The Division Bell Trilogy

by Rachel McLean

  He sat in the empty chair next to her. She looked past him at the row of chairs. It seemed to go on for ever, alternately advancing and receding. She screwed up her eyes then opened them again and the chairs stilled.

  Her wrist felt cold. She looked down to see she had been handcuffed. The other cuff was attached to Tim’s wrist. She tugged at it, angry. “I don’t need this,” she hissed, spitting on the side of his face.

  He wiped it. “Can’t be too sure.”

  She looked back to the front of the room. Roy had disappeared; she was alone with Tim. She shivered, sending a jolt through her that tore at the handcuff. It hurt.

  “Stay still,” Tim muttered.

  The doors opened. She stared at the advancing women as they poured in, voices high and excited. Those that passed near her turned to stare. She frowned back at them, trying to focus on the faces, to find her group. But they swam in front of her eyes as if waving in an artificial breeze.

  Someone cried out. “Rita!” She squinted to see a woman staring at her, her mouth wide. Rita opened her own mouth to mimic her, then clamped it shut again. Who was it? She tried to focus. The woman had long dark hair, a blur against her brown skin. It was like a balaclava framing her face.

  She gasped. Maryam. The pain at her wrist intensified.

  “I told you to behave.”

  Maryam waved to her and started to run, but she was pushed back by a blurred figure wearing a white coat; an orderly. Rita lifted her hand to wave back but Tim’s grasp was too strong, she couldn’t pull against it. He grabbed her hand and plunged it down into the space between them, squeezing the fingers. She lifted the other hand but it wouldn’t move. She looked down to see it too was handcuffed, but this time to her chair leg.

  She slumped back into her chair, resigned. Waiting for Jennifer to appear.

  At least she had seen Maryam. She had a sense of deja vu but then shook it away, unable to work out where it came from. The rest of the group would be with her, they would have seen her too. They knew she was still here. Just knowing that they were aware of that gave her a sudden glow of satisfaction, almost joy. She giggled.

  “Shush,” hissed Tim. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  She bit her lip, feeling blood spurt between her teeth. “Sorry.”

  The room was full now. She could sense all the women behind her, waiting. They were noisy, talking amongst themselves, letting out whoops of anticipation. She grinned; this was fun. There was a shushing sound from around the room and the voices dropped. She tried to crane her neck, wondering who had shushed them all. For a moment she was back in school assembly, listening to the teachers quieting the children. She gasped and let out her own ‘shush.’ Bad of her not to calm her own class too.

  There was a titter behind her. Tim pulled her hand up and pushed it onto her lap, bringing her back to the present. She grunted, wishing she was back in assembly. She’d recite the oath, next time.

  The double doors opened, clattering loudly. Rita grinned, expecting Jennifer and Mark. She remembered Jennifer’s plan now, or thought she did. It involved Mark, didn’t it? He was going to help her get out. And she was going to be here to witness it. How exciting.

  But instead of Jennifer and Mark, a large yellow shape came through the door. Rita didn’t need to focus to know who it was. She shrank back in her chair, thinking about what Yonda had said in her office. Had she really pulled close to her and whispered that she wanted to help her, or was Rita imagining things?

  Yonda clapped her hands and Rita frowned, her ears ringing.

  “Welcome everybody,” she said, her voice deafening. Rita looked past Tim at the woman beyond him. She kept giving Tim sidelong glances, and had sat as far as she possibly could from him without falling off the other side of her chair. Rita snorted and did the same, shuffling along in her own chair. Then she remembered the handcuffs.

  The bright yellow woman at the front was saying something indistinct. Rita hunched up her shoulders, trying to cover her ears. The words assaulted her senses. She wanted to sleep.

  Finally she stopped, and the booming tones were replaced by shouts and the sound of feet pounding on the floor. Oh, this was fun! Rita could join in with this. She lifted her feet one at a time, slowly thunking them on the floor. Tim’s hand clenched her thigh but she ignored it, laughing breathlessly.

