The butler arrives promptly. I follow him as he walks across hallways and rooms that I am already familiar with. We are in the ancient passage with the stained glass windows. I know where we are going. He opens the heavy wooden door at which I eavesdropped yesterday. This part of the house is more lived-in, and we stop in what must be the drawing room; its enormity is emphasised by the high ceiling and the long bay windows. The butler leaves without saying a word. I recognise Sofia’s touch in the soft, luxurious furniture, the warm lamplight, the marble mantelpiece, and the abundance of red and gold. On the other hand, there is an element that is alien to Sofia, at least to the Sofia I know. A lack of finesse. What I see before me suggests the accumulation of valuable objects over many centuries, without any real understanding of their value. On the walls hang various paintings, even originals by Van Dyck and Constable, but they’ve been hung at random, in a way that doesn’t allow you to really appreciate them. The room is also crammed with statues, male and female nudes in bronze and white marble. Besides, there is an abundance of small fossils. They are everywhere, on windowsills, on the shelves, around the fireplace, in groups of tens or alone, wherever a spot could be found for them.
Now I’m certain this is Sebastian’s parents’ house, the place Sofia moved to, where she found solace after her first escape. The place I dreamed of so often as a teenager, the place I yearned to visit and begged Sofia to bring me to, but she never did.
I can hear my heart beating in my throat; my head feels feverish and heavy. Hesitantly, I sit down on an upholstered chair in front of the fireplace. I’m alone. I listen to the creaking sounds that only old houses make, witnesses to hundreds of years of history.
I’m startled by a whistling noise.
The heavy armchair in front of the bay window slowly turns around. In it sits a woman wrapped in blankets, supported by cushions. Her long dark hair falls on her shoulders in knots. The armchair she sits in is so deep it could almost swallow her up. I move closer. I recognise the piercing almond-shaped eyes, the high porcelain forehead. But as I look at her hollow face, I’m fearful. Sofia is thirty-seven now, but the wreck of a woman before me looks much older. Her skin is ashen and lined with pain. I can’t help but stare. She is fragile, the last word I would use to describe my sister. Her noble beauty has faded, her fire dwindled to ashes.
‘Is that you, Sofia?’
There’s no answer. Her eyes are quietly fixed on me.
‘What’s happened to you?’
She motions with her hand to the armchair opposite her inviting me to sit, but I hesitate. In the dim light I still can’t see her face clearly. When she finally speaks, she sounds like someone who has just returned from the grave.
‘I wasn’t sure this day would come in time – that I would be still around,’ she says, pausing to cough. ‘But I’m glad it happened this way.’ She scrutinises me, her eyes glinting with curiosity. I make as if to come closer, to give her a hug or kiss, but she lifts a hand that stops me in my tracks.
‘Sofia. Are you sick?’
I’d still like to put my arms around her, but her reserve is like a force field, keeping me at bay. I want to ask so many things, like what she meant by still being around. Is she dying? Finally I take a seat in the armchair opposite her. We’re close now, only separated by a low coffee table.
‘I’m pleased to see you’ve become a fine young woman,’ she says. ‘Tell me about yourself.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Are you married?’
‘Yes, his name is Philip but–’
‘Any children?’
I shake my head.
‘I don’t have anyone or anything now.’
‘Is this what you came to tell me?’
‘Where’s Sebastian?’
‘Wherever he is, you won’t meet him there. Not for a long while, I suppose.’
‘He died? God, you should have contacted me. And I didn’t know you were ill. You have always been so full of life, so confident. We thought you were happy, living the high life as an Owner.’
‘We thought?’
‘I mean Philip and I. Mum and Dad thought the same, but… They are gone now.’
‘I know.’ Her echoing voice is matter of fact, empty.
‘You know?’
‘Tell me more about your husband,’ she says. She presses a button on her armrest, and the thick curtain opens behind her. Light pours in, transforming the heavily furnished room. Sofia’s face hasn’t become any lighter, though.
