by Kate Bulpitt
Eve was about to try and conjure some words of encouragement when a cup and saucer landed on their table, deposited by Pete, Duncan’s dad.
‘Hello there, you two. Alright, son?’ he said, giving Duncan a hearty pat on the back.
‘It’s been an interesting morning,’ said Duncan. ‘If I’d known how welcoming the streets would be I’d have stayed at home.’
Eve and Pete exchanged a glance.
‘People are idiots,’ said Pete. ‘We know that. Never be surprised by how stupid they can be. That’s how this whole poxy scheme got started in the first place.’
A young woman at the counter saw Pete and waved hello. She picked up her tray and came over to the table.
‘Pete!’ she said, ‘Howdy. How are you?’
‘Hi, Olivia. Good, thanks. I didn’t know you were home. How’s university?’
The young woman beamed.
‘Brilliant!’ she said. ‘I’m having a great time.’
‘Come home to do your washing, eh?’ Pete teased. ‘Oh, and this is Eve. Eve – this is Olivia Price, who grew up next door to us.’
‘Hi,’ said Eve. ‘Nice tea cosy.’
Olivia’s teapot warmer was a fluffy honeypot adorned with appliquéd bees.
‘Yes, isn’t it something?’ she said, with a laugh, turning to introduce herself to the table’s third musketeer. ‘Hello,’ she began. She happened to spot his hands first, then saw his face, and neatly covered her surprise. ‘Oh, hello, Duncan.’
Duncan nodded a hello, barely looking at her, clearly mortified at seeing someone they knew.
‘This is nuts! Whatever happened?’ Olivia asked, sensing Duncan’s distance, and putting a hand on Pete’s shoulder, support disguised as that of a balancing kind as she leant gently forward.
‘I’m a bruise on society, don’t you know?’ said Duncan.
‘Oh, Duncan,’ said Pete. ‘I’m afraid he’s been having quite a day of it so far, so not feeling too chipper, are you, son?’
‘Can’t you appeal or something, do they do that?’ Olivia asked.
‘No,’ said Duncan.
‘Well, that’s rotten luck,’ said Olivia. ‘Keep your chin up, though. And shout if I can do anything. I’m finished for the summer, so I’ll be around, eating crisps and getting under everyone’s feet.’
‘Very kind, Olivia, thanks,’ said Pete.
Olivia nodded. ‘Right then, I’ll buzz off,’ she said, indicating towards the tea cosy with a sheepish smile.
‘I can only imagine what kind of morning you’ve had,’ Pete told Duncan, ‘but try not to let it get to you. People can be right mean-spirited bastards, but no use letting them make you feel more miserable.’
‘I shouldn’t have pushed you to come out today,’ said Eve.
‘Too late now,’ said Duncan.
‘It had to be done, son,’ said Pete. ‘You can’t stay indoors all the time, you’ll drive yourself mad.’
‘It’d be better than this. You should see the way everyone has looked at me this morning. They don’t even try to hide it.’
‘It’ll get better.’
‘Really?’ said Duncan, with no hope.
Another woman bustled over to their table, taking a deep breath as she approached, gathering her energy towards something. Please, no, thought Eve, bracing herself.
‘I just want to say,’ she said, ‘that I think it’s disgusting. You got what you deserved.’
‘How do you know what he deserved?’ asked Pete. ‘You don’t know what happened, you don’t know anything about him.’
‘Leave it,’ Duncan told his dad, ‘you don’t need to get dragged into this.’
But the woman was already responding. ‘But I know very well what happened!’ she said, triumphantly, thrusting a newspaper in front of them. ‘It’s all right here.’
‘What is this rubbish?’ Pete snatched the newspaper, cast a glance over it. ‘A right load of bandwagon-jumping clap-trap.’
‘They print the facts!’
‘Nonsense! You weren’t there, what do you know? About the circumstances, about his background.’
‘Here we go,’ the woman said. ‘Here come the violins for some woeful story that is his background! Was he a poor boy, deprived and just didn’t have enough toys? Got into trouble but it really wasn’t his fault?’
Pete stood up. ‘Lady, I don’t know what your background is, but there’s clearly something wrong with you if you don’t have the manners to let people just go about their business without judging them or insulting them. It’s a pretty poor show to march up to someone, shouting at them about their behaviour, when in fact you know nothing about it. So I’ll respectfully’ – he spat this word out – ‘ask you to keep your opinions to yourself.’
Eyes bulging, the woman opened her mouth to speak.
But Pete said, ‘Button it, love. And jog along, will you. We’re trying to eat our lunch here.’
‘Well!’ the woman blustered, only to be intercepted by the waitress.
‘Are you alright there, madam? Is there anything else I can get you – more tea?’ she said, guiding the woman back to her table.
‘Ignore her, son,’ said Pete. ‘And excuse me for a sec. I’ll be right back, I’m just going to pop out, for a bit of air.’
Duncan watched him go. Outside, Pete paced back and forth, eventually striding past the window, out of view. Duncan picked up the newspaper, folded on the Lav Line Up pages. His own purple face gazed balefully back at him, above the line: ‘Duncan Miller, 39, Tellingley, part of an UNRULY mob scrapping in the street.’ For a few minutes he stared silently at the page.
