by Amy Cross
I sit in the bed for a few more seconds, trying to make sense of it all, before climbing out and sliding my feet into my slippers.
Something's off.
Something just feels... different, somehow.
***
“Isn't Mother coming to have breakfast with me?” I ask.
“Your mother had a very early start this morning,” Mr. Randall explains as he pours me some fresh orange juice. “She told me to tell you that she'll see you later, and that you're to go about your business as normal.”
He takes a step back, but some lingering concern seems to be troubling him.
“Can I see her?” I ask.
“She said she doesn't want to be disturbed.”
“But -”
“She said that you'd understand, Ms. Sykes. It almost seemed as if you and she are keeping some kind of secret between you.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but then I think of the huge room on the floor below. I think of the tank of water, and of the fish lady in there. I know I'm not supposed to mention her to anyone, and it's clear that Mother trusts me to keep the secret to myself. I look at Mr. Randall and see that he seems to be waiting, and I really do want to tell him about what I saw last night, but Mother would never forgive me if I told our secret. It's as if she's testing me, so...
“Is Ms. Harper coming?” I ask.
“At the usual time.”
“What should I do until then?”
“Do, Ms. Sykes?”
“I usually sit with Mother after breakfast.” I look down at my plate, which is now nothing more than smeared pieces of egg and half the skin of a tomato. “That's what I do every morning. I sit with her by the window and she tells me about my lessons for the day.”
“Ms. Harper will tell you about your lessons today.”
“That's not what I mean.”
I stare at the plate for a moment longer, before suddenly hearing Mr. Randall walk away. Turning, I see him heading toward the kitchen.
“But what should I do?” I ask, even though I don't like sounding so stupid.
“I have to tidy the kitchen,” he replies, not even glancing back at me. “Perhaps you would like to sit in the lounge area and catch up on some extra reading? I'm certain Ms. Harper would be impressed.”
Once he's gone, I sit alone at the breakfast table for a moment. I drink my juice, because I always drink my juice, but then I look along at Mother's empty seat. I can't remember the last time she wasn't sitting there at the end of breakfast. Even on the rare occasions she gets sick, she forces herself to come and join me; she wears a face-mask to protect me from germs, and she makes me wear one too, and she sounds all snuffly and ill, but she does come. Always. Every morning.
Until now.
Finally I pull the chair back and hop down, and then I make my way over to the open double doorway that leads into the lounge. I actually forget for a moment that I won't see Mother on the sofa, and I stop in the doorway and look out across the large room. There are plenty of things to do and read, but it feels weird to be here all by myself. This is the sort of thing adults do, but I'm not an adult. I'm just a little girl.
I wander past the TV screen and over to the window that covers the entire far wall, and there I stop to look out at the city. From up here on the ninetieth floor of the building, everything else seems so small and insignificant. There are a few other buildings that are as tall as ours, but Mother has always promised that one day we'll get an even taller home. I watch the other skyscrapers for a moment before looking down, and now I can just about make out the street far below. I've never been there, of course, but I can see things moving in the shadows between the tall buildings.
There are people down there.
Lots of people.
And the funny thing is, right now they look like they're in a tank, just like the mermaid lady. After all, I'm looking at them from behind glass, and I can't talk to them. I watch for a moment longer, before heading along the window and over to the next wall, where another window lets me see a different part of London all the way to the river. Again, I can see people and cars and trains, and they look like they're in a fish tank behind glass.
I go to the next wall, and again I can see another part of the city.
All the people look like they're trapped in a glass tank. From up here, it's as if the whole of London is trapped in a tank and I'm the only free one because I'm the only one who can move around and watch them all.
Above me, the air- conditioning unit shifts tone slightly.
“Ms. Sykes?”
Startled, I turn to see that Mr. Randall is watching me from the other side of the room.
“Are you alright, Ms. Sykes?”
I nod, before quickly heading to the nearest sofa and plopping down. I take the first book from the coffee table, which turns out to be a big photo-book about African art. I don't really like the pictures, but I'm too scared to swap for a different book so instead I open to the middle and wrinkle my nose a little as I see a photo of some old sculptures. Mother's a big fan of African art, and she even used to go on safaris before I was born. I should try to like all this stuff too, if I'm going to be like her one day.
“There might be rain later,” Mr. Randall says.
I nod, without looking up from the book.
“You don't mind rain, do you?”
I shake my head. Again, I don't look at him.
“Your mother seemed tired this morning.”
I stare at the photo in the book, before finally glancing over at Mr. Randall.
“And distracted,” he continues. “I do hope that nothing untoward happened last night after I retired from my shift. You would tell me if you thought there was anything I needed to know, wouldn't you?”
I pause, trying to work out exactly what he means. Mother wouldn't have told him about the thing in the water tank, that's for sure.
“You can confide in me, Sylvia,” he says after a moment. “I won't tell your mother if you tell me things. I just want you to know that if you're worried about her, you can tell me absolutely anything. Doesn't that make you feel a little bit better?”
