by Kate Bulpitt
It was a gamble, but then wasn’t everything at the moment? ‘My colleague had a friend who worked here, François. Do you know him?’
With no hint of surprise in her reaction, Mina said, ‘I do.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to him recently?’
‘I have,’ said Mina. ‘In fact, I just heard from him today.’
‘Did he happen to say anything about going to New York?’
‘He did, yes. Mentioned that he has a friend there who he’d like to help.’
It was Eve’s turn to hold eye contact.
‘I definitely wouldn’t want to get anyone into trouble,’ she said, ‘so perhaps we should hold fire on the interview for now. If we get permission to do it later though, there are a few products I’d love to talk about.’
‘Okay,’ said Mina.
‘Including the most incredible-looking tanning product. The press release said it was revolutionary! But it’s not going to be released.’
‘No. That was a surprise, but…’ Mina shrugged, seemingly disinterested in InTan’s fate.
‘I was so curious about it. I don’t suppose you know how it works?’
‘I’m afraid that would be confidential company information,’ said Mina. ‘I wish I could help, I really do, but I can’t answer that. Did you have any other questions?’
This felt like a genuine invitation; Eve’s instinct was that Mina did want to help.
‘If you have time…’
‘Yes, I have a few more minutes.’
Eve studied the charm bracelet, from which dangled a tiny Eiffel Tower, a heart and a dainty filigree key. She was certain Mina was willing to tell her something, Eve just had to ask the right question.
‘The strangest thing happened on my way here,’ she said. ‘My taxi driver from the station had been Turned Purple.’
‘Oh no,’ said Mina. ‘That must have been traumatic.’
For her, or for him? Eve wasn’t sure.
Thinking of what Bob had said, Eve continued, ‘And it made me think of that tanning product. It’s funny, isn’t it. Desirable for us to change one colour, but not another. Yet in a way, they’re the same thing.’
‘Yes,’ said Mina. ‘I suppose that’s true.’
There was a few seconds’ delay before Mina’s mouth opened in a subtle jaw-drop, her forehead wrinkling as she considered this.
‘Are you… ?’ Mina paused. ‘Are you saying… ?’
Show your hand and pray it doesn’t backfire, Eve thought.
‘Perhaps they’re linked, yes.’
‘But that would be—’
‘Unlikely, you’d think,’ said Eve, ‘and faintly preposterous, even. But possible. Especially given that InTan was withdrawn. Because there wasn’t anything wrong with it, was there?’
Rather abruptly, Mina stood up.
‘I should be getting back,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ said Eve. ‘I appreciate your time.’
Approaching the main entrance, they shook hands, Mina carefully considering Eve.
‘If you think of anything else,’ said Eve.
Mina nodded, silently, before they parted ways.
As Eve turned and crossed a footbridge, the crane’s bronzed beaks open in a silent goodbye, she caught a subtle movement in a wispy-leafed tree; an ISON camera swivelling slowly, following her departure. Eve felt the hot fizz of electricity shoot up her spine. Apprehension, fear – and the thrill of being on the right path, with no idea what would happen next.
*
It occurred to Eve that she had made a rookie mistake in imagining Crayne’s staff would know that InTan was linked to the Purpling, if indeed it was. Of course, thinking about it now, it was likely that very few people would have been informed, given how secretive the scheme was. The less folk who knew, the less chance there would be for anyone to blab, especially inquisitive lasses like Eve.
So she was no further ahead, though could have put herself in a sticky spot. If Mina told anyone that Eve had been seeking to connect InTan to the Purpleness, who knew what the consequences would be?
And yet… It seemed odd that having suspected there had been more to Eve’s visit than she’d declared, Mina was still willing to meet her. Perhaps she wanted to be aware of any untoward approaches to the company, to show due diligence and let her bosses know. Or perhaps François had vouched for Eve and Adio, implied that Mina should assist them, if she could.
