“And what about me? How do I submit my testimony?”
Dad put down his cup of jasmine tea. “It’s a bit trickier for you, Helen. We’ve discussed it as a family, and feel your testimony would have more impact if it was a speech.”
It was so typical of the gods to have a family discussion and decide the best course of action without asking me. Was I a member of this family or not?
I folded my arms. “Care to explain why?”
“The Council may take more pity on you, and the family, if you’re able to present a powerful speech.”
Me? Give a powerful speech? I can’t even read a poem in English without stumbling over a line.
“Dad, I’m not sure I’m the powerful-speech-giving type,” I said.
He sighed. “I’d like to say you have a choice in the matter. But this is the most peril our family has faced in centuries. To be frank, it’s a matter of life or death.”
“Is this your way of trying to take the pressure off?! Believe me. Not helping!”
“Helen, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you weren’t capable. Can you trust me?”
Dad could be eccentric and strange and up-in-the-clouds, but I did trust him. I nodded.
“Good thing I’ve got you all on my side,” I said, trying hard to be positive. “I could definitely do with some help putting together this speech.”
Dad shook his head. “We can’t help you, Helen. You must prepare everything on your own. We can’t be seen to favour you, or anyone on trial. It could result in a much harsher sentence.”
The whole conversation felt like being in a boxing ring. Blow after blow rained down.
But we hadn’t got to the worst bit yet.
“And if we’re found guilty. Something really bad happens, right?” I tried to sound calm, but I was a bag of nerves. The rich meal churned in my stomach.
“We could be banished to life on Mount Olympus or stripped of our immortality, which would prove fatal eventually. Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse.”
“Is Mount Olympus that bad?”
“I can’t begin to explain how banal immortality is. There’s no stimulation or challenges of any sort on Mount Olympus. Being consigned there for eternity is a fate worse than death,” he said quietly.
I wanted to ask what that meant for me, someone with no powers to strip. But Dad was on to the next subject.
“Right!” he said with a loud clap. “I think we should walk off that lunch, and catch a movie. Do you know, it’s been years since I’ve been to the cinema?”
I somehow moved my legs and made it to the cinema. The action film Dad chose was packed with explosions and special effects but I couldn’t concentrate on the film.
All I could think about was the trial. And what would happen if the Council found us guilty.
The movie zipped by, leaving me with a headache from the extra-large screen and booming speakers. Luckily Dad did most of the talking as we walked to the tube station.
I was more than happy to be Dad’s therapist for half an hour. It was the least I could do. Goodness knows he must be feeling torn-up after finding out his own offspring betrayed the family for a shot at fame.
Or to keep from getting dumped.
“I wish I could say that Eros’s love spell on Lisa was the worst thing they’ve done,” Dad said, linking his arm with mine as we walked over Waterloo Bridge. We took in the landmarks: the London Eye, Big Ben and the River Thames. The view was stunning, but the iconic buildings aren’t part of the London I love. They’re not home to me.
“Worse than what I did?” I asked.
“The Council will believe your crime to be the worst,” Dad said. I flinched at the word “crime”. “But interfering with matters of the heart can cause untold harm.”
“You must be so angry with them,” I muttered.
“They are the only family I have, and we must endure this together. I only hope the experience hasn’t interfered with Lisa.”
“Have you spoken to her recently?”
“No, and I probably never will. Once the enchantment wears off, her memories of me will appear very dim until they vanish altogether. If I contact her now, it could be very confusing for her. I’ve made that mistake before.”
Dad stopped walking and turned to take in the view. “I’ve been in London for nearly seventy years, and I still think it’s a breathtakingly beautiful city. Enjoy it while you can,” he said with a sad smile.
The thought that I may never return to London terrified me. I appreciated Dad taking me on one final day out. But all it did was remind me of how much I stood to lose.
“Do you think we’ll be found guilty?” I asked. It had been playing on my mind all day.
