by Julia Hughes
Tipping back her head the blonde stared directly up at Carrie before disappearing back in the house. Seconds later footsteps pounded up the stairs and she burst into the room.
‘Come on trouble,’ she said, sweeping her arm towards the stairs.
She let Carrie go first down the narrow staircase, calling to her to turn left when she reached the next landing. Carrie found herself in a decent sized kitchen, although a large table surrounded by eight mismatched chairs filled most of the space. Standing on the table’s top were three boxes of cornflakes, identical cockerels crowing against a yellow background. Each box had a name written in thick black ink. There were two further boxes of porridge, again identical, again with their owner’s name write boldly. The solitary muesli packet was unmarked. The blonde leaned against the door frame studying Carrie as she took everything in. When Carrie finally met her eyes, she stalked into the room to sit at the table, resting her hand on her chin, a small smile on her lips.
Carrie refused to be intimidated.
‘Where’s Rhyllann?’
‘Captain Jones to you.’ The blonde shook her hair back.
Carrie wasn’t in the mood to play games. ‘Where is he?’ She repeated, a note of impatience in her voice.
‘But you can call me Susie, if you like,’ the blonde continued.
‘Susie. Please. Where is he?’
‘Where he should be. At work.’ Susie widened her eyes, using the same intense tone as Carrie, mimicking her.
‘Take me there. I have to speak to him. He has to come with me.’
Susie laughed. ‘Right! Get you, giving your orders.’ Amusement flashed across her face, she appeared to be enjoying this little drama.
‘Alright. You win. I’ll take you. You’d better get cleaned up – you can borrow some of my togs.’
While the bath was running Susie made tea and toast and sorted out some clothes for Carrie. She chattered non-stop; Carrie listened gratefully while eating breakfast, thankful she didn’t have to ask questions, only a little perturbed when Susie followed her into the bathroom and perched on the lowered loo seat to continue the one sided conversation.
Lucky for her, Susie said, it was the janitor’s night off. Else she’d have been sent packing. Her Rhyllann could be a right soft touch. There were eight rooms to this three story terrace. Five double bedrooms, the storeroom and the Janitor’s flat on the ground floor. At present it was under occupied. Only Susie and her roommate, Rhyllann and three other guys lived here. Apart from Susie and a guy who worked nights, the others had left for work at White City’s MOD.
Susie was “going steady” with Rhyllann and had taken the day off to go flat hunting, already making plans for her escape from this “shitehole.”
‘Summik with proper plumping, all on one level, no more stairs,’ she said with a look of bliss.
Carrie dipped her head beneath the bath water to wash her hair.
When she finished rinsing, she noticed Susie looking at her expectantly.
‘Sorry, what was that?’
‘I said, best not let Rhyllann know ‘bout that copper. ‘E can be a moody git. The papers would have a field day if they found out.’ Susie pouted, sticking her lower lip out.
‘I bin trying to cheer ‘im up – I mean – none of that stuff wot happened was ‘is fault. Really. Wassit? So it’ll be our little secret – okay?’
The thought obviously pleased Susie: a secret from her housemates, to be hinted at in dribs and drabs teasingly, and a hold over the mysterious young stranger. Susie hummed happily to herself, sashaying over to the bathroom cabinet mirror to inspect her eyebrows, licking a finger to smooth a stray hair.
Carrie wished she’d leave. The dull ache in her bones was draining, soaking away into fragrant warm water. But parts of her body still throbbed and she wanted to examine them in private.
She sneaked a look at Susie wondering how offended she’d be if asked to leave. Pulling the skin either side of an eyebrow taut, Susie wielded tweezers with all the concentration of a brain surgeon, peering at her reflection after each tiny hair was plucked. Satisfied with her eyebrows, she moved onto nasal hair. Carrie winced. Catching her eye Susie winked in the mirror saying ‘Beauty must suffer? Right girlfriend?’