Eve felt a restlessness ebbing through her, flowing up and down her limbs, seeking an escape; it made her fingers twitch. Supposing InTan was entwined with the Purpling. If you were a chemist, who’d created a distinctive commercial product which had a – some might say – vacuous, superficial intent, would you not feel disturbed that it had been coopted for more dangerous political use? Or might you feel vindicated that such an ingenious biological device was being employed more profoundly, getting the recognition it deserved? Perhaps you wouldn’t care either way. Hadn’t history shown that people could turn a blind eye to many things while they weren’t directly affected? The Purpleness felt like that. For all Eve’s own indecision, she found folks’ willingness to go along with things, the groundswell of acceptance for questionable schemes like the privatisation of the police force, the Repeal, the Purpleness – despite the apparent downsides, the potential losses to them – to be remarkable. And it left you wondering: what can be taken from you before you cry out, or rebel?
*
Back at Womble and Helena’s, Eve had been sharing the day’s developments with Adio when his cigarette had set off the office fire alarm, yet again.
So when the phone began to ring, Eve groaned as she picked up the receiver.
‘See, what did I tell you? Next you’ll be burning the place down, and then we’ll be in real trouble.’
There was silence.
‘Oh, you again,’ said Eve. ‘Speak up, we can’t hear you.’
‘Eve, it’s Duncan.’
‘Oh. Hello stranger.’
‘I’m so sorry for disappearing on you on Saturday. And for not calling before now,’ Duncan said, sounding weary.
‘You missed quite a day,’ said Eve, ‘but I figured you and Simon had a big night out and you were still recovering.’
Duncan was briefly silent. ‘You could say that,’ he said, eventually. ‘I know this will sound stupid, especially after I let you down, but might you be able to come over?’
‘Now? I was just doing some work.’
‘Please?’ There was the faintest whine to Duncan’s voice.
Honestly, Eve just wanted to crack on. Despite the tangled-wool state of her brain, she sensed she was on the cusp of something. But her stomach rumbled. She could just stop for dinner.
‘I suppose we could meet near here. Or at The Fox?’
Duncan exhaled slowly, and said, ‘I can’t go out. I need to meet here. I’m really sorry. There’s a good reason, I promise.’
‘You sound as though you’re being held hostage or something,’ said Eve, thinking of a Say Fantastique! story about a man who briefly kept a travel agent captive after being sold a holiday to Land’s End instead of Lanzarote. ‘You’ve not got a saucepan stuck on your head, or superglued yourself to the sofa, have you?’
Duncan gave a small but despondent laugh. ‘Not quite. I can’t tell you how grateful I’d be to see you.’
Eve sighed. ‘This is all very mysterious. But okay.’
‘Thank you,’ said Duncan, sounding rather emotional. Steady on, Eve thought. This is a bit of a strong reaction to missing a day out after downing a few too many shandies.
Feeling awkward, she said, ‘I’m on my way.’
*
Even for a girl with a vivid imagination, Eve was having trouble working out what could have happened to Duncan during the last couple of days. And why not just tell her whatever it was over the phone? She didn’t know what to think, but if he was spending time with Simon, trouble wouldn’t be far behind.
Fu
rther down the carriage there was a noisy altercation afoot. A group of people with suitcases obscured Eve’s view, but the row appeared to have erupted between a young woman with two small children – a toddler, and a baby in a pram – and an older lady.
‘You judging me?’ the young woman said.
‘No.’
‘Then what was that look for?
‘I didn’t give you a look.’
‘Liar. I saw you.’
‘I didn’t give you a look. But I was going to ask if you’d mind moving your shopping so I could sit down.’
‘That’s what the look was about. Fine, I’ll move them.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sit somewhere else.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, run away.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You judge me, then you run away. I’d’ve moved the bags, you didn’t need to judge me. Who do you think you are? No respect. You may judge me, but God will judge you.’
The older woman began to move away.
‘That’s right, keep moving. Thinking you’re so high and mighty. The world doesn’t need people like you, judging. Why don’t you just go home and kill yourself.’
