“No, you don’t.”
The cameras are in front of us now, and Maz is gripping my elbow. I can’t walk away.
I roll my eyes. “Did Charlie put you up to this?”
He grins at me. “What do you think, Rugrat?”
I glance over my shoulder. Charlie is walking behind us with Mum, and she catches my eye and winks.
They’ve planned this together.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No, you don’t. Now smile, and let’s get inside.” He grins at me again. “Where the drinks are.”
We line up in front of the reporters. Dresses and dinner jackets, kilts and sequins, arms round each other’s waists. Maz is on one side of me, and Dan is on the other, and they give me the strength to stand and smile as the cameras flash and the photographers shout.
When the reporters start calling out questions, Maz holds up his hand.
“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. We have a party to go to.” And he offers me his arm again.
“Thank you,” I say, quietly, and he smiles. I take his elbow, and he walks me into the Victory Day ball.
*****
“That dress looks amazing!” Gail puts her hand on my shoulder and kisses me on the cheek. “Never mind the Face of the Resistance – you’re the belle of the ball!” She looks around at the packed ballroom. “I bet everyone wants a photo with you.”
She has to raise her voice, over the music and the conversations. It’s a stunning party – the room is decorated like something out of a fairy tale, and there are almost as many waiters as guests, pouring drinks and carrying trays of food. The room is crowded with important people. New MPs, Fiona’s staff, and everyone who supported the Opposition in Exile.
I nod. “It’s getting boring. All these important old men posing for the cameras with their arms round my shoulders.” I shudder, thinking about it. I’m the prize everyone wants on their arm tonight. The Face of the Resistance, all dressed up for their entertainment.
“So you’re hiding in the corner?” Gail looks around.
“Hiding?” Dan sounds offended. “This is the VIP table! We’re the VIPs – and this is our table!”
Gail smiles, and Margie moves Dan’s glass out of reach while he’s looking at us.
“You’re enjoying the bubbly, then?” She whispers to me, grinning.
I give her a grin back. “Dan definitely is.”
“Sit down! Sit with us, Gail!” Dan waves at the empty seats in front of him. Gail glances at me, and we sit down. Maz tops up our glasses from the bottle he’s sweet-talked from the waiter.
Dan leans both elbows on the table. “So, Gail. Has the elusive Bex told you what she’s planning to do with her life?” Gail shakes her head, and Dan rolls his eyes. “So we can’t even force you to tell us. Have you told anyone, Bex?”
I shake my head, smiling. Mum knows, but I haven’t told the others.
I’m not going back to school, and I don’t know what they’ll think. I don’t know what they’ll say.
But I have to tell them sometime.
“Go on, Bex. Tell us what you’re planning.”
I take a deep breath, and put both hands on the table. “OK. But you mustn’t laugh.”
“We won’t laugh. I promise.” Dan sounds serious, suddenly. Charlie nudges Maz, and the table is silent.
I can’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“I’m joining the Fire Service. The London Fire Brigade.”
I look up. Dan looks stunned. Margie watches me, nodding.
Charlie takes my hand. “That’s brilliant, Bex.” She smiles. “Teamwork, protecting people, keeping people safe. I can’t think of anything better.”
I smile back. It’s wonderful, knowing that Charlie understands. The others might take longer to see why this is what I want to do, but having Charlie in my corner is good enough for now.
“Wow.” Dan sounds stunned. “Wow. OK.” He runs a hand through his hair.
Margie nods. “So you’re really not coming back to Rushmere with us.”
“I’m not. You’ll have to deal with being the famous kids all by yourselves.”
She laughs. “I think we can handle that.” She nudges Dan. “I think that’s what he was born for.”
“And your Mum’s OK with this?” Dan’s still trying to process what I’ve said.
“Mum’s fine with it. I think she likes the idea of me living at home.”
“This deserves a toast!” Maz raises his glass. “To Bex.” He thinks for a moment, holding his glass high. “Bex of the Fire Brigade? Fireman Bex?”
“Fireman Bex!” And my friends are laughing, and raising their glasses.
“Good decision,” says Gail, quietly, as she puts her glass down on the table. “Just remember to look after yourself, too.” And she gives me a quick, tight hug. “Keep in touch, Fireman Bex.”
I watch as she walks away, into the crowd. That was my first goodbye of the night, and I realise that there will be plenty more before the party’s over.
Working
Ketty
I spend the next three hours standing where Fiona can see me. Bringing her drinks, and taking away empty glasses and plates. Finding the people she wants to speak to next, and letting them know that the Prime Minister would like to see them. It’s boring, but it keeps me occupied.
Tomorrow can’t come quickly enough. This isn’t my kind of party – no dancing on the tables, or singing with the band. No one to draw lipstick war paint on my face.
No one to walk home with.
Conrad was the last person who tried to walk me home, but it’s Jackson I think of. Staggering back to Camp Bishop from the bar in Leominster, laughing about the people we flirted with. Trying to look sober at the gate, so the guards would let us back inside. Trying not to wake the recruits as we stumbled to our rooms.
