The Division Bell Trilogy

by Rachel McLean

  Beyond her were four more women. A middle aged black woman, humming to herself with her eyes closed. A tall, slender white woman with mousy blonde hair and grey roots showing. A petite woman who was repeatedly wrapping her long black hair around her neck one way and then the other. And a slight, blonde woman, younger than the rest, glaring at her with undisguised disdain.

  She felt herself hollow out. Was this what she would become? Or did she look like that already?

  “Everybody,” said Dr Clarke, heading for the chair closest to them and motioning for Rita to sit between the grey-faced woman and the angry blonde, “meet your newest group member. This is Rita.”

  Rita’s cheeks grew hot and she looked down. She had sat on her hands, and felt stupid for it. She pulled them out from under her thighs and placed them in her lap, tugging at her thumb.

  The women were stirring; she could hear feet shuffling and a couple of coughs. She wondered how long these women had known each other, how long they’d been here. How long she would be expected to stay with them.

  “Look up please, Rita.” His tone was clipped, but not as hard as it had been in his office. She dragged her head up and looked over the women’s heads. At the wall opposite. It had a damp patch creeping down from the ceiling.

  She glanced down to see the tall, mousy woman opposite her, giving her a nervous smile. She blinked and looked away.

  “Rita?” Mark sounded impatient this time. She muttered under her breath and brought her gaze back up to the woman. Under Rita’s stare, she squirmed, less certain of herself now. Her smile had dropped. She looked familiar.

  Rita looked down at the woman’s hands, which were resting on her knees. Her thumb was drilling into the skin of her palm, and there was a bright red weal beneath it. The woman wore jeans that were a size too large but a few inches too short. Her hands were red raw.

  She risked an upwards glance to see that the woman was looking at the counsellor now. This gave Rita the opportunity to examine her face, to work out where she’d seen it before. Her skin was pale and blotchy, her hair just above shoulder length with grey roots. She had full, confident-looking lips and large blue eyes. If she wasn’t so skinny, she’d be good looking. But Rita still couldn’t place her.

  “Can we welcome Rita, please?” said Dr Clarke. He raised his arms to beckon the women up. She shuffled in her seat, clamping herself to it.

  Slowly the women rose. The tall woman opposite her first, followed by the angry looking blonde next to her. Tension radiated off her. Then the woman next along, brushing her black hair with her hands. Last was the grey-faced woman next to Mark. Rita flicked a glance at her to see that she had a scar over her right eye.

  “Bel?”

  Mark had turned to the woman next to him, who was shaking her head, muttering. Rita drew in a long breath and watched her. She looked unhinged; had she been like that before arriving here? Was that why she was here? Rita resolved to speak to her afterwards, to try and find out. Then she stopped herself; she had no intention of making friends. She was getting out of here. As soon as she could speak to a lawyer.

  Bel said nothing, but stopped muttering. The tall woman, who was standing next to her, bent and whispered something in her ear. Bel looked up, startled. She whimpered and let the other woman pull her gently to her feet.

  “Thank you,” said the counsellor. “Let’s welcome our newest group member then.”

  A shimmer of reaction passed through the group. The grey-faced woman next to the doctor frowned at Rita and the tall woman cocked her head, blushing.

  “Go on, then.”

  “What sort of welcome, Dr Clarke?” It was the slight blonde woman, the angry looking one. She shifted and her fingers brushed Rita’s arm. Rita tensed.

  The counsellor sighed. “Just a welcome, ladies. Not too much to ask, is it?”

  The woman turned to Rita. “Welcome.” There was a note of menace in her voice. She looked back at the counsellor who motioned her down with his head. She sat.

  Each of them in turn repeated the welcome; even Bel. They sat down again.

  “Thank you,” said the counsellor, injecting brightness into his voice. “Now let’s work on the steps, eh?”

  The angry woman next to her straightened in her seat; it reminded Rita of Saskia, hauling herself up in her seat to answer a question in class. Dr Clarke looked at her.

