by Amy Lord
It took me longer than I had anticipated to find Penny Crescent. It was one of those grand old streets lined with Edwardian town houses, the kind with five floors and metal railings running parallel to the street. Once they would have been home to wealthy families with servants, owned by bankers and businessmen, whose genteel wives took afternoon tea and attended balls.
Now it showed little sign of life. These were the kind of houses appropriated by the military junta after they took power. They didn’t believe individuals should own such valuable property. Instead they became offices, or barracks, or sites for all the unmentionable things that went on in a society undergoing such a dramatic change.
But they were expensive to maintain and many fell empty, left to disintegrate, as their original owners were shipped off to shared accommodation – or worse.
Even the street lights in Penny Crescent were barely functional. Two of the remaining lamp posts at one end of the street offered a dirty yellow glow; I shied away from them, preferring to stay in the shadows. As per my instructions, I skirted the houses and found an alleyway behind them that led to what might once have been a private garden for the surrounding residents. Who knew what secrets it guarded now?
I made my way along the alley in the dark, barely able to see where I was putting my feet. The passageway was cobbled and my feet slid over the frosty stones, catching on piles of rubbish and broken glass. I made slow progress, staying close to the wrought-iron fence, my hand tracing the bars for guidance. Eventually, about halfway along the alley, I found a gate, barely noticeable under the overgrown vegetation.
I waited, the blank windows at the rear of the houses staring down at me. My eyes scanned each pane of glass; I was certain for a moment that there was a face, but when I looked again it was gone. It could have been my imagination; I had no way to know.
My hands shook, but not from the cold. I touched the crumpled note in my coat pocket, telling me to come here. My hands clenched and the crush of paper filled my fist. Somewhere nearby there was the sound of breaking glass and a high-pitched, animal shriek.
I didn’t know why I had chosen to come here, alone.
I was poised to turn around and leave when there was a rustling in the gardens behind me. I edged away from the gate, but it didn’t feel safe to stand in the middle of the alley, even in the darkness. Quickly I scurried towards the nearest house, pressing myself against the wall, in the shadows. I trained my eyes on the gate.
The rustling grew louder and the plants swayed violently. I held my breath as a hand emerged, not daring to look away.
And then he appeared from the night, as though he had materialised from another plane of existence. The gate swung open with a rusty cry. He stood beneath its ornate archway, his face hidden under a hooded sweatshirt.
‘I know you’re there.’ His voice was low.
I tried to melt into the brickwork of the house behind me, unsure if he had seen me.
‘I know you got my message, Clara. It’s pointless trying to hide. We can help you.’
Who knew how long he would stand there, waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward. He didn’t move. I took another step.
‘Who are you? How do you know my name?’
Instead of answering, the faceless figure said, ‘Follow me,’ and disappeared back into the gardens, leaving the gate open behind him.
I took one last look around the alley and plunged into the darkness after him. Unsure whether to close the gate, I left it open; I might need to make a quick escape. Hopefully no one would notice an old garden gate standing ajar in an abandoned alley and decide to investigate.
I couldn’t see him ahead of me, but I could hear him moving through the undergrowth. I followed as quickly as I could, the wild plants clawing at my face. I pushed them away, feeling them snag my clothes as I passed by.
Then the trees gave way and I emerged into a clearing, which must have been the garden proper, years ago. I could make out little of anything in the darkness.
A voice at my ear spoke. ‘We can talk here. No one knows about this place but us.’
I spun round with a gasp, pressing my hand to my chest. He had pulled down the hood and I caught the glint of his eyes, but still the rest of his face was hidden.
‘Who are you?’ I asked again. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
He gave a low whistle and all around us there was the faint sound of movement as people began to appear from the bushes. A few of them carried old-fashioned storm lanterns that they held up to ward off the darkness. They closed in around me, until the light filled the circle.
He stood at the front, the rest of the group gathered around him. The lanterns illuminated his face and for the first time I could make out his features. He was handsome, in an edgy kind of way. The lines of his face were sharp and the metal glint of piercings gave him an air of otherworldliness. His hair was buzzed close to his skull and a jagged scar ran along one side of his face, curving under his jaw and down his neck.
‘For too long, the people in this country have lived their lives in darkness; it’s our mission to bring light back into the world.’
I frowned at the religious undertones in this statement. Organised religion had been driven underground years earlier; no one went to church any more. He must have sensed my confusion.
‘This isn’t about religion, Clara. It’s about freedom. Freedom will be ours.’
The graffiti from the wall of the underground flashed across my memory. ‘Are you the ones who have been painting that picture everywhere, of the woman and the soldiers?’
He nodded. ‘We wanted to use that image to subvert the message that the government have always forced on us. We want them to know that they cannot control us, not forever.’ He paused to light a cigarette. I watched as it flared at his lips. He inhaled and let his hand drop to his side, looking me in the eye. ‘Simon knew that.’
At the mention of his name, I gave a start. ‘Simon? What does Simon have to do with this?’
The cigarette rose to his lips again. ‘Much more than you know, Clara.’ He gestured to the people surrounding him. ‘Simon was one of us.’