I nod, even though I don't really feel better at all. Then I wait for him to keep talking, but instead he simply watches me for a moment as if he's thinking really hard about something. And then, with a brief smile, he turns and heads back into the kitchen and I hear him getting back to work.
Looking down at the floor, I try to imagine what's going on beneath the apartment, in the level where Mother had the tank installed. I've always preferred being up here in the apartment, but now – for the first time – I want to go and see for myself.
Chapter Ten
“So do you think King Edward was really as bad as people claim,” Ms. Harper continues, “or might there have been people who wanted to make him sound bad so they could get what they wanted?”
Now she's waiting for an answer, but I've barely been able to concentrate on my history lesson all morning, and I'm pretty sure she's noticed that something's up.
“That's called propaganda,” she explains. “Even back then, there were people who tried to rewrite history so that they looked better and so that their enemies looked worse. So for example, if someone had deposed the rightful king, they might want to rewrite history so that they seemed like they were doing the right thing. Do you think that might have happened in the case we've been studying?”
In my mind's eye, I see the mermaid again. She's swimming around in her water tank and she looks so beautiful.
“Sylvia?” Ms. Harper adds after a moment. “You must have an opinion?”
Turning to her, I realize I'm not sure I even remember the question.
“What happened to him, again?” I ask, hoping to buy myself some time and get a few clues. “He died, didn't he?”
“He died, but -”
“How did he die?”
“That doesn't matter right now.”
“Can't I know?”
&
nbsp; “He was murdered.”
“How?”
She looks uncomfortable now, and that's good. If she's uncomfortable, she might change the subject and I won't have to answer any more questions. She might even decide to get some different books, which in turn will give me a few minutes alone so I can think some more about the mermaid lady.
“There are some things you're a little young to learn about,” she says finally.
“Because they're nasty?”
“You know what?” She smiles. “Why don't we try a different topic for a while? I'll go get some other books and we'll talk about castles or something like that. Sounds fun, yeah?”
Without even waiting for me to answer, she gets to her feet and heads out of the room, leaving me to have some peace and quiet at the table. I know I have to do my schoolwork, but really all I want to think about is the mermaid lady downstairs. I want to ask Ms. Harper some more questions, although I know that she'd probably get suspicious and then maybe Mother would be angry at me, so I have to keep quiet. Still, as I sit here now, I can't help thinking about the way the mermaid swam through the water, and the way she flicked her tail to keep herself steady.
I've never seen anything so beautiful.
Glancing at the window, I spot something moving in another window in another building. I squint, and I can just about make out a woman at a desk. A moment later I realize I can see my own reflection in the glass right in front of me.
I wish I could be beautiful.
“Sylvia?”
Turning, I see that Ms. Harper and Mr. Randall are standing in the doorway.
“Your mother has sent for you,” Ms. Harper explains, sounding a little surprised. “Apparently you and I are done for the day.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“She wants you to go downstairs and meet her.”
I immediately feel a flicker of hope in my chest.
“Where?” I ask.
“One floor down.”
I pause, before climbing off my chair. I want to go and see the mermaid, but at the same time I'm scared of what might happen when I get there. Maybe it'd be better to just stay up here and do the same things I always do.
“Is she coming to fetch me?” I ask.
“She wants you to go down by yourself.”
For some reason, this makes the fear a little worse.
“Are you coming?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
“I thought you'd be glad to get out of schoolwork for the day,” she says, before turning to Mr. Randall. “Most kids'd be doing cartwheels by now. She's basically getting a snow day without the snow.”
“You should hurry,” Mr. Randall tells me, gesturing for me to follow as he and Ms. Harper head back across the hallway. “Come along, Sylvia. You don't want to keep your mother waiting, do you?”
“No,” I murmur, heading after them. When I see the open elevator door up ahead, however, I slow my pace a little. Every time I've gone down there before, I've been accompanied by someone. After all, I'm still quite little. I guess I can't get lost, but I'd still like someone to hold my hand.
And now I feel like a real baby.
“I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning,” Ms. Harper says. “I don't know what we'll learn about, but I'll make sure it's something really fun.”
Stopping, I feel a sense of dread getting stronger in my chest.
“I can't go by myself,” I point out finally, relieved at the realization. “The elevator won't work with my fingerprints.”
“It will now,” Mr. Randall says. “Your mother had you added to the system.”
I swallow hard. “She did?”
“Big day, huh?” he continues. “I hope whatever's down there... I hope it's interesting.”
I don't really know how to respond to that, so instead I turn and start making my way toward the elevator. Even when I'm inside the chamber and looking at the activation panel, I don't really believe that Mother will have made it so I can go alone, but then I touch the panel and a green light flashes. Feeling a sudden rush of panic, I turn and see that Mr. Randall and Ms. Harper are watching me from the corridor, just as the elevator doors slide shut and I feel the chamber start to descend.
