Anna

by Sammy H. K. Smith

  “When it first started bubbling? Ten. When the violence started I was twelve.” He looked at me, and there was clear disappointment in his gaze. “I wasn’t really interested in the news or current affairs. Sorry.”

  “Not many of us were. I’m only fifteen years older than you, but even I wasn’t bothered to start with. It was only when my mother died in the conflict I paid attention, and do you know what I did?”

  I shook my head.

  “I started an online petition to the government.” He sounded so bitter that I slowed my cooking down and turned to him. “I wrote to the government and asked them to help mediate, sent it around the internet and gathered signatures. I didn’t hear anything. Not surprising really, but I didn’t stop there. I… I got involved in the Freedom and Independence Fighters.”

  I stopped completely and looked at him, really looked at him. The Free-Indies were the first of the groups to speak out, but they were cruel and brash. Speaking with violence and hiding their faces from the world behind masks and online videos. They started the wave of groups and rights movements that spiralled into vigilantes and crime gangs. Why was he telling me this now?

  “I never told Hayley about the meetings. She thought I was having an affair with all those nights I spent away from home.”

  He poured me a coffee and pushed it across the table. “I eventually gave up, Kate. I came home, ignored the calls from the Indies and continued to bury the dead who just kept rolling on through. Now though, now we have all this and something worth fighting for again. We’ll make the same mistakes again I’m sure, but we all have something worth believing in. Whatever happens, we fight. We don’t give in.”

  He was earnest. I was confused. There was a hint of something in his voice, and he looked at me with knowing.

  “What happens if we give in?” I asked.

  “Then we are never free. We live our life in the thrall of others dictating what we do, what we say, where we go. This is the time for new beginnings.” He nodded to my baby. “For him and his generation. Freedom is worth the price.”

  “Do you regret any of it though? I know what the Enforcers do.”

  “Yes I regret some things, but not most.” He paused. “I’ve seen some shit decisions and actions out there. I’ve made some shit ones myself, but if I’m not out there helping, keeping them in line, there’d be carnage.” He took another gulp of coffee, flitting his eyes to the kitchen door as the stairs creaked. “Freedom, it’s worth fighting for, isn’t it Kate?”

  I glanced at the basket and then looked up at Glen: “Yes it’s worth fighting for.”

  As promised, that afternoon Deven came by and sat with me on the beach as I fed my baby and tried on several different slings, finally finding one that didn’t pull so much on my back. Roger had locked himself away with Simon and the doctor to discuss security protocols, and so he welcomed the company.

  He told me about his life in the Unlands and what he had become after the wars. We weren’t too different, he and I, both trapped by the actions of others.

  “You learn to box it up, Kate. I promise,” he said, smiling as he drew deep on a cigarette and I batted him and his smoke away from the baby with a grimace. “I was never quite so…” he indicated to his glamorous attire, “before the wars, and definitely not out there, but here it keeps me safe. Roger and Simon keep me safe.”

  Unsettled, I spoke. “But are you happy, Deven?”

  “Are any of us really?” he replied.

  He asked me about before, and so I shared with him my story as he had given his so freely. He knew that I had been captured, but now I also told him that my baby was a product not of love, but of possession and obsession. It seemed so easy to tell him whilst staring over the waters and holding the love of my life against my chest.

  “Bastard. What happened to him?”

  “I thought I escaped him.”

  Right now, sitting on the beach, there was nothing stopping me from speaking the whole truth, but Deven was close to Simon, and Simon close to Peter. If somehow Peter found out that I had told anyone who he really was, my baby would be in danger. So instead I didn’t say a word.

  There was nothing for a while, and glancing at him, his furrowed brow relaxed and his eyes widened in realisation.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It took just a week of planning. I saw Peter every day during that week for a total of thirty-two hours. Wherever I looked, he seemed to be there. Laughing, smiling, helping. Once I even found myself staring at him as he made sandwiches in the Enforcers hall for those planning the sports day. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his top shirt button was undone. He looked disarmingly normal, but I was uneasy and it was as though I was skirting around a trap of sorts.

