by Tina Shaw
“I shall miss you, you know,” she continues on a more serious note, and I think she really means it.
The little dog is moving about on the grass nearby.
“What will you miss?” I ask lightly, putting my nose to her neck and breathing in her scent.
“Oh, this,” she says airily, then gives a little laugh as if that’s not what she really wants to say.
I’m thinking she means the park at night, and being out late, when other people are in bed. Maybe she’s blushing – there’s not enough light to tell. Or maybe she means she’ll miss us being together like this, being close for the first time.
I push my face towards hers, thinking to kiss her properly, the way I once kissed dark-eyed Pippa in the alleyway behind her building. Our teeth clash together and Emee draws back with a small, startled cry. It makes me fume; even that can’t be simple. Everything about her ends up making me feel inferior, clumsy, rough about the edges, a greenhorn.
“It’s not an opportunity,” I mutter, drawing away from her.
“Suit yourself,” she says, in a huff now.
Getting to my feet, I reach a hand down to her. She puts her hand into mine, like a princess, and I lift her up easily, feeling her lightness, flimsy as the fabric of her dresses. This time there’s nothing clumsy. I put a hand around the back of her neck and kiss her fully on the mouth, drawing in her breath, the cloying sweetness of her, sliding my tongue over hers and feeling her melt against me in a way that Pippa never did.
“What was that for?” she breathes when we break apart.
“Because I’m not going away.”
Then I fetch up the bony quivering dog, and hand him over to her. Feeling with my fingers and my mind, I untie the knot around its collar.
* * *
The next evening, the sound of music greets me as I make my way through the building to our rooms. When I get to our kitchen doorway, I find the room is full of people and the sight makes me pause. Jorzy, sitting at the table, is playing lively tunes on the viola. Nanna leans against the bench, smiling. Even my mother is there, sitting off to one side with Babet. There are people from the other floors; children, old people. And best of all, there’s the tantalising smell of roasting meat.
What the hell’s going on?
Marina, her face flushed and happy, rushes over to draw me into the party.
“Leho,” she gushes, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow? So soon?” I didn’t realise her plans were that far advanced.
“Come and see Ydra.” She leads me over to where he’s standing in a corner in his red felt vest and holding a mug of something between his thick hands.
What’s he doing here, her secret friend? And then it hits me, and I can’t believe I didn’t realise before. It all clicks into place. So Marina is carrying a Travester baby and is running off with a Fonecian … my mind boggles. If I’d known when we were at the depot, I wouldn’t have been as friendly. I feel like punching him.
But that won’t do. Anyway, Nanna is watching us. So I hold out my hand.
The Fonecian shakes, nearly crushing my hand. “I, too, have a sister,” he says, “back in Karis.”
“And?” I’m still bristling, even though he’s likeable.
He shrugs, his eyes on Marina. “So perhaps I understand your feelings.”
“Ydra is going to get us out of the city,” Marina says. Her eyes are bright and it’s good to see her looking so happy.
“You’re going together?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
“Yes,” the Fonecian says simply, his dark skin gleaming.
“We’re leaving at dawn,” she says, impulsively giving me a hug. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you, Leho?”
“Course,” I tell her gruffly. Then another thought hits home. “You’re going by airship, aren’t you?” I ask intently. It would be the obvious way for a Fonecian.
Ydra barks a short laugh. “The less you know the better,” he says without malice.
For some reason that makes me furious again and I glare at my sister. “How do you know it’s safe?” I mutter, not caring if I’m being rude.
Marina rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she says, “Jorzy’s already given us the third degree.”
The Fonecian gives a little cough of agreement, or embarrassment. Jorzy, busy playing away, the viola tucked under his chin, meets my eye and shrugs helplessly, as if to say, Once Marina has made up her mind, what can you do?
“Well, it is a bit of a surprise,” I add sarcastically.
My sister elbows me in the ribs. “Don’t be like that. We’re going to start a new life. Be happy for me!”
