The Rapunzel Dilemma

by Jennifer Kloester

  ‘It must have been a lot more complicated than that,’ said Lily.

  He grinned. ‘Put it this way, my ideas are usually the easy bit.’

  ‘But you did it,’ said Lily, staring at the ceiling again. ‘Are they all faces?’

  ‘Not every time. Sometimes it’s geometric patterns, others it’s more like an abstract painting. The whole thing’s done using a computer program and the timing is deliberately random. It keeps people Under the Tiles longer, which is why Bolt agreed to have an art installation on the ceiling.’

  ‘Who’s Bolt?’ asked Lily. ‘And why does he want them here longer?’

  ‘Bolt owns the Third Dimension. He paid for the ceiling and he likes people to stay in here drinking lots of his expensive fifteen-pound cocktails.’

  As if on cue a waitress with silver dreadlocks wearing a skin-tight bodysuit came over and put down their drinks.

  ‘Thanks, Murphy,’ said Ronan.

  ‘They’re on the house,’ said the girl. ‘Bolt’s compliments, only he said you’d better drink them quick and make tracks.’

  ‘Bolt’s orders, you mean?’

  The girl nodded. ‘He’s just looking out for you, Ronan. He doesn’t want any trouble.’

  ‘Sure.’ He picked up his drink. ‘We’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve shown Lily the Dungeon. Don’t worry,’ he added as Murphy began to protest. ‘Credo’s got my back.’

  She left and Ronan handed Lily her drink. ‘Here’s to your first cocktail Under the Tiles,’ he said, clinking his glass against hers.

  Lily eyed her glass warily.

  It wasn’t that she was new to alcohol – she’d drunk at friends’ parties in New York and her grandmother had spent hours during the summer trying to teach Lily the difference between a shiraz and a pinot noir. It was more that she didn’t know what this particular drink meant. Ronan had said it was a ‘first’, but did that mean he assumed it was her first margarita? Or the first of several drinks for the night? Or something else entirely?

  She ran her finger around the salt-encrusted rim. It probably wouldn’t hurt to drink one drink before they went back to the Academy. A salt crystal stuck to her finger. She put it on her tongue, savouring the briny taste.

  ‘Bottoms up,’ said Ronan, and drank deeply.

  Lily took a mouthful and felt the sour taste of lemon and tequila wash over her tongue. She wondered if one margarita could make you tipsy. She had no desire to get drunk – it was bad enough that she’d already broken every rule in the Academy’s book.

  She took another sip, reminded herself that nobody knew, and gazed up at the ceiling again. The cubes were slowing down and this time it was a man’s face that appeared. Lily gasped and almost choked on her drink.

  The man had a strong, ruddy face with incredible cobalt-blue eyes under thick black eyebrows. But it wasn’t his face that had startled her. It was the red-and-green snake tattooed across his chest.

  ‘Isn’t that –’ she began.

  But Ronan grabbed her hand and said, ‘We’d better go.’ He downed the last of his drink and added, ‘Bolt’s okay, but I don’t want to make him mad by staying too long.’

  ‘But I haven’t finish–’

  ‘Come on.’ Ronan pulled Lily to her feet. ‘Let’s go see the Dungeon.’

  CHAPTER 30

  Ronan led Lily round the back of the bar and down a dark, narrow staircase. At the bottom he stopped outside a metal door.

  ‘Welcome to the Dungeon,’ he said, pulling a key ring from his pocket and unlocking the heavy door. ‘Bolt lets me use this as my studio, but only during the day. Since I’ve been at Pendragon, I don’t get here as often as I’d like.’ He pushed open the door and felt around for the light switch.

  A couple of fluorescent lights blinked on, bathing the room in a garish white light. It had a concrete floor and bare brick walls without any windows or even a skylight, but it was a big space and totally private. It seemed like the polar opposite of their round, airy tower, but Lily could see why Ronan liked it.

  In one corner, tins of house paint and row upon row of spray-paint cans surrounded a large easel. Beside it stood a workbench covered in tools and bits of wood; the concrete floor was covered with a thin layer of sawdust and wood shavings. A familiar smell invaded Lily’s nostrils.

  ‘Linseed oil!’ she said in a sudden flash of recognition.

