contains numerous characters which are all young boys. William Golding uses the characters to present many themes and big ideas that give the reader a lot to think about. So each of these characters has a very distinct personality.
She leaned back from the keyboard, playing idly with a bangle on her wrist. On the bulletin board above her desk, beside a picture of last year’s basketball team, she had pinned a postcard from a peace group, something she’d picked up outside the Eaton Centre; you were supposed to sign it and mail it to the prime minister or someone, but she wanted to leave it where it was, the hard-edged sketch of a hand, Say No printed across it in red.
Simon is in the choir but helps out differently to the others.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement beyond her window. Someone was out there in the dark. She leaned closer to the glass, and for a moment she saw the two people in leather jackets, a boy and a girl, she thought, slipping between the posts of a fence and into the ravine. One of them carried a can of spray paint, and her hair had come loose from underneath her cap and swung down her back, dyed a startling green. She moved with quick precision over the stones at the edge of the slope.
What were they doing, those two, down in the ravine, those hidden, knowing people? The girl tried to imagine being out there in the dark, elusive and daring. The vivid figures, alone together, definite somehow in their mysterious task. She caught a vanishing glimpse of long green hair between the black branches of the trees.
This could never be her life. She could not be that kind of girl. She turned back to the laptop.
Simon is very good and pure. He meets up with a pig’s head skewered on a stick, which becomes known as the Lord of the Flies.
She didn’t much like this assignment. She didn’t want to think about this, poor Simon crawling from the jungle into the circle of boys. Boys did that kind of thing, tearing butterflies to pieces, stomping on each other. What girls did was different.
She wondered if there was a book about what girls did, how you could talk about it. She imagined starting to write that book, what you can do with fingernails, what you can do with secrets.
She looked out the window again to see if the people with the spray paint were still visible. Nothing moved in the darkness, but written across the bars of the fence she saw a single word, painted in thick fast strokes. FEAR.
Alex took the wooden footbridge over Rosedale Valley Road, walking level with the tops of the bare broken trees, and turned onto one of the winding streets of Rosedale. Small cedars lined the sloping walkway to the house, behind a stone wall landscaped with climbing vines; there were rosebushes by the door, and holly trees, sprinkled with tiny Christmas lights, which he feared might have been planted specifically for the season.
Susie had been right about the Filipina maids; one of them opened the door when he knocked, and took his coat before he could stop her, and another immediately tried to offer him a glass of wine, smiling with the faded intensity of someone who had been smiling for many hours.
‘I’m just here to pick someone up,’ he said, and she showed him through the hallway, past a Chinese stone horse, a crackle-glaze vase.
There were little groups of people scattered around the sunken living room, under a Kurelek painting that he presumed to be original. But whatever the art on the walls, the late stages of every party were fearfully similar. Glasses sat abandoned on tables and mantlepieces with the acidic dregs of red wine clinging to them, in a litter of broken crackers and olive pits. On one side table, a tray holding a scatter of cheese rinds, three half-rotten grapes and a single curl of smoked salmon. Someone smoking by an open window.
From an adjoining room he could hear an emotional, muffled discussion; in front of him, people huddled on sofas, their heads bent together to exclude the other groups from their conversation. That time at the burnt-out end of the evening, the sudden intimacies and old resentments gathering like piles of cigarette ash. Susie was sitting alone in a chair by the fireplace, gripping a glass of wine. He crossed the room and knelt down beside her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I had to feed my cat.’
‘Your guy was really sure about this?’
‘It was pretty detailed. Now, remember, this comes from a man who thinks that terrorists are trying to kill him because he has too much knowledge about the components of the body. You can decide how much faith you want to put in it.’
She laughed, a bit wildly. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes too bright. ‘This is insane. I’ve been interviewing people on the street for months. And you talk to one guy. One guy. Fuck. Just… fuck.’
He put his hand on her knee without really thinking. ‘Are you all right? Don’t get too fixed on this, Susie. It might not even be true.’
