“Call me sometime,” Deio told me encouragingly, pressing a piece of paper into my hand as he shook it goodbye. “Nice meeting you both!”
We watched, dumbstruck, as he turned behind the woodshed.
“Wait!” I called, sprinting after his retreating figure.
Andrew’s jaw dropped, but he made no move to stop me. “I’ll do it.” I took a deep breath, hardly believing the words myself. “But you’ll need to give me some time. I can’t just up and leave—there are many things I’ll need to figure out first.”
“Including your paranoid boyfriend?” Deio raised an eyebrow, watching as Andrew stood numbly around the corner.
“Yes. I mean no, he’s not my boyfriend, but I do need to clear the air with him first.”
“We’ll wait,” Deio agreed. “At some point though, we will need confirmation. You’re either going to have to side with Madon or us, because we both need you and we’d both rather have you dead than working with the other party. Make no mistake, I’d prefer it didn’t come to that, but there are things more important than a single life. Every day you wait is asking for disaster.”
He gave a slight nod, turned again, and promptly disappeared into the back wall of the woodshed.
Dazed, I stumbled back to the coop.
“What the hell was all that about?” Andrew exploded straight away.
I shook my head and walked away. I didn’t know the answer well enough myself to tell him.
Julia, as predicted, had a fit when she saw the smashed eggs. She had made every single one of us sit there and listen to a long-winded rant about how precious resources were nowadays, and how carelessness could mean the end of operations here, a decline in food for the population, and ultimately cause England to lose the war. In my opinion, it was a rather harsh picture for the loss of a dozen eggs, but then who was I to argue?
For the rest of the tedious day, I found myself performing quite badly at my chores. I could only put it down to one simple thing: Deio Farthing.
As empty as life seemed nowadays, I found myself confronted with an ultimatum bigger than the one Andrew had presented. The magnitude of what a harmless ‘yes’ or ‘no’ could result in was terrifying to behold, and was not a subject I would have willingly dwelled on were it not for the fact my life, and the lives of my friends, probably depended upon it.
As I helped Pat fix up a hole in the dog kennel, I mulled over the options. If I went with D, Madon would try to kill me, and if I went with Madon, D would try to kill me. If I waited too long, or did nothing, then I had about an equal shot at being murdered or not by the first party who grew too jumpy. The obvious choice was to keep my rather hastily given word to Deio and work with him and his sister to try to save my friends, if that indeed was their intention, and Madon had offered nothing but threats, and in the past he was never anything but evil and deceitful.
The only issue was it was too perfect. Too easy. Once upon a time, I would have hurled myself headfirst into a situation like that, but I had seen what the world was capable of now, and was much more wary.
To see Fred again. I could never live with myself, knowing I had passed that chance by.
So my mind was all but made up by the time I got ready for bed that night, mentally exhausted.
“Evelyn!” Kitty’s grating voice smashed through my reverie as I pulled on my nightdress in the bathroom. “I think you should come ’ave a look at this!”
I splashed cold water onto my face to wake myself up, gathered my dirty day clothes, and padded reluctantly down the hall to see what all the fuss was about.
Kitty’s eyes were wide with mischievous delight as she opened the door to let me into our room.
“Aunt Jule is goin’ to have his head for spendin’ money on this,” she cackled gleefully, unable to contain her excitement. “But ain’t it just the sweetest thing ever!”
For the second time that day, I was speechless with shock. For on my bed, were flowers. Red, round, and the size of a fist, dumped carelessly and without order so that petals had shaken loose from some of the blooms, and now spilled like blood over the counterpane. Rhododendrons—not even in season and which could only have got there by magical means.
“I don’t think these are from Andrew,” I managed to choke out, as Kitty bounced expectantly by my side.
“Well, who are they from, then?” she demanded. “Don’t play stupid, we all know ’e has goggle-eyes for you.”
I reached for the dainty little card tucked under one of the flowers, though I already had a good idea what it was going to say.
