The Testaments

by Margaret Atwood

  “All in the service of your good name, Aunt Lydia. May I sit down?” I gestured to the chair. We sat.

  “After a number of dead ends, we came to the conclusion that the microdots I informed you about must have been passed to and fro between Mayday and an unknown contact here in Ardua Hall through the unwitting agency of the brochures that the Pearl Girls were distributing.” He paused to note my response.

  “You astonish me!” I said. “What effrontery!” I was wondering what had taken them so long. But then microdots are very small, and who would think to suspect our attractive and orthodox recruiting materials? No doubt the Eyes wasted a lot of time inspecting shoes and undergarments. “Do you have proof?” I asked. “And if so, who was the rotten apple in our barrel?”

  “We raided the Ardua Hall print shop, and retained Aunt Wendy for questioning. It seemed the most direct path to the truth.”

  “I cannot believe Aunt Wendy is implicated,” I said. “That woman is incapable of devising such a scheme. She has the brain of a guppy. I suggest you release her immediately.”

  “So we have concluded. She will recover from the shock in the Calm and Balm Clinic,” he said.

  That was a relief to me. No pain unless necessary, but if necessary, pain. Aunt Wendy is a useful idiot but harmless as a pea. “What did you discover?” I said. “Were any of these microdots, as you call them, on those brochures that had been newly printed?”

  “No, though an inspection of brochures recently returned from Canada yielded several dots containing maps and other items that must have been appended to them by Mayday. The unknown traitor within us must have realized that the elimination of The Clothes Hound end of the operation has rendered that pathway obsolete and has ceased to ornament the Pearl Girls brochures with classified information from Gilead.”

  “I have long had my doubts about Aunt Vidala,” I said. “Aunt Helena and Aunt Elizabeth also have clearance for the print shop, and I myself have always been the one to place the new brochures in the hands of our departing Pearl Girls, so I ought to be under suspicion as well.”

  Commander Judd smiled at that. “Aunt Lydia, you must have your little jokes,” he said, “even at a time like this. Others had access as well: there were several apprentice printers. But there is no evidence of wrongdoing on any of their parts, and a substitute culprit will not do in this case. We must not leave the actual perpetrator at large.”

  “So we remain in the dark.”

  “Unfortunately. Very unfortunately for me, and thus very unfortunately for you as well, Aunt Lydia. My stock is falling rapidly with the Council: I’ve been promising them results. I sense the cold shoulders, the abrupt greetings. I detect the symptoms of an imminent purge: both you and I will be accused of laxness to the point of treachery for letting Mayday run rings around us, right under our noses here in Ardua Hall.”

  “The situation is critical,” I said.

  “There’s a way to redeem ourselves,” he said. “Baby Nicole must be produced immediately and put on full display. Television, posters, a large public rally.”

  “I can see the virtue of that,” I said.

  “It would be even more efficacious if I could announce her betrothal to myself, and have the subsequent wedding ceremony broadcast. You and I would be untouchable then.”

  “Brilliant, as usual,” I said. “But you are married.”

  “How is the health of my Wife?” he asked, raising his eyebrows reproachfully.

  “Better than it was,” I said, “but not as good as it might be.” How can he have been so obvious as to have employed rat poison? Even in small quantities, it is so easily detectable. Dislikeable though Shunammite may have been as a schoolgirl, I have no wish to have her join Judd’s Bluebeard’s chamber of defunct brides. She is in fact making a recovery; however, her terror at the prospect of returning to the loving arms of Judd is impeding her progress. “I fear she will have a relapse,” I said.

  He sighed. “I will pray for her release from suffering,” he said.

  “And I am sure your prayers will be answered soon.” We gazed at each other across my desk.

  “How soon?” he could not resist asking.

  “Soon enough,” I said.

  XXII

  HEARTSTOPPER

  Transcript of Witness Testimony 369A

  60

  Two days before Becka and I were supposed to receive our strands of pearls, we had an unexpected visit from Aunt Lydia during our private evening prayers. Becka opened the door.