Giving a bright smile Carrie hoped she never grew that vain. Or for that matter attracted a man so shallow. She wondered at Rhyllann’s taste in women; Wren’s voice – and that sounded so much better even in her own mind than “The Angel’s voice”– when he spoke of his cousin filled with trust. Wren must have a girl somewhere in the other world he’d spoken of. Something inside of her jumped at the idea that a better world existed, this world, yet so different. A world where women weren’t condemned to mundane jobs until they married and at worst became unpaid skivvies, at best decoration. According to Wren, a girl like her could do anything and be anything she wanted.
She soaped her arm, across the back of her neck, then her other arm, sighing with pleasure, closing her eyes again, slumping down to rinse with another longer sigh.
“A girl like you.” He’d said, and there’d been admiration in his voice. And now he waited for her to bring Rhyllann. To Stonehenge. While she wasted time soaking in a bath!
Stretching for a towel Carrie slurped noisily from the water, managing to wrap it round her while Susie’s back was turned. Not that Carrie was prudish but she hesitated to display her boyish figure next to such abundant curves. Susie would probably have advice to give about padded bras or something. She was still nattering to herself in the mirror, completely unfazed by Carrie’s silence.
‘I mean, I wanted to laugh. A skinny little thing like you snuffing two grown men. If Rhyllann knew he’d laugh too. But best not to let on. Not until he’s got used to you hanging around. Capiche?’ She winked again, enjoying the joke. Privately Carrie thought that if a copper warned her about a sword wielding maniac running round London, the first person she’d confide in would be someone like Rhyllann. But she winked back.
‘Thanks for not grassing.’
‘S’okay. You gave my Rhyllann a proper turn when you fainted last night. Proper shook up he was.’
Carrie smiled, betting he wasn’t half as shaken as she had been.
‘Anyhow we felt sorry for you. You’re only a kid.’ Susie hesitated chewing on her bottom lip. ‘Just because you’re a touch …’ she hesitated again before adding. ‘Different.’
Carrie decided Susie was alright. A bit of a drama queen but alright. They tracked back upstairs to the bedrooms, Susie gabbling on about cancelling the flat viewing. Following Carrie’s gaze, taking in the teddies and cuddly toys covering her bed, she giggled self consciously.
‘My cuddlies,’ she said. Explaining how she missed her younger brothers and sisters her voice trailed away. Under her veneer of sophistication she seemed younger than Carrie.
‘You should have kids. You’d make a wonderful Mum.’ Carrie said, meaning it.
Susie flushed with pleasure. ‘Go on!’ She pointed to the bed. ‘Get dressed.’ She’d laid out a grey gym sweat-suit and underwear; and a chemise type vest and knickers with labels still attached. Carrie felt touched by her generosity.
‘You’re really sweet. Thanks.’
Susie’s face worked suddenly. ‘Why don’t you get dressed, and come out with me up the other end? Oxford Street, Bond Street, you know. Shame to waste a day off. Get you some really nice stuff – something done with this.’ She tugged at Carrie’s damp plait, shaking her own mane for emphasis.
‘And wait for Rhyllann to come home? Make him take us out somewhere really nice an’ you can have a nice long chat with him an’ everything.’
For the briefest moment, Carrie was tempted. It sounded really … nice. Ordinary. Then she remembered Gran, Father Andrew, the hateful Blonde, Sacha, Mokey, her mind jumped suddenly to the kindness of strangers and above all Wren. Warning her time was running out.
She shook her head. ‘Please Susie, please. I really need to see Rhyllann. I must
speak with him.’
Susie pulled a face, the mask slipped back into place.
‘Suit yourself. You’ll be sorry.’ She sounded amused again, looking forward to an unexpected drama. Humming tunelessly she hunted through her wardrobe, finally deciding to wriggle into a pale pink jumpsuit.
Chapter Fifteen
They could have walked to the MOD offices where Rhyllann worked, but Susie insisted on driving. Apparently the racy little green car parked outside belonged to Rhyllann.
‘But he won’t mind me borrowing it. I mean, we’re practically engaged,’ Susie explained. She fluttered and twittered over pulling the hood down, insisting that it’d be a crime to drive a convertible with the top up on this warm spring day, pouting when she broke a fingernail. Carrie could have screamed with impatience.
