by Amy Lilwall
Reg was quiet.
‘Don’t you think that would have been the right thing to do?’
He took a deep breath. ‘Isabel, I can’t even begin to understand what eighteen years of complete confinement can do to someone, but my knee-jerk reaction to what you’ve just said is that you shouldn’t repeat it in front of your parents.’
‘I don’t know my parents.’ Isabel looked at the table and flicked a crumb from just in front of her.
‘Oh Quail!’ Reg sat back in his chair.
‘—.’
‘Drew adores you. They both do.’
‘I know,’ she mumbled. ‘I should never have said all of that… It’s just that—’
Isabel ducked under the table and Reg spun around as they heard banging on the window.
Two men stood there, noses pressed up against the glass, white coats hanging from the crook of each elbow.
‘We’re closed!’ called Reg, getting up and tugging at his collar, pulling the cord at the edge of the window so that the blinds gushed shut.
‘I think they saw me,’ said Isabel from under the table. ‘What should we do?’
‘No, no…’ muttered Reg, eyes fixed on the window. ‘They didn’t.’
‘They did!’
‘Don’t worry about it, Quail. Finish your cake.’
* * *
Susan arrived at a front door that seemed to be exactly the same as hers, maybe a bit dirtier. She put her hand out to knock, oh, it was already open. She knocked anyway. Hamish stood on the other side, his look changing from scowl to surprise. Afterwards, she thought to herself that she must have given him the same look. Reaching something down, indeed. Mrs Lucas must have been tipped off somehow… Maybe it was the skinny one, Chips, who had gone to her house while Jinx stayed with Blankey.
She stood on tiptoes to peer past Hamish’s shoulder, about to open her mouth but he nodded her inside without saying a word. More important conversations were happening at the bottom of the stairs. A very large man sat on the last but one step. His head bent forward to show a bald patch, the collar of his grey tee-shirt was yellowy. He looked like he was talking to a man with a digital clipboard who squatted in front of him, until the yellow-collar man let out a loud sob. Susan twitched. The man slowly lifted his head, a sob trapped in his open mouth. He looked at her, a string of saliva hanging between his top and bottom teeth. One clear rivulet ran out of his nose. His eyelashes were clumped together from being wet and his cheeks were all shiny.
‘That’s the man who took Blankey,’ was whispered into her ear. Susan looked at the whisperer; it was Hamish; he had his work-face on, but Susan noticed a slight nose-wrinkle as he looked around the room.
‘Where is Blankey?’
Hamish flicked her a glance as if he hadn’t heard what she’d said but then nodded towards the living room. Another man, a young man, dressed in black paced backwards and forwards in front of the living-room door, speaking into his wrist. ‘Best get here straight away, really. What’s that? I’m not sure how that would work, you’re more likely to know than me. I mean, he seems…’ He dropped his voice. ‘He seems like… not a crack-pot but the proper expression. Mentally unstable, that’s it. Well, she’s not dead so it’s your call whether or not you tell them to bring the police. Alright then.’ He stepped out of the way to let Susan pass. ‘What’s that? Say that again…’
The room was empty except for one armchair that faced away from the living-room door and towards the window. Lumpy and patchy and blonde – camel-like. Susan could see one of Mrs Lucas’s elbows sticking out from its side. ‘It’s Susan; I don’t want to make you jump.’
The shadows around the chair changed as the occupant tried to turn to see Susan, but failed. The camel chair was too big. Susan walked around its edge. ‘Hello. Oh goodness!’
‘Hello, dear.’
‘Is she alright?’
Mrs Lucas cradled Blankey. Her cheekbones jutted and purple stains underlined her eyes.
‘She’s very weak,’ whispered the old lady. ‘She’s eaten a little bit. I’m just waiting for the doctor to come.’
Susan nodded. ‘You must be so relieved.’
‘I am.’
Susan glanced around her ankles. ‘Apparently Jinx is here too, have you seen her?’
‘No.’ The old lady looked concerned. ‘Are you sure she’s here?’
Susan glanced behind her, then nodded.
‘Oh dear, maybe she’s still upstairs.’ Mrs Lucas tried to get up.
