by Rebecca Ward
‘Again? You left Bodi. No-one threw you out,’ he says, wounded.
‘Yes, I left. But I’m back now and I really need your help. So will you help me?’
‘B, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know that. But literally, this is the most impossible situation.’
The back door to the house shuts, disturbing their powwow, and Sam harrumphs in. He looks at Bodi as if she hadn’t left at all. ‘Young persons.’ He salutes them, doffing an imaginary cap. ‘Everything alright?’
‘Fine,’ they chorus, as only those plotting can.
‘Good. Good. Been a hell of a day.’ He heaves a plastic bag of tins on the table. ‘Dinner is served.’
Reed picks them up and sets to work on heating some beans on the stove.
‘You’ll be wanting this back.’ Sam sits down next to Bodi and gives her a scrunched up piece of paper. It is her farewell letter.
‘Yeah. About that…’ Bodi cringes in her seat.
‘It’s all good Queen B. Everyone has their off days. It’s a tonic to see you. I was worried about where you’d got to. It’s a relief to know you’ll have a roof over your head tonight. Unless that is, you’re planning any more moonlit flits?’ He tries to laugh but his usual twinkle is dampened. Bodi sees sweat is pouring from his forehead. He rubs his eyes rigorously, as if doing so will reveal a whole new scene once he opens them again.
‘You okay Sam? You don’t look 100%,’ she says.
‘Just a bit worn down by Balthazar’s plans for world domination. He’s not what you’d call a benevolent leader. More stick than carrot. But then, he’s not quite himself either. No word yet on Evan. And in this case no news is bad news I fear. A sorry state of affairs.’
Sam dabs his brow with a handkerchief. Reed and Bodi exchange looks across the room and Bodi shakes her head. There is no point telling him about Evan before they have come up with a solution to the Thomas problem. It will mean yet more interrogation from Sam about how she found out and she doesn’t want to lie to him. They can’t ignore the fact that he is involved, so how can he be subjective?
‘What’s Balt decided to do?’ Reed asks his uncle.
‘You’ll know in good time young liege. Balt’s calling a meeting tomorrow evening for everyone, to reveal his master plan. Where’s that dinner? We need to get battle ready. I bet Mark Antony never had this problem.’
Bodi reaches across the table and takes Sam’s hand. He squeezes her fingers tight. ‘Don’t you go disappearing on us again young Boudicca. I realise being surrounded by such magnificent specimens of manhood 24/7 can send young damsels fleeing to the hills, overcome with the vapours, but give it time and you’ll get used to it.’ She laughs along at his attempt to lighten the mood.
‘It’s a challenge but someone has to do it,’ she responds.
As he continues to hold her hand she wonders if this is what it feels like to have a father. Sam feels more like an uncle but he would have been a good father she thinks. Maybe he had children, she has never asked. She wonders if she will get the chance.
After beans on toast and more tea, Bodi and Reed go up to his room to work on the plan. In the semi darkness the walls seemed to throb in and out like a dull heartbeat. Bodi sees fleeting demons scurrying between the words and pictures; the manifestation of her guilt at keeping the truth from Sam.
‘We need some kind of decoy, for the Sick Boys. Something that suggests they’ve won, just enough for us to get Ruby and Evan back,’ Reed suggests, pacing the room, his shoulders hunched.
‘Or I negotiate with Thomas. But who or what do I have to negotiate with?’ Bodi sits on his chair jiggling her legs. ‘We’re going round in circles.’
‘What if I do nothing? Then what happens?’ she asks.
‘Then you lose your mum, Balt turns the march into a riot, people get hurt. Beyond us, beyond Populus. Inaction is not an option.’
‘And us, what happens to us if I get Mum back and TrueSec takes in Balt? Do we live here with my mum? Could you even bear to be near me?’
‘You’re assuming I don’t get taken in as well. They’ll find a way to charge me with something. Just going to Kenwood with you might be enough. Look how well Thomas has played you so far.’
‘And Balt. I still believe that Balt has a hand in this as well.’
She stops still. Her eyes have adjusted to the gloominess now, she looks up at him.