‘Actually, Philip’s the reason I’ve come–’
‘I didn’t think for a minute you were interested in me. You must be in deep shit, princess.’
The name princess awakes long-forgotten memories. Nothing has changed; she sees straight through me. I’m unable to say a word.
‘So?’
‘I’m honestly worried about you, Sofia. What has happened to you?
‘It’s money you want, isn’t it?’ She’s evidently growing impatient.
‘Look, Sofia.’ I begin nervously. ‘I know we had our misunderstandings and the way we parted was painful. I accept my responsibility for that. It still haunts me. I rarely had a day when I could breathe freely, without wanting to undo it. I’m truly, honestly sorry.’
‘How much do you want?’
‘Since then we’ve lost Mum and Dad. I’m an orphan and so are you, Sofia.’
‘You would never have come here if I didn’t have the money you need.’ She wears her ‘don’t try to fool me’ face, and finally I see something of the old Sofia.
I continue. ‘And now that I’ve seen you, I’m really worried about you.’
She sighs deeply.
‘I wish you would stop lying to me, princess. You’re making it much harder for yourself.’
‘Yes, I really need your help. It’s a question of life and death.’
‘Finally.’ She reaches forward for a glass of amber-coloured liquid, but is overcome by her coughing. I begin to get out of my seat to try to help, but the coughing stops.
‘To answer your question, yes, I’m dying,’ she says. ‘No!’ She holds her hand up as in defence. ‘Spare me your pity.’
I lean back in the armchair, forcing my shoulders to relax.
‘What you said, about not having forgotten that day, it’s the same for me, princess.’ She pauses but I know there’s more to come. ‘On the day I left for good, after our fight, you destroyed my last chance of happiness. You gave me no other choice but to return here and become an Owner, become this. I find it amusing that you want my money in return.’
My skin turns cold.
‘Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think it was for Mum and Dad after you fled?’
‘After you forced me to flee.’
‘I forced you?’
‘Your behaviour, your hostility. Just wait till you hear the full story.’
‘But you hated us and the way we lived, anyway. We had our fight, and yes, it was horrible, but then you returned to your glorious Owner life. What else is there to tell me?’
The storm comes unexpectedly, leaving the room dark. Sofia waves for more whiskey. I lean forward and pour an inch more of the golden liquid. She tells me to bring her some ice from the cabinet. It’s eerily quiet, the only sound in the room is the clinking of the ice cubes. With shaking hands, I hand over the drink to her, but she’s not looking at me. She is watching a tree outside the window, a massive old oak tree, whose canopy is shaken and twisted by the raging gale. The wind whistles through the house.
‘Put some more logs on the fire!’ she says. ‘I’ve become ridiculously old-fashioned these days.’
I have never lit a real fire. All the fireplaces I’ve ever seen were electric ones, even in the Dignitorium. Sofia has to talk me through the process. When it’s done, I move away quickly.
The fireplace is so big I feel I might fall into it if I’m not careful. I sit back down. Watching Sofia, I know she’s collecting her thoughts to say something important, probably preparing for a long speech. My stomach is in knots and will stay so until she explains what she meant that I’d forced her to return to the Owners. Or is she playing with me? If she wants vengeance, there’s no point in my being here.
The heat from the fire fills up the room and makes its way into my bones. This is the last chance for me and Philip. While I’m enjoying the warmth of this luxurious house, Philip is preparing for death. I won’t leave until I get what I came for. I listen to the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the Edwardian clock in a wooden cabinet to my right.
‘Pour yourself a drink,’ she commands.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘You’ll need it, princess. This will take a while.’
I’d better not resist. I get up and go to the drinks cabinet. Dad used to call me princess. Princess Alice. But he said it so lovingly. It’s been twenty years since I heard this other kind of princess, usually used for spoilt kids. I make myself a vodka with ice, not much, just enough to calm my ragged nerves. This might be a long war.
