The Special Ones

by Em Bailey

  ‘It’s not appropriate behaviour for a Special One,’ says Lucille.

  ‘I disagree,’ says Harry, suddenly. There’s a smile in his voice. ‘Come on, Felicity. Let’s go together.’ He hooks an arm through hers and they head outside.

  ‘Well, don’t expect me to help if you ruin your clothes,’ Lucille calls haughtily after them.

  But I doubt they even hear her. The rain drowns out every sound.

  I press my nose against the windowpane and watch them in the moonlight – Harry, so tall and broad, and Felicity’s small frame. Both of them are completely drenched. They dash around crazily, spinning and leaping and whooping.

  ‘Dancing is forbidden,’ Lucille states.

  ‘They’re not dancing,’ I say, although I’m not really sure about that. ‘You should go out there too. Cool down and wash off some of the dust.’

  ‘I’m not dusty,’ says Lucille indignantly, but I am sure I catch longing in her voice. ‘I will wait for the morning and wash in the proper way.’

  I go outside and stand right at the edge of the verandah – the limit of Esther’s territory – enjoying the cool breeze. The wind blows some of the rain in my direction, peppering my skin. The lightning continues to flash, the thunder to boom.

  Harry turns towards me, his eyes focused on a point just above my head, a broad grin on his face. He beckons. I laugh, shaking my head. He’s teasing, of course. He knows as well as I do that Esther is not allowed to leave the house. But it’s a beautiful idea, twirling in the rain with Harry.

  ‘The sky looks so beautiful!’ cries Felicity, her face turned upwards.

  ‘I used to love lying outside, looking at the night sky,’ I tell her, though I shouldn’t talk about before. Still, I doubt he could hear me over the sound of the storm. ‘It seems to go on forever, doesn’t it?’

  When I glance back at Harry, he’s stopped moving. I’m surprised by how sad he suddenly looks. But a moment later, Felicity calls to him and then he’s smiling again, swinging her around.

  I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for a month and have just let it go. I picture the tank and the dam steadily filling with water, up and up and up.

  When Harry and Felicity finally come back inside, I find towels for them and then the three of us go to the kitchen window again, somehow unable to drag ourselves away from the sight of so much water. Lucille stands a little way behind, periodically reminding us that it’s time we all went to bed, that we’ll be exhausted in the morning.

  I know she’s right, but I stay anyway. The rain shows no sign of stopping – if anything, it’s getting heavier. I’m glad. I hope it rains forever.

  There’s a sudden clap of thunder so loud that the house shudders and Felicity yelps. ‘Hmm,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘That was a sign.’

  Felicity looks at me, eyes wide. ‘A sign of what?’

  ‘A sign that you should go to bed, young lady!’

  Felicity protests, but I can tell she’s actually glad to go. She’s almost tripping over from tiredness and she knows as well as I do that there will be no sleeping in.

  ‘Don’t be scared by the storm,’ I say as I tuck her under the covers, being careful not to touch her.

  ‘I’m not,’ she says, yawning. ‘This is my storm. I made it happen.’

  In the morning the air is fresh and cool. There’s a small puddle of rainwater on my floor, shining like silver. I get up and look out at the garden, marvelling at how sparkling and clean everything looks. The leaves of the eucalyptus trees gleam. Even the old factory tower on the horizon looks new, its lettering more distinct than usual.

  There’s a magpie warbling somewhere nearby and I suddenly feel a rush of something I haven’t felt in a very long time. Joy.

  Everyone is in a good mood over breakfast, and Felicity skips off happily to the farm with Harry, although she must still be very sleepy. I tidy up and put on a loaf of bread for lunch (the guiding word is fresh).

  I’m just settling down to help Lucille put darts into the bodice of the dress she’s making, when I catch sight of Felicity hurrying up from the farm. She does this occasionally. Sometimes she’s forgotten something, and sometimes there’s good or exciting news to report – newly hatched chicks, for instance. But it’s clear from her face that the news she’s bringing today is neither good nor exciting.

