“Are you all right?” a guard asks before offering his hand to help me up.
“I’m fine. A little winded, but okay.” I take his hand and get to my feet, surprised by the collective gasp that echoes around me. It is then that my brown wig falls to the floor.
“Don’t move,” says the guard, picking up the wig. He then grabs my arm and escorts me out of the waiting room.
I sit in some sort of holding cell for an inordinately long amount of time before an older gentleman, who looks like a senior guard, walks in with my wig in his hand.
Holding it out he says, “Do you know that this is against the law?”
I shake my head, hoping that pleading ignorance might get me out of this jam.
“Well, it is. Entering the prison under a false identity is a crime, one that is usually punishable by a jail term.”
I try to calm my breathing but I can’t. Each breath comes rapidly after the other.
“In your case, however, Matron Greene, there will be no charges. OSP has decided it’s an issue for Matron Security to deal with. They’ve informed the chief minister and are on their way to collect you now.”
Chapter 12
I knew being caught was a possibility, but I have never felt as off-kilter as I do waiting to be “collected” by Matron Security. Every molecule in my body tells me that when they show up, I am going to be in a world of trouble. For the first time ever I am truly petrified.
When the lock on the door turns at last, I sit up straight and try to look as confident and unfazed as possible. Red walks through the door, lifting my spirits, but the scowl on his face and the infinitesimal shake of his head sends them plummeting again.
Chief Minister Smythe enters the room behind Red, along with Mr Denham, head of the Matron Selection Committee.
“You are in a lot of trouble, young lady,” Mr Denham says, his patronising tone immediately annoying me. What is he even doing here?
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, you heard me.”
I shift in my seat. “I’m afraid I heard you wrong, then.”
The chief minister chuckles. “You think so?”
My fear recedes completely, giving way to irritation and anger as I take in the posture of the men in front of me. I glare at them through narrowed eyes. “Yes, I do. The last I checked I was both a grown woman and the Matron of this nation.”
“Like that matters,” the chief minister says. “Thought you would have figured that out by now.”
“How dare you? You have no right to talk to me like that.”
Mr Denham crosses his arms over his chest and scowls. “We will talk to you any way we damn well want. Now, you have one chance to tell us what you were doing here and how you got away from Matron Security, then maybe we will consider being lenient in your punishment.”
The snigger is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Chief Minister Smythe’s glare alone tells me that no matter what I say, they are not going to let me off easy. “I am Matron of Oceania. I am the highest authority this nation has. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Mr Smythe slaps his hand against the wall, making me jump. “Listen, girl, you obviously don’t get it, so I am going to spell it out for you. You are nothing but a pretty face for the public to adore. You have no governing powers whatsoever.”
I shouldn’t be shocked by his words, but I still recoil like someone’s slapped me in the face.
“We are the ones with power. We decide all the laws. We are the ones who lead this nation, and you will do what we tell you, when we tell you to do it. This little stunt you pulled to visit that criminal has only served to make your life a hell of a lot worse.”
I lean away from him, fear clogging my throat. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that you will now have an escort twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You will go nowhere without someone accompanying you, and I do mean nowhere. Toilets, showers, sleeping—everything you do will be in the presence of a guard.”
I gasp, flabbergasted at his audacity, yet horrified at the same time. “If you think I am letting some lecherous guard watch me while I shower, you have another think coming.”
“You still don’t get it,” Mr Denham replies. “You. Don’t. Have. A. Choice. Either you do as we say or there’s a cell in the women’s wing with your name on it. Perhaps one with your mother’s name on it as well.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “You can’t do that.”
“Watch us.”
I shake my head. “No, no . . . you can’t. How would you explain sending an innocent woman to prison, let alone the leader of Oceania?”
Mr Smythe steps forward, a smirk on his face. “There are plenty of ways we could explain it, from mental illness to branding you a traitor. The people will believe whatever we want them to.”
“It’s not like it would be the first time,” Mr Denham adds.
My breathing accelerates until my body is nearly shaking with the effort to control it. They have every possibility covered. It’s either do as they say or put myself and my family at risk.
My mother . . . when was the last time I’d even heard from her? She and Dad didn’t come to my Dedication Day ceremony. Is this why?
“Fine, you win.”
“You say that like you actually had a chance.” Mr Smythe’s sinister chuckle sends a chill down my spine. He turns and bangs on the cell door. “Guards!”
The door opens and two Matron Security officers walk in.
“We are ready to leave now,” Mr Smythe says. “Matron Greene will tell us everything we need to know on the way home.”
In an obviously familiar move, the two men stand on either side of me and grab an arm. Then they march me out of the prison to a waiting cart.
On the ride back to Matron House, I have no trouble mustering the tears I need to convince Mr Denham and Chief Minister Smythe that I was at the prison on a personal mission. It’s the truth—I simply let them believe that I needed to confront the man who still gives me nightmares.