  “Oh, Aunt Lydia,” she said with some dismay. “Praise be.”

  “Kindly step back and shut the door behind me,” Aunt Lydia said. “I’m in a hurry. Where is Nicole?”

  “Upstairs, Aunt Lydia,” I said. While Becka and I did our praying, Nicole usually left the room and went off to practise her physical exercises.

  “Please call her. There is an emergency,” said Aunt Lydia. She was breathing more quickly than usual.

  “Aunt Lydia, are you well?” Becka asked anxiously. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Don’t fuss,” she said. Nicole came into the room.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “In point of fact, no,” said Aunt Lydia. “We find ourselves in a tight corner. Commander Judd has just raided our printing press in search of treachery. Though he caused considerable distress to Aunt Wendy, he found nothing incriminating; but unfortunately he has learned that Jade is not Nicole’s true name. He has discovered that she is Baby Nicole, and is determined to marry her as soon as possible in order to increase his own prestige. He wishes the wedding to take place on Gilead television.”

  “Triple shit!” said Nicole.

  “Language, please,” said Aunt Lydia.

  “They can’t make me marry him!” said Nicole.

  “They’d do it somehow,” said Becka. She’d turned very pale.

  “This is terrible,” I said. From the file I’d read on Commander Judd, it was worse than terrible: it was a death sentence.

  “What can we do?”

  “You and Nicole must leave tomorrow,” said Aunt Lydia to me. “As early as possible. A Gilead diplomatic plane will not be possible; Judd would hear of it and stop it. You’ll have to take another route.”

  “But we aren’t ready,” I said. “We don’t have our pearls, or the dresses, or the Canadian money, or the brochures, or the silver backpacks.”

  “I will bring the necessary items to you later tonight,” said Aunt Lydia. “I have already arranged a pass identifying Nicole as Aunt Immortelle. Unfortunately, there will not be time for me to reschedule the sojourn at the Retreat House for Aunt Immortelle. Such a deception might not have lasted long enough in any case.”

  “Aunt Helena will notice Nicole is gone,” I said. “She always counts heads. And they’ll wonder why Becka—why Aunt Immortelle—is still here.”

  “Indeed,” said Aunt Lydia. “Therefore I must ask you to perform a special service, Aunt Immortelle. Please conceal yourself for at least forty-eight hours after the other two have left. Perhaps in the library?”

  “Not there,” said Becka. “There are too many books. There isn’t room for a person.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” said Aunt Lydia. “Our entire mission, not to mention the personal safety of Aunt Victoria and Nicole, depends on you. It is a great deal of responsibility—a renewed Gilead can be possible only through you; and you would not want the others to be caught and hanged.”

  “No, Aunt Lydia,” Becka whispered.

  “Thinking cap on!” said Aunt Lydia brightly. “Use your wits!”

  “You’re dumping too much on her,” said Nicole to Aunt Lydia. “Why can’t I just go alone? Then Aunt Immortelle and Agnes—Aunt Victoria—can make their trip together at the right time.”

  “Don’t be stupid,�
� I said. “You can’t. You’d be arrested immediately. Pearl Girls always go in twos, and even if you don’t wear the uniform, a girl your age would never travel unaccompanied.”

  “We should make it look as if Nicole has climbed over the Wall,” said Becka. “That way they won’t look inside Ardua Hall. I’ll have to hide inside it somewhere.”

  “What an intelligent idea, Aunt Immortelle,” said Aunt Lydia. “Perhaps Nicole will oblige us by writing a note to that effect. She can say that she realizes she is unsuitable as an Aunt: that will not be hard to believe. Then she can claim to have run off with an Economan—some lowly functionary doing repair work for us here—who has promised her marriage and a family. Such an intention would at least demonstrate an admirable desire to procreate.”

  “As if. But no problem,” said Nicole.

  “No problem what?” Aunt Lydia said crisply.