  “Have you got a name sorted?”

  “No.”

  “Gabriel’s a nice name.”

  I didn’t reply, but Hayley did. “Oh that’s lovely! Isn’t that a nice name, Kate? Is it a family name, Peter?”

  “My father’s.” Chop, chop, chop, he sliced the cucumber quickly and with the precision I had come to expect of him. Each slice the same width and perfect. “He was a great man, real family values and always smiling. He was crippled in the Black Sunday terrorist attacks, lost both his legs, but that smile never left his face. Your little man’s smile reminds me of his.” He pointed the knife at the pushchair by my side and I licked my lips as my heartbeat quickened.

  “Oh, Kate! Gabriel sounds lovely. You simply must consider it.” Hayley beamed and I made a vague mumble about thinking about it, though I had no intention of doing so.

  “Peter, do you have the notebook of ideas for tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Sure, it’s in the car outside.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and threw them at Hayley. “On the passenger seat.”

  It was just the two of us again: well, three of us. The measured sounds of the chopping the only noise between us until he looked up and smiled.

  “It’s true you know. The story of my father.” I said nothing, but there was no stopping him. “He was a great man until the attacks, until the Republic wannabes took his independence away. He got legs and a shit load of compensation, but it made no difference to his dented pride.” Stopping and flexing his fingers, his eyes burned into mine. “He’d always been a very physical man, played rugby every weekend, climbed mountains for animal charities, cycled a thousand miles in aid of the Independence Movement, loads of that sort of thing. Afterwards he just wasn’t the same, but he was always smiling and he loved us to the end; right up until he killed himself a month before I graduated university. I loved him through all that, you know. He was the one who said I should be a teacher, that I had a natural talent for teaching. I loved it too. It’s great to be back in a classroom. Thank you, Kate, for making that happen.”

  “Don’t thank me.”

  “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be out there still. We need to talk. I’ve missed you.”

  I didn’t get a chance to reply, for Hayley walked back in and slid the keys on the worktop with thanks. I stared at the keyring and dry swallowed. The metal Scottie dog linked to his keys stared back at me with lifeless eyes and a familiar chipped ear. My palms moistened, but my arms and back were so cold that shivers racked me. I coughed in an attempt to swallow and force air back into my chest. With my head down and my hand in front of my mouth I hid the tears that had formed. Strong. I needed to be strong. Blinking furiously I forced the tears away as Hayley patted my back.

  Hayley noticed my gaze. “That’s a cute keyring.”

  “Oh this old thing? I’ve had it years. I was down in… God I can’t remember where… it was some years back on a school trip and I bought it in one of those souvenir shops. In fact, if I remember rightly, all the teachers bought one.” He lied with ease.

  “I’ve not seen one as a keyring before.” She turned it over in her hands and I sat on my hands to stop them shaking.

 
“I thought it had been lost. It took me quite some time to find it again, and I was relieved when I did. It has a lot of sentimental value.” I forced myself to look at him and he grinned cheerfully, with a tiny, barely perceptible nod to me as he continued to slice.

  The noise of the chopping intensified, blocking out the sounds of chatter and laughter from the others as they milled around and took their seats at the table. Their bodies blurred at the edges and faded to nothing as I held my memories of Ben in my mind. His childish laugh and innocence had been a balm to my wounds, but now I ached all over again. Pain, pain continual; pain unending. Merciless, determined and constant.

  “I need some air.”

  Stumbling outside, I stretched my back and agony out and stared up at the sky, breathing deeply and burying the howl of anguish that sat on my tongue.

  “Katherine?”

  Turning, Simon approached. His hard face as expressionless as ever. He was dressed in the familiar black fatigues of his Enforcers, and I noticed the handgun strapped to his thigh. Tucked under his right arm there was a black file.

  “Simon.”

  “How are you and the baby?” He stood far too close, and I involuntarily stepped back to create space between us.