  She felt his breath on her ear. “Will you stop it. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

  She laughed. The yellow person came closer, resolving into the recognisable form of Yonda Hughes. Rita curled up her nose.

  She put her hand on Rita’s shoulder. Rita shrugged it off.

  “Be quiet, girl,” she said, and glared at Tim. He grasped Rita’s hand again and put it on his own knee.

  Then Yonda receded, blurring into something more like that bird off the children’s programme from the seventies; what was it, Big Bird? Yes. Big Bird. She felt her shoulders shake but kept the laugh in.

  The doors opened with a thud and she turned her head sharply to look at them. Two people entered, one tall and the other short. She frowned. Weren’t Mark and Jennifer the same height? She squinted, staring at the two forms. The taller one, she was sure, was Jennifer. The shoulder length mousy hair and shapeless clothes were unmistakable, and Jennifer was probably the tallest inmate here. But who was the other person?

  She gasped. Meena!

  She rose up in her seat, overcome by excitement. Tim yanked at the handcuffs, muttering under his breath. She felt something sharp attack her wrist, and looked down to see him withdraw a syringe.

  He shifted and blurred in front of her, and then became as dark as the rest of the room.

  Chapter Forty

  The double doors opened. Jennifer stepped inside, matching Meena’s pace. Somehow it was important that she didn’t trail behind.

  Inside was a familiar scene; rows of women facing her, voices raised in anticipation. The floor shook with the sound of a hundred feet pounding against the wood.

  Jennifer scanned the faces, looking for her group. Paula was waving at her, in between whistling through two fingers. Bel was smiling nervously, standing next to Paula. Even Sally was clapping, although there was no smile brightening her face. And Maryam was waving madly, pointing sideways.

  Jennifer frowned and shrugged at her friend, a question. Maryam mouthed something Jennifer couldn’t make out and carried on pointing, jabbing her finger sideways.

  Jennifer looked along the front row, following Maryam’s finger. At the very end of the row, between the wall and Tim the orderly, was Rita. She looked delirious. Her face was damp and her hair clung to her skin. She wore a smart blouse and trousers as if at a meeting.

  Jennifer frowned.

  Rita was staring at Meena. Jennifer remembered the way she’d reacted to Meena at her own Celebration. What was the connection between the two of them? And why did her appearance make Rita so agitated?

  She looked back from Meena to Rita, to find Tim blocking her view, standing over Rita. He stood unevenly, one arm drawn down towards Rita. The other was at her wrist. Jennifer gasped as she saw him pocket a syringe. Rita convulsed once in her seat and then relaxed, her head falling back so that her face was towards the ceiling.

  Jennifer stepped forward, desperate to help her friend. But Yonda was in her way. She opened her mouth in a grin; there was lipstick on her teeth.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t worry about your group now. Think about yourself. Your Celebration.”

  Jennifer tried to push her away. With Yonda wearing her platforms, she was a little taller than Jennifer, and weighed significantly more. She didn’t budge.

  “I wouldn’t do that. You don’t want to be accused of assaulting the governor, do you?”

  “What have you done to her?”

  Yonda shook her head. She raised her voice to be heard. “Turn round. Go with your counsellor.”

  “She’s not my—”

  Yonda put a finger on Jennifer’s lips. Jenni
fer was so shocked she didn’t push it away.

  “She is now.”

  Meena was waiting in one of the two chairs at the front. She smiled as Jennifer approached.

  “Relax,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”

  Jennifer nodded at her.

  Meena stood. “Are you ready?”

  The bed was ready, clean sheets and restraints. Jennifer looked at it and swallowed, phlegm thick and rancid in her throat.

  “Ready as I ever will be.”

  “Good.” Meena offered a hand and Jennifer took it as she lifted herself onto the mattress, pulling her legs around. Meena helped ease her head back to the pillow and then gave her cheek a stroke. Jennifer flinched.