The Fonecian’s gaze bores into me. “I will take care of your sister,” he says fiercely.
Suddenly I’m ashamed to have been so rude. I can see now that this man is to be trusted. The music from the viola is swelling into something bright and funny. Therei and a lanky boy from upstairs start dancing, kicking up their heels. Others join them, and everybody looks so happy. It’s a party! But Marina going away is hardly a happy occasion, and who knows when we’ll see her again – if ever. Somehow I’m not in the mood to celebrate.
I give Marina’s arm a squeeze. “Make sure you come back,” I tell her.
She smiles gently. “Don’t worry, Leho. I will.”
* * *
It’s still dark, yet I’m already awake when I hear the sound of movement coming from the kitchen. Peering around the doorway, I see Nanna and Marina holding each other in the lamplight. Ma is standing nearby with her cane and the Fonecian is sitting at the table.
“You’ll write and let us know?” asks Nanna. “How it goes?”
“Of course.” Marina sniffs.
“But don’t write down where you are,” adds Ma quickly, “just in case.”
I step into the kitchen. “How will we know where to write to Marina?”
My sister grabs me in a hug. She already has her coat on and a sack full of her things at her feet.
“Ydra’s got it all worked out,” she says softly. “Now, we’ve got to go.”
“I can walk with you,” I say quickly, thinking of airships. “Before I go to work.”
“No, Leho,” says Marina, her eyes serious. “It’s not safe.”
The Fonecian picks up Marina’s sack and they head out through the building. Nanna turns away to hide her tears from me. Despite what Marina has said, I quickly follow after them. Their steps echo on the ladder, then I hear the grate of the manhole cover being pushed open from below. Silently I count to five, then go after them. Already they are hurrying along the dark, misty street. A fine rain is falling.
As I expected, they turn right onto Thessel Street. I don’t even need to be careful about being seen. Hand in hand, they don’t look back once. My mysterious sister has only just met this Fonecian, and here she is, putting her life in his hands. What if we never see Marina again?
On and on they go, until they’re walking through the industrial area where Marina took me. A grey light is in the sky now, so dawn isn’t far away, and a few worker Cerels are out on the streets.
Up ahead, my sister and the Fonecian turn down the unpaved road. At the end is the large open area with the enormous sheds. There are four airships tethered in the field today and my heart starts to beat faster. They really are going by airship, lucky Marina!
Marina and Ydra cross the open wasteland towards one of the sheds. Two men come out to meet them. I hang back behind a thorny bush, my head reeling. My sister is going away – and we don’t even know where she is going. Marina hasn’t told any of us, to keep us safe. And she’s going in an airship.
I watch breathlessly as the group walk over to one of the high towers where a cargo airship is tethered. It’s enormous this close. Ydra shakes hands with the other men, and then he and Marina are climbing up the steps to the launching platform. At the top Marina pauses and glances around, as if to say goodbye to her city.
I can�
�t help myself. I step out into the open and give a shout.
Marina spots me. A look of surprise then delight washes over her face. She waves and blows me a kiss. Tears spring into my eyes as she steps inside the cabin. I’m glad there’s nobody else around to see me.
I watch as Ydra also enters the airship cabin and then a Fonecian loosens the guide ropes. The airship rises gently up into the sky. I continue to stand there as the ship drifts gracefully away to the west, carrying my sister towards an unknown land.
20
Days slip by, gliding into each other like treacle, and I still haven’t killed the Director. But it’s getting closer, I can feel it. All I’m waiting for is the opportunity. However, there’s one thing I have to do first.
No longer caring whether I’m caught or not, one morning I sneak along the side of the house in Trabant Street, down the narrow alleyway I once saw Emee come out of, and find the side door. It must be the servants’ entrance, I realise, just like the side door leading into the kitchen at the Director’s house. And now I’ve been inside that impressive house, well, this one will be a doddle.