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Do you need anything? We do worry.”

  We? “No, I’m fine.” Baby stirred a little and I stroked his soft head absently.

  “Me, Deven… Peter.” He answered the question I hadn’t asked.

  I shot him a narrowed glance then, he held my gaze with a cruel smile. “Beautiful baby. Deven speaks of him often. Desperate for a family, that man. He’d be a wonderful parent and I’d love to make that happen.” He paused, glancing to the building. “Peter, too. He lost someone he thought was special, oh about eight months or so ago. Been through a lot, he has. You both have. Perhaps something good will come from all this, hey?”

  “I’m happy on my own, thank you.”

  “Not forever though, surely. Baby needs a father figure. All boys need a man in their life, someone to look up to and admire. Have a think about what’s best for you and the little one, and what might make things… easier here in the town for you.” He nodded, leaning close. “There’s only so much the town can give before it asks for something in return, and if you’re not a team player then we have to ask ourselves if we really need you on our side.” He placed his free hand on my shoulder, squeezing, before entering the building.

  I didn’t realise I was shaking until he was gone.

  Reflection, imitation and experience. I think it was Confucius who said that there were three methods for which we may learn wisdom. Having suffered the bitterness of experience, today I reflected. Comparing Will with Peter, and Peter with Daniel.

  The sharp trill of a whistle made me look up from my baby’s feed to the children who ran and skipped towards Nikky and Peter. It was too hot. I sat under the gazebo and longed for a breeze to cut through the long disused cricket pitch where the town now congregated.

  I watched Peter with the children, he would grab and swing them around, and they would squeal and yell in delight. The younger ones followed him around with their remote controlled cars, their colouring books and outdoor games. He played with each and every one as he moved from adult to adult. By the Enforcers’ table he sat Lara on his lap as they all pored over maps of the area. She kept thrusting a picture in his face, but he patiently distracted her and pointed to areas on the map, deep in conversation with the other men.

  So many townsfolk came to speak to me about the baby. I ignored the surprise and judgemental comments when they realised he had no name yet. I smiled when told it would be better wrap him in more layers given his small size, and then later nodded when advised to strip him down given the heat.

  Deven would flit glances to me, Peter, back to me, to Rich, to Simon. When he had realised who I spoke of, I begged him not to say a word, said that I couldn’t risk anyone else knowing. He promised that I would be safe, and that he and Roger would ensure that, but I found myself shaking my head and telling him I had seen Roger’s darker side at the trial and with his violence, and I didn’t trust his husband. It had taken an age before he unhappily agreed not to say a word. I wasn’t entirely sure if he promised silence for my safety or his own.

  Today I shook my head a little and he pursed his lips together, walking towards the group from the social club.

  “Have you named your baby yet?” Alan walked up, balancing a hardboiled egg in his spoon, his little tongue stuck out at the side of his mouth.

  “Not yet.” I stroked my baby’s head as he suckled. God his hair was so cute, the way it curled behind his ears and the nape of his neck flipped my stomach. I smiled at Alan. “You’re good.”

  “I’m not as good as James. He can run really fast and zoom. His egg doesn’t even move a tiny bit.” His eyes were wide. “Not. Even. A. Tiny. Bit,” he repeated solemnly with a sigh.

  “Wow.” I offered, lamely.

  “Are you going to race with the mummies later?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s too hot for me to run.”

  “But you can race instead of Rose. She’ll be all fat and slow and you’ll be fast.” He ran his finger along the plastic rim of the chair and then walked his fingers along my arm to the baby’s head where, hesitantly, he stroked it and looked up at me. “It would be really good if you raced with me. We could beat James and his mummy.”

  “Rose will be sad.”

  “Oh Rose won’t mind. She told me to come and ask you.” He looked guilty and then turned away. “But it’s a secret. You can’t tell her that I said that.”

  “Did Rose really ask?”

  “Yes, really she did… but she might not remember asking so don’t tell her. Rose is old.”