  She settled into a tilted position on the bed, looking up towards the ceiling. The noise had abated now, hoots and stamping replaced by murmurs and whispers. She sniffed and tried to compose herself. She closed her eyes, imagining Yusuf smiling at her. She pictured his dimpled chin, the way his hair curled on just one side, and the soft touch of his palm when he held her hand. She wiped away a tear.

  Meena leaned in. “Are you OK?”

  She nodded. “Fine.” She looked at her, wondering if she had thoughts about Samir, if she missed him. Or had she set him up?

  Her stomach tensed as if ice had been dropped onto her skin.

  Yonda was at the edge of her vision, waving for the women to calm down. “Get a move on please, Miss Ashgar,” she said.

  “Sorry.” Meena turned to Jennifer. “Drink this.”

  Jennifer held out her hand. Meena handed her a glass. The liquid was clear and tasted bitter again, although less so than last time. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her children were in front of her now. Samir, so angry sometimes but sincere and loving when he wanted to be. Hassan, weeping over his cat when it died.

  She had to focus now. She opened her eyes. The ceiling was clear.

  “Feeling OK?” Meena ’s voice was clear in her ear. She felt her stomach flutter. It was working. Meena had given her a placebo.

  She bit her lip, trying to conceal her joy. “Ready,” she said. How long had it been before Rita had lost consciousness? Five minutes, was it, that Mark had given her? She needed to remember, to pretend.

  No. No, no, no. Her mind was becoming hazy, as if she had drunk a bottle of wine. She groaned. She was wrong. This was no placebo. It was the same humiliating experience all over again.

  “Let’s start with Step One,” said Meena. Jennifer blinked.

  “Speak up, will you,” said Yonda, her voice faint. The women were quiet now.

  “Sorry. Let’s start with Step One,” Meena all but shouted. Jennifer winced.

  “Sorry,” said Meena, and pulled her chair a little way back. She took a deep breath. “Please tell me what you did.”

  Jennifer took a deep breath. She could do this. She drilled into her memories, thinking of John, and Michael. Of Catherine, and Leonard Trask. Of the look of glee in the face of Maggie, her fellow rebel, as she had made that speech denouncing her own government.

  She swallowed. Her throat was dry.

  “I need water.”

  “Err…”

  There was a flurry of movement to one side and a fresh glass was passed to her. She lifted her head to drink; it felt soft and heavy.

  “Be quick,” said Meena. “You’ll lose consciousness in a few minutes.”

  She gulped it down. “I confess that I have been disloyal to the British state,” she said, allowing herself a frisson of self congratulation.

  “Thank you,” said Meena, her voice becoming distant. “Tell me what you did.”

  “I hid my son. He was suspected of belonging to a proscribed organisation.”

  Her mind was feeling loose, and she had that urge to tell the truth again. It was all she could do to keep control over her lips, to stick to what was expected.

  “Very good,” said Meena. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. But this was up to Jennifer now.

  “So,” Meena continued. “Do you accept the sovereignty of the state?”

  Jennifer sent her mind back to her first induction as an MP, clamping her lips shut as she tried to remember the words. She pictured the Commons chamber, the dispatch box in front of her as she placed a hand on a bible and took the oath. Such a momentous day it had been, even though she was one of hundreds being sworn in. “I promise to serve,” she said. “I swear that I will be faithful and bear allegiance to the Queen, her heirs and successors.”

  Meena put a hand on Jennifer’s arm. “That’s good. Now do you accept my support, and that of your group?”

  Jennifer imagined her group watching her, holding their breath. Was Rita still unconscious?

  “I accept the support of my group,” she croaked.

  “And your counsellor?”

  She thought of Mark, dragging her into that storeroom. Insisting that he only wanted to help her. Where was he? Had Yonda known what he was doing?

  “I accept the support of my counsellor,” she said.

  She brushed away a tear that had worked its way into her hair. Meena was smiling at her. When she saw Jennifer looking back at her, she blushed. Jennifer almost laughed at the thought of how they might have met. Mum, meet my girlfriend.

  Then she clenched her fists. Why hadn’t he told her? She wiped away another tear.