‘No, no… Don’t get up. Stay with Blankey.’
A cry came from the hallway and Susan spun her head towards the door.
She looked back at Mrs Lucas; they raised their eyebrows at each other.
‘They’re trying to get him outside,’ Mrs Lucas mouthed.
‘Oh,’ Susan mouthed back. ‘Do you think I can go upstairs?’
The old lady looked towards the hallway then blinked at Susan.
Susan gave a firm nod. ‘I’m going to see if I can go upstairs.’
‘Alright.’
Four new faces had appeared in the hall, two of which looked like security guards. Hamish was trying to be heard above the man who roared and sobbed intermittently. ‘Look, he’s obviously not well; I really think we should call the psychiatric unit.’
‘We’ll call them once we get him into the van.’
‘Yes, but, they would give him a sedative to calm him down.’
‘We’ll get him into the van, don’t you worry about that. There’s enough of us.’
‘But he’s stressed!’
The two guards continued to pull on the still-sobbing man’s arms.
‘No!’ said Hamish. ‘This is inhumane; I’m going to have to intervene. I’m calling the psychiatric unit.’
‘Sir, we have the situation under control.’
But Hamish was already talking into his wrist.
‘Sir, this man is a criminal,’ smiled a tall woman with glasses. Susan eyed the black uniform and the strange remote control device she was shaking at Hamish. Perhaps it was the woman she’d seen in Mini-Me’s. Difficult to be sure… ‘The officer just told you the situation was under control. He’s used to dealing with situations like this.’
‘Hamish is a professional, too.’ But no one seemed to hear Susan. Except for Hamish.
‘It’s alright, Susan. Leave it.’ Hamish made his hand into an open beak and closed it gently, signalling her to be quiet.
Susan looked away before he could finish the gesture. Prick. He deserved to be told off by the glasses-lady. She hovered at the living-room door moving from one foot to the other, every so often looking behind her towards the old lady to avoid staring at all the pulling and crying. Mrs Lucas had leaned right around her chair to see if she’d managed to get upstairs; go on! She nodded towards Susan. Right, it was no good; she’d have to go up there. ‘Erm, could I just…’
The doctor arrived at the door and Susan stepped aside so that he could go straight to Blankey. She bit her lip, oh dear, now she’d get caught up in having to listen to the doctor and be all concerned. She tried to catch Hamish’s eye, but he stood staring at the guards as they pulled the man. He screwed up his lips, walked in a little circle, and stared again. Susan swallowed and went over to the stairs. ‘Excuse me, could I just squeeze past, please?’
The security guards stopped trying to calm the man and looked at her. One of them blinked and shook his head as if what she’d asked had been so stupid that it hurt his eyes. ‘Why?’ asked the glasses-woman, eventually.
‘Because there are two more littlers up there.’
The woman turned to the two men dressed in black jump suits. ‘Did you pick up two others?’
They looked at each other and shook their heads; then the young one with the combat trousers spoke: ‘But we was only scouting her chip. And that skinny one.’ He pointed towards the living room. ‘There might be others up there. We wouldn’t know because we only put one set of chip data on the radar
.’
‘Well, could we please go and look?’ said Susan. ‘I’m pretty sure that there are two of them.’
* * *
‘I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, do you know that?’ Drew sat on the arm of the sofa and looked down at Watty who was tossing cashews into an opened mouth. Every other throw was missed entirely and he giggled to himself as his hand went delving for the tiny white moons between legs or under cardigan buttons.
‘Oh, not this again…’ Watty crunched, brushing his hands on his trousers before looping both arms around Drew’s waist. He pulled the dressing-gowned bundle down to the sofa.
‘What?’
‘Another sad little moment.’
‘But she was seen, Watty.’
‘I know,’ Watty sighed. ‘I know.’
Drew picked at a frayed corner of the dressing-gown belt and looked over towards Jasper. ‘He was your gift to me.’
Watty laughed a surprised laugh. ‘Yes. Funny that over the years he’s become Isabel’s.’
‘Watty?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s not anyone’s. He’s his own dog with his own personality.’