The world around me shifted and my vision began to blur. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘He was working for us. He had been for a while. When he decided to start teaching his students outside the government curriculum, he came to us first. He knew we could offer a certain amount of… protection.’
I shook my head vehemently. ‘No, no that can’t be true. Simon wasn’t working with you, you’re lying. Why would he do that and not tell me?’ My voice began to rise.
He took a final drag on the cigarette and flicked it away. The orange flame was extinguished somewhere in the shadows. ‘We were friends, Simon and I, years ago. We grew up together. We both studied History at Oxford, back when it was still a university. We were in the final year of our degree when the coup took place. The military were especially careful to enforce their rule in universities, where they feared large groups of young people might band together in order to rebel against them. All the students were forced to submit to a re-education programme. Those that refused were taken away and forcibly detained, until the military could be sure they weren’t a threat.’ He gazed off into the distance. ‘It was three years before I got out and saw what the world had become, with them in charge.’
I stared at him. ‘What about Simon? They didn’t…’
He shook his head. ‘No, Simon agreed to their programme. It was years before I saw him again and he was teaching by then. As a subject of forcible re-education, I couldn’t hold any position of influence. When Simon heard I’d been released and found me again, I was living in a shelter, doing odd jobs wherever I could find them.
‘Eventually I met some other like-minded people, and we began to talk about how we could fight back. And that’s how Lumière came to be formed.’
The name aroused a stab of recognition. I remembered the symbol on our roof. Something c
licked and I realised it was the same one I’d seen at the station. My cheeks were wet with tears. ‘No, it can’t be true. He would have told me.’
A girl stepped forward; I hadn’t noticed her before. It was Elizabeth. ‘It’s true, Clara. When Jerome disappeared, he told me that he had friends who could help us find him.’ She came closer and took my hand. ‘He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to put you in danger.’
‘I guess it’s too late for that now though.’
I began to cry in earnest. ‘Is that why they took him? Because of you? Is it your fault they have Simon? I thought it was the classes, and I blamed myself. I never knew it went further than that.’ I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled arrest report. I waved it under his nose. ‘This says they arrested him for terrorism. Is that what you are? Terrorists?’
‘It’s not our goal to terrorise; we want to free people, to wake them up from this world they’ve allowed themselves to sleepwalk into.’
‘But you do use violence?’ Anger swelled in my gut. He didn’t need to answer; the look on his face was enough.
I pushed past Elizabeth and reached for him, scratching at his face. ‘You’re the reason they took him, it’s your fault. I’m alone because of you!’
A dozen hands restrained me as he said, ‘It’s okay, Clara. It’s okay.’ He signalled them and they let go of my arms. I didn’t try to fight any more. I was exhausted.
‘Do you know where he is? My stepfather told me… my stepfather is… part of the regime. He told me Simon is in a facility for those suspected of terrorism. It’s high security.’
His face grew serious. ‘We know who your stepfather is, Clara. Major Jackson is an important man, with a lot of power. He was tipped for greatness, a rising star with some powerful friends, although he never progressed further up the ladder. He’s one of the key figures in the Authorisation Bureau.’ He looked at me earnestly. ‘But you can’t believe a word he says.’
‘I never did…’ I whispered. ‘But I thought… I hoped he might be able to help.’
‘He lied to you, Clara. No doubt he has his reasons. But you can trust us; we can help you.’
I wiped my eyes. ‘So you know where he really is?’
‘We think so. There’s a place where they take all the ones who disappear, at first. Simon was asking too many questions about Jerome and we couldn’t protect him. That’s why they took him.’
He stepped forward and gave me a hug, pressing my face into his neck. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered in my ear. Elizabeth was still standing beside me; she reached out and put her hand on my back.
I pulled away and looked him in the eye, my tears drying. ‘What’s your name?’
The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. ‘My name is Caleb.’
I nodded. ‘Okay Caleb. So, are you going to help me get Simon back?’
He studied me for a long time. ‘There might be a way, but we’ll need you to help us.’ He raised his eyebrows.
I held out my hand. ‘I’m willing if you are.’
He grasped my hand in his and the agreement was made.
*
It was after midnight when I arrived back at my apartment, the thrill of nerves still rushing through me as I climbed the stairs to my floor. I opened the stairwell door to find a man slumped on the floor outside my apartment. I paused in the doorway, about to turn and retreat downstairs.
‘Clara!’ He scrambled to his feet; it was my brother. He looked a lot thinner than the last time I had seen him, months earlier.
I stepped out of the stairwell, letting the door click shut behind me. I fumbled in my pocket for the keys as I approached him. He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for me, tousling his hair with both hands.
I unlocked the front door to the apartment and Will followed me inside. Flicking on the light, I tossed my keys on the table and began unravelling my scarf.
I waited for him to speak but he carried on fidgeting, unable to meet my eye.
‘So, what prompted this visit?’ I asked my brother.
‘Oh, er…’ he fixed his gaze on the wall, as though he was examining a crack in the plaster intently. ‘It’s a while since I saw you. I was passing and decided to say hi.’