Inside, there’s a dark passageway. On my right are kitchen noises and the smell of roasting meat. I swallow down the automatic burst of saliva and move silently to the left. There is a staircase with a polished banister and I hurry up the steps, not knowing what I’ll say if somebody appears – I’ve got no story in my head, nothing, just the overriding desire to see Emee one last time. Up and up I climb till the staircase ends at a narrow landing with a single door, and for the first time I wonder why they’ve put her way up here in the attic. Why isn’t she in the main part of the house?
Catching my breath and running a hand over my unruly hair, I rap softly on the door.
“Come,” she says. And when I step inside, closing the door quickly behind me, and she sees that it’s me: “Oh!” Her eyes are wide and surprised. In that moment, I can barely breathe. Everything’s golden. She sits at a dressing table wearing a yellow dress, and she’s been brushing out her hair so that it lies golden on her shoulders like spun sugar. It’s an image I’ll always remember and it makes me grin. “What?” She frowns.
“I – oh, nothing.”
Already I’m stealing glances at the room; my first time in a Travester girl’s bedroom. With the gold-thread cushions on the bed and the ribbon rug on the floor, the two thin porcelain dolls on the dresser, it’s very different to Marina and Babet’s basic room.
“What are you doing here, Leho?” she whispers, coming over and taking my hand.
That floors me, her warm hand in mine. She’s only a foot away from me, and I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes.
Her look and voice are urgent. “Tansy will be here any minute with my breakfast. You mustn’t be caught.”
I clear my throat. “Look, I might be going away after all.”
“To the Caucasas?”
“No!” Then, making an effort to speak more calmly: “No, not the Caucasas, but somewhere else … There’s something I have to do, a task.”
She puts her head on one side, like her little dog, which makes me grin again. “You can be very annoying, you know.” She sniffs.
“Mysterious?”
Her brow softens. “Yes, annoying in a mysterious kind of way.”
She gives my hand a squeeze then releases it, goes over to sit on the bed. I’ve come this far so I follow her and sit down too, trying not to be distracted by the softness of the mattress and the fact that it’s not on the floor but on some kind of frame.
I’m thinking how to put my feelings, my hope, into words. “Can you imagine,” I begin, taking her hand in mine, “if our world was different …”
“Different in what way?” She frowns again.
“Well, if you and I were the same, for instance.” I watch her carefully to see if it’s even possible for her to imagine such a thing. Thoughts move swiftly across her eyes.
“If we were on the same footing,” she says tentatively.
“Yes. If the city was changed, like you said … Maybe even if the Director wasn’t in charge any more.” Again, I watch carefully for her reaction. This might be a harder one for her to imagine. But then, we’ve come this far.
“He’ll always be in charge, Leho,” Emee says in a soft voice that seems to echo with regret.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I blurt out. “Things are going to change, and soon!”
“That’s not what you thought before.” She draws back from me, as if wanting some distance to see what’s happening between us, and I realise she’s reading my face just like I’ve been reading hers. “Ursa won’t ever change, that’s what you said.”
She’s got one over me, and I’m not doing this right. With a huff, I try to rearrange my thoughts. “I want to know, if things were different, could we be friends?”
Emee is smiling, and it feels like the sun warming me. “Silly boy,” she says indulgently, “we’re already friends.”
It all clears then, my worry and fear, and I squeeze her hand. The skin is soft and pale from not having to work outside. Our hands together are brown and white, the fingers entwined. A choked feeling of both happiness and sadness bubbles up in me. Mostly I wish I didn’t have to kill the Director.
“You will come back and see me,” she says firmly, as if there’s no question about it, and straightening her spine, like I’ve seen Ma do. The same kind of grit. “Once you’ve been and done whatever it is you need to do.” Her gaze finds mine. Some kind of knowledge flashes between us, and I wonder if she could possibly suspect what I am planning. “And then we can be proper friends,” Emee adds, squeezing my hand back. “Now, go. Before Tansy turns up and you give her a heart attack.”