‘Don’t look at it,’ said Eve, trying to prise the paper from his hands. ‘It’s a load of nonsense.’
‘You love newspapers.’
‘I read them, yes – that’s not the same as thinking everything they print is right.’
Duncan put his crumpled napkin on the table.
‘I don’t think we should do this,’ he said.
‘You want to go home?’
‘No, I mean, I don’t think we should do this. Us.’
‘I don’t care what people think.’
‘I do.’
‘Well, you’re overruled. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know.’
‘It’s not going to work.’
‘But—’
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I just want some time on my own. I thought I could deal with this, with this stupid skin, with us, but I don’t think I can.’
‘You can’t go through it on your own.’
‘I can. And you’re only going to leave anyway, aren’t you?’
Eve blinked, her breath catching in her throat. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘But it’s true. You knew that, so I’m not sure what this is all about anyway.’
‘I like you.’
Duncan focused on his plate. ‘Well, I’m sorry. Whatever this is, there’s no point.’
Depositing some money next to his napkin, he stood and went outside, disappearing in the same direction as his dad.
*
Eve lay on her bed, the radio playing quietly beside her. Having already been fretting about Finn, she now felt wretched about Duncan, distraught that their entanglement had seemingly caused him more grief, and rather than providing increased support, had instead deprived him of a companion. You should have known better than to think you could navigate sailing into anything other than choppy relationship waters, she told herself. Had Magnus’s reappearance taught her nothing? And as a minor rotten cherry on this collapsed sponge, so far there was no reply from him, either. Eve folded a pillow over her face, absorbing her frustrated tears. If she could make some headway with her supposed investigation, that might improve the situation, but she could practically feel her forehead being grazed as she bashed it repeatedly against a figurative brick wall. Should she harangue Frankie, though he’d already said he didn’t know anything? Or plead with Mina at Crayne Industries, despite the f
act that Eve barely knew her? These weren’t the most sensible, or productive options, and seemed unlikely to yield results.
Eve watched a spider nimbly crossing the ceiling. Her window was open and outside she could hear the tinny melody of an ice cream van. School must be out, she thought; Womble would soon be home. She rolled onto her side, her attention turning to the tail of the news bulletin.
‘…Theo Fletcher is said to be “delighted” at results of a newly published poll which gives the Purple Initiative a 47 per cent approval rate. Though he didn’t comment on controversial reports that a sixteen year old had been Turned for disturbing other tram passengers with loud music played on her personal stereo. Meanwhile, campaigners have claimed that another survey shows a high number of those Turned are sufferers of mental illness and drug or alcohol addiction. They’re requesting Re-Turning exemptions for those who require “treatment and intervention”. Stay tuned for more news in an hour…’
Before the Repeal, people played loud music on their PortAbles all the time, and it used to drive Eve bananas. So thoughtless, and self-involved. Milton Hardy hadn’t been far wrong; PortAbles did seem to have encouraged a selfishness and narcissism which left little room for common decency. Did that deserve Purpling?
Eve looked up at the spider, now resting on the other side of the room.
‘Don’t you get dizzy being upside down all the time?’ she muttered, thinking of the rollercoasters Simon had loved to go on when they were teenagers. ‘Though to be honest,’ she said, ‘I’m beginning to feel as though I’m hanging upside down myself.’
Of course, the spider didn’t reply.
*
Womble had been home long enough to have a cup of tea and watch his favourite quiz show, but had now changed into a smart shirt and was checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.
‘I’m going out,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
Helena had just fed Sven and Mr Bailey, and was now reaching under the kitchen table to retrieve a rubber ball. ‘You’re going out?’
‘Uh, yes. Won’t be long.’
‘Where are you going?’ Helena was still kneeling beside the dogs, her head and shoulders just above table height, which made for a strange interrogation.
‘Meeting Bob for a coffee.’
‘A coffee? You never meet people for coffee.’
‘Well… now I am.’
Helena began to stand. After a pause, she said, ‘Are you having an affair?’
‘What?’ Womble looked horrified, then said, ‘I can’t believe you would ask me that – and in front of Eve.’
‘She doesn’t mind, and I already told her I was worried about you.’ Womble looked even more mortified. ‘Besides, you’re not answering the question. Are you?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Then what’s with all the secretive phone calls and meetings?’
Womble looked pained. ‘It’s nothing, just school stuff,’ he said feebly.
‘I don’t believe you.’
Womble said nothing for a moment, then, ‘It’s something I…’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m not supposed to talk about.’
‘Not supposed to? Says who?’
‘The thing is, I’ve been sworn to secrecy,’ Womble said, groaning at how ridiculous that sounded. ‘I could be in serious trouble if I say anything—’
‘You’ll be in serious trouble with me if you don’t.’
Womble’s face contorted in anguish.
‘Whatever is it?’ Helena looked worried. ‘What are you involved in? Is there something illegal going on? At school?’
‘No, absolutely not, no.’ Womble looked down at his feet.