  “No problem, Aunt Lydia,” said Nicole. “I can write the note.”

  * * *

  —

  At ten o’clock, when it was dark, Aunt Lydia reappeared at the door, carrying a bulky black cloth bag. Becka let her in. “Blessed be, Aunt Lydia,” she said.

  Aunt Lydia didn’t bother with a formal greeting. “I’ve brought everything you’ll need. You will leave by the east gate at 6:30 a.m. precisely. There will be a black car waiting for you to the right of the gate. You will be driven out of this city as far as Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where you will take a bus. Here is a map, with the route marked. Get off at the X. The passwords there will be May day and June moon. The contact there will take you to your next destination. Nicole, if your mission is successful, those who murdered your adoptive parents will be revealed, if not held to account immediately. I can now tell both of you that if you do in fact reach Canada despite known obstacles, there is a not insignificant chance that you may—I say may—be reunited with your mother. She has been aware of that possibility for some time.”

  “Oh, Agnes. Praise be—that would be so wonderful,” Becka said in a small voice. “For both of you,” she added.

  “I’m truly grateful to you, Aunt Lydia,” I said. “I have prayed so long for such an outcome.”

  “I said if you’re successful. It’s a big if,” said Aunt Lydia. “Success is not a foregone conclusion. Excuse me.” She looked around, then sat down heavily on the sofa. “I will trouble you for that glass of water now.” Becka went to get it.

  “Are you all right, Aunt Lydia?” I asked.

  “The minor infirmities of age,” she said. “I hope you will live long enough to experience them. One more thing. Aunt Vidala is in the habit of taking an early-morning walk in the vicinity of my statue. If she sees you—dressed as Pearl Girls, as you will be—she will attempt to stop you. You must act quickly, before she can create a disturbance.”

  “But what should we do?” I asked.

  “You are strong,” said Aunt Lydia, looking at Nicole. “Strength is a gift. Gifts should be employed.”

  “You mean I should hit her?” said Nicole.

  “That is a very direct way of putting it,” said Aunt Lydia.

  * * *

  —

  After Aunt Lydia had gone, we opened the black cloth bag. There were the two dresses, the two sets of pearls, the two white hats, the two silver backpacks. There was a packet of brochures and an envelope with some Gilead food tokens, a bundle of Canadian paper money, and two credit cards. There were two passes to get us through the gates and checkpoints. There were also two bus tickets.

  “Guess I’ll write that note and go to bed,” said Nicole. “See you in the a.m.” She was acting brave and unconcerned, but I could see she was nervous.

  Once she was out of the room, Becka said, “I really wish I was going with you.”

  “I really wish you were coming too,” I said. “But you’ll be helping us. You’ll be protecting us. And I’ll find a way to get you out later, I promise.”

  “I don’t think there is a way,” said Becka. “But I pray you are right.”

  “Aunt Lydia said forty-eight hours. That means only two days. If you can hide that long…”

  “I know where,” said Becka. “On the roof. In the water cistern.”

  “No, Becka! That’s too dangerous!”

  “Oh, I’ll let all the water out first,” she said. “I’ll run it through the Doorway C bathtub.”

  “They’ll notice, Becka,” I said. “In the A and B Doorways. If there isn’t any water. They share our cistern.”

  “They won’t notice at first. We’re not supposed to take baths or showers that early in the day.”

  “Don’t do it,” I said. “Why don’t I just not go?”

  “You don’t have a choice. If you stay here, what will happen to Nicole? And Aunt Lydia wouldn’t want them interrogating you, and making you tell about what she’s planned. Or else Aunt Vidala would want to question you, and that would be the end.”

  “Are you saying she’d kill me?”

  “Eventually. Or someone would,” said Becka. “It’s what they do.”

  “There must be a way we can take you,” I said. “We can hide you in the car, or…”

  “Pearl Girls only ever travel in twos,” she said. “We wouldn’t get far. I’ll be with you in spirit.”