  Harry, I think instantly, my stomach dropping. I’m already at the door when Felicity bursts through, straight into the parlour.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ My throat constricts.

  At first Felicity is too breathless to speak. She holds out something in the palm of her hand. Two small peaches, green and hard. ‘The peach tree was struck by lightning last night!’ she blurts, between gasps. ‘It’s split in half. Right down the middle!’

  I steady myself against the doorframe. This is very bad news. The tree has always produced impressive amounts of fruit. We eat peaches almost every day in summer, and I preserve as much of the excess fruit as I can for winter.

  I realise Felicity’s eyes are on me. ‘It’ll be okay, won’t it?’ she says.

  ‘Of course it will.’ I force the words out. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  She nods, but I suspect I’ve offered her no real comfort.

  Harry is determinedly cheerful during lunch, but it’s different when he has a chance to speak to me privately. ‘The storm has done a lot of damage,’ he mutters. ‘All the tomatoes are gone, the wheat is pretty much destroyed. Some of the carrots will be edible, maybe the potatoes. Not the beans, though.’

  I keep my lips pressed tightly together, afraid of what might gush out if I open them. This is my fault for hoping the rain would never stop.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ says Harry, glimpsing my face. ‘We’ll survive it. The important thing is that we’re together.’

  I know he’s trying to cheer me up, but I wish he hadn’t said this. It feels way too much like tempting fate.

  We’ll survive. We’ll sort it out. We’ll make it work.

  I keep repeating these sentences to myself as I go about my tasks. If I think it enough, maybe it’ll come true. There’s still a month or so of reasonable weather ahead. Time enough to plant new vegetables, Harry assures me – quick-growing things. And he wouldn’t let us die, would he? Maybe he’ll take pity on us and I’ll wake one morning to find emergency food rations on the kitchen table, just to tide us over until the new crops grow.

  And at least we have water now, I keep reminding myself.

  But I carry with me the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

  One morning I wake slightly later than usual – the morning light is already halfway across my windowsill – so I hurry directly to the chat room to receive my instructions. The guiding word is reduce and I walk back to the kitchen, wondering how to model it for the followers. How can I reduce anything from the little we have left? I jump when I see Harry standing there – still and silent – with an open envelope in one hand and a card, smelling of flowers, in the other. His eyes brush past me and there’s something in that glance, something so primitive and chilling that I freeze.

  ‘Harry? What is it?’ But I know. Harry hesitates for a moment and then turns the card around so that I can see it. The writing is formal and elegant, like you might see on an invitation to a fancy party.

  Harry, please commence preparations for your renewal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When I first read about renewal in my remembering book, before I’d actually witnessed one, I thought it must be like having a makeover. I figured that when a Special One was renewed, they would go away for a couple of days and come back with a new outfit or hairdo or something.

  But then the first Felicity was renewed. When her replacement arrived, I realised in horror that I was expected to pretend this terrified stranger was the same person who’d left a few days earlier, just that she looked a little different and had forgotten who she really was.

  I know only too well what happens to the new o
nes who are brought here. Gradually they are convinced to change, moulded to be who we tell them they are. But there’s another unanswered question: What happens to the ones who leave?

  At first I tried to convince myself that they simply returned to their old lives. But I know that can’t be true. He is many things, but merciful is not one of them. It would be too dangerous. Their families would want to know where they have been. The police would become involved. The girls might be able to figure out the location of the farm. There is no way he would risk that. The much more likely explanation is that renewal means death. And once I realised this, I decided that renewal was something to avoid, no matter what.

  I started keeping a list in my head of what kinds of actions or mistakes seemed to trigger a renewal. I decided that if I could pinpoint the causes I could somehow protect myself – and the others – against it. Many things were obvious. Neglecting chores, for instance, or doing them poorly. Dancing. Sleeping in. Talking about life before coming here. Doubting or questioning anything to do with the Special Ones.

  But I knew that avoiding renewal had to mean more than just sticking to the rules. It meant being like Harry. Harry, who never loses his temper or complains. Harry, who follows the rules without a blink, no matter how crazy they seem. Harry, who, if he doubts the purpose of the Special Ones, never lets it show on his face. And something dawned on me.