Do Not Be Fooled. M.
Hands shaking, I took one of the heavy blooms into my hands, knowing what they had been sent to symbolize. The same gesture had been made in Boundary to try to frighten us.
All flowers had meaning. For rhododendrons, that meaning was ‘beware’.
Chapter Eight
“That was none of your business!” I shrieked at Andrew, tears of anger pouring down my face. “That wasn’t your choice to make!”
“Look, I’m sorry, but if you’re too blind to think straight, then—”
“I’m blind? Andrew, you have no idea what that meant to me! I can’t believe you would do something like that behind my back!”
“Evelyn—”
“No! I’m fed up with people telling me I’m too stupid to make my own decisions!”
I slammed the door on my way out for good measure, sobbing uncontrollably. Locked in the safety of my room, I curled up into a ball on my bed, hugging my knees tightly into my chest and gasping for breath. My tears stopped faster than usual, replaced by a hollow emptiness that swallowed up all my other emotions in its vacuum.
I had made up my mind. I had decided, whilst accompanying Julia to town (not by choice; she had made me get into the car), that I would contact Deio and agree to help him.
I had placed the contact details on my dresser, in a place where I would not lose it. When I had gone to fetch them, however, I had found them to be missing. After further, and somewhat desperate, inquiry, Andrew had admitted to disposing of it.
“You have to see it from my point of view,” he pleaded, obviously horrified by my explosive reaction. “A strange young man, who you claimed never to have met before, turns up and asks you to come away with him. Of course I’m going to be slightly jealous and irrational!”
Andrew begged for my understanding, but I closed my ears to him. I could only think about what this could mean.
Gone. That thin cord of hope, that little strand of possibility, had gone. Deio would assume I was chickening out, and that would be that. Gone. I’d spent too long wishing Boundary away, but after it had been waved in front of my face, I’d realized just how much I yearned for exactly that chance to set everything right. But it was gone.
“Evelyn!” Andrew called through the door. He was sorry, that much was clear, but I could tell that he didn’t fully regret it. The apology was for hurting me, not for the action. “Please, open the door. Talk to me.”
I didn’t react. It felt odd, bearing this much sadness and not crying.
“Evelyn, please,” he begged.
Over by the little shrunken window, the curtains were fluttering, as if touched by an invisible hand. Draught from the windows, Kitty had told me.
Footsteps announced Andrew’s defeat, and I slowly uncurled myself, wincing as my sore limbs creaked with stiffness. My energy sapped.
Dinner felt even duller than usual. All they ever talked about was the war, the farm, the war, finance, Mrs Tibblet’s plum jam, the war…
I supposed I’d better get used to it.
Resigned, I yanked my sorry self off the bed and trudged into the hallway. Harriet was standing there, frowning at something in the middle distance between the linen closet and me.
She had been behaving particularly oddly in the two days since Deio’s visit, saying very little but acting as though she were processing a particularly perplexing puzzle, and concentrating only on that
.
“Are you coming to dinner?” I asked out of politeness, my voice sounding flat even to my own ears.
“I’m too scared.” She shook her head so violently for I moment I thought she was having a fit. Then I realized that she was simply trying to clear her head of whatever disturbing thoughts lurked there, and real or not, they were obviously quite vivid to her. “Evelyn, I’m scared something bad is going to happen.”
Harriet’s eyes were wide and frightened, but strangely sane.
“Is there anything we can do to stop it?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “There’s just a bad feeling in the air. I don’t like it.”
“Well, it’s not like we can change anything.” I pushed past her. “Not anymore.”
I felt her eyes on my back all the way downstairs, along with a twinge of guilt at my abruptness. Still, I told myself, encouraging her delusions wouldn’t help anyone, especially Harriet herself.
Without saying anything, I walked to the kitchen and began helping Julia set the table, and then placed the thin stew and bread in the centre of it so that it was easily accessible to everyone. The men came in right on time, quickly sitting down and arguing heatedly over how this war compared to the last.