  “Rita first, I think. But first, introductions are in order.”

  The woman nodded and simpered at him. Rita felt a shiver travel down her back.

  The counsellor turned to the grey-faced woman next to him and raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m Paula,” she said in a dull monotone.

  Rita was next. “Rita,” she muttered, superfluously.

  The blonde brightened. “I’m Sally,” she trilled. Bel started to moan. Mark put a hand on her knee and she stopped.

  A murmur came from the next woman along, who had wound her hair around her neck again.

  “Louder, please,” said the counsellor, irritated.

  “Maryam,” she said. Her voice was scratchy, making her sound older than she looked. Rita took the opportunity to peer at her around Sally; she was staring back at the counsellor, her eyes huge and the skin around them dark. Rita wondered if she slept.

  There was sniff from the next woman along and the counsellor nodded at her. “I’m Jennifer,” she said, giving Rita a blank smile. “I’m new too.”

  “Shh.” The counsellor gave her a warning look. “I didn’t ask for biographies.”

  Jennifer, thought Rita. Jennifer. Where did she know her from? Maybe she was one of Ash’s friends. Maybe she’d been there in the pub one of the times the group had gathered.

  How much did they know about Ash and his friends? Was that why she was here? Maybe it was nothing to do with the school at all.

  Her chest grew heavy. Ash was too gentle for a place like this, too good. But the authorities wouldn’t think that.

  Jennifer turned to the woman next to her, who had bowed her head and was sitting in silence. She looked between her and the counsellor.

  “This is Bel,” she said to Rita.

  “What did I say?” The counsellor was angry now. Jennifer gave him a shrug. “Sorry. I just wanted to help.”

  Rita narrowed her eyes, trying to get the measure of this woman. Who was she trying to help: the counsellor or Bel? Rita decided to steer clear of her. There was something about her that felt untrustworthy.

  The counsellor clasped his hands together. “Thank you everyone. I think we’ll do that every time we get someone new, yes?”

  No-one spoke, but Sally nodded her head vigorously. He ignored her.

  “In fact, it’s emboldened me to break with convention again,” he continued. Sally stopped nodding and Paula jerked her head towards him. Jennifer stiffened but didn’t move.

  He smiled. “I’m going to ask our new member to show us Step One. I know that we normally ask the more – seasoned – members of the group to go first, but today I feel like changing things up a little.”

  Rita stared at him. The other women said nothing, but all looked towards her. Except Bel, who seemed to have lost consciousness.

  She shook her head, anger rising in her chest. Why was he singling her out like this?

  “No,” she said, her voice low.

  “I’m sorry?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “I’m afraid that isn’t the answer I’m looking for.”

  She looked around the group. Sally had her hand up to her face; was she laughing? Jennifer was giving her a concerned look. She wondered how old she was; not old enough to be her mother. She didn’t need to look so patronising.

  “Miss Ashgar asked me already,” she said, “and I told her the same thing.”

  She was finding her voice now, and had stopped caring what these women thought. Who were they to judge?

  “I need to speak to a lawyer before I do anything you tell me to. Y
ou should tell me what I’ve been charged with. I have rights.”

  Jennifer smiled, chewing her fingernail. Rita remembered: politician. Disgraced. Son who—

  She stopped, wondering what they’d all done. What had brought them here. Jennifer Sinclair was in prison, she’d read it in the news. Was this a prison?

  She stared at the counsellor. “I’ve told you. I’m doing nothing until you let me exercise my rights.”

  She thought of the evenings in Ash’s flat, the long discussions between him and his friends. She hadn’t paid much attention; she wasn’t doing anything wrong, after all. But she’d listened when they’d talked about their rights, about what they should do if they were ever arrested.

  “You need to tell me what I’m charged with and let me speak to a lawyer. I should have gone before the magistrates by now. I’m eligible for bail.”

  The counsellor shook his head. “Oh Rita,” he said. “You really haven’t been paying attention, have you?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jennifer watched Mark push his chair back and stride towards Rita. Standing in front of her, he put his hands on her shoulders. Jennifer watched, torn between admiration and pity.

