“Of course, the Lord had other plans for me. I joyfully scrubbed floors and did whatever was needed for a while, then someone asked me if I’d considered the Seminary. I told them, I would clean toilets for the rest of my life or I would go to the Seminary, it was the Lord’s call. So they put me in the Seminary. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
I stared at him. No wonder he was such an oasis of calm. If you could survive doing all that – psychologically as well as physically – you had to finish up pretty unflappable. Was Father Mark ever really ‘scared spitless’? Or just ‘mildly bothered’ – at least by my standards?
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes into the half hour break and I still didn’t want to see Bane.
“You know, Bane actually… looked kind of pissed off himself,” said Father Mark mildly.
“Sod him!” My hand flew to my mouth. “Sorry! ”
“You really are upset. So what happened?”
“Bane said something terrible.”
“About you?”
“No, not about me. He said he hoped Major Everington got Conscious Dismantlement – you know he’s being sentenced today?”
“Yes. But he won’t, it’s not a religious crime.”
“I know he won’t. That’s not the point!”
“I know.” Father Mark stared out at the barren island again. “But Margo, I honestly don’t think Bane would’ve said that if he really understood.”
“I know that. I think. I hope. But hearing him say that made me go all… s’like a void opened up inside me and it was going to swallow us and I thought I was going to be sick… which sounds really melodramatic but it made me feel awful. I mean, they’re going to kill the guy for something he didn’t do, isn’t that enough for him?”
“Why did Bane suddenly go all hard line on this guy?”
“Oh, he…” I sighed and put a hand to my forehead. “He found out about this.”
Father Mark eyed the scar.
“Everington did that?”
I nodded.
“I can see why Bane’s pissed off, then.”
“Yes, but…” the words tumbled out, “he offered me the anaesthetic. If I gave him a certain piece of information. But I don’t think he was that bothered about the information. And he cut me to try and make me understand what I was facing, to try and force me to take his offer. I think… I think in a twisted way he was trying to help me.” There, said it out loud at last.
“Did you tell Bane this?” Father Mark didn’t scoff at what probably sounded a rather generous interpretation of my torturer’s motives.
I shook my head.
“Then can’t you see why he’s pissed off? Why didn’t you tell him?”
“It’s embarrassing. It was… where you were. He wanted to know where you all were.”
“Ah.” Father Mark nodded. “And you’re too modest to take the credit for your courage in refusing to tell him.”
My cheeks heated.
“See, even you’re embarrassing me. How could I tell the Major that? I didn’t do anything special, so don’t make out I did!”
Father Mark sighed.
“Look, Bane’s never been faced with Full Conscious Dismantlement. What he said, he meant it the way people say, ‘I hope he falls and breaks his neck’. It’s never a pleasant thing to say, but ninety-nine point nine percent of times someone says that, they don’t mean it.”
“I know. And maybe I am being illogical, it just really hurt to hear him say that. And if he can’t even see why I’m upset, that’s… even more upsetting.”
“This whole Everington business upsets you too, doesn’t it?” he said shrewdly.
“Yes. ’Cause he’s innocent. And he tried to help me. I think. And…” I hesitated, then hurried on, “and ‘cause I’m afraid I hate him, and I don’t want to hate anyone.”
Father Mark looked at me for a moment – the Seal of Confession stopping him from asking something?
“Yes, he’s the guy with no eyes,” I said softly.
Father Mark said nothing. I was the only person to whom he would ever betray knowledge of what I’d said under the Seal of Confession – but he’d need far more explicit permission than that.
“Well,” he said, after a moment, “are you sure Bane’s actually earned all this rage by his comment, or are you dumping some of your anger with the EuroGov over this onto him?”
I wrapped my arms around myself for a moment, then it reminded me of the Major on his seat, so I unwrapped them again.
“I don’t know. What he said really upset me. But perhaps I wouldn’t normally have been so angry with him. I really… I really had a go at him.”
“I didn’t hear it all, but it did sound that way.”
“Y’know, I don’t think priests are supposed to listen at doors.”
“Trust me, I’d have needed ear plugs not to hear you.”
“Huh.” I checked my watch again. Half an hour. “Ow… they’ll be starting again and I want to see it. Well, I don’t exactly want to but… well, you know what I mean.” I let out a long breath. “I don’t know what to say to Bane.”
“Perhaps you can both apologise to each other – mutual apologies normally work well.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Doesn’t stop you, does it? If you feel you’ve got something to apologise for.”
“Hmm.” I looked at my watch again. “Look, I’m going. Thank you for… thank you for following me.”
“Always happy to stalk a parishioner in need.”
Laughing, I ran a few steps across the stone, then skidded to a halt.
“Oh, Bane said to just ask if I remembered ‘cause we both keep forgetting. We’d like you to marry us. Will you?”
“Of course,” said Father Mark. “Nothing would make me happier. As soon as you’ve sorted out… er… this, just set a date.”
“Yeah, well. If we were going to call if off because of this, it should never have been on in the first place, should it?”