  He’s acting. Doing it to survive.

  I decided I’d follow his lead. Be the perfect Special One. Do what was asked of me without question or complaint. I buttoned myself into my Esther costume and threw myself into the part. This, and only this, would keep me safe.

  But Harry’s renewal notice has changed that. Its arrival means that I was wrong. Because if someone as faultless as Harry can be renewed, then clearly none of us are safe.

  Esther must announce the news of a renewal to the Special Ones as soon as possible. But at breakfast I can barely speak, let alone deliver this terrible information. I can tell Harry is waiting for it, but he doesn’t push me either.

  Lucille and I spend the morning doing the first half of the weekly clothes and linen wash – a mammoth task that takes all our time and energy. There’s no chance of discussing Harry’s news and, besides, we all need to be together.

  Harry and Felicity return for lunch, Harry doing a good show of being as cheerful and calm as ever. Felicity and Lucille don’t seem to notice anything different, but I can hear the tension in his voice.

  In the kitchen, Felicity hands me a basket full of hard, greenish peaches. ‘That’s all we could save,’ Harry says apologetically. ‘I hope they will see you through for a couple of weeks at least.’ His carefully chosen words are painful to hear. You, not us.

  As we sit down to eat Harry asks, ‘Any news?’ He’s prompting me.

  I shake my head. Not yet, I think. Saying it out loud – Harry’s being renewed – will make it official. I sit and stare at my plate. I can’t eat. Can’t talk. My hand shakes as I raise my glass, and the water tips onto the table. I jump up to grab a cloth and catch Harry’s kind eyes watching me, his face full of sympathy. After a couple of seconds he looks away.

  I am suddenly ashamed of myself. I’m such a coward.

  ‘Esther.’ Harry’s voice is surprisingly firm. ‘It’s time to tell them.’

  Lucille latches on instantly. ‘Tell us what?’

  Usually I plaster on Esther’s good news smile when I make a renewal announcement, but I can’t manage it this time. ‘Harry has received his renewal notice.’ The words are a string of thick sausages being pulled from my mouth.

  Felicity’s chair clatters to the ground as she leaps up and flings herself onto Harry. ‘No! You’re not allowed to go.’

  ‘Renewal is a necessary process, Felicity,’ Lucille says disapprovingly. ‘It’s a reason to celebrate.’ I want to hit her. She gets up and walks over until she’s standing in front of Harry. ‘Congratulations, Harry,’ she says loudly, one hand on his shoulder. ‘I look forward to seeing you again in your new vessel.’

  Harry nods at her. ‘Thanks, Lucille,’ he says and pats her hand.

  What does it feel like, being touched by Harry? His skin is probably a little rough from all the hard labour he does, but I imagine it being warm and also somehow soft. A feeling rises inside me – tingling and very un-Esther-like.

  Lucille withdraws her hand and gives Felicity and me a disdainful glance. ‘This is a moment of great happiness for Harry.’

  Rage flares up in me, strong and bright. Happiness? And before I can stop myself – ‘Are you really that stupid, Lucille?’

  Lucille’s eyes bulge. ‘You can’t talk to me like that, Esther!’ she says, spluttering with indignation.

  ‘Can’t I?’ I shoot back. I know I’m close to losing control and, even more dangerously, I don’t really care.

  ‘Esther, calm down,’ Harry says. I know he’s looking into my face, and I keep my eyes averted. But in my peripheral vision, I see him stretch a hand towards me as if he’s planning to touch my arm.

  I freeze, wondering if he’ll dare. Perhaps he’s decided that it wouldn’t really matter now that he’s being renewed. His finger hovers there, close enough for me to feel (or at least imagine I can feel) the warmth from his hand.

  ‘Harry!’ gasps Lucille.

  Harry doesn’t answer but he puts his hand down again. ‘Esther,’ he says softly. ‘You trust me, right?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I mutter.

  ‘Then you must believe me that everything will be fine. I’m promising you.’