  ‘What about it?’ asked Ronan.

  ‘I smelled it on you the first day we met. It reminded me of my dad playing polo, but I couldn’t work out why.’

  ‘They probably use it on the mallets,’ he replied. ‘I use it on my wood carvings.’ He pointed behind the door to a shelf on which sat a dozen small wooden sculptures. Along the wall beside the shelf were rows of canvases. There must have been at least fifty of them, all different sizes, stacked one behind the other with their backs to the room and sheets of heavy plastic between them.

  Lily would have liked to look at them, but her attention was caught by a shrouded object in the centre of the room.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked gesturing towards it.

  Ronan kicked the door shut with his foot and reached for a corner of the dustsheet. ‘Close your eyes,’ he commanded.

  Lily closed them obediently. She heard the swoosh of fabric, the tap of a keyboard and a sound she couldn’t identify, before Ronan said crisply, ‘Open.’

  She opened her eyes just as the lights went out.

  The room was plunged into a darkness unlike anything Lily had ever known. Thick, black and impenetrable, it sent a surge of panic through her. ‘R–Ronan,’ she cried, her hands groping through inky blackness. ‘I can’t see! Please – I’m frightened.’

  ‘Shhh – shhh,’ he whispered, and she felt him move in behind her and his arms come around her waist. He pulled her gently back against the long length of his body and breathed softly against her hair. ‘Watch.’

  Into the middle of the darkness came a tiny pinprick of light. It gradually grew brighter, then began to lengthen and grow. After a few seconds, Lily could see that the milky-white shape was a human crouched in the foetal position. As she watched, it slowly uncurled, its shape sharpening and expanding as it grew to adult size. Then the figure stood, lifted its arms and slowly turned towards her.

  It had a man’s face, full of anguish. He held out his arms beseechingly towards them and then, slowly, he began to tear. His feet and hands, arms and legs, split into long narrow strips of white until only his head and torso remained whole. Then he began to spin, the slender ribbons of torn limb whirling faster and faster until they lifted like a dancer’s skirt to hide his face. A moment later, the image began to blur and shrink – down, down, down – until all that was left was a single white dot.

  And then there was only darkness.

  Lily didn’t know how long she stood there blinking blindly into the dark. She felt empty, as if the torn, spinning figure had sucked something out of her.

  Only when Ronan stepped away and flicked on the lights did she speak.

  ‘What was that?’ she whispered.

  ‘A hologram,’ replied Ronan, coming back to her and taking her hand. ‘Are you okay? You look kind of pale.’

  ‘That man –’ she began. ‘He looked so – so –’

  ‘What?’ asked Ronan curiously.

  ‘Sad. Tortured. I don’t know.’ Lily looked up at him. ‘Did you do that? It was amazing.’

  ‘It’s something I’ve been working on for a while,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘You’re the first person I’ve shown it to.’

  ‘Really?’ Lily’s cheeks went pink with pleasure. ‘It should be in a gallery.’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ said Ronan, looking pleased. ‘In fact, I’ve got my very first exhibition starting next weekend.’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ enthused Lily.

  ‘It’s only a small local gallery – we passed it on the way here – th
e Axis Gallery, on the High Street. The owner’s doing Bolt a favour but he seems to think my work might sell. He’s even asked to see the hologram and if he likes it, he’ll include it in the exhibition.’

  ‘He’ll love it!’ declared Lily. ‘Can I come? To the opening, I mean?’

  He looked at her uncertainly. ‘Do you really want to? I mean, I’d love you to be there, but it’s next Saturday night, so –’

  ‘I’m there! I wouldn’t miss it for anything.’

  ‘Great,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘We’d better go,’ he added, opening the door.

  ‘Really?’ said Lily, disappointed. ‘I hoped you’d show me some of your paintings.’ She nodded to the canvases leaning against the wall.

  ‘It’ll have to wait until the exhibition,’ said Ronan, ushering her out the door and locking it behind him. ‘I’d love to show you now,’ he said, leading the way up the stairs, ‘but Bolt won’t like it if we’re here much longer.’