“It’s impossible for me to say, Helen,” Dad said. “It’s not a feeling I’m used to having. This uncertainty.”
That didn’t fill me with confidence. “I don’t like uncertainty either,” I said. “I’m really, really sorry, by the way. About … everything.”
Dad tightened his jaw. “I’m sorry too. I should have been there for you, Helen.”
I couldn’t bear to think about it. Having to stand up and tell a courtroom how I naively trusted Marco with my family’s secret was bad enough.
But what if it didn’t work? My family could be stripped of their powers. And I’d be banished to Mount Olympus.
I’d lose my friends, Grandma Thomas and everything else I’d ever loved. The gods would be destroyed.
I’d be completely alone.
The realization filled me with an intense, grief-like pain. Only sharper and more urgent.
Dad wiped away the tears streaming down my face and wrapped his coat around me while I cried into his jumper.
I wanted to dissolve into a thousand pieces and be whipped away by the freezing wind, never to be seen again.
THIRTY-TWO
Dear Mum,
Most fourteen-year-olds get into trouble for skiving PE or forging a sick note. But me? I betrayed my family.
This weekend, I’ll be facing the Council to fight for our right to live on earth. In the case of Dad and the gods, it’s the right to live at all. To say I’m jittery would be an understatement. I’d take a month of detention over this in a heartbeat.
At least I won’t have to deal with travelling to Mount Olympus on top of everything else. In fact, we won’t be travelling any further than a few stops on the tube. Instead, the trial will take place in the Royal Courts of Justice. It’s famous, apparently. Have you heard of it, Mum? I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed. Obviously, I’m happy every day that my feet stay in the mortal dimension. But a part of me was looking forward to seeing this enchanted place I’ve heard so much about.
No matter where the trial is, I still have the humiliating task of talking about my betrayal. In front of everyone. I’ll have to tell an entire court room about the way Marco manipulated me into revealing my family’s secret. I’ll look like a naive little girl. My embarrassment levels will be off the chart! It’ll be a miracle if I don’t collapse into a ball of sweat and shame right there on the witness stand.
I know that it isn’t all my fault. Aphrodite went ballistic and nearly destroyed the house. Apollo got himself on national TV. Even Eros broke the rules by messing with Lisa’s head. But I was the only one stupid enough to share our secret. With a boy. And telling Marco about the gods broke the most important rule of all. It could cost them their lives.
At least the fear of being banished to Mount Olympus and losing my family for ever outweighs the pain of heartbreak. I’ve cried my body weight in salty tears, but not one of them was sadness at losing Marco. He showed his true colours by betraying my family.
But what if the worst happens? That I do all of the above and we’re found guilty anyway. The gods could have their powers stripped, which would be fatal. I’d lose them for ever.
It would make me an orphan. And I’d be forced to live out the rest of my days on Mount Olympus.
&nbs
p; The thought makes me want to hide under the nearest table and wait until the trial blows over. But I know that’s impossible.
There’s nowhere I can run. Nowhere to hide.
All I can do is focus on my testimony. It’s the only thing in my control. If I can persuade the Council that we still deserve to live on earth, there’s a shot I won’t end up losing everything.
And it’s not just my future at stake. If I’m banished to Mount Olympus, I’ll never see Grandma Thomas again. She’s already lost one daughter. I don’t know if she could bear the pain of losing her granddaughter, too. In a few days, the trial will be over and my fate will be sealed.
I can do this. I have to do this.
I’m sorry this letter isn’t quite so cheerful this time, Mum. Maybe next time I write to you I’ll have something good to share. I wish you were here.
Love for ever,
Helen xxx
THIRTY-THREE
Pants. Toothbrush. Hair gel. Testimony notes. I ran through the checklist in my head as I packed. It all seemed so pointless. So what if I didn’t have spare socks? The trial was going ahead and my fate would be decided in a couple of days.
I rooted through the back of my wardrobe to find my overnight bag, and saw something I’d long forgotten. It was the memory box that Mum and I made together.