“I tell you—” Pat leaned right over to whisper conspiratorially to Gregory—“this one is going to get nasty. Technology’s grown so much better. London’s going to be bombed into oblivion if they let their guard down for a single second. We’ll win, of course. The question is at what cost?”
“Thank you, love.” Charlie smiled at me as I set a bowl in front of him. “All these codes and whatnot are much too complicated for an old man. Stick to the farms, I think.”
“The weapons have become utterly terrifying.” Andrew sat down heavily beside me, choosing to ignore me as I shuffled my chair a few inches in the other direction. “I think they’re working on something big, something new. They’ve got new weapons.”
“Our boys, that’s what!” Julia sniffed, setting out a small block of butter that was supposed to stretch around all of us.
“Peter, maybe.” Charlie laughed. “I spoke to Ash Smyth the other day. Remember, he worked for intelligence?”
“Oh yes!” Anna sat down. “The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome! If only he were ten years younger.”
Julia sighed disapprovingly, but it was too late. Kitty launched herself into the conversation with enough enthusiasm to make up for all those who had chosen to drop out at this point. Perhaps this was how Penny felt when Tressa and I used to have long-winded chats about such girlish frivolities.
“Mummy?” James piped up, eyes wide with a sudden thought. “Are we going to celebrate Bonfire Night this year? We didn’t do apple bobbing on Halloween, so it’s only fair.”
“I’m afraid not.” Julia massaged her temples tiredly. “Besides, what with the blackout, we can’t have a fire.”
“We have a fireplace.” Charlie shrugged. “Maybe we could bake some potatoes and bob for apples in here? Wouldn’t be quite the same, of course, but better than nothing. This house needs a little celebration.”
“Please, oh please, oh please!” James clapped his hands in delight. “Please, Mummy!”
“Mum?” Harriet asked suddenly, face paled.
“Harriet, don’t interrupt,” Julia scolded, looking up from her conversation with Kitty. “Wait a moment.”
“No, Mum…”
“You’re being rude.”
“Mum, listen to me!” Her voice rose to a panicked shout.
“Harriet, sit down,” Andrew told her firmly. “Whatever you were about to say, can wait.”
“No!” Harriet screamed, but I realized belatedly that her cry was not intended as defiance, but in fear. She jumped forward, arms outstretched, knocking over bowls and plates, reaching for something.
The light bulb exploded right above our heads, without warning. Glass flew everywhere and someone shouted in pain. Other lights flickered and died, plunging us into complete darkness. Chairs shot back as everyone tried to avoid the glass. James started crying, the dogs were barking, and Julia was yelling at everyone to be quiet so that she could think where the candles were. We moved around and I heard footsteps as Harriet ran away, and a slight protest from Anna as Kitty bumped into her.
My heart was beating fast as confusion swirled around me. Last time I had been in utter darkness like this was in Boundary, navigating through the ruins of the manor…
I felt something hard and solid behind me, my hands moving feverishly over its surface to determine where I was. Rough metal covered in a slight layer of grease, warm to the touch: the cooking range.
Something brushed past me and I shuddered.
“Matches!” Julia was shouting. “Get the matches!”
“Mummy!” James wailed, voice overpowering everyone else’s. “It hurts!”
A person fumbled around in one of the dresser drawers, and finally struck a match lighting a candle. Light flared up from Gregory’s hand drawing us to it like moths. In the dim, flickering orange light, the full extent of the damage was visible; glass covered the table and to everyone’s consternation, the food. One or two of us had scratches.
“Damn it, Harriet!” Andrew wiped blood from his forehead, lighting another candle.
“It weren’t ’er fault,” Kitty chided, wincing as she picked a glittering shard of glass from the back of her hand.
“I don’t think that bulb just exploded,” Andrew snapped. “Harriet must have knocked it waving her arms about and fused the other lights. She’s being hysterical…attention-seeking.”
