Gilded Cage

by Vic James

‘I’ve no idea,’ Luke admitted.

  The paperwork had detailed roles for Mum, Dad and Abi: as the estate nurse, Kyneston’s vehicle mechanic, and something secretarial. But no assignment was specified for Luke or Daisy – presumably because they were minors, Abi explained. They might not have a particular job, but simply be required to do tasks on an as-needed basis.

  Luke had caught himself imagining what those things could be. Scrubbing the mansion’s gold-plated toilets, perhaps? Or how about waiting on the Equals at dinner, hair combed and white gloves on, spooning peas from a silver tureen? None of it appealed.

  ‘And Daisy,’ Si continued. ‘What use do the Jardines have for a kid that little? What use have they got for a nurse, come to that? I thought the Equals used their Skill to heal themselves.’

  Luke thought the same, but Abi, ever willing to clarify and correct, pointed out that nobody really knew what the Equals could do with their Skill, which was why it was particularly exciting to be going to an estate. Daisy had nodded so hard in agreement it was a wonder her head hadn’t fallen off. Luke doubted even the Equals could fix that.

  The summer crawled by. Some time mid-July, Luke thumped downstairs to find an estate agent showing prospective tenants around the house. Soon after, the hallway filled up with boxes so their possessions could be taken to storage.

  Early August, he went into town with a few friends from the school soccer team and broke the not-so-happy news. There’d been shock, sympathy, and the suggestion of a valedictory visit to a pub where the barman was known to be a poor judge of age. But in the end, they’d just had a kick-around in the park.

  They hadn’t made any plans to meet up again.

  With twelve days to go, the bloke who’d turned up asking about the car came back. Luke watched his father hand over the keys and had to turn away, blinking. He was not going to start crying over a car, of all things.

  But he knew it wasn’t the vehicle he was mourning, so much as what it represented. Bye-bye, driving lessons in the autumn. So long, independence. Won’t be seeing you in a hurry, best years of my life.

  Abi tried to cheer him up, but a few days later it was his turn to see her silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, her head bowed and shoulders shaking. She held a torn envelope in her hand. It was her exam results. He’d forgotten all about them.

  At first he thought she hadn’t achieved the grades she had hoped for. But when he hugged her, Abi showed him the slip of paper. Perfect marks, granting her admission to every university to which she’d applied. Luke realized then how much his big sister was giving up by coming with them.

  Departure Day minus two was open house for friends and family to say their farewells, and Mum and Dad threw a subdued party that evening. Luke spent the day hunkered down with the console and his favourite games, because there’d be no more of those either, where they were going. (How did slaves entertain themselves at Kyneston? Playing charades round the piano? Or maybe there was no downtime. Maybe you worked until you dropped, then slept, then got up and did it all over again, every day for a decade.)

  Then the day itself arrived, sunny and beautiful, of course.

  Luke sat on the garden wall, watching his family going about its last bits of business. Mum had emptied the fridge and gone round to the neighbours with an offering of leftovers. Dad was dropping off a final box of essentials with a friend a few streets away, who would take it to the storage depot to join the rest of the family’s possessions.

  The girls sunbathed on the grass, Daisy pestering her sister with questions and repeating back the answers.

  ‘Lord Whittam Jardine, Lady Thalia, Heir Gavar,’ Daisy parroted. ‘Jenner. And I can’t remember that last one. His name’s too silly.’

  ‘You’re halfway there,’ said Abi, smiling. ‘It’s Silyen – that’s Sill-yun. He’s the youngest, somewhere between me and Luke. There’s no Jardine as little as you. And it’s Jar-deen and Kye-neston, like “lie”. They won’t want to hear our northern vowels down south.’

  Daisy rolled her eyes and threw herself back down on the grass. Abi stretched out her long legs and tucked the bottom of her T-shirt underneath her bra to catch some sun. Luke devoutly hoped she wouldn’t be doing that at Kyneston.

  ‘I’m gonna miss that fit sister of yours,’ Si said in Luke’s ear, startling him. Luke turned to look at his friend, who’d come to see him off. ‘You make sure your lords and masters don’t go getting any funny ideas about their entitlements.’