Whenever we went somewhere special, we kept a memento and tucked it into a shoebox. I flicked through the contents. Seashells and grubby coins nestled alongside passport-sized photos and ticket stubs. I fished out a small sheet of green paper – it was a printed flyer for the Bugsy Malone show I put on while at drama school one summer holiday.
I hated every minute of it. I hated having to do drama while my school friends went to the same play centre. I hated being the only black girl in the class. And I hated having to do anything that drew attention to myself.
But Mum’s friend was a teacher at the school and got me a heavily discounted place. For Mum, it was a no-brainer.
The only good thing about that show was the outfit Mum made for me. I was one of the lowly chorus girls, which, to be quite honest, suited me just fine. No lines to remember, just a rendition of the Charleston that we choreographed during lunchtimes.
Mum wouldn’t go to the costume store for the flapper outfit, like the other girls in the show. “Why spend good money when I’ve got a perfectly fine sewing machine at home?” she said.
I knew better than to argue with Mum but I was dreading it. “Why spend good money when I’ve got a perfectly fine oven at home?” was something she said whenever we passed Pizza Hut and I begged for a Hawaiian. Mum would roll up her sleeves when we got home and present me with her version of a pizza. Just for the record, broccoli and chickpeas should never be on a pizza.
So when Mum decided my dress was going to be a DIY job, I got a little nervous. But I had no reason to be. It was the most beautiful dress in the show by far. The sequinned fabric shimmered purple and blue in the light. I’m sure the fabric had higher aspirations than to grace a clumsy eight-year-old, but it did the job. With a touch of scented roll-on body glitter and a matching shawl over my spaghetti-strapped shoulders, I’d never felt more glamorous.
I can’t remember much about the play or my performance (other than vomiting with stage fright). I got ketchup from the after-play hot dogs on my shawl and the dress was dispatched to the bottom of a cupboard. It probably got lost in the house move, after Mum’s accident.
Looking through the box made me feel a strange mix of happy and sad. Weirdly, it made me feel just as connected to Mum as writing the letters did.
A knock on the door interrupted me, and I rushed to put my memory box away. I didn’t want anyone else to see it – this was between me and Mum.
“Come in,” I yelled, once the box was hidden away.
Aphrodite poked her head through the door. I’d barely talked to her since she destroyed our house. But now was as good a time as ever to break the wall of silence between us.
“Did Father tell you about the dress code for the trial?” she asked.
There was a dress code? Just another one of the crucial details he forgot. What else had he forgotten to tell me?
I shook my head. “Nope. I was just going to wear one of my old church dresses.”
“Typical,” she muttered. “Unsurprisingly, the fuddie-duddies at the Council prefer if those on trial wear traditional attire. Luckily, I have a few gowns in your size.”
Aphrodite placed a bundle of cream cotton on my bed. They turned out to be three maxi-dresses in a toga style.
“Um, thanks and all. But it might be a bit cold for this?” I said. Those old courtrooms looked like they might be draughty (or at least they did on TV).
“I can assure you that the court will be temperature-controlled, Helen.” Aphrodite smiled. “Sometimes I forget that this all must be extremely strange for you.”
Was she showing empathy for another living being? Now that was strange.
I shrugged. Strange, inconvenient, so terrifying the thought made my heart pound: all of the above applied.
“You should know that I … well, I think you’re very brave. Braver than you realize,” she said.
“The Council summoned me so I kind of had no choice. You do know that, right?” I said, rolling up the gowns to fit into my suitcase.
Aphrodite nodded. “I know. And I also know that you’re taking this trial very well.”
“Are you forgetting that this is my mistake to fix? If I hadn’t said anything to Marco, then—”
“You were trying to save us, Helen. If Apollo and I hadn’t been so foolish, this would never have happened. Believe me when I say that this isn’t your fault.”