  Rita was unblinking, glaring back at the counsellor. Her cheeks had reddened and her nostrils were flaring. She was as angry as he was.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Now.”

  Rita sniffed and said nothing. She didn’t move. He pulled at her arm, hauling her upwards. But he wasn’t strong enough to lift her.

  “Go on,” whispered Maryam. Rita turned to her. A flash of understanding passed between the two women and then Rita stood quickly, almost sending Mark off balance. Sally, between Rita and Maryam, was smirking.

  “Alright,” Rita said. But she was at a disadvantage now; standing so close to Mark, she was staring into his chest. Mark wasn’t tall; Jennifer’s height, in fact. But Rita was short. And young. Jennifer watched her, wondering if she was closer to Samir’s age or her own.

  Rita turned her head to look at Jennifer. She’d recognised her. Jennifer blushed and looked away. Rita wouldn’t be back. Not after that outburst. And once she was gone, Jennifer could proceed with her own plan.

  Mark grunted at Rita then looked around the group, finally alighting on Jennifer.

  “Jennifer,” he said. “I’ll be a few minutes. I’m trusting you to make sure there’s no trouble while I’m gone.”

  Sally snorted. He flicked his head round to her. “That includes you, Sally.”

  Her eyes widened and she nodded, chastened.

  “Right. I’ll be right back. You keep quiet while I’m gone. All of you.”

  He tightened his grip on Rita’s shoulder and pulled her out of the room. She struggled to keep up with him, to walk instead of being dragged. But her jaw was tight with defiance.

  The door slammed and the room fell quiet. Bel was breathing heavily, still unconscious, but otherwise the women were silent, looking between each other.

  Sally broke the silence. “Silly bitch.”

  Jennifer glared at her. “Shush.”

  Sally laughed. “Oh, Jennifer,” she intoned, mimicking Mark. “Look after the group while I’m gone.” She straightened in her chair. “Who’s the teacher’s pet now then, eh?”

  Jennifer felt her cheeks heat up. “It’s not like that. Anyway, just be quiet. Please. We don’t want to get into—”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Sally scratched her head, pulling out a few strands of her thin hair.

  Jennifer dug her thumbnail into her palm but said nothing.

  Sally continued. “You really think anyone cares if we talk to each other? It’s not as if we’re going to plot our escape or something, is it?”

  Maryam sniffed. Paula was watching Sally, her expression calm.

  “As if I’d help you bunch of inadequates escape.”

  “Now, Sally,” said Paula. “That’s enough.”

  “Let her continue,” said Maryam. “Dig herself a hole. She likes that.”

  “Shut up, you jihadi bitch.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Sally, take that back!”

  Sally smirked. “No. I know you, Jennifer Sinclair. You’re just as bad as her. All of you deserve to be put in a boat together and shipped off somewhere. Maybe you’ll die on the way. Maybe you’ll see sense and jump overboard.”

  Paula stood up. “Sally. I really think you should—”

  Sally stood and approached her. Jennifer stayed in her seat, glancing at the door. If Mark came back now, this would all be her fault.

  “I don’t get why you’re sticking up for them,” Sally said to Paula. “You’re not like them.”

  “I’m not like you.”

  “You’re an idiot. Just like that stupid bitch Rita. None of you know what’s good for you!”

  Jennifer leaned forward. “Does anyone know where he’ll have taken her? Will she be OK?”

  Maryam shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  Sally turned to face Jennifer. High dots of red pricked her cheeks and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was like a cornered animal.

  “Why do you care?” Sally asked her. She paused then cocked her head. “Oh, of course. I forget. You think you’re one of them, don’t you?”

  Paula’s hand was on Sally’s shoulder. “Sally, I think you should—”

  Sally shrugged it off. “Eh? Speak, Jennifer Sinclair. High and mighty MP.”

  “I’m not an MP anymore.”

