New Reality 2: Justice

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New Reality 2: Justice Page 4

by Michael Robertson


  "You don't need to tell me that. I know what it's like on the estate." Frankie slumped back into the sofa. "This society's fucked up. The powers that be are gripping too tightly."

  When Marie saw herself onscreen, she lost her breath and covered her heart with her hand. Frankie didn't need to be seeing this. No one needed to see it. What if Doug was watching?

  Marie's interaction with the woman from the estate was brief, but Frankie noticed it. Of course, he fucking noticed it.

  "You made it obvious you were pregnant?" he said, astounded.

  "What else could I do? They were about to blow us sky high."

  He pulled his hand from her back and ran it through his hair. "But what if someone else works it out? You weren't exactly subtle. Jesus, Marie; are you trying to get us sent to the fucking estate?"

  Tears burned Marie's eyes and her voice cracked. "What else was I supposed to do?"

  "Uh, I dunno… hide the fact that you're pregnant maybe? Fucking hell, Marie, why don't you go all out next time and wear a 'bump on board' T-shirt? Maybe you could start asking people on the train to give up their seat for you." His eyes widened when he jabbed his finger against his temple. "What were you thinking? I'm having sleepless nights trying to work out how to afford this fucking child and you're telling random strangers that you're pregnant."

  Hot tears ran down Marie's face as she stared at Frankie's rage. "I didn't feel like I had much choice. We were going to die. What part of that don't you understand? They were going to kill us!"

  Frankie turned back to the television. "You do realise that someone will study this footage and work it out, don't you? I wouldn't be surprised if Doug knows by the morning and you end up not having a job to return to."

  "I was going to die, Frankie." Marie's words broke with her raised voice. "Is that what you would have wanted? Would that make your life easier if the baby and I were killed? It would save you having to worry about life on the fucking estate, wouldn't it?"

  For a moment, Frankie stared straight at Marie. Then he stood up, shook his head at her, and walked out of the room.

  Marie fell back into the sofa and sobbed.

  On the television screen, Marie watched the recording of the female terrorist walk over to their leader as Hank offered a sombre voiceover. "This woman must have seen sense. No one knows what she said but, whatever it was, it broke through their leader's zeal."

  The screen merged back to Hank as he spoke again, "When the civilians cleared, the police moved in. That was when the terrorists detonated the bomb. Our thoughts are with the brave officers who sacrificed their lives to keep our streets safe from harm. I would like a minute's silence in their honour."

  After less than thirty seconds, Hank's face lit up. "This is Hank Manifesto for Nirvana TV." He pointed his fingers in the shape of a gun and clicked from the side of his mouth as if calling a horse. "Stay safe, people."

  ***

  For about the next ten minutes, Marie stared at the blank screen. It was only when Frankie walked in that she broke away from her daze.

  "I'm sorry, Marie. It wasn't fair for me to get cross. It's just… I feel so scared about ending up back on the estate. I do want to be a dad… I'm just finding it hard."

  Marie wiped her eyes and nodded. "I'm finding it hard too, but we can't turn on each other. I'm not an idiot, Frankie. I know what revealing my pregnancy means, but the terrorists were about to blow us all up. I didn't have any other choice. I'm scared about ending up on the estate too." Just talking about it burned her stomach. "Petrified, in fact."

  Frankie sat down next to Marie again, grabbed her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Everything's going to be fine. We'll work something out. I didn't want to tell you about this because nothing's been confirmed, but I may have some extra money coming in."

  "Through teaching?"

  After a slight pause, Frankie nodded. "Private tutoring."

  What wasn't he telling her? When Marie tried to look into his eyes, he looked away. What was he hiding?

  "I'll do some extra time at school. It means I'll be staying late most nights."

  Something wasn't right. "Will it pay enough to support us all?"

  "If it works out, yes."

  There were too many things for Marie to worry about already. If Frankie said he was sorting something, she needed to trust that. Marie hugged Frankie and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you're doing for this family. You're going to be an amazing father."