  She was feeling woozy now. “Want to sleep.”

  “Oh,” gasped Meena. “We need to hurry. Who did you harm? How will you make amends?”

  “I harmed my son. Both of them.”

  She sensed Meena tense at the mention of Samir. “Is that all?”

  Jennifer sent her mind back to the day of that vote, to the crowds of people who had stood in Parliament Square, marching in her support. They had hated Michael Stuart even more than Maggie had. “I harmed the population of this country. I put them at risk.”

  Meena’s breathing levelled. She was on the home straight now. She spotted movement from the corner of her eye, a flash of yellow. No, she thought. Don’t interrupt. Don’t challenge it.

  “How will you make amends?” asked Meena.

  Jennifer’s mind was blank. What was she going to do when she got out of here, except work to get the place closed down? Her first priority was to find Yusuf, and to work on Samir’s appeal. Then to get Rita released. But that wasn’t what Meena wanted to hear.

  She allowed her mind to empty, feeling as if she was free falling through space. Her eyelids were a deep red; the clouds had thickened and the room must be dark. Why hadn’t they turned the lights on?

  She pinged her eyes open. “I will use my influence and authority as a politician to undo the wrongs I have done. To make everyone in this country safer.”

  She clenched her fists. She’d done it. Had she?

  Meena drew a breath. Jennifer felt her eyelids grow heavier. She heard Yonda’s voice but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  “I need you to hurry now please, Jennifer,” Meena said. She sounded worried. Jennifer tried to nod her head but it wouldn’t move. She smiled. It felt like she was drifting, buoyed up by this bed.

  “OK, I think you’ve already done Step Five, told me how you’ll change. Let’s move on to Step Six.”

  Jennifer waited.

  “Can you pledge allegiance and tell me how you will spread the message please.”

  Again Jennifer reached back to her early days as an MP. This was easy. “I will serve my Queen and country in every way I can. I will do everything in my power to improve the lives of the citizens of this country. I will work to ensure greater security and freedom for all.”

  As she drifted off to sleep she spotted Meena’s frown turn to a smile as Yonda whispered something in her ear.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Rita woke in an unfamiliar space. She blinked a few times, passing her mind over her body. Legs, stomach, arms, head. Had Tim beaten her again?

  The only pain was the dullness from before.

  She pulled her head up to look a
round. She was on a bed with just a white top sheet. She moved to check what she was wearing, but was restrained by straps attached to the bed, tight around her hands and ankles. She was still wearing her blouse. Something she couldn’t see was covering her legs, and she could only assume that it was the same pair of trousers Roy had given her earlier.

  She took a few heavy breaths, trying to still her dancing heart. Where was she? Was this the centre, or had she already been transferred? Would she ever see her group again? Would she ever see the outside world again?

  She looked around as best she could. Beyond her feet was a high window, at ceiling level. Outside were some scrappy looking shrubs. Below that the wall was bare, paint peeling around patches of damp. She was back in the basement.

  She made herself lie still, listening as best she could, twitching her nose to test for familiar smells. The faint aroma of institutional cooking meant she was near the kitchens. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the layout. If she hadn’t been transferred, then she was at the same end of the house as Mark’s office.

  She could hear clattering from far off; the kitchens? The sound passed her door then receded. She shivered as she listened. It was cold in here.

  Then she heard voices through the door. A man and a woman. The man’s voice she recognised; Tim. Her heart sank. Please don’t come in, she thought.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the woman. Yonda? But no, the voice was too low, too gentle. Meena?

  The door behind her opened. She twisted her head as best she could. The person entering appeared to be upside down. It was Meena. She felt her breathing slow.

  Meena approached the bed and gave Rita a tentative smile. “Hello again.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the basement. A few doors along from my office.”

  She’d been wrong. Meena’s office was in the centre of the building, nowhere near Mark’s room. But the smell of the kitchens was real enough.

  “Are you real?” she asked. ‘Or am I imagining you?”

  Meena shook her head. “I’m real enough. Do you want me to prove it?”