  She wondered if they were planning the by-election already. If John had filled her shadow cabinet job. Of course he had; she’d been gone for – how long?

  She frowned, realising she wasn’t sure. Apart from the monotony of the days, there was no indication of time passing here; clocks but no calendars. And no familiar phone or laptop to remind her of the date every morning. She’d sometimes longed for freedom from the calendar, for a simpler life. Now she knew that longing had been wrong.

  “You heard him,” Paula said to no-one in particular. “Fast-track.”

  “That’s not good,” said Maryam. “She’ll never get through it.”

  “What’s fast-track?” asked Jennifer.

  “They skip all the steps,” said Maryam. “Take you straight to the end of the programme.”

  Jennifer frowned.

  “She’ll have to do it all,” sneered Sally. “In public. All six steps, with no practice.” She chuckled. “She’ll crash and burn.”

  Jennifer looked at the door again, torn between her instructions and her curiosity. She leaned in; the women were all again now. Bel had woken up and was scratching her chin, pulling her fingers away and staring at them every few seconds.

  “Then what?” Jennifer whispered. “What happens to her?”

  A shadow passed over Paula’s face. “She’ll fail.”

  “And?”

  A shrug. “Depends on how lenient they’re feeling. If she’s lucky, she’ll have to start all over again.”

  “She won’t,” said Maryam.

  “Won’t what?” asked Jennifer.

  “Won’t be lucky. Won’t pass. You saw her. Poor girl.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, looking at the door. Even Sally was quiet.

  “And if she passes?” asked Jennifer.

  Maryam grunted. “If.”

  “Yes. If? If she passes?”

  Sally turned to her. “Well, then she gets to leave us. Go home.”

  Jennifer felt her eyes widen. “Leave? Just like that?”

  “It’s not that simple,” said Paula. “She won’t pass. That’s the whole point. Set an example.”

  “But,” continued Jennifer, her mind racing. “But what if she did – what if someone did pass? If they were fast-tracked, and then passed? Would they get out?”

  She thought of Samir. Of Yusuf and Hassan. Was this her answer? Her heart was pounding against her rib cage.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” said Paula.

  She stiffened. “
Why not?”

  Maryam put her hand on Jennifer’s arm. “It’s rare for anyone to be fast-tracked. I’ve only seen it once before.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “We don’t know. We never know what happens, afterwards.”

  Jennifer tried to push down her irritation. She wanted answers.

  “Look,” she said, her eyes travelling between the other women. “How do I get to be fast-tracked?”

  Sally sneered. “You’ll fail.”

  “Why? Why should I?”

  She went over the programme in her mind, all six steps, rehearsed in her room. She had them all by heart now, and knew she could do it. All she needed was the opportunity.

  A sound came from outside. They all sat straight, eyes darting towards the door. Even Bel.

  They all stared as voices passed outside the door, then receded. Jennifer felt herself breathe again.

  “Why should I fail?” she whispered.

  “You know that,” said Sally.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Sally leaned towards her, hissing through gritted teeth. “Of course you effing do. You’re responsible for this place. The programme. You were there when it all started.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. I wasn’t.” A pause; they were staring at her. “I voted against it.”

  Paula’s eyes softened. “But you were responsible. Weren’t you?”

  Her stomach felt hollow. Was it really all her fault?

  “It wasn’t just me,” she said. “I had support. From the public. People like you, probably.”

  Paula shrugged. “Yes but we didn’t know any better, did we?”

  Jennifer struggled to find words that would reassure the other women, convince them that she’d acted with the best intentions. She was interrupted by the door opening.

  Mark strode in. The women’s eyes fell off each other, gazes thrown to the floor.

  “Well,” said Mark. “I’m glad to see we’re all behaving ourselves.”

  Jennifer looked at him, determined to get answers from him at her next one-to-one.

  “Jennifer has been keeping us in check,” Sally said.

  Jennifer glared at her. Sally looked back, her face full of false innocence. “You’ll fail,” she mouthed, and smiled.