Father Mark smiled as I turned and ran for the TV room again.
“You two are going to be fine,” he called after me. “I have every confidence in that. We’ll start doing the marriage prep in odd moments, shall we?”
My happiness faded before I reached the TV room. Oh-Lord-help-me, this is going to be so awkward… The TV was still on, the door open. I looked in. Jon, sat on his own on the sofa. I went and sat beside him.
“Margo?”
“Yes. What’s happening?”
“Bane’s looking for you.”
“I meant with the sentencing.”
“Oh. They just brought him back in. He hasn’t said anything. So I don’t know what’s happening.”
I turned my attention to the screen.
The Major was slumped in his chair, his head almost... lolling. Drool hung in a long thread from his chin and dripped slowly onto the carpet. His hands twitched in front of his chest, making feeble batting motions as though trying to fend something away. I had to swallow hard before I could speak to Jon.
“Looks... looks like they’ve... destroyed him. Really destroyed him, this time. Bastards.”
Bane walked in then. He looked at me, and I looked at him. He looked hurt and angry. I felt hurt and angry. Sticky silence. Wordlessly, he went and sat on the other side of Jon. Yeah, they’d be concluding very soon. We could apologise or fight some more then. Bane took over muttering descriptions of what was happening to Jon – he’d had more practise than me.
The judge, having finally, belatedly, learned better, did not invite the Major to speak again – not that that wreckage of a man could speak, surely? After one final, brief summarisation, he proceeded to sentence him to death with all the speed and ceremony of a man dispatching a boiled egg. Dismantling. The following morning.
Very wise. Even those out-of-bloc human rights groups wouldn’t be interested in the conviction of an EGD Major who was already dead.
“Mr Everington,” said the judge re
luctantly, “do you understand what has just been said?”
The guards prodded their charge gingerly with the tips of their truncheons – he started, head flopping back so he stared at the ceiling. Through the ceiling. Words actually whispered from his lips, but he was talking to himself. Or possibly to thin air.
“Black fuschias... Black ones. Is it possible? Someone must have tried. That would be the thing... Perhaps…” He fell silent, hands stilled, and his head lolled forwards again.
The judge flapped a weary hand at the guards.
“Oh, take him away.”
The guards reached for him, but he lurched out of his seat, pawing urgently at the Perspex as though unsure why he couldn’t get through it.
“No! No! I have to know! I need to know! I need to know…”
The guards took hold of him but he just went on saying, “But I need to know,” again and again as they guided him through the door. It shut behind him and the judge swept out.
It was over.
The newscaster began to witter on about the sentence, but Bane stabbed the off button on the remote and the TV went blank. We stared at each other across Jon. No putting it off now. Jon gripped his sticks and made as if to heave himself to his feet.
“I’ll just...”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Bane caught his arm. “You can stay there and protect me. Margo’s awfully free with her darling little fists when she’s angry.”
His sarcasm made me wince. Whacking him was a bad habit I really should’ve left behind in our playpen...
A long silence. Bane went on staring at me, his brow rucked up. He mostly just looked hurt, now. Seeing that expression on his face made me ache inside twice as badly.
“Well, one of you say something,” said Jon at last.
I didn’t know what to say. If I just apologised straight off for my part in it, we wouldn’t end up talking about it.
Bane hesitated another moment, then said in a tight voice, “You think I’m an evil bastard? Is it because of what I...” He swallowed. “What I did to...”
...to Doctor Richard! Oh no...
“No! No, Bane. I didn’t mean anything like that. Didn’t mean anything except in relation to the... er... conversation... earlier. Anyway, I don’t think you are ! It was an either or!”
Bane snorted.
“Oh, so I’m just an effing stupid blithering idiot, well that’s better – but only a little!”
He’d far too good a memory.
“I don’t think you are stupid,” I said stiffly. “You were just being stupid about this one thing.”
“That’s a concession, by the way,” remarked Jon.
“I noticed!” Bane snapped, attention still on me. “I just don’t understand... he hurt you and I’m not allowed to wish him harm? What the hell! ”
“It’s natural to wish him harm,” I said, “though not... well, ideal. But nothing warrants that.”
“How can you defend him?”
“I’m not defending him. But even if you take the old law of an eye for an eye – okay, so perhaps you want to pin him down and get artistic with his face. But you’re saying you want to pin him down and – with him conscious! – rip his skin off, piece by piece, then scoop out his eyes, then chop out his tongue, then slice out his bones, then yank out his teeth, then cut off his ears and nose and manhood, then...”
“Stop, stop!” Bane held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, you’re right, okay? I don’t want that to happen to him. Not while he’s conscious. But you could’ve just said what you just said!”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m not perfect! ” I stopped and drew in a couple of deep breaths, squeezing my eyes closed for a moment. “Look... I’m just really, really sorry I went for your throat like that, okay? I went way over the top.”
I struggled to hold back tears. So much for my hormones being back to normal.
Bane was silent for a few long minutes, staring at my poorly hidden distress. Then he slipped from the sofa and knelt in front of me, one hand resting rather tentatively on my knee.