‘The one thing I do know is that I would like you in my life. If you’ll have me.’ Reed stops pacing and smiles awkwardly. He has been waiting a long time for her to catch him up.
‘Sure.’ At a time of grand gestures, he is a man of few words. He looks at her face, acknowledging the darkness under her eyes, the tension in her forehead. She carries the future of the city in her hands. It seems extraordinarily unfair.
‘We will work this out B.’ he says, reassuringly.
She stays with him and has a few hours of ragged sleep disturbed by violent dreams of raging fires. Throughout them she feels restrained by an invisible force: her actions futile, her screams unheard. She wakes insatiate and screws her eyes tight, trying her best to grab a few more minutes but nothing comes, her mind raging with a million scenarios, none of which resolve the situation. She feels Reed’s body wrapped round hers. They are as entwined as bramble round a tree. Their lives will change irreparably that day and neither wants to let go of the other before they have to. Bodi reaches out for the photograph of the two of them as young children sitting between their parents. Her mother’s eyes dance with promise, in stark contrast to the dark pools of pain that have replaced them. And now Bodi too is far from the optimistic child she sees in the snapshot, Reed too. Their childhoods have been all too short and she finds she is angry with her mother for creating this life she can’t escape.
You had a childhood before you decided to change the world, she thinks. You had a time of friends and family and just hanging out. But us? Look at us and what you’ve created for us. Look what good your little war did us. We had childhoods of fear and solitude. We distrusted everyone and had no family. We didn’t ask for this but we got it anyway, no matter what we do we’re stuck with your legacy. How can you leave me alone to deal with this?
The anger rises inside her like molten lava. Her mother. Rose. Balt. Even Sam. They created the chaos, binding her up in it so completely and there is no way out. She puts the photograph face down by the bed, keeping her tears inside, not wanting to wake Reed from his much-needed rest. She nestles into him, perhaps this will be the last time they share this quiet togetherness and she wants to savour it. He instinctively holds her closer and she imagines for just one minute that they have normal lives and that soon he will have to sneak out of the house before her parents catch him there and that he will whisper ‘see you at school’ as he leaves in his bare feet. And their day will be full of flirtations across shared classes, holding hands during lunch, and enduring PE lessons, before returning home to cooked dinners, parents chastising them about homework and talking to each other about bills to pay, friends to see and sharing a rare glass of beer. Everyone together and glad to see each other and lost in the minutiae of everyday life. It is a life that Bodi can only dream of.
Carefully manoeuvring herself free of Reed, she sits cross-legged next to the bed looking at him. His mane of hair is already growing back along with a slight stubble on his chin. In sleep, his face is stress free and she catches a glimpse of the man he might become. It is if by pasting all the anger and hurt and destruction of Populus on his bedroom walls that he has found a calmness within himself. He has exorcised it and he is simply a contented boy with a great life ahead of him. Bodi realises she has to protect that future at all costs.
‘All I’m saying Reuben is that you’re getting a little too into it, you know?’ Rose was pleading with Ruby to hit the breaks.
‘Too into it? How is that even possible?’ she retaliated.
‘You know, chugging down the Kool-Aid. Feet first down the rabbit hol
e. Caution to the effing wind. You haven’t been here in weeks other than to sleep.’
‘You sound like her!’ Ruby said caustically.
‘I do not! Don’t always throw that one in my face. I’m genuinely worried, sis. Me. I am worried. It’s like you’ve joined a cult or something. And I miss you.’
‘Well, come with me. I’m leaving now. Come with me and meet everyone. Hear what they have to say and then make up your mind. Experience it yourself before you trash it.’
‘At the march?’ Rose’s eyes filled with dread.
‘Yes, ‘at the march’. It will be fine. There are absolutely loads of us going down. It’s going to be the biggest yet.’ Ruby purposefully excluded the part about the kettling and potential violence. Rose stood there silent for a second.
‘Okay then. I will.’
Ruby was annoyed that her reverse psychology had backfired. She had hoped that the thought of the march would put Rose off. Now she would have to take care of her and the group would find out more about her family and that was never going to end well. Oil and water was how she liked it. But she had thrown down the gauntlet and Rose had picked it up. Now what?