They drove in silence, with Susie glancing at Carrie from time to time. Carrie barely noticed, lost in prayer.
Please let me get the words right, please let him listen to me.
She clasped her hands together tightly – she shouldn’t have wasted precious minutes bathing and eating breakfast, already half the day had flown by.
At the security barrier Susie beeped on the horn, and the guard came out to open up for her.
‘Heyya Susie.’ He called, as they swept past.
‘Heyya Georgie boy – how they hangin’?’ Susie called back, wheel spinning into the car park. ‘This is my baby sis. We’re meeting Captain Jones for lunch.’
Georgie boy sucked his teeth. ‘I dunno … rules is rules,’ he said.
Susie gave a thousand watt smile, tossing the golden tresses. ‘C’mon Georgie, you know li’l ol’ me. Tell you what, she waits here, I’ll fetch the Captain.’
Jumping out the car, without waiting for a reply she sashayed into the building.
Carrie smiled weakly up at George’s moon like face, hugging the golf bag to her. After a silent appraisal George retreated into his cubby hole.
The building reminded Carrie of a larger more modern version of the Tower of London, without the towers or the river. She tried and failed to imagine herself working here. She couldn’t think how Rhyllann felt, stuck in an office away from the sunlight from nine to five. But this was his punishment. Punishment for showing humanity.
He’d been on patrol in no man’s land when it happened. A huddle of German soldiers advanced on his post waving a white flag. Unfortunately for them barely a week ago two assassins did exactly the same to gain entry to a camp. Killing eight men. The papers had immediately picked up on this cowardly inhuman act, asking in self righteous tones if nothing were sacred to the enemy.
Capable of enduring extreme boredom, blessed with lightning fast reflexes and excellent eyesight, Rhyllann was always first choice for sniper duty. He had the little group in his sights, his finger tightening on the trigger, behind his shoulder he heard sharp gasps of excitement as the shoot to kill order was relayed. For some inexplicable reason he eased off the trigger, and lowered his rifle. There was something odd about those “soldiers”. When Rhyllann’s commanding officer Barrington-Smythe protested then grabbed at his rifle, intending to do the job himself, Rhyllann slugged him; ending the argument by knocking him unconscious.
As though conjured up by her thoughts Rhyllann came storming out the building heading towards her. He wore dark suit trousers with a standard white shirt, but the loosened tie and jacket held carelessly over one shoulder gave him a buccaneer appearance.
Dear lord, she should have been concentrating harder, rehearsing her story. Please please lord, let me get it right. Let him listen this time. She licked her lips and hugged the golf bag tighter, cringing back against the bucket seat, hoping she wouldn’t get shaken this time. Thank goodness Susie rushed after him anxious not to miss any action. She’d put in a good word for Carrie.
‘… An’ there were bodies everywhere – blood and everything. It looked like the whole place had been torched – the copper said the whole estate could have burned down – she’s a pyro pyro – pyro maniac – and be careful Rhyllann – she’s stolen this sword – a really valuable artey something.’
Until then Carrie hadn’t realised how badly Susie wanted to go shopping in Oxford Street– with a friend.
Pushing her shoulders back and her chin out, Carrie locked eyes with Rhyllann, addressing him as though they were alone.
‘I have spoken with Wren. Hear me out. He told me what to say. He said “Tell Annie I don’t blame him.”’
Rhyllann’s face whitened, his eyes drilled into hers. ‘What did you call me?’
Carrie smiled. She’d scored. ‘Annie.’
Chapter Sixteen
Rhyllann dragged her from the car. ‘Get out.’ His teeth clenched into a rictus smile for George and he gave a stilted wave.
‘Taking the girls for an early lunch.’ He called marching Carrie towards the busy road, heading for a green patch opposite. She scrunched her shoulder against his vice like grip.
Susie tottered behind.
‘Rhyllann wait up sweetie.’ She called.
Rhyllann didn’t look like anyone’s sweetie. He looked like Heathcliff newly returned from the moors to beat Edgar Linton to a pulp.
