“So none of that stuff existed?” Angela asked. Her thin, Bambi legs were wobbly, splattered with dry mud, but after a quick stretch she felt life returning. “The cars and that?”
“No, no. They did exist.”
“Shakespeare and the cars were real?”
“Oh, yes.”
Angela stared at Leana in horror. “I’m lost.”
“Oh, goodness me, come on.” Leana placed both hands on Angela’s shoulders. “Have you ever had a dream?”
“A dream?”
“Yes, at night. Or in a class.” Leana giggled. “Anywhere. A dream. Haven’t you ever dreamed?”
“Yes, of course I have.”
“Did it exist?”
“What? The dream?”
“Yes.”
“Did it happen, do you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. Of course. But not the stuff in the dreams.”
“Sure?”
Angela thought about this. “Sure.”
“What about movies? Ever seen a film?”
Angela pulled a don’t be silly face. “Come on.”
“Enjoyed it?”
“Some.”
“Did they happen?”
“What? The stuff in the films?”
“Was there any moment when you believed what was going on?”
“Yes – of course.”
“Are you here now? Talking to me?”
“What? Yes!”
“Sure?”
7
Ever since breakfast Kizzie had been nervous about Alain Verne accosting her but somehow she’d managed to put it out of her mind. She made it through Assembly, noticing him briefly out of the corner of her eye, and made sure she left the hall in a great crowd of people
She walked up to lessons with Priya and Athy and thought – it’s strange that I don’t miss Gil – but she also knew that not missing her was all part of it. Gillian had disappeared from their lives as though she had never been there. All the feelings had gone too
Kizzie hoped Gillian was somewhere else, happy: happy with her Romeo. As she walked up the steps to The Quad, she tried to imagine what that place was like, but all she could think of was a kind of summery heaven with lots of green fields, a blue sky and rainbow. There were hills stretching right out to the bright distant horizon and people were jumping about being infinitely happy until infinity. With this odd vision in her head, Kizzie thought, Oh, I hope Gillian’s heaven is better than that. She couldn’t really imagine Gillian fitting in somewhere like that, let alone Romeo
And besides, if she was in heaven, wouldn’t that mean she was dead?
The class stood in a huddle outside Room Four and Zak sidled over to Kizzie and asked her if she wanted to go fishing at lunchtime. Kizzie pulled a face. “Fishing? What are you on?”
“It’s the perfect day for it,” Zak said. “Down to the river, socks and shoes on the bank. Just us. Come on!”
“We’re not allowed out of the school.”
“Since when’s that bothered you?”
“I don’t have a rod.”
“We’ll make one.”
Zak leaned in so close to Kizzie’s ear that when he spoke it tickled. “I need to talk to you. Away from here. About things.” He drew his face back and Kizzie saw some emotion there that she hadn’t seen before. It might have been fear. “Important stuff.”
“OK.”
All around them the others filed into the classroom and Kizzie saw Zak’s face change again, lighten and brighten and go back to normal, and the class walked into the chilly room. The teacher, Mrs Smith, told them to put on the heating and gradually they settled down to Venn Diagrams. Nobody mentioned Gillian but Kizzie was starting to get used to no one mentioning Gillian. She realised with horror she was starting to wonder if Gillian had ever been there at all
Mrs Smith was a good teacher and the class behaved. A kind of calm trance of learning took over everyone in the room and any passer-by would have looked in to see bowed heads and a pretty, autumnal scene through the windows in the opposite wall. It was a clear day – not quite sunny, but light and airy and promising – and the trees were honey-brown and the leaves crispy yellow. Occasionally a leaf would flutter down to the ground to join its fallen comrades and squirrels darted along the boughs, straightening up, chewing and twitching before arrowing off again, bushy tails following behind like separate animals
“Kizzie?”
Kizzie looked up and saw Alain Verne standing next to Mrs Smith
“You’re wanted.”
Kizzie couldn’t do much but pack up her things, hoist her bag up onto her shoulder and follow Alain out. As they came out into the cold air of The Quad, the Head of the Magistrate said, “After you. I want to keep an eye on you this time.”
“Where are we going?” Kizzie asked as they approached the steps
“Formally, we’re going to sign your resignation papers,” Alain replied. He had an expensive looking scarf knotted in the continental style over his blue school duffel coat. His eyebrows had been plucked. Every individual blonde hair in the quiff, which rose up from his shining forehead, was visible. His cheeks shone and his eyes had a black dot of concentration in the centre of the pupils. “Informally, you’re going to give me back what you’ve taken away.”
Kizzie followed Verne around the Main Building. His cologne was faintly girlish. From behind you noticed his size, that he was shorter than most of the other boys his age despite his broad, weights-bulked shoulders. Come what may, he couldn’t hide his height behind uniform or rank. “I don’t get it, Alain, sorry. What exactly did I take from you?”