Explaining how I got out of Matron House is a little harder, but I come up with a suitable version of the truth that doesn’t give too much away. They’re both furious with me again when we arrive.
Belinda greets me at the front door, though she looks shocked to see who accompanies me. While Mr Denham and Mr Smythe advise her of the changes in procedure and the extra security that has been assigned to me, I excuse myself and head for my room. I am halfway up the stairs when I hear the accompanying footfalls behind me. I glance over my shoulder and cringe at the guard following me.
When I arrive at my room, there is an older woman I’ve never seen before standing where Margie normally waits for me.
“Who are you?” I realise I am probably being rude but am too shell-shocked to care.
“I’m Susan Yoong, your assistant.”
“What happened to Margie?”
“I’m not sure, Ma’am. All I know is I was reassigned from the kitchen about an hour ago.”
A mixture of fury and bone-deep fear pounds through my veins as I bolt back down the stairs. Mr Denham and Mr Smythe are still talking to Belinda.
“Where is my assistant?” I yell, not caring one iota about propriety.
“The traitorous Miss James,” Mr Denham says, his voice a growl, “no longer works here. And she better hope she can stay hidden or she will wind up in the same place as her brother.”
Oh my gosh, please let her be all right. How did they find out who she really was?
Mr Denham is staring at me like I just handed him the keys to the city. “No smart-mouth comeback, Ms Greene?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The chief minister chimes in. “Oh, really? You seem awfully upset to lose a servant.”
“Of course I’m upset. I finally got her trained to do things the way I like them and now I have to start again.”
It’s a flimsy excuse for my behaviour, worse even than my
explanation for visiting Howard. The expressions on their faces indicate they don’t buy it for a second. I won’t give them the satisfaction of confirming their suspicions, though.
I turn for the stairs, but before I can move, Mr Denham grabs my wrist.
“Watch yourself, Bethanie. There are plenty more where you came from, and trust me when I say no one will miss you when you’re gone.”
I freeze and yank my arm out of his grasp before storming to my room, refusing to dignify his taunt with an answer.
It’s only later, when I head to the bathroom, that I realise the full ramifications of my punishment. The security guard follows me inside and doesn’t move, not even when I turn and glare at him.
“Sorry, Ma’am. I have my orders.”
Hoping he is as unhappy about this arrangement as I am, I raise an eyebrow. “Do you really want to watch over me while I use the toilet?”
The pained look on his face tells me he doesn’t.
“What if we make a compromise?” I say. “You can inspect the bathroom, and you’ll see that there is nowhere I can escape to. Then you can stand outside the closed door while I use the toilet.”
He stares at me, likely trying to gauge whether I am planning on pulling a swift one. When he huffs I figure I have passed the test. “That sounds fair, Ma’am.”
After checking out the room and confirming everything is safe, he lets me into the bathroom. I have to restrain myself from slamming the door in his face.
The moment I am alone, I sink to the floor and let the tears flow. The dam on my emotions is broken, and I can’t seem to close it. I cry for what seems like hours, letting all the sorrow, guilt, and anger overwhelm me.
I wish I could go back in time and change things so that I’d never been selected to go to MITI or leave my family, but that’s not possible. All I can do now is try to protect them, and myself, whatever the cost.
***
When I arrive at the office the following morning, I crack my first smile since seeing Howard. I am sincerely happy to see April sitting at her desk as usual. The idea that she might have been in the same situation as Margie has been weighing on me.
“Good morning, April. It’s good to see you.”
“Morning, Ma’am, and likewise.”
“I assume you’ve been made aware of yesterday’s events?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Have you also been made aware of the fact that I will be accompanied everywhere by security around the clock?”
April nods, a defeated expression on her face.
“Excellent. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I am relieved when Jason, my current shadow, refrains from following me inside and instead takes up residence outside the door. Of course, the reason he doesn’t follow is that they already have my office bugged.
I sit at my desk and consider my options. My first thought is my parents. Should I tell them what is going on? If I did, would it put them in danger? I don’t often wish I had my mum around to talk things through, but now is definitely one of those times. It wouldn’t change my situation, though. It would only make them worry, and that’s assuming I can contact with them in the first place. My last two calls have gone unanswered, although that is not unusual.
My next thought is of the James family. Somehow, I need to find out what is happening with them and with Howard as well. There’s no way to send messages to them without risking Red in the process, though, so I’ll just have to write letters and wait for a good solution to present itself.
August 5, 2220
Dear Howard,
It was wonderful to see you in person yesterday. It reminded me that not everything going on in my life at the moment is bad. I hope it is the same for you. I only wish there hadn’t been glass between us so I could have wrapped my arms around you and hugged tight. You really did look like you could do with a hug, and honestly, I could do with one, too.