‘Well, yes, but… Good heavens, you are emotional, aren’t you?’
‘We can’t own him.’
‘Well, no. Parents can’t own their children, but they are responsible for them.’
‘He’s too old and dog-like to be a child.’
‘He’s a friend. We let him hang out with us and we give him food. He even sleeps in our bed.’
‘He does not.’
Watty scoffed. ‘He does.’
‘I don’t let him because you don’t like that.’
‘I hear him jump off the bed as soon as I open the front door.’
‘I have to help him down now…’
‘Ah… The accomplice.’ Watty clicked his tongue at Jasper, who heaved the front of himself up from the floor and pricked up his ears. ‘You know, Drew, you can only let someone be free if they actually want it. I don’t think he’d go.’
Drew was quiet for a moment; then: ‘Do you think Isabel would go?’
Watty’s lips folded themselves inwards. ‘Apart from anything else, she’d be too frightened.’
‘I think she’s been more of a pet than Jasper.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘At least Jasper wants to be here.’
‘Of course she wants to be here. But Isabel is an exceptional case, darling. You’d rather have her existing and protected than never born…’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Well then.’
‘I just think that…if anything happens to me…’
‘Nothing is going to happen to you.’
‘I know, I know. But just say that it all came out – then she wouldn’t have to hide any more, would she?’
Watty frowned at the smartphone that lay at an angle to the coffee table’s edge. One silly moment, one little guilt-haemorrhage and the house would be full of press and, and scientists and Isabel would be international news. ‘Come on, face-ache,’ said Watty. ‘It’s a lovely day and you’re ruining it. Let’s go for a picnic.’
‘I don’t really feel like it.’
‘Well, Isabel, Jasper and I think that we are overdue a family outing. Let’s set up down by the stream where the cows are.’
Drew’s eyebrows arched. ‘Are there cows down there?’
‘There are.’
‘She’d love that.’
‘She was the one who sniffed them out while we were blackberrying.’
‘—.’
‘Drew, it’s been at least three days. Stop worrying. Did you really expect to get through the whole of Isabel’s life without any near misses?’
Drew’s eyes closed as the words looped themselves out of one ear and back into the other. The whole of Isabel’s life. The whole of Isabel’s life. Isabel was eighteen. She had at least another sixty years of her life to get through; would they all be lived out inside this house? That was only an existence, that wasn’t a life. And then what would she do when they were both… Well… And Jasper? Drew’s eyes opened and rested on Jasper’s white whiskers. She’d be all alone.
Watty prodded Drew in the hip. ‘Get up, then. My stomach needs quiche.’
‘That’s a good idea, is there any left?’ Drew mumbled.
‘I hope so! Mmm… And cottage cheese with some of that blackberry jam.’
‘You mean the soup?’
‘No. I mean the jam.’
‘If it were anything nameable it would be soup.’
‘Coulis. That’s my final offer.’
‘Ha! A fruit sauce!’
‘It’s delicious and you’re jealous.’ Watty leaned forward on the sofa and strained as Drew almost fell from his lap. ‘Time to move. Quail!’ he called. ‘We’re going for a picnic!’
* * *
The man and the glasses-woman looked towards the stairwell, then pushed past the wrestling bundle in front of the stairs and jogged up. Susan followed close behind, rounding the landing and following the flaps of a black coat as they disappeared into a room on the left. Susan stopped in the doorway to see one bottom sticking out from under the bed. The woman with the glasses gazed down at it with her hands on her hips.
‘Come on, my lovely,’ strained the bottom.
‘Is she under there?’ Susan strode over to the bed and crouched down beside it. ‘She’s scared! Jinx, Jinx, it’s me, sweetie.’ Two other little hands grabbed hold of her ankle just as the bottom was backing out. ‘I’ve got her! Oh, and Bonbon, have you been here all this time?’ She sat back on her heels with the two littlers sitting on her forearm, watching the bottom. Jinx reached towards it.