‘You might want to change,’ Ruby said. ‘Seriously, it would be good if you were to reassess ‘pink’ as a whole.’
‘Don’t be such a bitch,’ Rose said but she was giggling, nervously excited about joining Ruby on the march.
‘Twin sister Ruby. Something that perhaps you might have mentioned before now?’ Cal was flabbergasted.
‘She doesn’t normally look like this. Usually there’s a lot more pink,’ Ruby joked, trying to distract Cal from the situation. Rose was standing chatting to Sam, making Ruby’s jeans and sweatshirt look neater than Ruby thought possible.
‘Doesn’t normally look like this. It’s not her outfit Ruby. There is another actual you standing there. A whole other same, identical, replica person as you.’
‘Oh get over it! It’s just my sister. You’ve got Sam.’
‘Not the same! Sam is not the same.’
At that moment Balt strode up to them, greeting them with a swift ‘Comrades’. Cal simply rolled his eyes and walked away.
‘You might want to rethink ‘comrades’ Balt. Not particularly new millennial.’ Ruby suggested, and followed Cal over to Sam and Rose.
‘Your sister was just telling me all about you Ruby. Very interesting.’ Sam loved a bit of intrigue and, to be fair, another girl to flirt with. Cal stood next to him staring from one of them to the other, confusion written large across his forehead. Sam patted him on the shoulder, ‘He’ll catch up soon enough ladies. Right we’re off.’ They started walking.
Rose pulled Ruby to one side. ‘Sam’s so funny. He was just telling me about the time he went to Marrakech…’ Ruby recognised that glint in her sister’s eye.
‘Don’t even think about it Rosebud. He’s had more women in his bed than you’ve got cute cat photos.’ Rose’s face fell. ‘And it would be so weird. What with Cal. You know…’
‘I guess. Shame,’ Rose grumbles.
‘And we’re here to take action, not get action.’ Ruby said emphatically.
‘Very clever dear,’ said Cal from behind them. ‘Now about this twin thing…?’
‘NO!’ Ruby and Rose both shouted at him. They had heard that particular request way too many times in their lives.
SUNDAY
The house is still as the sun comes up but traffic rumbles in the background as the city does its best to get on with its day. Sam’s snoring sporadically breaks the silence and a few hallway lights come on, the electricity has been restored while they slept. The kitchen radio hisses below them. Bodi thinks of her mum. Where is she right now? Has Thomas thrown her in some dark cell or is she being held cold and hungry in a flat somewhere? Bodi knows there is no way they will find her until Thomas deigns to share that information with her. He is the puppet master and she has no way of cutting the strings.
Reed half wakes and nuzzles into her shoulder. With his eyes shut he mumbles ‘Beautiful girl.’ He kisses the back of her neck lightly and goes back to sleep. Bodi feels her heart break into a million little pieces. She is going to miss this. She begrudgingly manoeuvres out of his arms.
She goes through to Sam’s room. Photographs of him with groups of men and women plaster his walls. They capture a happier time of parties, barbecues and holidays. By Sam’s own admission he was always along for the ride and here is the proof. Wine bottles and beer cans fill the photos as well as smiles, kisses and funny faces. Small children, beautiful women and a coterie of male friends bay for his attention. In every image Sam’s charisma shines out.
His clothes are slung on the back of a chair. Bodi goes through his pockets to look for an old leather-bound diary that she has seen him flick through. She finds it in his trousers and leaves the room quietly to look at it under the bare bulb in the hallway. It is a diary of some ten years previous. Notes and appointments crossed out and dates re-written in blue, black and red ink. A jumble of years and haphazard events that amount to one man’s unruly life. At the back she finds what she is looking for. She memorises the address and puts the book back. It is time to go and talk to Balt.
Balt is surprised and not all that pleased to see her at his front door at barely eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. He looks behind her anticipating that she has been followed.
‘I came in with the maintenance guy. And I walked through the back roads. Plus the Sick Boys are a little busy, what with all the chaos you’re causing. I think we’re okay.’ Bodi’s bluntness unnerves him. He unlocks the wrought iron gate in front of the main door. There are bars on the windows too.