  Hugging her back, Frankie buried his head into her sweaty neck and said nothing in response.

  The thought still lingered in her mind, what was he hiding?

  Chapter Nine

  Life moved on like it always did; by the time it got to the weekend, the news of the terrorist attack had been replaced by many other stories reminding the good citizens of Nirvana just how dangerous the estate rats were. The replacement bus service from Navidson's House train station was a pain, but that only really mattered if Marie needed to head in the direction of work. Today they were heading the other way.

  As Marie rocked with the motion of the train, she sniffed the air and ruffled her nose. "Can you smell that?" The old trains were horrible. Not only did they stink, they were nowhere near as smooth as the newer ones.

  Frankie looked around the deserted carriage, sniffed, and then shrugged. "What?"

  "Dirt. It smells like dirt."

  Another sniff of the air, and Frankie wore the same blank expression. "I don't smell anything. Maybe you're imagining it?"

  The earthy smell of dirt was so strong for Marie, it was like she'd snorted mud. "I'm not imagining it; it's my bloody sense of smell. Since becoming…" She trailed off. The carriage may have been empty, but that didn't mean people weren't listening in. There could be a camera anywhere in this damned city. "Anyway, I can smell everything, and I can tell you that this carriage hasn't been cleaned in a long time."

  "Do you think we should start getting our shopping delivered? It'll save us coming to the supermarket every Sunday."

  When the baby kicked, Marie drew a sharp breath and fought the urge to hold her stomach. The baby was moving more and more. It would take some getting used to.

  Frankie reached across and touched her forearm. Heavy bags lay beneath his eyes. The stress of their situation was doing them both in. It was like their lives were being funnelled into a dead end.

  "Is everything okay?" he asked.

  When Marie nodded, Frankie pulled away from her. They couldn't be too affectionate in public. As far as the state was concerned, these two were just flatmates. Cohabiting as a couple was fine, but most people kept it on the down low to avoid extra government surveillance.

  Once the baby had settled down, Marie took a deep breath. "I like going shopping on a Sunday. It's nice to get out of the house. When we stay in I feel like I'm sitting around waiting for Monday to come." Just the mention of work sent an anxious wobble through her guts.

  "I understand," Frankie said, rubbing his puffy eyes. "It's nice to stretch our legs, isn't it?"

  It was obvious his enthusiasm was faked. Coming shopping on a Sunday meant he was missing a day of televised sport, but bless him for trying.

  ***

  About ten minutes later, they arrived at their stop. When Marie stepped from the train, the outside heat hit her like an uppercut. The air conditioning on the train hadn't felt like it was doing much until that moment. Sweat instantly stood to attention on her brow and she stumbled for the first few steps. Although she fanned her face with her hand, it did nothing to combat the stifling heat.

  When Frankie touched her back, she moved away.

  "Are you okay?"

  Marie nodded. Sweat ran down her spine and wound her back tight. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's so hot, I don't want to be touching anyone." She tugged on her corset and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I wanted a day without this, but I was too worried someone would notice. It's made the heat wave this summer even more unbearable." />
  "It's the hottest it's been in years." Frankie pointed a thumb over his shoulder and flicked his head in the direction they were going. "The megastore is air-conditioned."

  It was only on the other side of a huge car park, but in this heat, it looked so far away. Marie swallowed an arid gulp. "Come on, let's go."

  ***

  By the time they'd got to the megastore's entrance, sweat stung Marie's eyes and her legs wobbled as she walked. If the store were any farther away, she wouldn't have made it.

  With Frankie by her side, they entered; the fresh air conditioning tingled against her hot skin. There were a lot of people in the entrance, but that didn't stop her thrusting her arms to the side to bask in the cool air.

  Frankie spoke to her from the side of his mouth. "You're making a show, Marie."

  Marie closed her eyes and continued to enjoy the fresh environment. "I don't care if people are watching. I need to cool down."

  "But everyone's looking at you."

  "I don't care."