‘We’ll need a flashlight,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know if there’s going to be anyplace open to buy one, is the problem.’
‘Oh, Susie, no. We can’t go right now.’
‘Yes. We can. We have to.’ She drank the rest of the wine in her glass. ‘If I don’t go now, I’ll never go.’
‘We can’t. It’s not safe.’
‘It’s fine, I’ve been down there before. There’s a whole community by River Street, I’ve done interviews there.’
‘Yeah, but not at midnight.’
‘So he told me he wanted to see me incorporate Aristotle’s Poetics,’ said a woman on the couch, her voice rising passionately. ‘Never mind that my entire argument is anti-Aristotelian! I mean, honest to God!’ She broke off as if she were about to start crying.
‘I can’t stand it here much longer, Alex,’ said Susie. She stood up, and he followed her through a hallway and into the kitchen, where a particularly well-dressed group was clustered at a granite-topped island, debating something in low voices. ‘It’s supposed to be a big honour for me to be invited at all, you know.’ She found an open bottle of wine and poured herself another glass. ‘You want a drink?’ He shook his head. ‘Because I’m just a grad student. There aren’t many grad students here.’ She leaned against the counter, her arm touching his. ‘I should be honoured, right? Instead I just think, I can’t deal with this world. I don’t even mean Rosedale. I mean anyone who doesn’t have a brother living in a ravine.’
‘That covers a lot of ground.’
‘I’ll make an exception for Evvy. Evvy gets to be in my world.’
‘I really welcome this opportunity for collaboration,’ a woman at the island was saying, but Alex saw that several of the men were looking their way. This was the thing about being with Susie in public, he thought; he had to notice other men noticing her. And of course they did, she was lovely. It made him very aware of himself, a thin, worn, grey-haired man, chewing on a carrot stick.
Susie was drinking fast; she’d finished most of the glass already. ‘If you want to go down the ravine tonight, you should at least lay off the wine,’ he said.
‘You’re right,’ she said, draining the glass and refilling it. ‘That would be the smart thing to do.’
‘I’m just saying.’
‘Let me tell you about Derek.’ She pushed a strand of hair from her face. ‘Derek was brilliant. Fucking brilliant. A lot of people with schizophrenia are very bright, but Derek was, like, stratospheric. And I… I should have known something was wrong. We were so close, Alex, I should have, I did know, I must have known…’ Her voice wavered and broke and she drank half the glass in one swallow. ‘Fuck that anyway. There’s so many things, there’s too fucking many things I could be angry about.’ She reached for the wine bottle again. She was drinking very fast; she was drinking to get drunk.
‘Derek doesn’t necessarily present as severely delusional,’ she said, stumbling over the sibilants. ‘Sometimes he knows how to play the game. But he’s got this whole fucked system. It’d take me all night to explain it to you, but just as an example, there’s this part of it that’s all about semen. Which most of the time means
he’s forbidden to have sex, not that this is difficult in his circumstances, but then at certain times he has to expend the semen, you see, so he ends up spending most of his cheque on hookers. Picture that he shared all of this information with me, and you’ll have some idea what my family life is like. At least that’s how it used to go. It sounds like he’s onto a new phase now.’ She lifted one hand and quickly wiped the corner of her eye. ‘And I’m supposed to stand around in this fucking mansion and care about the fucking university’s fucking problems?’
‘We don’t have to stay, do we?’
‘It’s hereditary, do you know that?’ she went on. ‘Twins. Think about it.’ She took another deep gulp of wine. ‘The risk’s not as bad for fraternals as it is for identicals, but it’s still pretty high. But I’m probably safe now. You don’t often have your first psychotic break in your late thirties. It happens, but not as much. I mean, I’m fucked in every kind of way, but I know I’m not schizophrenic.’
‘Let’s just go,’ said Alex, touching her shoulder. ‘I’ll get our coats.’
‘Right. You do that, then,’ she said, emptying the bottle into her glass, her gestures loose and abrupt. ‘I’ll be waiting right here.’