  I tried not to smile and instead I pursed my lips and nodded. “Ok, well, don’t tell Rose she’s old, she might get upset. If you promise not to tell her she’s old – I’ll race with you.”

  His face lit up then and a huge smile spread from ear to ear. “Yessssssss!” Jumping up, he ran across the pitch to James and danced in front of him. Wiggling his bum and shooting his arms in the air with attitude. His egg rolled around my feet. I picked it up and balanced it on the plastic table by my side. My hand hovered over the barbecued vegetable skewers by my side. I was starving but Peter had cooked them and brought them over. He still sat at the table chatting with Simon’s men. He spoke often with his hands, waving them around and spreading his fingers wide as he threw back his head and laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The creases in the corners of his eyes softened his face and I caught several women looking in his direction with interest. Looking away, I focused on Rich. He was surrounded by several of the newcomers holding their plastic cups of drink in one hand with the other hand in their pockets as they watched the children and adults with uncertainty – as though they expected the children to grow two heads and burst into flames. Rich’s hair was almost long enough to tie back and with the bright colours of his tattoo I could make out the shapes of the koi and the flowers from where I sat. He kept glancing at me as he spoke and when he caught me staring I then automatically waved, beckoning him over. He matched my grin and as he strode over I covered my exposed breast and baby’s head with a small blanket.

  “You look hot.” Grabbing one of the skewers he dragged a tomato off with his teeth and nodded. “I mean, in a sweaty and red sort of way. Not an attractive way.” His face dropped and his eyes widened. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Why thank you, Mr Vicar.” I said, blotting out the image of Peter in the distance and instead focusing on him in front of me. “You look very I’m-a-mature-student-wanting-to-recapture-my-youth-and-can’t-accept-I’m-old… in a desperate way.”

  “Let me think of a reply for that.”

  Sitting next to me, he stretched out and crossed his legs at his ankles. A waft of Issey Miyake aftershave danced around me. It clashed with the salt air and th
e smoky smells of the food, but I didn’t mind and instead I breathed deeply and slowly, savouring the tastes – acrid and yet sweet. Sitting in silence, listening to the laughter and chatter of the kids and the gossiping of the adults, I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at to Peter every so often. He still sat with the Enforcers but three times he looked at me and then at Rich. Each time he did a lump caught in my throat and I found myself smiling at Rich and moving my chair slightly closer to his.

  “You ok?” Rich finally asked, leaning forward.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Yeah,” he dragged his hands through his hair and coughed. “You know, we’ve still not had that picnic. There’s a nice little spot on the beach.” I noticed the tension in his smile and the nervous jigging of his right foot on top of his leg. I placed my sleeping baby down in his basket and ran a finger down his nose.

  “Sounds good. Let me think on it?”

  He smiled and stood up. “Sounds good, but at this moment in time it looks like I’m about to be replaced.” There was amusement in his voice. Instinctively I looked for Peter, but he was with Nikky and a line of children on the makeshift track.

  “Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate!” Alan shouted me, running over and making me jump. “Kate, Kate, Ka–”

  “What’s wrong?” I grabbed him before he careered into me. He was gasping and fidgeting.

  “Now, c’mon. It’s the race.” He dragged me to my feet and hopped up and down. “We can’t miss it.”

  Standing on the opposite line with the other women I shot Alan the thumbs up and he copied me with a huge smile. I tried to concentrate on the race and not my baby. Alone. With Rich. I shook my head quickly, shaking my distrust away with it. Rich wasn’t Peter.

  There was a sharp blow on the whistle and Alan was still, his body solid and his fists clenched as he waited. He really wanted this and I had a sudden urge to win… for him, and, if I was honest, for me. The finish line was only a hundred metres there and then about one hundred and fifty back. I could do it easily, but my competition was likely to be Daisy’s mother. She looked like a gazelle and her legs were longer than I was tall. Eyeing her up, I lingered on her flip flops. Mistake.