When she said that, the guilt I’d been lugging around didn’t seem to feel so heavy.
I sighed. “Thanks. I hope the Council feel the same way.”
THIRTY-FOUR
“Helen? Are you up? It’s time to get ready for the trial.” It was Eros, nudging me awake at an ungodly hour. At least he had the good sense to come armed with a cup of tea.
I showered, got dressed, nearly tripped going down the stairs (note to self: watch out for the toga), and met my family in the kitchen for breakfast.
Their ability to look fresh-faced at all times was especially grating at seven a.m. Aphrodite’s long dark hair cascaded in blow-dried waves over her shoulders, and Apollo’s skin glowed radiantly. I, on the other hand, could do nothing more than scrape my hair into a bun. Apollo, Eros, Dad and Athena all wore traditional togas, too. Unlike me, they didn’t look as though they were playing fancy dress. The togas suited them.
The kitchen was strangely quiet. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own world. Apart from Athena, who was in bossy-pants mode.
“Good morning, Helen,” she said as I poured myself a bowl of cereal. “Do eat quickly. I’d like to take you through the itinerary before the cars arrive.”
“It’s too early to be this organized,” I muttered under my breath.
Athena didn’t say anything. Instead, she slapped a printout on the table in front of me. I cast my eyes over it as I crunched my cornflakes.
Helen’s Trial Itinerary
Friday a.m.
Depart from home in chauffeured cars for the Royal Courts of Justice.
Arrive at Royal Courts of Justice. Entry through the side entrance only.
The audience, Council and judge are seated. The trial begins promptly with a review of the charges.
Lord Zeus, Lady Aphrodite, Lord Apollo and Lord Eros provide their testimony.
Lady Helen provides her testimony.
Friday p.m.
The trial resumes for cross-examination from the Council.
Closing dinner with Mount Olympus officials.
“Now, Helen, it’s crucial that you arrive at the correct entrance for nine o’clock,” Athena said. “We wouldn’t want you getting lost and starting the trial late. The judge, like all of us, will appreciate punctuality.”
; “Why would I get lost?” I asked. Did she really not trust me to go through doors on my own?
Athena did that tight fake smile again. “You won’t! But you will be travelling in your own car, so might not enter the court at exactly the same time as us.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why do I get my own car?”
Dad cleared his throat. “It’s just something the Council have insisted on, Helen. Perhaps they prefer that the key witness not travel with the defendants. It may look a tad strange.”
My spoon landed in my cereal bowl with a sharp rattle. “But they know we live together, right? And we’re related?”
“Like Father said, it’s just a formality,” Athena said. “I wouldn’t dwell on it too much, Helen.”
No, of course she wouldn’t. Athena, Dad and the rest of the gods had no idea what it felt like to be an outsider in their own family. It made seemingly unimportant things (like, I don’t know, not even being allowed to travel in the same car) feel like a way bigger deal.
I didn’t have much longer to simmer because the cars soon arrived at our door. I collected my overnight bag, put my parka over my thin cotton toga and climbed into the first of two sleek black cars with tinted windows. Sore as I was about travelling alone, it did feel kind of exciting to have my own chauffeur-driven car.
Unfortunately Dad insisted on triple-checking my seat belt and waving at the car until it reached the end of our road. You know, just in case I was feeling too much like an adult.
The car wound its way through to the centre of London, pausing from time to time in rush-hour traffic. I stared out of the window, wishing I at least had the distraction of my phone (strictly forbidden in the courthouse apparently, so I’d left it at home).
What would I be doing if this was a normal day? Probably meeting Yasmin, Noor and Daphne at our spot near the gates and chatting on the way to double English. If they didn’t hate me. I hadn’t seen them since I’d abandoned them for Marco, and I felt like such an idiot. Was it weird that I wanted to be at school? I pushed the thought out of my head. The trial was happening whether I liked it or not. It wouldn’t help to fantasize about being somewhere else.
Oh My Gods Page 17