“Gillian,” the boy replied curtly
Kizzie followed him in through the back door and, without any fuss or attempt at hiding what they were doing, they walked straight down the corridor to the Eleusinian Room. Alain had a key, which he used, locking the door behind them as they moved into the greenish darkness. Two high ceiling lights flickered on and dust motes moved in the light beams criss-crossing the empty room. The library ladder was folded up, the flags were hanging as limply and sadly as always, and there was a faint smell of new paint in the air
“You will send me wherever you sent her,” Alain began. He unhooked a stepladder and unfolded it downwards, grimacing as he almost caught his fingers in one of the metal joints. It slid down to the floor with a clank
“I don’t know where she is.”
“No matter. Just send me to wherever you sent her.”
Kizzie looked back at the door. “If you’re expecting me to write, I can’t. I don’t have the power. They’ve taken it away.”
“They can’t,” Alain replied, huffing as he extricated The Book. There was speed and precision in his movements. He knew what he wanted to do and came back down the ladder with ease, despite his load. “They can block you and they can stop you and they can make it difficult for you but they can never take away The Power. They didn’t give it, they don’t understand it and they can’t do anything about it.” He stopped, having flipped open the book on a teak table, and unclipped the top of a cheap ballpoint pen. “But I can use it. Perhaps to both of our benefits. Come here.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Kizzie. She kept her distance
“I told you and I warn you, I will not tell you again. Send me to wherever you sent her.”
“Who?”
“Come here now.”
“No!”
“Come here now! You are in no position to argue.”
“Why should I help you? I’ve got nothing to gain from this.” Kizzie took a step forwards and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m sick of all this. Nothing good can come of this. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe anyone anything. I made a mistake and I’ve been punished and that’s it.”
Alain seemed angry and he looked as though he were about to shout. But he controlled himself. Counted to ten. Stared at the floor. Looked up. “The monk you saw this morning, Kizzie. Do you know who he i
s?”
“No.”
“We both know there is another person here who shouldn’t be here, don’t we? Someone you created. Someone who has to go back to where they come from.”
Kizzie stopped crying. “What are you talking about?”
“The Master knows everything. The Master knows what is real and what’s not. He is in charge of removing people he knows are not real.” Alain sighed. “There’s nothing to be done now, Kizzie, except to help me. What’s done is done.”
“I don’t understand why I have to help you.”
“Because I can get you the time you need.”
Kizzie looked into the prefect’s eyes and saw he was telling the truth. “How long?”
“Enough.”
Kizzie sighed. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we’ll both walk out of here and you’ll find that you’re completely alone. You’ll never get the chance to say goodbye to your creation. You’ll always regret not writing one simple sentence.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Kizzie walked across to the book, took the pen and wrote what Alain told her to write. When she’d finished she closed the heavy covers and straightened up. Before she turned around she knew Alain had gone, but also that she was not alone
“Who’s there?”
In the bottle-green shadows under the steel library scaffolding a figure walked forwards. It was the monk she had seen in her bedroom that morning, hooded, cowled, shuffling with an irregular, painful-looking gait. “You have shown compassion, my dear.”
Kizzie saw the monk had two completely blue eyes. Pale blue, the entire eyeball, both. “Are you The Master?” she asked
“I am.” He nodded. “And you have earned yourself an hour before all your work must be destroyed.”
8
Will looked out over the cold, frozen expanse of the school grounds, the sun breaking just above the treeline, yawned and decided: Today is the day.
He turned back to the crackling fire and well-blotted pages on his night table and was glad to have finished the play. The two lovers escaped, as he would. Sometimes life was like that. And, besides, these days with the plague and the instability of those in power and the worries people had about food and their lives in general, who needed lovers to die? No, there must be a happy ending. Romeo and Juliet must live happily ever after, just as he and Bethsabe would!
Yes, sometimes good things do happen
Today is the day.
As he began to pack his clothes into the same knapsack he’d brought them in, Will couldn’t help but think how much he’d changed during his time at the school. He’d grown. The decision to leave home had been the right one
Did he feel guilty about leaving his wife and children? No. It was necessary. Perhaps his wife would not be happy about him finding love with another woman but she would have to understand. Besides, the glory he was bound for in London – hadn’t they all said it? He was a genius! – would be sufficient for her. She would have his name and his money. The children would be looked after. He would have done his job
“Are you leaving, sir?”
“I am,” said Will, looking at the boy in the doorway. “You?”
“No.”
Romeo was very thin and had a head of thick, dark hair. His eyes were bright from his reading. All he’d done since arriving at the school was study and learn. He’d told Will he wanted nothing more to do with the cruel world which had given him his love and taken her away. Instead he would take refuge in stories. In imaginary worlds. In his own imagination. “I am but a figment of God’s imagination,” he’d taken to saying
“Leave the books now, boy. You’ve studied well.” Will forced a pair of boots into the bag. “Besides, the weather is about to worsen again. The farmers in the Benbow last night could hardly drink for moaning. Blizzards the likes of which we’ve never seen are on the way, apparently. In a matter of hours.”
“I may stay here,” Romeo answered. I have nowhere else to go.
“You’ll freeze, boy.”
“So be it.”
Will locked eyes with him. “Don’t be too brave for your own good. There’s a big world out there, you know. Pack up your things and go out and find your fortune.”