  A man in the store's green uniform approached them. Like many people from the estate, his skin was clay-red. Frankie's had never been like that. Ever since Marie had known him, he'd looked just like her and her peers. Was that how he'd managed to slip into society without any problems? They'd spoken about it, but the only explanation Frankie ever had was a shrug and ‘I dunno’.

  The man smiled. "Personal shopper, Madame?" It was one of the many subservient roles given to those from the estate. The middle classes were put on welfare rather than expected to take the lower jobs in society. It wouldn't do to have them working with estate rats.

  Frankie shook his head at the man. "No, thank you." He then ushered Marie away with him.

  As they walked off, Frankie leaned across to say something to Marie, but the store's loudspeakers cut him off.

  "While Tall-mart prides itself on zero crime inside our stores, we'd like to remind you that your personal shopper is from the estate and can't be trusted. Make sure all of your personal belongings are kept away from them at all times and please remember not to tip them. It's an honour for them to help you with your shopping."

  When Marie saw Frankie's strong jaw tighten, she put her hand on his back. Because his T-shirt was so thin, she felt the tension knotted in his muscles. "What were you about to say?"

  It took a few seconds for Frankie to relax the scowl on his face. "Sorry, it's that—"

  "Announcement, I know." No matter how many times they came here, the pre-recorded message always got to him.

  After a pause, Frankie looked back at the entranceway. "I recognised that personal shopper. I used to live in the same block as him. We never spoke; no one ever does on the estate, but I used to pass him every day on my way to school."

  "Maybe he'd be happy to see you doing well for yourself?"

  It wasn't often Frankie looked at Marie as if she was an idiot, so when he did, it cut straight to her core. Contempt sat on his face as he said, "You haven't got a clue what it's like, have you?"

  "Well, maybe if you tried telling me, rather than being so bloody hostile every time we spoke about it…"

  "He hated me. Everyone hated me. I was an outcast on the estate because I was going to school and had a chance to get out. I was an outcast at school because I was an estate rat. I'm everything that both the people from the estate and the middle classes resent. I don't fit anywhere."

  The anger left him as he looked at the line of green-uniformed personal shoppers waiting to please Tall-mart's clients. "That could have been me. Doing some shitty job in society and getting treated like a second-class citizen because of my postal address."

  Just before Marie could reply, there was a high-pitched, shrill cry that ran up her spine.

  "Frankie! Darling."

  Clip! Clip! Clip!

  Each clip of a stiletto heel wound Marie's back tighter. After a deep breath, she forced the smile and turned around. Huge blonde hair, big boobs, and red leather trousers marched up to them. Kitty-fucking-Trollope. Great!

  Behind Kitty was the personal shopper that offered himself to Frankie and Marie, and before they got too close, Kitty showed him the palm of her hand; her piercing blue eyes were as cold as ever. "Stay." The man stopped.

  "Wait."

  A flamboyant flick of her head sent her blonde bob swirling out like a scythe. The woman clearly thought she was the shit… she looked like a bloody idiot.

  Clip! Clip! Clip! She threw her arms wide. "Frankie, darling; how the devil are you?"

  Keeping her mouth shut was the only option for Marie. How had Frankie remained friends with this woman? She was a fucking nightmare.

  It hurt Marie's heart when Frankie smiled. What was it about this ridiculous person that he liked?

  "Kitty," he said, "how wonderful to see you. How goes it?"

  Kitty grabbed Frankie's shoulders and spoke so everyone could hear. "Fantabulous, darling." Mwah! Mwah! Two air kisses were aimed at either side of his face.

  Frankie cleared his throat and pointed at Marie. "You remember Marie, right?"

  Fire flushed Marie's cheeks as Kitty stared at her. What she would give to knock the bitch out.

  After a few seconds, her eyes widened and she clicked her fingers. "Of course; she's your cleaner, right?"

  When Frankie laughed, Marie glared at him. What the fuck was he laughing for? The smile fell from his face. "No, she's my housemate."

  "Of course… I'm sorry. Do forgive me." She flashed a brilliant white smile, framed by scarlet lipstick, and held her hand out for Marie to kiss. "Pleased to meet you."