“Margo, I am a stupid blithering idiot. Yeah, I s’pose I didn’t mean it, but whatever, I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to talk like that about something you can’t possibly think about dispassionately. So I’m really sorry too.”
His brown eyes gazed into mine with such sincerity the tears began to spill out.
“I’m sorry...” I mopped frantically with my sleeve. “I wasn’t going to cry. It’s not fair...”
“Aren’t we done?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Doesn’t matter, then. Please, come here...”
No second invitation needed. I slid into his arms, ending up in his lap on the floor.
“Sorry,” I whispered into his hair. “Sorry...”
“No, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “I’ve been an insensitive clod. I can’t pretend to understand why this whole trial thing has bothered you so much but I know it has and I pretty much ignored that. I’m sorry.”
He hugged me tight, kissing my cheek, my neck, my hair. Vaguely aware of Jon dragging himself to his feet and tip-tapping out of the room but I was too busy cuddling up to Bane to pay any attention.
“Ah well,” sighed Bane, after we’d snuggled for a while and I’d stopped sniffing. “The thing’s all over now, anyway.”
“Please tell me you didn’t enjoy it. No... that’s stupid. Just tell the truth. Did you enjoy it?”
“Not as much as I thought I would.” He kissed my scar. “Not as much at all.”
After another moment, he added, “I wonder what he wanted to know?”
It wasn’t all over, of course.
Not quite.
***+***
10
FULL LOCK-DOWN
When, after a leisurely breakfast the next morning, we arrived in the TV room to enjoy our second day of relaxation and Bane put EuroVee on, we were greeted by the newscaster’s voice, “For anyone joining us, we’re here at the Brussels Detention Facility to bring you coverage of the execution of Lucas Everington, former Major and Commandant in EGD Security...”
“Haven’t they taken him in by now?” I checked my watch in dismay. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”
‘Coverage’ of an important execution just meant filming the convicted being marched from cell to Lab door – the cameras never went inside. Don’t let anyone think too closely about what goes on inside the Lab, about the fact the person won’t be dead for some hours – about the fact that this is what’s done to people’s children...
“We’re about to head up to the cell block corridor from which in just a moment the guards will be escorting the convicted to the place of execution...” The newscaster was as chirpy as if she was reporting on a town fete.
“Look, I’m going to go in the kitchen and make us all deluxe coffees, just let me know when it’s over,” I said.
“It won’t take a moment, Margo...” said Bane.
“I don’t want to see it!”
“Okay, okay.” He turned to Jon as I headed for the kitchenette, “D’you think I should record this for Hippo? He’s still in bed and I recorded the sentencing for him.”
“Well, just hit record. He can always delete it.”
“Yeah...”
I shut the kitchenette door firmly and began to clatter around, trying to concentrate on making coffee – offering up rather erratic prayers for the man who was about to begin to die. He wouldn’t feel a thing, of course. Might even be totally oblivious to what was about to happen.
Hard not to identify with someone facing dismantling, even if not the full whack. Yet this someone had walked away and left me to face the full whack. Admittedly, I did believe he would’ve spared me it if I’d just been prepared to give him sufficient excuse...
The door opened and Bane looked in.
“Margo, come and see this.”
I slammed a mug onto the work surface so hard a chip flew off the bottom.
“I don’t
want to see it! ”
“Calm down and trust me, can’t you? You will want to see this...”
He snagged my wrist and drew me through the door. Regretting my loss of temper, I let him. Reluctantly.
On the screen, two guards, faces like chalk, were running up a cell corridor, opening door hatches and looking in.
“Clear off!” one of them hissed at the hovering cameraman – with little effect – then met his comrade mid-corridor. “Have you found him?”
The other guard shot an anguished look at the media crew and clearly muttered a negative response.
“We have to sound the alarm!” Raising his wristCell, the first guard pressed something – cacophonous alarms split the air and huge clunk-clicks came from every door as extra locks kicked in. The guard spoke urgently on his wristCell and soon the Facility Commandant arrived, red with rage.
“Where is he? ”
“The cell hasn’t been opened since he was shut in last night,” said the first guard weakly.
The Commandant – a colonel, by the shiny things on his shoulders – strode into the one open cell, poky and clearly empty, shook – or rather failed to shake – the solid bars over the windows and strode out again.
“Unless!” he roared, “You are suggesting! That the man! Evaporated! The cell! Has clearly! Been opened! By someone! ”
Flat against the corridor wall, the unfortunate guard whimpered, “Not by us, sir. Must’ve been... must’ve been the prisoner...”
“That drooling madman? Impossible! ” But he promptly spun on his heel and barked at the waiting Major and Captain, “He can’t possibly have got far. No one leaves – the gates do not open for anything. Full lock-down.”
He glowered at the media crew, as though they might’ve hidden the escapee in a camera bag, then went on, in a very, very ominous voice, “Who was in the camera room last night?”
“I don’t believe it,” I said, as guards began to come and go, running in all directions. “He’s escaped?”
Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) Page 11