  ‘I dunno,’ Luke muttered. ‘You’ve seen the books she reads. I reckon it might be them that need protecting.’

  Simon laughed. They exchanged an awkward shoulder-bump and backslap, but Luke stayed sitting on the wall, Si standing on the pavement.

  ‘I hear the Equal girls are hot,’ he said, elbowing Luke.

  ‘Got that on good authority, have you?’

  ‘Hey, at least you’ll get to see some girls. My Uncle Jim says all the workplaces are single sex at Millmoor, so the only women you hang out with are your own family. It’s a right dump, that place.’

  Si spat expressively. ‘Jimmy got back from there a few weeks ago. We’ve not told anyone yet, because he’s not leaving the house and doesn’t want folk coming round. He’s a broken man. I mean, literally. He was in an accident and now his arm—’

  Simon folded up one elbow and flapped his wrist. The effect was ridiculous, but Luke didn’t feel like laughing.

  ‘He got hit by a forklift or something. He’s not said much about it. In fact, he hardly says anything at all. He’s my da’s little brother but he looks about ten years older. Nah, I’m staying out of Millmoor as long as I can, and I reckon you’ve scored a right cushy number.’

  Si looked up and down the street. Looked anywhere but at Luke.

  His best friend had run out of things to say, Luke realized. They’d hung out together for nearly twelve years, playing, pranking and copying homework off each other since their first week at primary school. And all that ended here.

  ‘Don’t go thinking those Equals are folk like us,’ Si said, with one last effort at conversation. ‘They’re not. They’re freaks. I still remember our field trip to that parliament of theirs, that House of Light. The guide banging on about what a masterpiece it was, all built by Skill, but it gave me the creeps. You remember those windows? Dunno what was going on inside, but it didn’t look like “inside” any place I’ve ever seen. Yeah, you watch yourself. And that sister of yours.’

  Si managed a half-hearted wink at Abi, and Luke cringed. His friend was a complete liability.

  Luke wouldn’t see him for an entire decade.

  Abi wouldn’t hear Si’s innuendo ever again, because he’d probably be married with kids by the time they all made it back to Manchester. He’d have a job. New friends. He’d be making his way in the world. Everything that made up Luke’s universe right now would be gone, fast-forwarded ten years, while Luke himself had stayed still.

  The unfairness of it all made him suddenly, violently, furious and Luke smashed his hand down on the wall so hard he took the skin off his palm. As he yelped, Si finally looked at him, and Luke saw pity in his eyes.

  ‘Awright, then,’ Si said. ‘I’ll be off. You have a quick ten years.’

  Luke watched him go, the last part of his old life, walking away round the corner and out of sight.

  Then, because there was nothing else left to do, he went and joined his sisters, stretching out on the lawn in the sun. Daisy lolled against him, her head resting heavily on his ribs as he breathed in and out. He closed his eyes and listened to the noise of the TV from the house on the other side; the rumble of traffic from the main road; birdsong; Mum telling Dad that she wasn’t sure whether she’d packed enough sandwiches for the five-hour journey to Kyneston.

  Something small crawled out of the grass and crept across his neck until he swatted it. Luke wondered if he could sleep away the next ten years, like someone in a fairy tale, and wake to find that his days were over and done wit
h.

  Then Dad’s voice, officious, and Mum saying, ‘Get up, kids. It’s time.’

  The Jardines hadn’t sent a chauffeur-driven Rolls for them, of course. Just a plain old silver-grey saloon car. Dad was showing their papers to its driver, a woman whose sweater was embroidered with ‘LAB’, the Labour Allocation Bureau’s initials.

  ‘Five of you?’ the lady was saying, frowning at the documents. ‘I’ve only got four names here.’

  Mum stepped forward, wearing her most reassuring face.

  ‘Well, our youngest, Daisy, wasn’t quite ten when we did the paperwork, but she is now, which is probably—’

  ‘Daisy? Nope, I’ve got her down.’ The woman read from the top sheet on her clipboard. ‘HADLEY, Steven, Jacqueline, Abigail and Daisy. Collection: 11 a.m. from 28 Hawthornden Road, Manchester. Destination: Kyneston Estate, Hampshire.’

  ‘What?’

  Mum snatched the clipboard, Abi craning over her shoulder to look at it.