I loved you, Jackson. I understand that now.
Did you know?
Did you love me?
Fiona catches my eye, and I walk over to see what she needs.
Plans
Bex
“So what about you, Amy? What are you planning to do next?” Charlie puts her glass on the table, raising her voice over the music.
“School. With Jake.” She can’t hide a smile when she mentions her friend. “I’m going to finish school. Then I’m going to university and I’m going to study politics. I’m going to make sure this never happens again.”
“Good for you,” says Charlie, smiling.
“And what about you? What are you going to do after this?” Amy waves her hand at the ballroom.
Charlie looks at Maz, and grins. He grins back.
“Go on,” he says. “You tell them”.
“Maz and I,” says Charlie, blushing. “We’re going to open a restaurant.” She shrugs. “Might as well do what we’re good at!”
Amy holds out her hands, and Charlie takes them in hers. “That’s so sweet, you two! Can we come and visit?”
“And will you serve proper sandwiches?” I can’t help laughing as Dan leans towards them, drumming his finger on the table. “Proper sandwiches are very important.”
“We know, Dan,” says Maz, smiling. “You’ll have to come and test them for us. Give us your seal of sandwich approval.”
Dan nods, and sits back in his chair. “Deal.”
*****
Dan’s laughing. Maz is filling the glasses, and Amy is trying to persuade Jake to sit with us. The music is loud, and the room feels more and more crowded. Neesh and Caroline have both come to the table, and they’ve both wished us good luck for the future. They’ve both said goodbye.
And it’s too much. I can’t think, sitting here – I need to go somewhere quiet. I need some fresh air. I whisper to Charlie that I’ll meet them on the roof, and I walk away from the table.
Mum’s sitting with Dan’s parents, so I walk past their table and tell Mum I’ll see her for the fireworks. I have to elbow my way through the crowd, and the photographe
r follows me, asking for a final photo before I leave. I wave her away, and walk out into the lobby.
It’s quiet out here. The reporters and the cameras have left, and it’s just the receptionist and the velvet sofas. There’s a lift standing open, so I step inside and press the button for the roof terrace.
And I’m finally on my own. No goodbyes. No photographers. No important old men. No Fiona.
I ride the lift to the roof, leaning against the wall and resting my head against the gold-framed mirror behind me.
Whatever I do, people still want something from me. Fiona. The party guests. The reporters. Just being here isn’t enough – I have to get dressed up and answer questions and pose for photos.
I need some time on my own.
Lines
Ketty
The VIPs have gathered at a table in the far corner of the ballroom. My recruits, and their groupies, looking like film stars in their ball gowns and Black Tie, laughing as they sit with their backs to the room. It’s as if all they care about is each other.
Every time Bex stands up, she can’t cross the room without five or six people asking her to pose with them for photos. She might have quit as Fiona’s Face of the Resistance, but that doesn’t stop hers from being the most recognisable face at the party – and the most photographed. Fiona must be furious.
So I’m surprised when I notice her leaving the ballroom, shaking her head and waving the photographer away when she tries to take another picture.
Not enjoying yourself, Guest of Honour?
I pull my watch from my pocket. The fireworks will be starting in half an hour, and we’re all expected on the roof terrace to watch the display. I think about Bex, and her evening walks at Camp Bishop. How she liked to be alone at the end of the day.
And I think about what happens tomorrow. Colonel Ryan’s unease with the lines I’ve crossed. His expectation that I’ll do better with a strong chain of command.
My determination to prove him right.
I need to draw a line under everything that’s happened. I need to start again.
I tell Fiona that I’m stepping out, and I follow Bex up to the roof.
Rooftop
Bex
The lift doors open, and I’m in a glass lobby. There’s a bouncer here, but he’s one of Fiona’s guards, so he smiles and opens the door for me as I step out onto the roof.
The view is astonishing. I walk to the parapet, looking down onto rooftops, and out over Hyde Park. The crowd fills the park, and there’s a band on the stage. Everyone’s dancing, and the streets are full of people. The light is fading from the sky, and the skyline of London is picked out in silhouette against the glowing streets and the spotlit buildings.
The ball is supposed to be our party, but it’s really just a way for Fiona to use us one last time. A way to parade us in front of the people who helped her in the OIE, and the people who’ll be helping her run the country.
Out there – that’s the real party. That’s where everyone else gets to celebrate what we’ve done.
I lean against the parapet, and think about the people who should be at our party. People who should know how this ends, and how our new world begins. Dad. Saunders. Will.
Dr Richards is here because Will threw himself in front of the bullets that were meant for her. He didn’t live to see this – to see the revolution. To see Victory Day.
And it was the armour we stole that led the Home Forces to him. He took care of us at Makepeace Farm, and we sent him into a trap.
“I’m sorry, Will,” I say, looking down at the party in the park. “You should be here. You should see this.”
I’m here because Mum took my place. She convinced Ketty that I wasn’t hiding in her room at the nursing home. She went to London. She wore the orange jumpsuit and she sat through the interrogations that should have been mine. Without her, I wouldn’t be here. And if I hadn’t put her in danger, she could have stayed with Dad.