‘Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, you can go out, and stay out until you do.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I’m not having secrets in this house.’
‘I can’t…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can. Come on, spit it out.’
Womble looked exceedingly peaky. He took a deep breath.
‘What it is…’
‘Yes?’
‘What it is,’ he said, ‘is that I was approached to, um, become involved in the Purple Scheme.’
Helena was silent for a moment. The air thickened with the sense of her disapproval.
‘The Purple thing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Become involved how?’
‘I’m not quite sure yet, and I was told not to say a word to anyone—’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Helena shouted. ‘You’re not supposed to have any secrets from me, and certainly not be involved in some political insanity like this. Are you out of your mind?’
‘I agree with the Purpleness. It’s decisive action.’
‘Well, as you know, I absolutely don’t. If you want to be involved in it, you can leave.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. You know how strongly I feel about it. It’s immoral. It’s dangerous. It’s detrimental to our society. I’m still trying to grasp the fact that you actually agree with it…’ Helena shook her head angrily, and concluded, ‘You won’t be involved with it while we’re together.’
Helena looked furious; Womble, frustrated.
‘I’d almost rather you had been having an affair,’ said Helena.
Eve saw the hurt in Womble’s face as he turned to Helena, aghast, and said, ‘You don’t mean that.’
Helena, jaw set, looked towards the window, her expression hidden. When she eventually turned back she stared straight ahead at the wall (and the Svengalis).
‘Perhaps I should leave you two to talk about this…’ said Eve.
‘No,’ said Helena. ‘Stay. Please. We might need a mediator.’
‘Referee,’ said Womble, despondently scraping a chair back from the table and sitting down. Helena remained standing.
Super, thought Eve.
‘What exactly were you asked to do?’ said Eve.
‘At the moment I haven’t really been asked to do anything…’
‘Apart from lie to your wife,’ said Helena.
‘They seem to be sort of sounding me out before they maybe give me training.’
‘Training to do what?’ said Eve.
‘Turning people?’
‘You would be Turning people?’
Helena looked as furious as someone could without steam coming out of their ears; Eve was worried she might self-combust with fury, leaving just her shoes smouldering on the kitchen floor.
Womble cleared his throat. ‘I think so.’
‘I thought you meant you were going to photocopy files or something, help support the cause,’ Helena blustered. ‘You can’t go around Turning people – who are you, God?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And what on earth are they doing, recruiting school teachers to do this – who should know better. Are they just picking random people off the street?’
‘Yes, that is odd,’ said Eve.
Now Womble turned his sad gaze to her.
‘I mean,’ Eve said gently, ‘you’d think they’d just be getting the police to do that. Such a colossal responsibility and everything. Did they definitely tell you that you’d be Turning people?’
‘Yes. Well – they asked if I’d be willing to, and I said yes.’
Helena made a noise which Eve couldn’t quite identify.
‘Did they say how?’ Eve asked.
‘No, not yet.’
‘And who was it that approached you?’
‘Some guy rang from an office at the Department of Corrections.’
‘Had you contacted them?’
‘No.’
‘Then how did they know to contact you?’
‘That’s a bit of a mystery. I’m not sure. The guy who called said he was part of the initiative’s enforcement department, that they’d been advised that I might be sympathetic to the scheme. I said I was.’ At this point Helena pursed her lips and looked back towards the
window. ‘And he asked if I’d be interested in discussing how I could assist. I did ask how they’d got my name, and he said that was confidential, that for security reasons they had to be cautious about revealing sources.’
‘How can you think of doing that to people? You as someone who’s supposed to be nurturing the nation’s kids, setting them a good example.’
‘I do try and set a good example. You of all people know how much I want them to do well. But seeing the behaviour we do, the way some of these kids are already…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s damage limitation, at best. I look at some of them and just hope they can’t be bothered to go out and act on the anger, and the complete lack of empathy, you see bubbling inside them. I really want everyone to be happy, and safe, and for there to be tulips for us all to skip through, but I look around and it depresses me. I don’t want our kids to grow up in a world where people have so little regard for others, where there’s so much pointless violence, and no deterrent.’
‘If we have kids,’ muttered Helena.
‘You think everything’s fine and we don’t need to do anything?’
‘I don’t think we need to turn people Purple, no. And I certainly don’t think you need to turn people Purple. Right now I just don’t see how we can do this.’
‘Do what?’
‘Us. Be together. Consider yourself lucky to be on the sofa tonight, because honestly, if Eve wasn’t here you’d be on the street.’
Womble blinked – Eve could see tears in his eyes – but instead of characteristically keeping quiet, or taking a tack that might be most likely to keep the peace, he said, ‘Why is it that you’re always right, and you make a final decision? This is my house too. And I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Is that right?’ said Helena. ‘Then why don’t I leave?’
She marched out of the room. The front door slammed behind her.
Sven ran into the hallway, whining.
Eve looked at Womble. ‘Should I—?’
‘No, leave her. She’ll calm down. She’ll come back.’ He leant forward, face down on the table.
Eve put a hand on his back.
‘This is the bit where you’re supposed to tell me it will be alright,’ said Womble.