“There’s nothing out there for me,” came the answer. “It’s all here.” He tapped his heart
“If it’s love that’s got you so down, love can put you back on your feet,” Will said. He straightened and slapped his hand against his own forehead. He was completely bald on the crown now. What was left of his hair was wispy brown and curled around his ears, half-obscuring the rakish gold ring he still insisted on wearing. “I forgot to tell Mrs Sharpe about the tunnel.”
“I can do it, sir.”
Will thought about this and shook his head. “No, if you really intend on staying here, lad, read the play. It’s finished and I’d appreciate your comments. It’s your story, after all, in circumstance if not setting.”
Romeo walked across to the table. Turning the pile of crisp papers over he began to read from the final Exeunt backwards. “But – they live?” he exclaimed, turning to see his Master had left the room. Snow was beginning to fall again, some of it drifting silently in through the open doorway. “But they cannot live,” Romeo said to himself, going back to the script, shaking his head
Will reached the Master’s house and banged on the door. “Mrs Sharpe! Mrs Sharpe!”
“She’s away drowning kittens,” came a voice, and Will turned to see Ezekiel the Reeve glaring out at him from under a snow-speckled hood
“I see, sir.”
“You’re young Will, aren’t you?”
“I am, sir.”
“Well, I was coming to see you, too. You’ll best be making your way off to town soon. The road’ll be impassable in an hour.”
Will looked up at the sky. A few flakes but it didn’t look so bad. “The London Road, sir?”
“That’s it. Those who wish to stay should make themselves known to me at the inn. I’d thank you to be kind enough to pass on the message.” He turned his horse. “Must hurry. Much to do.”
“Thank you kindly, good sir. Godspeed.”
Will wandered out towards the frozen-over allotments and black pond, the grass whitening before his eyes. Suddenly the air was wild with snow
As he was about to turn back towards the ruins and his room, he noticed, through the trees, out on the meadow, a dark shape in the snow. Was it Mrs Sharpe again? With Bess perhaps?
He glanced back. The snow was falling but not yet critical. “Damn it.” He strode out past the pond, over the furrows, by the stumpy, dying plants and noticed, coming closer, that what was in the meadow was a human figure. A nude human figure. Short, dark hair and bare flanks. “Romeo!” Will shouted. “Romeo, no!”
He should have known the boy was unstable, of unsound mind. What was he doing thinking he could look after someone like that? He had abandoned his own children and now he thought he could take care of a troubled youth?
Will stopped and a series of terrible thoughts crossed his mind. Leave him there, exposed. Let him perish. Leave him to God. It’s for the best. The boy was damaged. Unfixable. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Will turned to go back – wild billows of snow blocking out his views of the remains of the Abbey – but immediately knew he couldn’t do it. That boy was like him. They were brothers, as all of humanity were brothers and sisters. Yes, the boy was like a son, but also like a brother. Of the same mind. In need of the same help. Love
Will turned and began to run through the blizzard. He wanted to cry out but the wind was too strong in his face: my word, where had this evil storm come from? The top of the world? Angry at having been alone for so long?
As he finally reached Romeo, guided by the flash of black hair he saw through the white, broken blankets, he was shocked to see the figure in the snow was a girl. A young girl. Naked, cold, almost purple. She had a glassy, dazed expression on her face. “H-he-hello,” she tried, tho
ugh trembling lips
Will took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. As she tried to pull it around herself he noticed she was carrying something in her hand. An acorn, was it? It seemed very green, almost lurid, against her grey, dead-looking palm and the snow
“Who are you? What’s your name, lass?”
Gillian looked at him and a light shone behind her cold face as the answer came to her. “Juliet.”
“Juliet?” Will looked about, was this some kind of joke? He thought of his play. Who had put the maid up to this? With the wind beginning to howl, he made the girl stand up and shouted into her face, “Whom do you seek here?”
“Romeo.”
“Romeo,” Will repeated. “Of course, of course. Ha! Why would it be anything else?”
Gillian smiled and seemed blissfully ignorant of the weather. “Oh! Is he here?”
Will looked down at her bare legs and purple feet. “You must come with me. You’re going to freeze to death but you’re not going to freeze to death here and now.”
Without ceremony he lifted the girl in his arms and carried her, stamping through the snow until he saw a treeline and realised he’d got his bearings wrong. He was at the outer limits of the school, at The Dips, where they’d buried the Master. But – oh! – yes! There was a small storage area here, a tiny shelter. That would do
He ploughed on, the girl murmuring against his neck. Finally the faint outline of his goal came into view. This was where they kept the plough and reins dry, out of the rain. It was little more than three pieces of vertical wood and a metal sheet for a roof but it was something. It would do until he could get back to the Abbey and his room and bring blankets
There was already a layer of snow, like icing on a cake, on the iron roof and Will sought out sacks, boards and anything else that might keep the girl warm. “You must stay here. Try to keep warm. I will go and bring your Romeo to you.”
“He is here?” Gillian asked. She was so numb she was in no pain. “Really?”
“I will get him. Stay here. Try to stay warm. Save your energy. Stay warm, I beseech you. I beg you, remain here. I will bring your love. Stay!”
Cold Fire Page 14