The head that belonged to the bottom emerged, then an arm, then a hand. Inside the hand flopped a little being with skin so grey he was almost transparent and contrasted horribly with whatever that brown crusty stuff was on the tips of his fingers and toes. Purple smudged across his under-eye and sooty shadows had painted themselves from his ears to his nose. ‘This one doesn’t look so good,’ said the man.
Jinx fought in Susan’s grasp. Susan helped her onto the floor.
The woman with the glasses bleeped a gun-shaped object over Chips, then appeared to read the screen that she held in her other hand. ‘He belongs to this address,’ she said. ‘I’ll take him down to the doctor; he’ll probably have to come back to the centre with the other one.’
‘What other one?’ said Susan, tightening her grip on Bonbon and plucking Jinx back up from the floor.
‘Mrs Lucas’s.’ The woman scrolled down her screen with her finger.
‘Blankey?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at Susan before turning to her colleague. ‘Apparently he was a gift from the gentleman’s daughter, after he lost his wife.’
‘Ah. Companionship,’ the man mumbled, upright on his knees, holding Chips in front of his eyes and turning him this way and that. ‘There’s a surprise.’
The woman’s mouth travelled around to her left cheek. Susan guessed that this was a smile. She caught Susan watching her and fanned half of her mouth out towards the right cheek.
‘But why would you want to take Blankey?’ Again, Jinx managed to scramble down Susan’s leg and was re-plucked from the floor. This time Susan stood up.
‘To check for psychological damage,’ she gushed.
‘Tilda!’ the man yelled from below.
The woman winced, then resumed her smile.
‘In that case, I’ll drive Mrs Lucas so that she can stay with her.’
‘You can’t do that.’ The woman turned towards the door. ‘But she’ll have her back within the week.’ Susan stood in front of her.
‘But that poor lady has been so panicked these last few days. She’s very elderly.’
‘Yes, but I have to do what’s best for the littler. This kind of thing is detailed in the contract Mrs Lucas signed when she purchased her.’ The woman lifted her shoulders and sig
hed them back down again with a smile.
‘But what if she doesn’t come back?’
‘What makes you think that she won’t?’
‘Because she might communicate something that she shouldn’t.’ The words came out before Susan could stop them.
The woman looked across at her colleague before slitting her eyes at Susan. He stood swaying slightly, as he filled out some sort of report on his tablet. Chips’s face stuck out of a tiny, hooded sleeping bag that nestled in a pouch attached to his chest. The man stopped typing to raise one eyebrow at the glasses-woman. ‘Right,’ she said. Her gaze flicked to Bonbon and Jinx. ‘Batch Twenty are they?’
‘Erm…’ Susan panicked. ‘I don’t know.’
The woman took out her gun-thing again and flashed it at the two littlers who then stood squinting their eyes and shaking their heads. She flipped the cover back from her screen and read it again. ‘Well, for your information, they are Batch Twenty.’ She flicked the screen off and looked straight at Susan. ‘How did you know that these two were hidden upstairs?’ Her question singsonged upwards.
Susan took a deep breath and made herself taller. ‘My husband told me Blankey had been found upstairs,’ she lied.
The woman flipped back the cover on her screen again and verified something before saying: ‘But you’re not actually married.’
Susan baulked. ‘You are on such a power trip.’
‘Not at all. I just don’t get why you’d call him your “husband” when he’s not.’
‘Am I allowed to ask you about your husband or wife?’
‘I’m not discussing that with you…’
‘Because I certainly feel extremely bloody sorry for them.’
‘Language,’ mumbled the woman’s colleague, still typing.
‘I’m sorry, I just don’t see why you have to take Blankey away.’
‘And Chips,’ said the woman, glancing at Jinx then back at Susan. ‘We’ll most certainly have to take Chips away… And the chances are he won’t be coming back.’
Bonbon realized what was going on and held on to one of Jinx’s hands tightly. Wet streaks shined their way down to Jinx’s mouth, which had turned into an upside-down kidney shape. That other she-one, with those silly circles on her face, was trying to make Jinx clap, how silly. Jinx had only been clapping for one evening out of her entire life; she wouldn’t know how to do it just like that… She’d probably try to shout something or wave her arms about. Or even dance. But she wouldn’t clap her hands…