  ‘You got that right,’ growled a man’s voice, and they both looked up. Standing on the top step was the skinniest man Lily had ever seen. He was well over six feet tall with short, wiry brown hair, sallow sunken cheeks and a long nose that only seemed to accentuate the hollows under his eyes. He wore a pin-striped suit that hung off him like a discarded skin and he was smoking a large cigar.

  ‘Bolt!’ cried Ronan, jumping the last two steps and throwing his arms around the man.

  Bolt gave Ronan a perfunctory hug and pushed him away. ‘Out,’ he said. ‘Now.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, too, Bolt,’ said Ronan. ‘This is Lily,’ he added, holding out his hand and drawing her forward.

  ‘Hello, Mr . . . er . . . Bolt,’ said Lily, looking at him nervously.

  ‘Just Bolt,’ said Bolt and Ronan together.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Hi, Bolt.’

  He stared at her and then at Ronan. ‘Snake’s been here again.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ronan.

  ‘He’s up to something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t know. Word is he’s been asking about you.’

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘You gotta go.’

  ‘Back exit?’

  ‘Yeah, make it quick.’

  ‘We’re going.’

  ‘No coming here after dark again, Ronan, or I’ll be telling Alondra.’

  ‘No need for that,’ said Ronan. ‘And no need to tell Mam I was here tonight, either.’

  Bolt looked at him as though he was a particularly grubby worm. ‘I’m not daft,’ he said.

  ‘Okay. See you at the gallery Friday night.’ Ronan grinned. ‘Credo said you’d volunteered to help me set up.’

  He pulled Lily away before Bolt could reply and led her through the fire door in the rear of the building. There was a small yard out back with several rubbish bins in one corner and a tin shed in the other. Ronan pulled his flashlight from his pocket and shone the light on the shed. The door was chained and padlocked.

  ‘Hold this,’ he said, handing Lily the torch. Pulling his key ring from his pocket, he selected a key and pushed it into the padlock. There was a rumble of chain, he took back the torch and pulled open the shed door.

  ‘There she is,’ he said and Lily could hear the affection in his voice.

  ‘Who?’ demanded Lily. Surely Ronan didn’t have someone locked inside the shed? He’d mentioned his mother several times tonight, but – Lily took a firm hold on her imagination and stepped forward to see what Ronan was looking at.

  ‘It’s a motorbike!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yours?’ she asked as Ronan backed it out of the shed.

  ‘Since I was fourteen,’ said Ronan.

  ‘You’ve been riding since you were fourteen?’ asked Lily.

  ‘I’ve been around bikes since before I could walk, but I only began riding this baby last year. Mam isn’t a big motorbike fan, so before then it’s mostly been dirt bikes and motocross.’

  ‘It looks powerful,’ said Lily, running her finger across the Harley Davidson nameplate.

  Ronan nodded. ‘She’s an FXR Super Glide II, 1982 model. Bolt and I picked her up from Mam’s place Saturday before last. I turn nineteen in a couple of months, so I want to make sure she’s ready.’ He looked at Lily. ‘I was thinking of taking a ride down to Dover tomorrow and I wondered if maybe . . . Would you like to come with me? We could take a picnic.’

  Lily looked at the bike. ‘I’d love to have a picnic, but are you sure it’s safe?’

  ‘Totally. Like I said, I’ve been riding since I was a kid.’ He patted the pillion seat. ‘My dad gave me my first ride on this very seat when I was three.’

  ‘This was your dad’s bike?’ Lily touched the leather seat with renewed interest. ‘That’s nice, having something of your dad’s.’

  ‘That’s why Bolt’s letting me keep her here,’ said Ronan. ‘’Cause he and Dad and Credo were in the same motorcycle club together.’

  ‘Your dad was in a gang?’ she asked.

  ‘Sort of. Not exactly. The Vipers weren’t really a gang, more a bunch of guys who loved motorcycles – especially Harleys. They used to hang out together, ride together, stuff like that.’

  Lily laughed. ‘I can’t imagine Credo on a motorbike. He’s so big.’

  Ronan smiled faintly, ‘He doesn’t ride a bike now. Nor does Bolt. The club was disbanded about five years ago, after my dad –’ He paused. ‘After my dad left. Bolt owned the clubhouse building, and two years ago he and Credo turned it into this.’ He waved a hand at the nightclub behind them. ‘I’ve known them my whole life.’