The older woman turned round, open-mouthed. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said you should just go home and kill yourself.’
The train began to slow as it reached a station, and the mother stood, now ignoring the older woman and gathering her shopping. A couple of other people moved towards the doors, not looking in the direction of the mother, Eve noted. One man had a cigarette in hand, ready to light up once he’d alighted from the train. If I smoked, I’d need one too, Eve thought. She felt a collective sigh of relief throughout the carriage as the doors closed and they pulled away again. Eve glanced towards the platform, at the man now putting his cigarette to his lips, and the mother, striding along as though nothing had happened. As she looked, Eve ensured her face was set in a blank, unreadable expression, lest the mother catch her eye. The elder of the children glanced up at his mother, fixing his attention on her as she stared straight ahead. He took small, quick steps to try and keep up with the pace of the pram. Eve worried about him tripping or falling behind, though she knew those were of course only the most immediate concerns for him. What else must he have seen, what on earth would the future hold for him and his sibling? As they slid out of sight, Eve mentally crossed her fingers and sent a silent wish into the ether for them.
A girl who was sitting with her boyfriend leaned towards the altercation woman.
‘Are you alright?’
The woman gave a small, grateful smile, but her hands, laid on top of the bag on her lap, were trembling.
‘Her poor children,’ the girl continued. ‘You can’t imagine how they’ll turn out, hearing their mum talk to people like that.’
‘And claiming to be religious!’ said someone else. ‘Any God she believes in must be preparing to strike her down with lightning…’
‘Appalling behaviour,’ one man said. ‘And if that’s how she is with people she doesn’t know…’
‘At least it’s being stamped out now,’ said someone else. ‘She’ll get Turned at some point, behaving like that.’
‘Yes,’ laughed a man about Eve’s age. ‘God may not judge you, but Theo Fletcher will.’
There were some chuckles from other passengers. Eve felt a flutter of relief that the young woman could now be punished for the nastiness they’d just witnessed, that it was her, not them, who should feel fearful. Maybe the prime minister was doing something for the greater good after all.
Unpleasant as the disturbance on the train had been, it had at least served as a diversion from trying to solve the riddle of what had happened to Duncan. But as he opened his front door, standing well back, out of sight to any passing neighbours, it became obvious. Eve tried to cover her shock, but such an attempt was a tall order.
Duncan was – subtly but most certainly – Purple.
Chapter Eleven
Eve stepped inside and followed Duncan into the darkened house. All the curtains were closed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I woke up that morning to this, and I… couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what to do, let alone how to ring and explain myself. I should’ve called and just made something up, but I was in shock. I couldn’t think straight.’
Eve took him in: he was almost entirely covered – wearing a sweatshirt despite the warm day, the sleeves pulled down over his hands, jeans, and even socks, he was obviously not able to bear to see any part of himself, of his now tinted skin. She looked at him sympathetically, at the sadness and embarrassment in his blue eyes, seemingly bluer now, next to the mauve, she thought, ridiculously.
‘Oh, Duncan,’ she murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek. Duncan closed his eyes, scrunching his face up around them.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone, haven’t left the house. Obviously. I think I’m supposed to turn myself in,’ he gave a bark of a hard laugh, ‘but I can’t imagine stepping outside the door again.’
Eve put her arms around him, rubbing one hand across his back, like comforting a baby, thinking of the purple skin beneath. He stood limply, silently. In the street there was the energetic bounce of a football being kicked about by a group of kids, and then a triumphant cry of ‘Goal!’ Duncan flinched at the sound of the world outside. Trapped.
Eve pulled slowly away, looking up at him and noting the darkness of his eyelashes against the mauve.
‘At least you’ve got good colouring for it,’ she said with a smile. ‘Imagine what a disaster it would be if you were ginger.’
What she supposed was a laugh from Duncan became gargled.
‘I’m sorry I dragged you here,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to go mad if I didn’t see someone. That I’d just be found here in a few years’ time, having starved to death.’