Julia surveyed the remnants of the bulb dubiously. I for one was certain that Harriet had not made contact with it at all. I was also sure she had not been seeking attention.
“Andrew’s right.” Anna stood beside her brother. “You can’t keep letting her get away with acting like this, she could have hurt someone!”
“She went out the back door,” Pat supplied reluctantly.
Some of us ran outside without waiting for more. It was creepy out there with the blackout, the moon hidden behind cloud and dogs barking like mad in their kennels, but I knew I had to be brave if I wanted to find Harriet first. I knew I had to, for if I could believe there was another world inside an invisible Boundary, then what was so insane about believing in mysterious, cunning forces that no one else could see. I was the only person around who understood what her situation must be like, and I hoped that I could discover what was fact or fiction—just in case a smashed light bulb was only the beginning.
Wind blew across the fields giving flight to wings I never knew I had as I ran towards the thin strip of trees acting as a hedgerow. Everyone else had gone to search the outbuildings, but if Harriet wanted to hide, she wouldn’t have gone to those obvious places.
Where would I go if it were me? Besides the outbuildings, there was nowhere except the small coppice that split two fields. Sure enough as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, when I glanced down, there were footsteps imprinted in the mud, leading straight into the trees.
“Harriet, it’s Evelyn,” I whispered, seeing her hunched figure and not wanting to startle her into running away again. “Do you mind if I sit here with you?”
She had flinched at the sound of my voice, shuffling away from me, but when she spoke her tone was resigned. “All right.”
Gingerly, trying to override my revulsion of the soft, mushy ground, I sat down beside her. Harriet hadn’t been crying (I was slightly envious of her restraint), but had withdrawn into a sort of defensive silence that I myself recognized very well. At last, mulling over what to say in my head, I began to speak, but Harriet quickly cut over the top of me.
“Are you going to get the others, or not?” she asked sharply, her tone drenched in bitterness.
“No, of course not!” I replied, surprised.
“Then why are you here, to convince me to see the psychiatrist? That’s all they ever do, you see. Switch between treat
ing me like I’m actually crazy or just begging for attention.”
Harriet stood abruptly as her voice rose an octave, fists clenched in anger. I stayed seated, unsure what else to do.
“I thought you might want to talk,” I explained. “Sometimes it does wonders, knowing that another person understands.”
“You won’t understand, that’s the problem!” she shouted, somewhat desperately. “I’ve tried talking!”
“Harriet, quieten down a bit,” I cautioned. “They’ll hear you. Listen…I know what you’re going through. And I’m not just saying that. You see, they called me crazy too.”
She stopped pacing, and lowered herself down beside me again. “Why? What happened?”
There was childish curiosity in the way she asked, issues forgotten for the moment. I watched as she sat cross-legged beside me, waiting wide-eyed for me to tell my story, but I was conflicted. I supposed if there was ever a person who might believe my tale then it was Harriet.
And so I told her everything. I told her about my early days in Boundary, before we had attempted escape, where Beatrix was our keeper and Madon was our controller, and the worst thing in our tiny world was the lessons. How we learned through books limited things about outside life, and how our thirst for knowledge about this mysterious realm soon outgrew the small confines of the library.
I told about happier times, the way we would spend hours playing in the gardens and woods, and I told her about darker times when we would be punished for breaking the rules.
I explained how we discovered Beatrix had powers too (made sense, come to think of it, now), and how Penny’s obtaining of a key to a locked room had initiated the beginning of the end.
Harriet was shocked when I related how we had begun strong, united, until Tressa and Avery had split off on their own. And when they had discovered something particular how it had led to Avery wounding Tressa, sealing her fate as permanent resident of Boundary, and propelling him forward to the end.
How in the meantime, for the rest of us, conditions had worsened as the estate collapsed around us. About how the legend, which was mostly fiction, had one reality and that was how many of us would be able to leave.
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