‘Come in. Quickly.’ He steps to one side, again checking to see if there is anyone around.
Balt’s flat stands at the far end of a semi-derelict block. It is a good cover. No-one really knows which flats are inhabited and which aren’t. It smells of mildew and boot polish and is dark, the curtains pulled against the daylight. Balt parts them an inch so they can see each other. The light reveals maps and plans, books, ledgers, pens, notebooks, all arranged around a huge table and covering all four walls. Where you would normally expect to see sofas and side tables are rows of filing cabinets. This is one man’s private War Room. She walks round the edge of the room trying to decipher Balt’s master plan. She sees her old flat marked on the map as well as Sam’s house and her aunt and uncle’s place. In a time of restricted information, he is very informed.
‘You’ve been busy,’ she turns to Balt.
‘Things can’t stay as they are. It’s time that woman knew she can’t hold us down any more.’
‘The President?’
‘If you can call her that. What does she preside over? A country that’s on its last legs.’
‘Don’t you think you helped in that? You could say that you were even instrumental in bringing her to power.’
Balt glares at her.
She hears a cough from another room, which startles her.
‘Evan’s grandmother,’ Balt offers. ‘She’s not doing so well.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘We all have private lives beyond Populus, Boudicca. Something of ourselves we keep out of view,’ he sounds a little sad.
‘I guess so.’ Bodi came here with the intent of confronting Balt again, to get to the bottom of things once and for all so she can make an informed decision about whether to hand him over. Seeing him here, in a home that he shares with his sick mother and a room nearby that usually would hold a snoozing Evan, she sees more of the man than the menace.
‘And this?’ she looks round at the walls and the table. ‘You keep this out of view as well? Away from the others in Populus?’
‘I don’t expect you to understand, but being a leader takes planning and thought. To instil and maintain confidence takes forethought and its essential to turn up to things prepared.’
‘No down time then?’
‘When you believe in what you do t
hen you don’t need it. Populus is my life.’
‘And what do you believe in Balthazar? What drives you to live like this 24/7?’ Bodi is genuinely curious. So far their discussions have been on a more formal level. This is her one chance to see what makes him tick away from the bravado of fronting the campaign.
‘Change is everything. Without change we are just stagnant, unthinking. We’re irrelevant. We become the victims of our own procrastination.’
‘Yet right now we’re both thinking that a little bit of staying in one place might be a good thing.’ Bodi forces a smile but Balt doesn’t reciprocate.
He walks through to the kitchen and she follows him. No curtains hang here and she looks out the window across the city. They are high up, she knows that because her legs still ache from climbing sixteen flights of stairs, but the view is something else. The residue of the night’s activities are still visible – small wisps of smoke rise from the rioters’ fires, mingling to create a smog across the horizon, the sun streaming through it reminds the city’s inhabitants that no matter what they try to throw at it they cannot stop the world from turning. She recognises the dome of St Paul’s in the distance. It was boarded up years ago by a clergy that has long since fled to the countryside. The skyline remains unchanged from a distance, though close up you would see chain fences and hoardings, burnt out shells and graffitied monuments. Bodi wonders what force might be powerful enough to flatten her beloved city once and for all.
Balt heats some water on a small stove and makes them some tea while she looks out the window. ‘It’s so beautiful from up here. You’d never know the struggles that go on in every street down there. It’s like stepping back in time to when things were good and happy,’ she says.
‘Depends what your idea of happiness is. When I was younger it was commonly felt that money and possessions were a mark of true happiness. But people didn’t talk to each other. They didn’t know their neighbours. They left the care of their own city to poorly paid workers. They lost their pride in the streets around them as they filled their homes with more televisions, more food, more wine. They showed the world who they were through what car they drove, the labels on their clothes, where they went on holiday, the size of their bank accounts. Charity began and ended at home. To their mind things were perfect that way, it made them ‘happy’ but spiritually they were bereft. No amount of holistic medicine and yoga could revert the balance. They were empty.’