Tim went inside the boat and deposited his crate of beer. There was hardly any need for it, with all Edmund had brought. But too much was always better than too little, Matthew guessed.
The others followed Tim in, including Amy, and as Matt turned, Rachel pounced on him and seized him in such a big hug he had to struggle for air.
“Hi, Rachel,” he said—all he could think to say.
Rachel let go of him and held him by the arms, almost surveying him. “Has it been dreadful staying here? We talk about you all the time, you know.”
“I didn’t die,” Matt said. “I’m still here. And I like being here. I like Marsden. Always have.” Marsden was his home. And he loved it as much as he loved the group. It was like their unspoken eighth member—if Amygdala was considered the seventh. That was why he was puzzled that the others found it so easy to leave to go to university—to go to big cities and forget where they came from. Matt could never do that.
“How’s your aunt?” Rachel said. “Still giving you a tough time?” Rachel was staring at him strangely, with a lost look, as though if she looked away for one moment, she would lose him forever.
“You know how it is.” He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but couldn’t bring himself to it. So he just nodded and said, “How’s Edinburgh?”
“You know how it is,” Rachel said, parroting him. “Classes, books—books, classes. Parties, then more books and classes.”
Matt smiled and opened his mouth to say something, anything, else, but Pru interrupted by sticking her head out of the hatch. “Bloody hell, Rachel, leave the poor guy alone.” Pru laughed, handing Matt his open can. Matt and Rachel shrugged to each other and followed Pru back through the hatch.
She sat down next to Edmund at the table. Tim was waving about a handful of beers. “Why did we bring so many again?”
“Classic young person overcompensation,” Rachel said, taking one and opening it. She made a face. “Too warm. Chill them.”
“Can’t,” Edmund said. “The fridge is full with mine.”
Tim gawked. “Well, I’ll lower myself to your level and have some of your pig swill.”
“No,” said Edmund.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
Edmund sighed, “Fine,” but not before Tim had already swung open the fridge and helped himself to one.
Behind them, Pru and Robert had resumed a heated conversation. “It doesn’t recognize it,” Pru was saying. “It’s like my phone is embarrassed to acknowledge yours’ existence.”
“You have to put me in your contacts,” Robert said defensively.
“I have you in my contacts. Of course I have you in my contacts. But you still come up as Unknown.”
“Well, that’s hardly my fault.” Robert caught Matt’s eye, although everyone was looking at the two bickering now, and flashed a friendly smile. “Matt, when I call you, my number comes up right.”
Matt shook his head and laughed. “Sorry, U.N. Owen. You’re an enigma for me too.”
“Just get a new phone,” Tim said.
“This is perfectly adequate.” Robert reached into his pocket and brought out a mobile phone that looked like it was circa 1999 to a collective groan from the others.
“How can you have that out in public without being embarrassed?” Edmund said.
The conversation continued but Matt didn’t hear the rest. He was too busy watching his friends in front of him, once more sliding back into their usual roles like they were born to play them. For him, the group was more than family—it was fate. And they all worked together in harmony.
Robert was the lovable butt of everyone’s jokes. He was timid and quiet, but the most diplomatic of the group. At an early age Robert found out that he had been named after a famous poet, and had a deep crisis of self-identity. It resonated to this day, as he weighed up outcomes before acting, as though to live up to his namesake.
Pru was vivacious—a girl who talked first and thought later. This had got her into a lot of trouble at school, but her good grades and inquisitive mind often saved her. Her love of mechanics really kicked in when she borrowed a school laptop from the library and brought it back in pieces. The librarian made her put it back together, which Pru did right in front of her.
Edmund was classically handsome and fiercely intelligent. In any other group, he would have risen to the top. But instead he was relegated to be the right-hand man to Tim—anyone else might have been miffed by that. But not Edmund. He was always one to go with the flow, content to be needed when he was needed. He was Tim’s friend from kindergarten and possessed many of the same traits, but he was never quite as good. But Edmund didn’t possess Tim’s intensity, which made him more approachable.
They were all in orbit around the twins, having a regard for Tim and Rachel that, although unspoken, was never really hidden. Tim and Rachel were untouchable—people trod lightly around them. The Claypaths were the most important family in Marsden, with Roger Claypath casting a formidable shadow in the police force and Ava Claypath casting an equal one in the social scene. This was a rather silly thought, as Matt had met both of the Claypath parents and they were the friendliest people in whose company he had ever been. Tim and Rachel shared that friendliness, although sometimes Tim clearly reveled in his power. And power he most definitely had.
Rachel shared the Claypath intelligence, although she was much quieter than her twin brother. She seemed to understand people at a fundamental level, and whenever Matt talked to her, he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading his mind. Luckily, she countered this with a fierce sense of humor and a warmth that radiated the fact that even if she did read your mind, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
That left Matt, who didn’t feel like he added much, but the others seemed to accept him. Except recently, the group had started pulling apart. They had been radio silent for months—their WhatsApp group totally silent. It was only exacerbated by Tim suggesting this should be the last trip through Standedge—the annual tradition was to come to an end. The group was falling apart.