  ‘So why don’t they want you around?’ asked Lily.

  Ronan pushed the motorbike back into the shed and busied himself with the chain and padlock.

  Lily waited.

  At last he turned and faced her. ‘There’s an all-night diner down the road. Do you feel like a burger?’

  The diner wasn’t crowded and the food came quickly. While they ate, Lily told Ronan about the Dane’s critique.

  ‘She sounds tough,’ said Ronan.

  ‘You got that right,’ sighed Lily.

  ‘Maybe she’s testing you.’

  ‘Or maybe I really am naïve and inexperienced and should give up acting altogether.’

  Ronan considered this. ‘Nah, I think she’s wrong. I reckon you know a lot more than you think.’

  ‘Not about you,’ replied Lily, putting down the remains of her burger. ‘Weren’t you going to tell me why Bolt and Credo don’t want you around?’

  Ronan slurped the last of his Coke, wiped his hands on his napkin and looked across the table at Lily. ‘It’s because they’ve known me since I was born. They like to look out for me and Mam, especially since . . . since Dad left.’

  ‘What was he like?’ asked Lily curiously.

  ‘Big and strong and he laughed a lot,’ said Ronan simply.

  ‘It must have been hard when he left.’

  ‘Yeah, it was.’ Ronan pulled out a pen and began doodling on his napkin. ‘Especially for Mam. She met Dad in Ireland when she was nineteen.’

  ‘A holiday romance.’ Lily nodded understandingly.

  Ronan shook his head. ‘No. Mam had come over from Spain to study nursing. It was her first-ever time away from home and she just fell in love with him.’ He drew a pair of eyes on his napkin. ‘Dad was twenty-two and fit and he had these incredible blue eyes – Mam always said he bewitched her.’

  ‘So they got married?’ asked Lily. ‘That’s pretty romantic.’

  Ronan stared at her for a long moment and then he said bluntly. ‘Not really. When Alondra found out she was pregnant she knew she couldn’t go home. Mam’s from Castile, and her parents are from this rich, religious family, very strict and proud. Mam knew they’d never forgive her for getting pregnant without being married, so she and my dad, Robbie, ran away to England, and I was born here.’ He spoke without emotion, the words crisp and matter-of-fact, but Lily sensed it hurt him to say them aloud.

  ‘They
were so young,’ she said softly. ‘It must have been hard.’

  Ronan stared absently at the thick black pen-lines he’d drawn across the eyes on his napkin. ‘I think it was okay for the first few years,’ he said, ‘but then Dad lost his job and money got tight. That’s when he taught me to play at being Santa’s little helper.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that we’d go out while Mam was at evening Mass and I’d climb in the windows of houses and hand stuff out to him,’ said Ronan.

  ‘How – how old were you?’ asked Lily, trying not to look shocked.

  ‘Five, maybe six.’

  ‘But you were just a little boy!’

  ‘True, but later, when I was a couple of years older and I understood a bit better what we were doing, I still wanted to go along with him.’ He tossed the napkin aside. ‘I worshipped him, you see, and he’d always told me stories about Robin Hood and how it was okay to steal from rich people if you were poor.’

  ‘What about your mother?’ asked Lily. ‘Did she – did Alondra know?’

  Ronan shook his head. ‘Not for a while, but when she found out, all hell broke loose. At first she blamed the motorcycle club, but Credo and Bolt convinced her it wasn’t the club’s fault and they were the first to bail Dad up and tell him it had to stop.’

  ‘And did it?’

  ‘For a few years. ’Cause they were good mates and Dad knew he was taking me down a bad path. Credo and Bolt kept a pretty close watch on him, and on me, too, and that helped – for a while.’ He grimaced. ‘But when I was twelve we moved to a different council estate and that’s when Dad met Stoker.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He ran an outfit on the estate. Nothing big – mainly petty theft, a bit of drug dealing, threatening local shopkeepers, stuff like that.’

  ‘So he ran a gang?’

  Ronan nodded. ‘Though he never called it that. He used to teach boxing down at the local gym and lots of the toughs from the estate would hang out there. It was the perfect cover for anything illegal. The kids loved it, too, and I used to sneak down there whenever I could and spar with Stoker’s son. He was a couple of years older than me and I thought he was great.’