And now Dad’s gone.
“We’re OK, Dad,” I say to the rooftops. “We’re OK. We made it.”
My friends are here because Saunders saved us. He stopped Ketty from breaking in, that night at the bunker. He kept us safe, by putting himself in danger. If he hadn’t …
There would have been other resistance cells. Other Faces of the Resistance. Other front-line dolls.
But we wouldn’t be here to see this. We’d have been on the execution platform with Margie, or dead before we left the bunker. And there would have been no one to rescue us.
“Thank you, Joss.” I whisper. “Thank you.”
The door to the roof terrace opens and closes behind me, and I wait for some other drunk MP to stumble over and ask for a photo. But when I turn round, it’s Ketty standing behind me, the soft lights under the parapet shining on her silver top.
Jackson
Ketty
Bex turns from the edge of the roof, her film-star dress catching the light, and I don’t know what to say.
What do I need her to hear? An apology? An explanation?
What would let me close the door on the things I’ve done? The lines I’ve crossed?
What would Colonel Ryan expect?
I step forward, looking down on the crowds of people, dancing as the sky grows dark.
This is too hard. I feel completely exposed.
Grow up, Ketty. Get through this, and move on.
“I’m sorry, Bex,” I say, looking out at the rooftops. “I’m sorry about Saunders.”
She closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths, then she opens them and fixes me with a glare.
There’s steel and anger behind her eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen before, from her mother in the interrogation room. I take a step back.
“You’re sorry?” She says, through clenched teeth.
“He was brave, Bex. He was so brave.” I shake my head. “But he was in my way.”
“I know he was brave, Ketty. He was my friend. I didn’t need to shoot him to find out how brave he could be.”
“If he’d opened the shutter when I asked …”
“And let you in? Let you put bullets in the rest of us while we were sleeping? How brave would that have been?” She takes a step towards me. “Do you even know what brave is?”
I think about Dad, shouting while I packed my bags. The look in his eyes as he held the kitchen knife in his fist, stepping towards me. The sound of the door, closing behind me when I walked away.
You have no idea, Bex.
She shakes her head, watching me. “We were running from you, and your commanders, for nearly a year.” Her voice is quiet, but she throws every word like a punch. “We slept under bridges, and in barns, and in a safe house with a line of locks on the door. We moved, and we kept moving. We left people behind, and we put people in danger, just by being there. We watched you torture the people we loved on TV. We watched, and we couldn’t do anything to stop you.
“But we didn’t give up. We stuck together. And I forgot to be brave, for a while. I know how that feels. I spent a long time blaming myself for everything that went wrong. But I moved on, and my friends helped me. I needed my friends, to help me be brave again.” She looks over my shoulder and holds out her hands. “Where are your friends, Ketty? Where’s your tribe? Do you even know how to have friends?”
I stand up as straight as I can.
This is for you, Jackson.
“I did. I had a friend. And it was your friend who killed him.” She looks down, nodding. “When Dan shot Jackson outside the coach, he never woke up. They kept him breathing for months, but he never came back.” I look out again, over the crowds and the stage. This is too hard, but I want her to hear what I have to say. I want her to understand. My voice is quiet, and I’m fighting back tears. “I loved him. And I think he loved me. I’ve only just understood that. I miss him, and I think about him all the time. I carry on without him every day, and it’s hard, Bex. It’s really hard.”
She gives me a long, col
d look. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
Saunders
Bex
I stare at Ketty. At her face, lit up by the spotlights in the park. She’s trying not to cry, talking about Jackson.
And she still can’t see what she’s done.
We took Jackson from her, and she took Joss from us. And it hurt, losing a friend. Knowing that he died to keep us safe.
“Do you know what you did?” I can’t help shouting, trying to make her understand. Trying to make her feel what I’m feeling. She looks at me, her eyes shining with tears. “Do you know what we lost, when you killed our friend?”
She shrugs. “Another member of your gang?”
I roll my eyes. I can’t believe she’s not making the connection.
“My friends aren’t disposable, Ketty. I can’t just say goodbye and skip away and get a new friend. I cared about Joss Saunders. I cared about who he was, and what he wanted, and what we went through together.” I shake my head. “He might have been just another recruit to you, but to me he was a person. He was brave, and he was talented,” she raises an eyebrow. “And he loved Amy. He was protecting Amy.”
She bows her head.
Understanding
Ketty
I can’t meet her eyes. She’s right – I didn’t see Saunders as a person. I saw him as a prize. As someone to conquer. As an obstacle in my way.
Just another recruit.
And to her? Jackson must have been just another instructor. Just another person in her way.
“I’m a soldier, Bex,” I say, quietly. “I had orders to follow, that night. At the bunker.” I look up at her. “I’m sorry they ended that way.”
She gives me another cold stare.
“You were a soldier, Ketty. What are you now? Fiona’s puppet?” She points at my outfit. “What do you do? Pick up Fiona’s post and answer her phone? Fetch her coffee and sandwiches?”
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 26