Or was it Matt who was falling away? Didn’t someone in the town say they saw the other five at The Hamlet—without him?
That was why today was so important. He knew that this journey was going to reignite their friendship. It was going to pave the way for many more trips to come.
Matt checked his watch. They had all afternoon to go through the tunnel—no other boats were scheduled for passage today. Matt had the key to the gates, now he was part of the Trust. They had time, so he sat down with the others and listened to them as they talked and laughed. He sipped at his beer and just enjoyed feeling safe in the familiar company.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, happy, but the others had got onto their third or fourth cans of beer, when the discussion turned to Standedge.
“How many times have you been through the tunnel now, Matt?” Pru asked, having to slightly lean around Rachel in the narrow space to see him.
Matt shook himself. “Sorry?”
“The tunnel. How many times have you been through?”
Matt thought. He had asked himself the same question and was slightly annoyed with himself that he hadn’t counted. But like all good ideas, it had come just a little too late. “Not sure. Maybe fifty times?” he guessed.
“Fifty times,” Tim marveled, “and you’re not sick to death of it yet? I like it once a year, but more than that and I think I’d get bored.”
“No,” Matt said, and genuinely meant it. “It’s still awesome. Every time I go in, I feel that same way we felt back in Year 7. Every time, it feels like a marvel and it is. Every time, I feel lucky to do something amazing.”
He looked around the group and didn’t see quite the same enthusiasm. Edmund smiled at him but there was an element of sadness to it. “Yeah,” he said slowly
, “but you are really just going through a tunnel, very slowly, on a boat.”
Matt’s smile dropped. He looked around and saw that the spell had been broken for every other member of the group. No one could meet Matt’s eyes. Suddenly the cabin seemed too small, as if cramming them all together only exacerbated their indifference. He stood up and grabbed a can of his own, angry, but trying not to show it. “It’s what brought us all together.”
Tim put a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t really. Remember we were all on that boat, but we didn’t know each other really, not at the time.”
“No one else remembers how it felt? Like life was so much more than we thought? Like human beings were capable of so much more than we thought? It was like riding a bike without stabilizers the first time. It was...”
“Matt,” Robert interrupted, “I appreciate the irony of what I’m about to say, seeing as I’m studying literary fiction, but you don’t have to drown everything in mysticism to make it seem more than it really was. We thought the tunnel was cool and then we became friends and we decided to make an annual pact. That’s it. The tunnel is a tunnel. It’s not alive. It’s not a portal. It’s not something that can provide a springboard for cosmic ideology. There was a hill. Humans decided they needed to go through the hill. So they did. It’s very cool, but it’s just a tunnel.”
Matt looked around to see the others wordlessly nod in agreement. He’d never felt so segmented, so cut off from the rest of them. “If you all thought that, why did you all come back here?”
They all remained quiet and looked to Tim, as if they were waiting for their leader to speak. Reluctantly, he did, putting a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “We didn’t come back here for the tunnel.”
Suddenly, Matt felt upset, incredibly so. He flung his hands up in the air, spilling about a quarter of his beer, and shrugged off Tim. “Then I don’t know what you did come back here for, because it certainly wasn’t me.” He pushed past Tim and went to the door, expecting someone to stop him, say, No, it was you, silly. We came back for you! But no one did. He turned to look at them all again sadly.
“We should get going,” he muttered. And went outside.
The motor started up quickly, spluttering slightly as if shrugging off a few months of slumber. Matt cast off on his own, knowing what he was doing, even though it was better done with two people. No one came out to help him. He felt like he was on the boat alone.
As the boat began to move up the canal, Matt steering into the center, he finally started to hear the others talking in the cabin. They had been mysteriously silent in the period between Matt leaving and now, and he wondered what had been happening in there. Silent drinking, no doubt. Matt left the hatch closed. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, didn’t want to know if it was about him or not. He didn’t know which would be worse.
Matt accelerated, shifting his weight on the steering stick, preparing to steer into a slight curve. It was supposed to be relaxing, canal boating, and in a way, it did calm him down—to have something else to think about.
He went on for ten minutes, listening to the muffled conversation and the water parting as the boat cut through it. It seemed the atmosphere inside had changed as he heard laughing—including Edmund’s drunken laugh—and lighter voices. He wanted to open the hatch and forget everything and join in. He wanted to enjoy the last boat ride they had together.
Just as he was about to open the hatch, Rachel’s head popped out and she tentatively smiled at him. She had in her hands three cans of beer—not Edmund’s cheap stuff but her own slightly better quality stuff. She stepped through the hatch and Amy scampered out too, woofing delightedly and sticking her tongue out to lap at the fresh air.
“Thought you could use these,” she said, indicating the beers, and put two of them down by Matt’s feet. She held the last one out to him and he took it and smiled.
“Thanks,” he said, cracking it open and taking a swig. He glanced around the banks of the canal to see if anyone was watching. He might lose his job if anyone saw him, but for some reason, it didn’t seem incredibly important anymore. If everyone was going to leave Standedge behind, maybe he should too.