They’d crossed the road now, leaving Susie hesitating on the other side waiting for a gap in the traffic. Rhyllann hurled Carrie against an empty bench, his fingers still digging into her fleshy upper arm. Snarling, barely moving his lips he spat out words.
‘Don’t you ever … no-one calls me that. I feel for you. You’ve got problems. But I won’t … you can’t do this to me.’ He reached out to shake her again, Carrie cringed. Turning his head to one side he spat, despite the look of disgust still on his face, he relaxed his grip.
Susie panted up to them as pink as her jump suit.
‘Rhyllann honey, it’s a joke! A funny! Look at her – she’s a kid … Rhyllann please,’ she cried, frightened by this stern faced stranger.
‘Shut up! You stupid … If you got your head out the clouds and stopped staring at yourself in the mirror all the time, you’d see her for what she is; a mad woman! She hears voices in her head. And she listens to them! And you brought her here! Where I work!’ He ran out of steam suddenly.
‘Car keys. Now! Don’t you even think about driving it again.’
Susie’s face crumpled. Squeezing a hand into her pocket she dragged out the keys, slapped them into Rhyllann’s open palm and stormed off.
‘Jeez! Thanks a bundle!’ Rhyllann said bitterly. Shrugging his arms through his jacket, he tugged it into position, then straightened his tie. All the while gazing down at Carrie as though deciding what to do with an unwanted puppy dumped on him.
‘Rhyllann, please I’m telling the truth.’ Carrie wailed as he paced up and down in front of the bench, muttering to himself, raking his fingers through his heavy dark hair, and pushing it back from his temples.
‘Please Rhyllann, please – just look – look inside the bag!’
A look of horror crossed his face and he stopped mid pace.
‘Jesus – what’s that noise – you gotta bomb in there?’
‘No, please Rhyllann – it’s Caliburn – it’s purring – it senses you!’ She gibbered.
Rhyllann swallowed hard, with visible effort he dragged his eyes away from her to survey the surrounding area carefully.
Carrie followed his gaze: Wood Lane was a long straight boulevard. There were no buildings opposite the MOD headquarters just a vast expanse of green verge dotted with benches. A man kicked a football away from them for his dog, a trio of shop girls on an early lunch break clattered by them. Rhyllann’s face relaxed– then froze again. A crocodile of children appeared on the horizon, chanting as they marched towards their weekly swimming lesson at the local pool.
His bulging eyes met Carrie’s and then softened.
‘Caliburn. I see, I understand. Shall we take Caliburn home?’
Carrie frowned, not sure she liked this new Rhyllann.
‘No! We have t
o get to Stonehenge. He’s waiting for you. Wren’s counting on you. “Find Annie.” He said. “Bring him to Stonehenge.”’
‘Of course. Of course. Mustn’t let my dead cousin down. Sit here. Don’t move. Sit very still, I’ll go get the car – and we’ll be off. How ‘bout that?’ He soothed.
Carrie liked it better when he was treating her as a madwoman. But she waited obediently while he ran back for his car, not even protesting when he made her put the golf bag in the boot. He kept throwing anxious little glances towards the troop of advancing schoolchildren, rolled towels tucked under their arms. He'd probably dated the teacher once or something, Carrie told herself.
Once they were both buckled into the car his attitude changed again. If it wasn’t impossible she’d swear he was premenstrual or something. No matter. She began explaining.
‘Gran thought it was an angel at first, we all did – well the town did – I didn’t. But after I got attacked, I could hear it, I mean him – Wren’s got this kooky giggle, an’ he told me all about the time you two went up on the moors, but in that world, you fly.’
Rhyllann spluttered loudly.
‘You fly planes. And you stole this plane, and then these bikes, and found this box. Wren nearly died, he did die on Bodmin moor. But in that world you saved Wren – you got him breathing again because you knew first aid … Rhyllann – are you listening to me? Rhyllann – is this the right way? We need to get to Stonehenge! Rhyllann!’
His knuckles were white against the tanned leather steering wheel, his hair streamed backwards in the wind revealing a muscle twitching just below his ear, and his eyes fixed straight ahead. She doubted he’d heard a word.