‘Hi,’ I said. He stared at me. I took off my coat and folded it over the back of the chair, resting my hands on top of it. ‘What do you really want?’
His face darkened. ‘Why do I have to want something? Can’t I visit my sister? It’s not a crime.’
I folded my arms and threw him a knowing look. ‘No, but you never bother coming to see me. When was the last time?’
He shrugged and didn’t answer. I bet he couldn’t even remember.
‘It’s late, Will. I can make you a cup of tea or something and then I’m going to have to go to bed.’ I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on without waiting for his reply.
He pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘You’re right, it is late. It’s after midnight and you’re only just coming home.’
I turned around slowly, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter behind me.
‘Where have you been, Clara?’ He didn’t look so nervous any more. His eyes were bright and fixed on my face. He had a scar above his eye, the skin puckered and white. I forced myself not to look away.
‘I haven’t been sleeping well lately.’ That, at least, was the truth. ‘I thought I’d go out for a walk and get some air.’
He studied me carefully. There was a tremor in his hands as he laid them on the table in front of him. ‘You shouldn’t be walking about on your own so late at night; it isn’t safe. What would Mum say if she knew?’
Behind me the kettle hissed, giving me an excuse to turn away. It wasn’t against the rules to go out late at night, but it wasn’t exactly encouraged. I took my time finding two cups and making the tea.
‘Where were you really, Clara?’ I jumped. Will had come up behind me so quietly I hadn’t heard him. I faced him, holding the two mugs of tea between us like a barrier.
‘I told you, I went for a walk.’ I tilted my chin defiantly, daring him to challenge me further.
‘I don’t believe you.’ He didn’t take the drink. ‘I know that Simon was arrested.’
I glared up at him. ‘Who told you that?’ He hadn’t lived at home for several months now. He was enrolled at the military academy for his Authorisation Bureau training.
‘That’s not important.’ He leaned closer, his pupils painfully dilated. ‘I won’t tell anyone what you’ve been up to. But you have to do something for me; I need some money.’
Bile rose in my throat. I pushed away from him, sloshing the scalding tea onto his arm. He cursed loudly. I slid the cups onto the kitchen unit and backed away from my brother. ‘I don’t know what you think it is I’ve been doing, but I’m not going to give you money.’ I gestured at the tiny apartment. ‘Do you think I’ve got anything to give?’
I marched to the front door and opened it. ‘It’s late, Will. I think you should leave.’
His lip curled, but he didn’t say anything. ‘Get out!’ I said forcefully.
He complied, shoving past me to get to the door. He turned back to look at me, pointing his finger. ‘I won’t forget about this, you know.’
Thirty
The next time I saw Lumière, I was again summoned. I left my office late after classes; with Simon gone there was little incentive to go home to the empty apartment, so I would stay in my office after my colleagues had gone. Sometimes I even stayed later than the cleaning crew, a faceless group of people who were ignored by most of the staff.
I left the building via a side entrance; the only one that remained open past 7pm. As I came down the stone steps, I slid my shivering hands into woollen gloves, rubbing them together to generate a little bit of warmth.
Elizabeth was sitting on the wall opposite, swinging her legs as she waited. When she saw me emerge from the building she jumped up, stamping her feet.
‘Can I talk to you?’ she asked.
I looked around quickly, but there was nobody else in sight. ‘Sure. What can I help you with, Elizabeth?’ I smiled at her warmly as though she was any other student.
She inclined her head and we started to walk towards the street, winding through the tree-lined paths of the university campus.
When she spoke, she kept her voice low. ‘You need to come with me. Caleb wants to speak to you, in person.’
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She was staring straight ahead. ‘Now?’
She nodded. ‘He’ll meet you at the same place as before.’
As we approached the street, she slowed her pace. ‘We probably shouldn’t be seen going there together. Let’s split up; I’ll meet you there.’
‘Okay.’ I paused on the pavement as she thanked me like a good student and turned to leave. She didn’t look back.
I walked slowly through the darkness of the city streets, down barely lit roads lined with broken street lights, where the only things that functioned were the security cameras that watched us going about our lives.
My bag was heavy; by the time I reached my destination I was exhausted. I made my way along the alley, dragging my feet over the uneven cobblestones. I found the gate, locked, and waited for Caleb to come and find me.
His voice, when it came, was behind me. I spun round but couldn’t make out his figure in the darkness.
‘Here!’ his voice hissed again. There was a flutter of movement on the periphery of my vision. I turned my head until I could make him out, standing at the bottom of a flight of steps in front of some yawning basement doorway that belonged to one of the grand old houses.
I hurried towards him, down the stone steps, my feet slipping slightly on their damp surface. He stepped aside and ushered me into the house, locking the door behind us. My heart pounded as my eyes strained to see in the pitch-black corridor.
‘This way,’ he said, touching my hand as he passed.
I followed him into oblivion, concentrating on the wooden floor beneath my feet as it creaked with each step. We entered another room; I paused, sensing the change in space. Somewhere to one side there was a rustling and the strike of a match.