My last sight of her: sitting on the bed with the skirt of her yellow dress spread out around her, hands in her lap and her wide eyes imploring me to stay.
* * *
Already it’s my day off again as I step out into the street, rod at my side, and sniff the air with satisfaction. Perfect weather. I’m going to spend the whole day fishing. Bit, once his chores are done, will meet me later in the morning at what we call the “rustic pool”. I’ve got a nub of bread and a lump of cheese wrapped up in brown paper in my pocket, while Bit is going to bring a cucumber and a tin of black tea.
Up ahead I notice a flurry of activity on the street. Several people seem to be heading in the same direction. I tug at the sleeve of a woman going past.
“What’s up?”
Her dark eyes are feverish. “The first transport is leaving,” she says. “I’m going to see them off.” She hurries on.
One breath, two, and I change my plans, heading along instead to the building where Bit and his mother live. Ducking into the doorway at street level, I walk along the dim hallway into the building, my boots loud as gunshots on the wooden floor. Five flights of steps, dusty and creaking like the deck of a sailing ship. At the rust-coloured door, one knock then I push it open. Bit’s mother doesn’t bother keeping it locked. If Black Marks want to get in, she says, a lock won’t stop them.
Bit looks up in surprise. He’s in the middle of sweeping the room with a twig broom and his face goes pointy with anxiety when he sees me.
“There’s something going on,” I tell him, propping my rod in the corner.
A grumbling voice comes from the other end of the room; his mother still in her bed. “Is that you, Leho?”
Bit, catching my excitement, goes ahead and answers for me. “I’ve got to go out for a while, Ma.” We’re already at the door. “I’ll finish my chores when I get back.”
Our boots clatter down the wooden steps, then we’re out onto the street. A man with a determined expression goes past at a fair clip, obviously knowing where he’s going, and we follow him.
“Where d’you think …?” Bit wonders.
“The House of Law,” I say. It’s the only possible place all these people could be going, and I have a bad feeling about what’s happening.
There are more people on the streets as we get closer to the Via Parada, until we’re soon part of a tightly packed crowd of Cerels marching along the pavement as if on their way to a festival. From up ahead comes the cry of a sausage vendor. Above, a small, gaily-painted airship hovers, sending paper streamers down into the crowd. It’s a holiday mood. In fact, looking around, I reckon a lot of people have been given the morning off work. There’s even a band that strikes up a cheerful tune. Me and Bit turn into the Via Parada.
I can’t believe my eyes. The street is closed off and it’s full of people, both Cerels and Travesters alike. There are beer stalls, giving away free mugs of beer, and the delicious smell of roasting sausages. We push our way along the street towards the House of Law. Outside the iron gates sporting the bear insignia stands a huge covered truck surrounded by people holding bundles and carrying boxes. One of these women might be the sister of Boss, and I keep an eye out for him. A platform has been set up and as we make our way forwards the Director appears with several other men in long black coats. The Director steps up onto the platform and speaks into a loudhailer.
“My people,” he cries, “this is a tremendous day.”
The crowd grows quiet, faces turned expectantly towards the Director.
“Today the first fortunate Cerel families will be travelling to the Caucasas, to the land of plenty and opportunity, to start a new life.” He surveys the crowd with gleaming eyes. “Out of the generosity of my heart, I am prepared to send any Cerels who wish to go to this wonderful new region as settlers. Free transports will be leaving the city every day from now. We wish the first settlers all the best in this exciting new venture. My people,” the Director shouts, “raise up your voices!”
I’m nearly blown over as all around me the crowd erupts in cheers and claps and screams like a mighty burst of wind. Bright faces are turned up to the Director. A spasm of fear runs through me. How has this happened so quickly? Don’t people know what’s really happening? Bit is pale, shaking his head. I can’t stand any more, and start to push my way back out of the crowd. But then a piercing voice stops me in my tracks.
