORE NAN GOT ill, everyone said she was cuckoo. She certainly had what my dad called ‘views’ on certain subjects. She didn’t like any swearing in her bedroom. She swore like a career soldier in the rest of her house, but not in her bedroom. And she didn’t believe in leaving her curtains shut after nine in the morning. She said it was an insult to the sun. In cold weather she’d go out into her garden to feed the birds with her bra around her head and tied under her chin. She said it kept the cold off her ears better than any woolly hat. But we didn
’t mind any of that because, well, it was kind of funny. My nan rode a motorbike and horses, did a parachute jump for charity, kept two pet rats in her living room – except when she knew Mum was visiting her; then the rats would be kept in the shed at the bottom of the garden. Mum hates all rodents. So you see, Nan was pretty fearless. Except for one thing.
She couldn’t stand dripping taps.
Mum and Dad warned me and my sister, Sorcha, to make sure we always turned off the taps in Nan’s house properly. I remember once, when I was only seven or eight, I left a tap dripping on purpose. Not a fast drip, just a slow and steady plink, plink. I wanted to see what Nan would do. She eventually got up from her armchair in front of the log fire and headed for the bathroom. I held my breath, but I didn’t have to wait long. Nan absolutely freaked. She went berserk. She ran out of the bathroom screaming and crying and darting around frantically like a kite in a high wind.
‘Go away! It’s not my fault. It’s not time,’ Nan shrieked as she spun round and round. I watched, terrified yet fascinated.
It took Mum and Dad ages to calm her down, and when we got home again they both raged at me for a good half-hour, made me write a sorry note to Nan and then stopped my pocket money for a month. I never tried that experiment again. It wasn’t until I was much older that I even dared to broach the subject. It was one time after school when I popped in for a quick visit. Nan had had a hip-replacement operation and it was taking her a long time to get over it. In fact, for the first time she looked her age. We usually played a game of football or dodge ball in her garden but she obviously wasn’t up to it. So we played a couple of games of backgammon (Nan’s favourite) and then dominoes before I plucked up the courage to ask her.