The living room seemed to have experienced one of those random elevations of mood that sometimes happen after midnight; people were now animated and laughing, with the exception of the anti-Aristotelian woman, who was weeping quietly while a maid tidied away a broken glass. He could smell pot somewhere, but couldn’t quite tell what direction it was coming from. He walked through to the foyer, and down another hallway, past a pink-walled room with an antique writing desk and a vase of forced hyacinths, their sugary scent filling the corridor, and finally found the tired maid who had taken his coat; she sent him on to a closet where he collected it, along with Susie’s quilted jacket.
When he came back into the kitchen Susie was still leaning on the counter with yet another glass of wine, looking small and belligerent as a bearded man in a dark suit hung onto her arm, talking to her intensely. Alex paused in the doorway and she turned to him; he tipped his head towards the exit and she nodded, finished the glass and pushed herself unsteadily off the counter.
‘Suzanne!’ exclaimed the bearded man. ‘Surely you’re not leaving us so soon?’
‘Yes, Douglas,’ said Susie. ‘I am. As a matter of fact, I’ve just discovered that my brother is living in the Don Valley ravine, and my friend and I are going to look for him. So, you know, have fun.’ She pulled Alex into the living room.
‘Douglas wants to screw me,’ she said. ‘That’s the only reason I got invited here. He’s a power broker in the department, too. If I had any ambition at all I’d do it.’
‘Ah,’ said Alex. They reached the foyer, and she pulled on her jacket and fumbled with the buttons, reached for the door handle and then changed her mind.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I know. Hang on a minute.’ She grabbed one of the carved wooden panels on the wall and pulled it open, revealing boots, a tennis racket, an assortment of coats. ‘Okay, no luck here.’
She opened a second panel and found a wall of shelves filled with gardening tools, bottles of antifreeze and a big industrial flashlight. ‘Yes! I knew it!’ She grabbed the flashlight and tucked it under her jacket, a move that did not conceal it even slightly.
‘Susie! What are you doing?’
‘What do you think I’m doing? Stealing a flashlight.’ She giggled suddenly and put a hand over her mouth.
‘They’re going to notice it’s gone, for Christ’s sake.’
‘I don’t give a fuck. This is like, this is like me losing a penny. Screw them.’
‘Are you twelve years old or what?’
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’ She pushed open the door and they stepped out onto the walkway, a furtive little knot of pot-smoking professors huddled by the side of the house, the branches of the trees creaking in a harsh wind.
‘Susie.’ He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Susie-Sue. Please. Not tonight. Please just let me take you home. We can go first thing tomorrow.’
‘I told you, Alex,’ she said, pulling away from him. ‘I have to do this now. It has to be now.’
‘People are sleeping,’ he said, desperate for some rationale. ‘If we even find him, he’ll probably be asleep.’
‘No problem,’ said Susie. ‘When he’s off his meds, he’s nocturnal.’ She lost her footing on the step at the end of the walkway and caught herself on the wall. ‘Jesus, I didn’t mean to get this drunk. No, that’s not true, I totally did.’
‘Okay, Susie,’ said Alex, throwing up his hands. ‘You win. You always win. We will go down into the ravine and look for your brother under the guidance of the man who’s making great progress on cleaning systems.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
‘Just give me the stolen flashlight, okay?’
She walked ahead of him along the street, but then stopped at the corner, and he caught up and found her looking confused. ‘This way,’ he said, touching her elbow. ‘Up Glen Road.’
‘It’s all twisty here. The streets. I never know where I am.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re just lucky I spend my time wandering around taking pictures of metal structures.’ But she didn’t react; she didn’t remember.
‘I forgot to ask you, that call you got. What was it in the end?’
‘You probably don’t want to know,’ said Alex.
‘No, tell me.’
‘It was an assault. It was horrible. I don’t much want to talk about it.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She squeezed his hand.
‘Somebody got burned up because they thought he was the subway poisoner.’