  When the rich chemical punch of Kitty's perfume hit her, Marie fell into a coughing fit. It both smelled and tasted like fly spray. Once she'd recovered, she stared at the outstretched hand. Who the fuck did she think she was? "We've met several times before," Marie said.

  Both Kitty's facial expression and arm dropped. "Oh, I'm sure there's some reason why I don't recognise you." She ran her eyes up and down the length of Marie's body before settling on her breasts. "Have you put on weight?"

  The burn of her nails digging in her palms took the edge off Marie's rage. Instead of replying, she stared at the vicious bitch.

  Frankie stepped in between them. "Anyway, Kitty, what brings you here? You always used to have your shopping delivered when we were together. I thought you hated these places."

  "Oh, I do." Her face twisted as she turned to look at her personal shopper. It was like being in his presence gave her a bitter taste in her mouth. "I just wanted to get out of the house and pick some clothes for my birthday meal next week."

  "Birthday meal? Nice. How old?"

  A crimson pout and Kitty turned away from Frankie. "You should know not to ask a lady that."

  The words came out before Marie could stop them. "He didn't."

  A storm cloud passed over Kitty's face before she grabbed Frankie's hand and pulled it to her bosom. "You must come. The gang would love to see you."

  Marie tightened her fists as she stared at Frankie's hand nestled in Kitty's cleavage. Why wasn't he pulling it away?

  "Well, I… I'm not sure, Kitty. I don't know what I'm doing. Next weekend you say?"

  Just before Marie could tell Frankie they were busy, Kitty cut in.

  "Friday—about eight—at Belle de la Rue; invite your cleaner if you like."

  When Frankie smiled and nodded, Marie's jaw fell loose. What the hell?

  "Sure, sounds great," he said.

  Kitty squealed as she clapped her hands together. "Excellent." Two more air kisses and she said, "See you next Friday." She winked. "My cousin Marsha's coming. I'll make sure you sit next to her. She'll love you."

  Before either of them could reply, Kitty spun on her heel, clicked her fingers at her personal shopper, and walked away.

  As the tightly strapped red bottom marched to the metronome of her heels, Marie said, "What just happened there?"

  "We're going to a party next weekend."

  "Oh no, we'
re not."

  "I can't not go now, Marie. Why don't you stay at home and I'll go by myself?"

  "So Marsha can flirt with you all night?"

  "I thought we'd got past this?" Frankie said. "Kitty's a friend. I know she's my ex, and I know it's hard for you to accept that, but she's just a friend now. Besides, she's one of the few people that know about my past, and I want to keep it that way. If we're friends, she has no reason to tell everyone."

  Just looking at him boiled Marie's blood.

  "Come on, Darling, let's do our shopping."

  When Frankie walked off, Marie remained where she was, watching his back and grinding her jaw. Maybe they would start doing online shopping…

  Chapter Ten

  The smell of leather on the train was a damn sight better than the reek of dirt on the bus. The replacement service from Navidson's House Station to Delial Station was a pain. At least she was back on the train now.

  Monday mornings were always the worst, especially after spending the weekend with Frankie—even if he was being a dick at the moment. The stress of their situation was really getting to him. She told herself it was important to remember the man she fell in love with. The kind and patient man. The sensitive man. He'd come back to her soon.

  Marie leaned back in her seat and stared out of the train's window, squinting against the glare of the sun. They were travelling at speeds of well over two hundred and fifty miles per hour. Although when she closed her eyes, it felt like they were stationary; the train glided along the rails as if they were greased up.

  To look down at the side of the tracks made Marie's head spin. The landscape flashed past so quickly, it was no more than a blur. Farther away was the agricultural land on the outskirts of the city. Yellow heads of wheat glowed in the sun… a thick buttery carpet of sustenance for the wealthy. Razor wire and electric cables topped the fences around them while dogs and armed guards patrolled the perimeter. This was the gold the city protected, not the semi-precious metal sitting in the banks' vaults. This was what those from the estate wanted more than anything.

 

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