Three
Sofia puts her feet up on a red velvet-covered footstool, leans back in her armchair and starts to speak.
‘After my first escape from home, I found myself in a world most people can only dream of. This was before our fight. Even miles away, I could sense our parents’ worry and your jealous curiosity. I enjoyed a lavish lifestyle with Sebastian, from the moment I moved with him into his city pad. He brought me here, to his parents’ house. They seemed to like me, probably because I had a strong personality, unlike their son.’
‘I often wondered how you were capable of doing such a thing.’
‘What thing?’
‘Marrying Sebastian for his wealth, while feeling contempt for him.’
‘Here we go again. You’re speaking of something you have no idea about.’
‘Don’t tell me you loved Sebastian for something other than his Owner status.’
‘You might find it hard to believe, but behind his extreme shyness, Sebastian was highly intelligent. He was passionate about the environment and geology, fossils for example.’ She gestures around the room. ‘We used to collect them together, travelling to the other end of the world wherever we could excavate them.’
‘But you didn’t love him for your common interest in fossils, did you?’
‘You should drop the malice, princess. It doesn’t suit you. Of course, I would have dated the devil himself for that lifestyle. But I wouldn’t have married anyone just for that. Anyway, back to when I first escaped. Sebastian’s gentle kindness had a calming effect on my turbulent nature. Also, his parents treated me like family; they welcomed me at their dinner parties. I was popular, because of my big mouth and my confident beauty. With Sebastian, I travelled around the world, along with an entourage of servants. We hopped on and off his private jet whenever a place took my fancy. What struck me was the way we were treated, with the greatest respect and admiration wherever we went. It took me years to figure out that it was no more than obedient fear. Oh, you have no idea what it feels like, coming from your mediocre lifestyle. It’s like you’re above everyone, like fresh and immortal blood has been injected into your veins.
‘Sebastian’s parents made regular visits to the Primavera Club. Do you remember how curious we were about the white windowless skyscraper as children? It turned out it was a place of mystery even for Sebastian. We were desperate to discover it, but there’s no entry below the age of twenty-one. One day Sebastian had this crazy idea that we could sneak into the Primavera Club with fake IDs. It was more exciting than anything I expected from him.’
She peers out the window, squinting. Hearing the wind rattling the windows, she pulls her jumper tight around her waist. There’s a long pause before she continues. When I realise how impatient I am to hear the rest of the story, I feel ashamed. While I’m listening to Scheherazade’s tales, Philip is going through unimaginable agony, alone.
‘What do you think there is? In the Primavera Clubs?’ Sofia asks.
‘Casinos, bars?’
She rolls her eyes.
‘Spas?’
‘Like everyone else, all I knew about the Primavera Clubs is that they were the playground of the Owners. Good fun, I thought, and I hoped there might be some exclusive form of entertainment based on futuristic technology and maybe some drugs that would restore the high, of which I urgently needed a fresh dose. I wanted to be a part of the elite.’
I lean closer. I’m so curious, I’ve almost forgotten what I came for. I don’t have the courage to ask questions, we just listen to the fire and the wind and the creaking of the old building. The oak tree beyond the lawn looks as if it could be uprooted at any moment. Sofia’s trying to find the right words, to make her speech as powerful as possible.
‘We were wrong about the place.’ There’s triumph in her voice as she continues. ‘All of us spenders were wrong about it all along. It’s not a club for recreation, or at least not as we understand it. Sebastian managed to get two fake IDs. We were disappointed from the moment we arrived, for there was nothing glamorous about the white skyscraper. No spas, bars or anything glitzy. Just dark felt-lined corridors and a long line of doors, opening onto windowless rooms.