‘Oh, no—’
‘Fletcher would be pleased though, wouldn’t he? A Lav suitably shamed into not leaving the house, or ever wanting to be seen again.’
‘What actually happened?’ Eve asked, leaning back a little but with a hand holding each of his arms, like one Lego figurine reaching forward to grip another. ‘Do you want to talk about it? I can make us a cup of tea and you can tell me.’
Duncan’s mouth twisted. ‘The milk’s gone off.’
‘Hasn’t the milkman—’
‘I put a note out. I didn’t want to have to go outside.’ Duncan stared at her, pained. ‘Even just the doorstep. I know how stupid that sounds.’
‘Right,’ said Eve. ‘I’ll go to the shop. Then when I get back you can tell me what happened.’
Duncan nodded, his eyes bright, and watery. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m not usually this pathetic.’
‘Women love a sensitive man, didn’t you know?’
‘But probably not a Purple one,’ said Duncan.
*
Eve’s mouth was set in a small ‘O’ of disbelief as she wandered towards the shop, at one point almost getting herself run over as she crossed the road. She’d looked, but not really looked, seeing only Duncan’s mauve face swirling in front of her.
Duncan. Purple. Of course, it should have occurred to her. What other reason would anyone have for not being able to leave the house these days? But, despite being Simon’s closest ally, he’d always seemed to be a good soul, a rule-abider, and she was surprised that he’d done something worthy of being Turned. Reasons to be Purpled did seem to run quite a gamut, though, so it could be something fairly harmless… or maybe it was a mistake, like the Cardiff cabbie. What Duncan had (or hadn’t) done was one question, along with to whom, and how. And what could she do to help him? It was dreadful to see him so distraught, more so as she believed that he must (surely?) be innocent. If a supposedly savage character like Luke had been so affected by being Turned, what chance did a sensitive soul like Duncan have? What about all the others who were Turned, she wondered, did they feel so distres
sed (those in the Lav Line Up appeared defiant, more than anything), and if they were guilty of behaviour worthy of being Purpled, did they deserve to feel such anguish? What if Duncan was guilty too?
Eve had reached the shopping precinct. Most of the shops were shut now. She made her way past the butchers, the grocers, the Post Office, and Radio Rentals. She paused outside the latter, drawn in by the still flickering displays in the window, including one for the newest addition to KitchenKlene’s silent range – a vacuum cleaner. It featured a cute computerised face on the front, which would smile and display the exclamation ‘Hungry!’ when in use, and when ready to be emptied would raise its pixelated eyes upwards, flashing ‘I’m full!’ On a TV set, a looping commercial showed the machine in use, endlessly hoovering up dirt from a carpet which would go from grubby beige to cleanly cream. She watched it switch, again and again; a suitably mindless distraction from considering Duncan’s predicament. At least some messes can be easily cleared up, Eve thought, as she turned and walked towards the grocery store.
For once, Eve avoided the rack of newspapers, all with Purple faces peering from their front pages. Taking a basket, she tried to concentrate on the things she should buy: a goodly stock of tinned things suitable for someone who isn’t planning on going outside any time soon, and fresh fruit and veg to counteract that fact; juice, long-life juice; milk, long-life milk; cereal and… Eve stared at a box of Corn Flakes, one corner emblazoned with an invitation to ‘Win a Super River Adventure!’ The sight of its nutritional claims set a vitamin-packed train of thought rattling through her head, and she wanted to turn and ask someone, ‘What sort of supplements do you think a Purple person might need? Vitamin D? Iron?’ She leaned forward, her bowed forehead touching the crest of the Corn Flakes’ cockerel, and sighed.
*
One grey day during the summer holidays, when Eve was twelve – it was probably not long after the TV studio visit – Linda had been running a pottery course at school, and had left Eve in the boys’ care, having clearly decided she would be fine with her brother if sensible Duncan was also on hand (Eve wasn’t sure where Vince was; this must have been during one of his absent phases – not that he was reliable during the spells when he was technically at home).