‘God. God, this is so fucked. I don’t know what’s happening to this city.’
‘Me neither. Adrian thinks we’ve been cursed.’
Susie giggled again. ‘Fuck. What a concept. Who does he blame?’ ‘The government, I suppose. That’s who he always used to blame.’ He detached his hand from hers and stuck it in his coat pocket. Below the road the earth fell away, another valley opening beneath them, sheer and dizzy, into a well of darkness.
‘I hate this fucking neighbourhood,’ said Susie, still giggling, as they left the bridge and continued north, past wide yards filled with trees outlined in fairy lights. ‘I just want to scrape the paint on their Mercedes with my house keys.’
‘Oh yeah. Resort to vandalism. That’s always good.’
At the end of Glen Road they turned and took another short street into a park, walked across the grass until they had passed through a fence of bushes and found themselves at the top of a steep hill. Alex turned on the flashlight and scanned the bushes until he found a narrow track leading downwards into the shadows. He started to scramble down, his boots sinking in the slippery mud, but Susie tripped and fell almost immediately. ‘Goddamn,’ she moaned. ‘This is my only good dress. Look at this.’ Her stockings were covered with mud, and there was a large smear across the front of the dress; clearly not thinking, she wiped her caked hands on the sleeves of her jacket.
‘Okay, c’mere.’ He stretched out his hand, and she took it and and stumbled towards him, the shock of her body against his, and he thought, Oh shit. Oh no. He caught his breath, his arm moving around her waist to pull her closer, Oh no. Then, bracing his feet, he steadied them down the long slope to a forking path at the bottom.
‘I think we’re on level ground from now on,’ he said, though she continued to lean against him, her hand pressing into his back. He didn’t take his arm away. They turned to the right, the mud sucking and clinging to their boots. The wind was muffled by the wooded hills on either side of them, but his ears and fingers were stinging with the cold. He aimed the flashlight ahead, and then swung it to either side, looking for any signs of habitation.
‘Wait for me a sec.’ He let go of her and walked off the edge of the path, into the snow beneath the trees, circling the flashlight around him, trying to see into the woods
as far as he could, but he wasn’t good with darkness, he couldn’t see much. She probably didn’t remember that either. He stood at the edge of a deep gully, hearing water running below; came back to Susie, and she leaned into his chest again, wrapping both her arms around him.
They walked on, and then he saw a signpost on his left, between two hills. ‘Okay. That’ll be the brickworks.’ He led her off the main track to a smaller path that ran sharply downwards, and he could make out the shape of the old brickworks now, and a smaller building at the side lit up with orange security lamps. They crossed a concrete plaza, ponds and wetlands spreading out around them, and then they were beside the great hulk of the abandoned factory, which had been haphazardly tidied and repaired, a strangely inaccessible cultural monument. The wind was worse here, howling around them in the broad exposed flat.
Susie shook her head. ‘This doesn’t look right,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he’d live near a, an attraction. And it’s not far from the road, listen.’
‘Well, it’s maybe not a very successful attraction. But I don’t know. Anyway, it sounded like he was a ways behind it.’
He turned the flashlight into the factory hall, picking out the blurry shapes of men in sleeping bags among the twisted piles of old machinery, and pointed to them wordlessly. Susie left his arm and moved skittishly towards the men, veering at an angle, but then she saw empty bottles lying by the sleeping bags and shook her head and returned.
‘They were drinking,’ she said. ‘Derek doesn’t drink.’
‘He could’ve started.’
‘No. He wouldn’t. Anyway, they’re just crashing. Your guy said he had a tent, right? He’s settled in.’
There was another mud path, narrow and sloping upwards, leading on beside a fence. It ran by the parts of the brickworks that had never been restored, that were smashed and boarded up and covered with graffiti. There were no lights here; Alex turned the flashlight on again. Susie tripped on a tree root and fell again, and cut her knee, and he bent and took her back into his arms. Thistles bit and lodged in their clothes.
Girls Fall Down Page 14