‘The first room we went into was some kind of screening room. We joined a dozen others who were already in their seats. We sat in the corner, feeling disappointed that it was just a cinema. The other viewers were cheering on a hunter in the woods. Sebastian and I recognised the hunter as a friend of Sebastian’s parents, Walter, an unlikeable, red-faced man. He wore a dark green uniform and was walking through the woods with a rifle. At first I wondered why he wasn’t running after his prey. He was just sniffing around, wearing his usual grin. He circled around the trees, looked up and down, called out. He did nothing in a hurry. When he came to a red fence, I realised why. The forest was entirely surrounded and enclosed by the fence. The wolf had no chance. It was only a question of time. I found the film utterly boring and I was about to ask Sebastian if we could leave when I saw it. It was not a wolf. It was a young man, naked. He disappeared among the trees, and the hunter walked after him, slowly, clearly enjoying prolonging the man’s suffering. Every time there was a glimpse of the victim, the audience cheered. Finally, Walter had him cornered by the fence. He still moved slowly, relishing the look of terror in the young man’s eyes. The audience cheered and whistled even louder. I glanced at Sebastian. He was sickened by it, too. Then I saw him, the victim, from up close. He was a boy, not a man. He couldn’t have been older than fourteen. His leg was bleeding heavily, but he was alive. Walter had shot him in the leg deliberately so that his agony could be enjoyed by the viewers for longer. That did it for me. I ran out through a small side door. It led to a tiny room, lined with marble sinks, into one of which I vomited. Part of me wanted to go home but I also found myself becoming bloodthirsty. I wanted to see more. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity, even if I had to force myself.
‘The second room we entered was a little theatre. On the stage a young woman sat tied to a chair. Next to her stood a man armed with surgical tools, who was following instructions from the audience. He worked slowly, deliberately, with an almost artistic precision. The woman’s blood-curdling screams were amplified by speakers, for the amusement of the audience. Her hair was honey blonde, shoulder length, like yours. I couldn’t stay long. The smell of fresh blood, thick in the air, was too much for me. Once again, I had to run out through a side door. Again, the sink was clean, unused before I left my stinking mark on it. That second room left me weak with shock. I understood straight away where the kidnapped people had gone. The reality made the idea of organ trafficking seem like a fairy tale.’
The hair rises on my skin.
‘Everyone thinks that the Low Spenders are abducted for their organs. They blame the High Spenders,’ she says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. ‘And that’s how it should be: the truth will never come to light, and you Mid Spenders will always have a reason to hate and condemn High Spenders.’
It feels like a blow to the head. I remember Joshua, one of my favourite students, with his brown eyes that were always glowing with enthusiasm, his keenness to study hard to become a vet. And the other two kids in my school whom I hadn’t taught, Samir Khan and his younger sister, Aliya. Were they separated? Or did the sicko prefer them to be tortured together? What was on Samir’s mind in his last conscious moments? I can see him trying to protect Aliya until his dying breath. And the news, never saying but always suggesting that High Spenders had commissioned desperate Zone residents to carry out the abductions, for the organ trade.
‘What’s the truth, then?’ My voice is breaking up.
She ignores my question.
‘Sofia! That notorious kidnapping in the Mid-Spender area happened to kids from my school. One of the victims was my student.’
She nods.
‘That was the day when the son of a prestigious Owner turned eighteen. And that was the birthday gift from his daddy.’
‘Birthday gift?’
‘Classier victims, not just Low Spenders as before.’
‘So there are no organ robberies at all?’
‘Why would there be? Organ transplants happen legally, in hospitals.’
‘And the donors are Dignitorium residents, right? So all those poor kids had to die just to entertain Owners in the Primavera Club!’
‘Finally you get it,’ she says. ‘But I’ve told you only the milder parts of what I saw. There are other rooms in the Primavera Clubs. I’ve seen them only briefly; they made me disgusted with humankind forever. I would give anything to be able to stop the visions haunting me.’
‘How could this be allowed to happen?’
‘I suppose it’s a rhetorical question,’ she says. ‘Nevertheless, even the Owners are subject to restrictions. That birthday gift caused a big stir. The most powerful Owners got together and rebuked the father of the boy for being so irresponsible.’
Wolf Country Page 27