You’ve probably heard already, but something happened with my wig on my way out of the prison and I got caught by security. I had to spend a few hours in a cell, which was awful, but no charges were filed. Unfortunately, when Peter Denham and Chief Minister Smythe came to collect me, they were furious.
As part of my punishment, I now have 24/7 security and no privacy. I guess it could have been worse, but Mr Denham also made it clear that I am nothing but a pretty face for the public and I have no real governing power. I suppose I already knew that, but it still hurt to hear out loud.
I do not in any way regret coming to see you yesterday, please believe that. But I’m afraid I’ve made a real mess by getting caught. Currently, I’m hiding in my office because it’s the only place I have any privacy. The room is bugged, so I guess they figure they know everything I’m doing anyway. But even as I’m writing this to you, I have no idea how I’ll be able to get it to you. If you’re reading it, though, then I found a way.
I hope this letter finds you well and suffering no consequences from my visit. Please don’t worry about me either. Just concentrate on what you need to do to keep yourself safe. Also, if you could check in with your family, I’d be grateful. Your sister’s true identity came to light because of what happened, and I am worried for her safety.
Thinking of you,
Beth
I put down the pen and read over what I’ve written. When I’m satisfied, I seal it in an envelope. I wonder where to hide it so it won’t be found by security and decide it can go in my briefcase for now. I’m just closing the lid when there is a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
April walks in, smiling softly as she approaches my desk and places a pile of papers in front of me. On top of the pile is a note:
If you need any help
just let me know.
I look up at April and see a smile marred by tears. It hits me that what is going on isn’t happening to only me, it is affecting everyone around me. I dragged them into this situation. Jumping out of my chair, I pull April into a hug, apologising over and over as tears of my own fall.
“It’s not your fault,” April manages to choke out between sobs.
“It is.” Everything is my fault, and I am the only one who can fix it. “I will make it better, I promise, I will find a way.”
Once we both have our tears under control, April returns to her desk and leaves me to my work. I pick up my pen and begin a letter to my parents.
Sometime after eleven, Red appears at my door with two extra guards at his side. “Your presence has been requested at an Environmental Council meeting this afternoon.”
I set my letter aside. “Requested by whom? All my appointments were cancelled.”
“It was the chief minister, Ma’am. He was adamant you attend.”
I sigh. So it begins.
“Okay. What time?”
“It’s time to go now, Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Red.”
I stand and follow Red out. As we walk, the extra two guards walk right beside me. I swear I can feel their body heat.
When we get in the cart, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum sit on either side of me. My normally spacious seat is now a three-person sandwich, and I am the filling squished in the middle.
When we arrive at the Environmental Council building, the security sandwich continues. As I take my seat at the table, my shadows sit right behind me, so close that I couldn’t even go to the toilet without having to ask them to move.
The meeting carries on in the typical way—a bunch of men talk about air quality figures and surface temperatures. As they drone on, I can’t help but stare at Chief Minister Smythe. He sits at the head of the table, watching everyone closely but never saying anything. I have no idea why he wanted me here.
“Excuse me.” The sound of his raised voice startles me. He is glaring at one of the meteorologists. “That doesn’t sound right.”
The man stumbles over his words, but eventually responds. “You’re right, Chief Minister. I got those numbers mixed u
p. That should have been minus sixty-two degrees, not minus twenty-six.”
The look of anger on Smythe’s face seems way out of proportion for such a simple error. I wonder whether it really is as bad on the surface as they say or whether this is yet another ruse perpetrated on the citizens of Oceania.
I listen carefully for the rest of the meeting, but when it finishes, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum dog my heels all the way to the cart and distract me from my suspicions. I can’t see any reason they need to walk so closely. There’s no way I could get away from them even if I tried.
***
Less than forty-eight hours later, I feel like a tinderbox ready to ignite. I have barely set foot in my office for the day when the door opens behind me. I open my mouth to reprimand this morning’s shadows for following me inside without permission but see it is Mr Denham.
Here we go again.
“What do you want?” I ask, sounding like a petulant child.
“Now, now, is that any way to talk to me?” He smirks, his expression sinister. He’s enjoying this.
I smile and affect my sweetest tone. “How may I help you?”
“That’s better, and it is I who can help you, Bethanie.”
Not trusting him one iota but still curious, I ask, “How?”
“What if I tell you I can get some of your privacy back?”
“I would ask you what the hell you are up to.”
“I’m not up to anything, Ms Greene.”
“And what exactly would I have to do?”
“Well, I’m planning on making a move on the chief minister’s job. When I do, I want your public support.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “You both made it abundantly clear that I am just a pretty face with no real power. How on earth will my support help?”
“Well, Ms Greene, you may not have power, but you do have influence. A good word here or there in the right ear, a bad word in others, might help sway the votes in the right direction.”
Matronly Duties Page 14