  Anxiety and a mad kind of hope knotted their fingers in Luke’s guts and pulled in opposite directions. The paperwork had been botched up. He had a reprieve. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do his days at all.

  Another vehicle turned into the street, a bulky black minivan with an insignia blazoned across the bonnet. They all knew that symbol, and the words curled underneath: ‘Labore et honore’. Millmoor’s town motto.

  ‘Ah, my colleagues,’ said the woman, visibly relieved. ‘I’m sure they’ll be able to clarify.’

  ‘Look,’ hissed Abi, pointing to something in the papers.

  The van pulled up in front of the house and a thickset man, hair buzzed almost to his scalp, got out. He wasn’t wearing the LAB outfit, but something that looked more like a police uniform. A truncheon hung from his utility belt and knocked against his leg as he walked over.

  ‘Luke Hadley?’ he said, stopping in front of Luke. ‘Guess that’s you, sonny. Grab your bag, we’ve got another four to pick up.’

  ‘What does this mean?’ Abi asked the LAB woman, thrusting the clipboard under her face.

  Several sheets were curled back and Luke recognized the face in the photo now uppermost as his own. The page was scored by a thick red line, with two words stamped across it.

  ‘What does it mean?’ The woman laughed nervously. ‘Well, “Surplus: reassign” explains itself, surely? Kyneston Estate has been unable to find any useful activity for your brother, so his file was returned to us for reassignment. As an unqualified solo male, there’s really only one option.’

  Anxiety had won the tug-of-war, and was hauling Luke’s guts out length by length, helped along by fear. He wasn’t needed at Kyneston. They were taking him to Millmoor.

  ‘No,’ he said, backing away. ‘No, there’s been a mistake. We’re a family.’

  Dad stepped protectively in front of him.

  ‘My son comes with us.’

  ‘The paperwork says otherwise,’ the LAB woman piped up.

  ‘Stuff your paperwork,’ Mum snarled.

  And then it all happened horribly quickly. When the uniformed guy from Millmoor reached round Dad to grab Luke’s arm, Dad swung a fist at his face. It connected with the man’s jaw and he swore, stumbling backwards, his hands scrabbling at his belt.

  They all saw the truncheon come down and Daisy screamed. The baton whacked Dad round the side of the head and he fell to his knees on the driveway, groaning. Blood trickled from his temple, reddening the little patch where his hair was going grey. Mum gasped and knelt beside him, checking the injury.

  ‘You animal,’ she yelled. ‘Blunt-force trauma can kill if the brain swells.’

  Daisy burst into tears. Luke wrapped his arms round her, pressing her face against his side and holding her tight.

  ‘I’ll report you,’ said Abi, jabbing a finger at the Millmoor man. She peered at the name emblazoned on his uniform. ‘Who do you think you are, Mr Kessler? You can’t just assault people.’

  ‘How right you are, young lady.’ Kessler’s lips drew back across a wide, teeth-filled grin. ‘But I’m afraid that as of 11 a.m.’ – he checked his watch ostentatiously, rotating his wrist outwards so they could all see the dial, which showed 11.07 – ‘you all began your slavedays and entered a state of legal non-personhood. You are now chattels of the state. To explain for the little one here,’ he said, looking at Daisy, ‘that means that you are no longer “people” and have no rights at all. At. All.’

  Abi gasped and Mum made a low moan, pressing her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Yes,’ the man continued, with that thin-lipped smile. ‘People don’t tend to think about that when they’re making their arrangements. Particularly not when they think they’re something special, too good to slave alongside the rest of us. So you have a choice.’

  His hand went to the belt and unclipped something. It looked like a child’s drawing of a gun: blocky and intimidating.

  ‘This fires 50,000 volts and can incapacitate each one of you. Then we load you into the car, along with your bags. You four in there, and you’ – he pointed to Luke, then to the van – ‘in there. Or you can all just get in the correct vehicle. Simple.’

  You could appeal these sorts of things, couldn’t you?

  Abi had got them all into Kyneston. She’d be able to get him out of Millmoor. Of course she would. She’d wear down the labour bureau by force of paperwork alone.

  Luke couldn’t let anyone else in his family get hurt.

  He loosened his arms from around Daisy and gave her a gentle push away.