“No,” Rachel said, as if reading his mind, “you’re thinking too much. I can see it in your face.”
“What?” Matt said, wondering if he had been talking out loud.
“You screw your face up when you’re thinking,” Rachel said and then laughed. “Yeah, just like that.”
“Am I that easy to read?” Matt said.
Amy yapped, as if in confirmation. She started making laps of the small outside area, and poked her head under the railing to watch the world go by slowly. A cyclist was passing them on the bank and Amy barked happily at him.
“Well, kind of, yeah.” Rachel leaned against the railing. “But I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” She tilted her can at Matt. “You know we all love you, right?”
“Yes,” Matt said quickly, and hated himself for it. He didn’t know anything of the sort, and why should he bother to make Rachel, or any of the others, feel better about it? He should be more assertive, stick up for himself a bit more. “Maybe.”
“Well, we do.” Rachel leaned over and opened the hatch. “Guys,” she called, “do we love Matt?”
Whatever conversation Tim, Edmund, Pru and Robert were having died down, and quickly there was a resounding “Yes!” before it started up again.
Rachel left the hatch propped open and righted herself. “See.”
“Thanks,” Matt said.
“Anytime.” Rachel touched him on the arm, and he couldn’t help but look down at her hand, welcoming her touch.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Hmm?”
“On your wrist.” He had thought he’d seen it before, something out of the corner of his eye. But now he was sure—there was something there at the top of her wrist, written in black just under her palm.
“Oh, this.” Rachel withdrew her hand, and looked at the writing as though she were seeing it for the first time. “It’s nothing really.” She held her wrist out for Matt to see. On Rachel’s left wrist in small letters, almost incomprehensible, was a six-letter word, all in capitals in strong black ink.
ASCEND
“Ascend?” Matt said. He ran his finger over the letters, and felt her shiver at the touch. He looked up and their eyes met for a glorious second that he could live in forever. She smiled. And he did too.
Amy barked at a runner going by, and the moment was broken.
Rachel withdrew her wrist as quickly as she had offered it. She clutched it with her hand as though it hurt.
“What does it mean?” Matt said, wanting that moment back.
Rachel just looked at him sadly. “I told you, it’s nothing.” And without another word, she went inside the cabin.
Matt just watched her, trying to ignore the fact Amy was staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to tell her.” Amy barked, as if to say Yeah, right.
He took a swig of beer and then another, and before he knew it, he’d finished the can.
He focused on the journey, watching the world go by at a snail’s pace. The canal was quiet, as if everyone had made way for the famous Standedge group. He passed a couple of boats moored to the side of the canal, but there was no sign of life in any of them. Amy settled down at his feet, stretching across the deck. A serene calm came over him, and for half an hour he just enjoyed the ride.
As the sound from inside the cabin grew rowdier—no doubt thanks to the insane amount of beer—he saw a sign for Standedge and saw the outskirts of Marsden and knew they were getting close.
He poked his head in the cabin. “We’re nearly there.” They were now sitting in a circle, as best as they could in the small space. It looked like they were playing some form of spin the bottle with a can, with Amy bouncing in and ou
t the circle, patting the can, providing even less legitimacy.
Matt realized that he had done it again—segmented himself off from the rest of them. They hadn’t done anything. It had all been him.
Tim jumped up from the circle, using Rachel’s and Edmund’s shoulders as support. “Come on, then. I’d like to see it coming up. For last time’s sake.”
There he was again, insisting it was the “last time.” Matt went back to the deck, clearing the way for Tim to join him. Tim slipped a little and Matt grabbed him for support. “Just a little drunk is all.” He looked around. “Standedge, eh?”
“Yeah,” Matt said.
Tim tipped the rest of his can into his mouth, upending his head. Matt caught sight of it before he even knew what he was looking at. “What is...?” But he stopped himself. On Tim’s left wrist, just like Rachel’s, a small word. Six letters. Ascend.
They were getting closer to Standedge, but Matt couldn’t look away from Tim’s wrist.
“Why do you have that tattoo?” Matt said. “And why does Rachel have the exact same one?”
“What?” Tim said, in the exact same tone Rachel had. “This thing?” He showed him the tattoo.
“What does it mean, Tim?”
“‘Ascend’? I think the dictionary definition is...”
“Cut the shit, Tim. What does it mean?”
Tim took a step backward, an impressive feat in such a small space. “Matt, mate, calm down. It’s just...”
Matt didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence, and he didn’t even care to see that Tim swung for the steering lever when Matt launched himself inside the cabin. Inside, the others were sitting in the circle again. This time they seemed to just be watching Amy chasing her tail in the center. Matt didn’t think about what he was doing, operating on some kind of instinct that he knew what to do. He ignored the greetings the others gave him, and he just grabbed Pru’s left arm, as she was nearest to him.
“Hey.”
He pulled Pru’s sleeve down. He didn’t want it to be there so much that, for a moment, it almost wasn’t. But a microsecond later, when reality set in, there it was, exactly the same as Tim’s and Rachel’s. On Pru’s wrist—Ascend.
Now You See Me Page 7