  “Thank you, Becka,” I said. “You are a sister to me.”

  “I’ll think of you as birds, flying away,” she said. “A bird of the air will carry the voice.”

  “I will pray for you,” I said. It did not seem adequate.

  “And I for you.” She smiled slightly. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.”

  “I love you too,” I said. Then we hugged each other and cried a little.

  “Get some sleep,” Becka said. “You will need your strength for tomorrow.”

  “You too,” I said.

  “I will stay up,” she said. “I’ll do a vigil for you.” She went into her room, closing the door softly.

  61

  The next morning, Nicole and I slipped quietly out of Doorway C. The clouds in the east were pink and gold, the birds were chirping, the early-morning air was still fresh. There was no one else about. We walked quickly and quietly along the pathway in front of Ardua Hall, towards the statue of Aunt Lydia. Just as we got to it, Aunt Vidala came around the corner of the adjacent building, walking resolutely.

  “Aunt Victoria!” she said. “Why are you wearing that dress? The next Thanks Giving isn’t until Sunday!” She peered at Nicole. “And who is that with you? That’s the new girl! Jade! She isn’t supposed to—” She reached out her hand and grabbed Nicole’s strand of pearls, which broke.

  Nicole did something with her fist. It was so fast I hardly saw it, but she hit Aunt Vidala in the chest. Aunt Vidala crumpled to the ground. Her face was pasty white, her eyes were closed.

  “Oh no—” I began to say.

  “Help me,” said Nicole. She took Aunt Vidala by the feet and dragged her behind the base of the statue. “Fingers crossed,” she said. “Let’s go.” She took me by the arm.

  There was an orange on the ground. Nicole picked it up and put it into her Pearl Girls dress pocket.

  “Is she dead?” I whispered.

  “Don’t know,” said Nicole. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

  We reached the gate, we showed our passes, the Angels let us out. Nicole was holding her cloak shut so no one would see that her pearls were missing. There was a black car farther up the street to the right, as Aunt Lydia had said there would be. The driver did not turn his head as we got in.

  “All set, ladies?” he said.

  I said, “Yes, thank you,” but Nicole said, “We’re not ladies.” I nudged her with my elbow.

  “Don’t talk to him like that,” I whispered.

  “He’s not a real Guardian,” she said. “Aunt Lydia’s not a moro
n.” She took the orange out of her pocket and began peeling it. The crisp scent of it filled the air. “Want some?” she asked me. “You can have half.”

  “No thank you,” I said. “It’s not right to eat it.” It had been a sacred offering of a kind after all. She ate the whole orange.

  She’ll make a misstep, I was thinking. Someone will notice. She’ll get us arrested.

  Transcript of Witness Testimony 369B

  62

  I was feeling sorry that I’d punched Aunt Vidala, though not very sorry: if I hadn’t hit her, she would have yelled and then we’d have been stopped. Even so, my heart was pounding. What if I’d actually killed her? But once they’d found her, dead or alive, there would be a hunt for us. We were in it up to the neck, as Ada would say.

  Meanwhile, Agnes was acting offended in that silent, pinch-mouthed way the Aunts had of letting you know you’d crossed one of their lines. Most likely it was the orange. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it. Then I had a bad thought: dogs. Oranges are really scented. I started worrying about what to do with the peels.

  My left arm had begun to itch again, around the O. Why was it taking so long to heal?

  When Aunt Lydia was sticking the microdot into my arm, I’d thought her plan was brilliant, but now I felt it might not have been such a good idea. If my body and the message were one, what would happen if my body didn’t make it to Canada? I could hardly cut off my arm and mail it.

  * * *

  —

  Our car went through a couple of checkpoints—passports, Angels peering in the window to make sure we were us—but Agnes had told me to let the driver do the talking, and he did: Pearl Girls this and that, and how noble we were, and what sacrifices we were making. At one of them, the Angel said, “Good luck on your mission.” At another one—farther out of town—they joked among themselves.