It worked!
It really worked!
Looking at my fingertips, I realize that finally I can use them to activate the elevator any time I want. I've been waiting so long for this moment. Mother said she'd only add me to the system once I became old enough, and now...
The chamber reaches the next floor down and stops, and then the doors slide open. I see the empty corridor ahead, lit by bright strips that run along the ceiling. For a moment I don't really want to walk by myself, but then I remind myself that Mother is waiting beyond the double doors at the far end. Still, as I start walking, I can't help remembering that Mother was always walking with me before, and I really miss having her holding my hand. I suppose she trusts me now and thinks I'm grown-up enough to do this, but I'm not so sure.
When I reach the double doors, I have to really push against them with my shoulders to get them open. Then I slip through and into the large room, and I freeze as soon as I see the huge water tank at the far end.
She's right there.
The mermaid is right up at the front. She might even be touching the glass. Even from this distance, she looks so beautiful with her long hair and her big, powerful fish tail, although I can't make her out in too much detail since the lights around her tank have been turned down a little. I take a couple of steps forward, mesmerized by the sight, before hearing voices nearby and turning to see that Mother is talking with Doctor Collier I hushed tones at one of the terminals.
She hasn't even noticed that I'm here yet.
After taking a deep breath, I make my way over toward Mother, coming up behind her as she continues to talk with Doctor Collier.
“I've always believed,” she's telling him, “in turning negatives into positives, and that's what we're going to do here. If you don't feel capable of -”
“Of course I'm capable,” he replies tersely, “it's just that we only get one stab at this and I'd prefer to preserve the specimen for as long as possible before -”
“It's dead!” she says firmly. “It's going to start rotting soon, isn't it? The bloody thing's half sushi.”
“I'd just prefer to take a more cautious approach.”
“Well you're not paying the bills, are you?” she replies. “It's my operation, and I can't waste any time. That cream you developed for -”
Suddenly she turns, as if she sensed my arrival, and her face immediately lights up with a smile.
“Hey Sylvia,” she says, leaning down and kissing the top of my head, “I bet you weren't expecting this, were you? I'm sorry I couldn't join you for breakfast, but we had a lot to get done down here. We spent all morning working, but finally I thought it'd be more fun for you if you came down and joined in a little. Does that sound like fun?”
I turn and look over at the mermaid lady.
“You can go and say hello, if you like,” Mother says.
I turn back to her.
“I can?” I ask.
“You can try,” she continues. “She can't answer you, obviously, and we don't know yet whether she understands English, but you can at least take a closer look. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
I pause, before nodding.
“So go on, then,” she says, taking my hand and starting to lead me toward the tank before stopping and letting go. “I'll come and join you in a while. There's no need to be scared, it's perfectly safe. Be my brave little girl and have fun.”
She turns back to Doctor Collier and starts talking to him again. I try to listen to them, but to be honest I'm way more interested in the mermaid. In fact, as I start making my way toward the tank, I can't help keeping my eyes fixed on the woman as she floats close to the glass. It's strange, but I actually feel like something's drawing me closer and closer, as if I don't have any c
hoice. In fact, by the time I get almost all the way to the glass, I'm somehow feeling braver than I've ever felt in my life.
Chapter Eleven
She swims down to the bottom of the tank, over to one of the corners, where she runs her hands against the glass. She's been doing this for a while now, exploring the tank's edges, and I've been sitting here cross-legged watching her. I don't care what she does, so long as I can see her. She's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen in my life.
Finally, almost without even thinking, I get to my feet and step closer to the tank.
I'm still worried about the glass shattering, but right now that doesn't seem quite so important. In fact, the closer I get to the glass, the less I worry about anything at all. By the time I'm close enough to put my hand against the cold surface, all I can think about is how amazing the mermaid looks as she swims almost straight past me. She doesn't look at me, of course, but for a moment I get a really close-up look at the scales on her tail. The colors are dazzling – lots of oily blue and yellows and purples set against the silver – although my attention is quickly drawn to the swish of her tail.
That tail looks so powerful.
I bet she could really hurt someone with her tail.
She stops at the far end of the tank, so I hurry after her and stop to look up at her face. She's examining the glass again, which allows me to watch her features. Just looking at her face and not at the rest of her, it's like I'm looking at a regular person, save for the gray-green slits on the side of her neck that I suppose must be her gills. She even has ears like anyone else, and when she reaches out to touch the join of the glass I see that she has normal, elegant fingers on a normal hand. It really is as if someone took the top half of a woman and stuck her onto the bottom half of a fish.
Looking down toward her waist, I squint a little as I try to make out the section where her human skin gives way to the silver scales. The scales seem to start sporadically around the lower part of her ribs, with one or two individual patches that don't really link together in any way. Then around the spot where her tummy button should be, the scales seem to erupt from her normal skin, forming the vast, wide-hipped waist section that leads down to her tail. I follow the line with my eyes, marveling at how smooth she looks.