  I nod, feeling calmer, even though I know what he says can only be wishful thinking. Because how could everything be fine? I’ve seen so many renewals and I know exactly what will happen. At evening chat tonight, we’ll announce to the followers that Harry will be going away for a short while. For spiritual revitalising and soul cleansing. We’ll pretend that it’s nothing more than a health check-up.

  Tomorrow, Lucille and I will start preparing a set of clothes for Harry – the ones he’ll wear when he leaves. We’ll all behave like nothing terrible is going to happen. In a few days, the second message will come – the one announcing that today is the day. Harry will dress in his renewal clothes. We will share a last meal together. Then Harry will walk out the door and I will never see him again.

  Time begins passing in morse-code moments: some long and drawn-out, others passing in a flash. Harry and Felicity work on the farm from first light until sunset, planting new crops. I am sure Harry is trying to pass on as much information as he can, and Felicity will try her best to absorb it all – but she is far too young to replace him on the farm in any real way.

  It’s always been Harry’s task to find the new Special Ones when someone is renewed. But who will find the new Harry? The new Harry. It’s impossible to accept this concept.

  One night, as I lie awake in bed, Harry knocks on my door. ‘Come out here,’ he says. His voice sounds different. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you.’

  Quickly I tie my robe around me and hurry to the door. Harry is standing in the hallway, dressed in his day clothes.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is someone sick?’

  ‘Everything’s fine. I just want to show you something. And before you ask, yes – you can leave your room.’

  He turns and walks off down the corridor. I pad along behind. He leads me through the parlour, and when we arrive at the front door Harry opens it wide and walks through.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I’m having crazy thoughts. Harry is planning to run away and he wants me to come with him. Would I go?

  ‘Don’t worry, we won’t break any rules,’ he says. He steps out onto the verandah, the wooden planks creaking as he walks across to a blanket that has been spread out across the boards. Harry sits down on it and pats the space beside him. ‘Come and sit,’ he says.

  I hesitate. I am fairly sure that he has not really given me permission to be out here in the middle of the night with Harry. And altho
ugh I’ve never spotted any cameras out here that doesn’t mean they’re not there.

  ‘Don’t be nervous,’ Harry says in a low voice. ‘I won’t do anything … forbidden, I promise.’

  I feel a strange flip in my stomach, but I’m not sure if it’s relief or disappointment. I walk over to the blanket and sit down at the far edge of it.

  ‘Now,’ says Harry. ‘Look up.’

  I tilt my head up and gasp. A hole has been cut in the roof of the verandah – about the size of a large door – and through the gap I can see the sky, black and cloudless, strewn with stars.

  ‘What do you think?’ says Harry. He seems nervous and so adorably shy that my heart pirouettes.

  ‘Did you do this?’ I whisper. ‘For me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because you said the other night that you used to like lying down and looking at the night sky,’ he explains. He sounds a little embarrassed. ‘I wanted you to have the chance to do it again, before I left.’

  I begin to laugh. ‘So – you destroyed the roof just so I can see the stars?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t destroy it,’ says Harry, laughing too. ‘I just removed some of the galvanised iron. It’ll be easy enough to put it back on later.’

  What Harry’s done is crazy, and here crazy usually means dangerous – but that just makes it more beautiful. A gesture like this could easily make a person cry. But I manage, somehow, to keep myself together. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he whispers back. ‘Now, look up and enjoy the view.’

  It sounds boring, I know – lying on hard, rough, splintering floorboards, staring up into blackness. I’m sure the me from out there would’ve thought so. But I could have stayed there all night, watching only the tiny flickering and pulses of light from the stars.

  Harry doesn’t try to talk to me, and at first I’m silent also. Then I discover that my face is wet, and I’m crying.

  ‘Esther?’ Harry says in a low voice. ‘Are you okay?’

  I close my eyes, willing the right words to come. ‘I’m just so happy for you and the journey you’re about to take,’ I manage to whisper. There are tears spilling into my hair. ‘The process of renewal strengthens the soul. I’m … looking forward to meeting you again.’