  ‘Luke, no!’ his little sis yelled, trying to cling more tightly.

  ‘Here’s what we’ll do, Dozy,’ Luke told her, kneeling down and wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘I’m going to Millmoor. You are going to Kyneston, where you’ll be so super-special-amazing that when you tell them you’ve got a brother who’s even more awesome, who somehow got left behind, they will send their private jet to come and fetch me. You understand?’

  Daisy looked too traumatized to speak, but she nodded.

  ‘Mum, Dad, don’t worry.’ Dad made a choking noise and Mum broke out in noisy sobs as he embraced them both. ‘It’s just for now.’

  He couldn’t keep up this act much longer. If he didn’t get in that van quickly, he’d completely lose it. He felt empty inside, just bitter black terror washing around like dregs in the bottom of his stomach.

  ‘I’ll see you all soon,’ he said, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

  Then he picked up his duffel bag and turned towards the minivan.

  ‘Aren’t you the little hero,’ sneered Kessler, slamming open the vehicle side. ‘I’m weeping here. Get in, Hadley E-1031, and let’s get going.’

  The baton hit Luke hard between the shoulder blades and he sprawled forward. He had the presence of mind to pull up his feet before the door banged shut, then was thrown back against the seat legs as the van pulled away.

  Face down on the filthy vehicle floor, pressed against strangers’ stinking boots, Luke didn’t see how anything could be more awful than what had just happened.

  Millmoor would prove him wrong.

  2

  Silyen

  Early September sunlight streamed through the oriel window of Kyneston’s Small Solar, throwing a thick golden cloth over the breakfast table. It turned the silverware arrayed in front of Silyen Jardine into a constellation of stars. The fruit bowl in the centre, a dazzling sun, was piled high with pears. They were freshly cut from the trees in Aunt Euterpe’s garden. He pulled the dish towards him and selected a russet-and-green specimen.

  With a sharp, ivory-handled knife he cut into the pear. It was ripe and he watched the juice bleed out onto the plate before wiping his fingers.

  Before he even reached for his coffee cup, the footman who stood one pace behind and to his left was pouring a steaming black stream into it from a burnished pot. Gavar, his eldest brother, may once have blacked a house-slave’s eye for bringing him burnt toast, but the staff were quickest of all to
serve the Young Master. Silyen found this fact gratifying. That it incensed Gavar was a bonus.

  As usual, however, Silyen and his mother, Lady Thalia, were the only people in the Small Solar at this hour. As was also customary, there were at least half a dozen slaves going to and fro with the breakfast things. He watched them absently. So much bustle, all of it so unnecessary.

  And today Mama was adding yet more to their number.

  ‘An entire family?’ he said, sensing that some comment was expected of him. ‘Really?’

  Staffing was Jenner’s domain. Their mother believed it was important to give his middle brother a sense of usefulness and value within the family. Silyen suspected that Jenner knew all too well how his family truly regarded him. He’d have to be stupid not to, as well as Skilless.

  Across the table, Mama was nibbling a brioche as she leafed through some sheets bearing the Labour Allocation Bureau letterhead.

  ‘The woman is the reason the bureau sent us their papers. She’s a nurse with extensive experience of long-term care, so she’ll take over looking after your aunt. The man is handy with vehicles and restores classic cars, so he can fix up some of those wrecks your father and Gavar insist on collecting. And they’re just starting their days, not coming from one of the slavetowns, so they won’t’ – she paused, searching for the right phrase – ‘won’t have picked up any faulty notions.’

  ‘Won’t have learned to hate us, you mean.’ Silyen looked at his mother with dark eyes just like hers, from under the dark curling hair that was also characteristic of his maternal ancestors, the Parvas. ‘You said it was a family, so what about the children?’

  Lady Thalia waved dismissively, causing one of the maids to step forward for instructions before realizing her mistake and stepping back again. The slaves that trailed around after the Jardines performed this tiresome dance of servility many times daily.

  ‘Well, there’s a clever girl of eighteen. Jenner’s been asking for extra help in the Family Office, so I’m assigning her to him.’

  ‘Eighteen? Are you going to tell them what happened to the last girl who came to Kyneston at eighteen to do her days?’