He was already shaking his head. ‘You know how useless I was. And then there was that stuff with Miss Lucy. I know she meant well. She was sorry for me and she wanted to help me. I’m sure she did. But if my theory’s right, well …’
‘It’s only a theory, Tommy,’ I said. ‘You know what your theories are like.’
I’d wanted to lighten things a bit, but I couldn’t get the tone right, and it must have been obvious I was still thinking hard about what he’d just said. ‘Maybe they’ve got all sorts of ways to judge,’ I said after a moment. ‘Maybe the art’s just one out of all kinds of different ways.’
Tommy shook his head again. ‘Like what? Madame never got to know us. She wouldn’t remember us individually. Besides, it’s probably not just Madame that decides. There’s probably people higher up than her, people who never set foot in Hailsham. I’ve thought about this a lot, Kath. It all fits. That’s why the Gallery was so important, and why the guardians wanted us to work so hard on our art and our poetry. Kath, what are you thinking?’
Sure enough, I’d drifted off a bit. Actually, I was thinking about that afternoon I’d been alone in our dorm, playing the tape we’d just found; how I’d been swaying around, clutching a pillow to my breast, and how Madame had been watching me from the doorway, tears in her eyes. Even this episode, for which I’d never yet found a convincing explanation, seemed to fit Tommy’s theory. In my head, I’d been imagining I was holding a baby, but of course, there’d have been no way for Madame to know that. She’d have supposed I was holding a lover in my arms. If Tommy’s theory was right, if Madame was connected to us for the sole purpose of deferring our donations when, later on, we fell in love, then it made sense – for all her usual coldness towards us – she’d be really moved stumbling on a scene like that. All this flashed through my mind, and I was on the point of blurting it all out to Tommy. But I held back because I wanted now to play down his theory.
‘I was just thinking over what you said, that’s all,’ I said. ‘We should start going back now. It might take us a while to find the car park.’
We began to retrace our steps down the slope, but we knew we still had time and didn’t hurry.
‘Tommy,’ I asked, after we’d been walking for a while. ‘Have you said any of this to Ruth?’
He shook his head and went on walking. Eventually he said: ‘The thing is, Ruth believes it all, everything the veterans are saying. Okay, she likes to pretend she knows much more than she does. But she does believe it. And sooner or later, she’s going to want to take it further.’
‘You mean, she’ll want to …’
‘Yeah. She’ll want to apply. But she hasn’t thought it through yet. Not the way we just did.’
‘You’ve never told her your theory about the Gallery?’
He shook his head again, but said nothing.
‘If you tell her your theory,’ I said, ‘and she buys it … Well, she’s going to be furious.’
Tommy seemed thoughtful, but still didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until we were back down in the narrow side-streets that he spoke again, and then his voice was suddenly sheepish.
‘Actually, Kath,’ he said, ‘I have been doing some stuff. Just in case. I haven’t told anyone, not even Ruth. It’s just a start.’
That was when I first heard about his imaginary animals. When he started to describe what he’d been doing – I didn’t actually see anything until a few weeks later – I found it hard to show much enthusiasm. In fact, I have to admit, I was reminded of the original elephant-in-the-grass picture that had started off all Tommy’s problems at Hailsham. The inspiration, he explained, had come from an old children’s book with the back cover missing which he’d found behind one of the sofas at the Cottages. He’d then persuaded Keffers to give him one of the little black notebooks he scribbled his figures in, and since then, Tommy had finished at least a dozen of his fantastic creatures.
‘The thing is, I’m doing them really small. Tiny. I’d never thought of that at Hailsham. I think maybe that’s where I went wrong. If you make them tiny, and you have to because the pages are only about this big, then everything changes. It’s like they come to life by themselves. Then you have to draw in all these different details for them. You have to think about how they’d protect themselves, how they’d reach things. Honest, Kath, it’s nothing like anything I ever did at Hailsham.’
He started describing his favourites, but I couldn’t really concentrate; the more excited he got telling me about his animals, the more uneasy I was growing. ‘Tommy,’ I wanted to say to him, ‘you’re going to make yourself a laughing stock all over again. Imaginary animals? What’s up with you?’ But I didn’t. I just looked at him cautiously and kept saying: ‘That sounds really good, Tommy.’
Then he said at one point: ‘Like I said, Kath, Ruth doesn’t know about the animals.’ And when he said this, he seemed to remember everything else, and why we’d been talking about his animals in the first place, and the energy faded from his face. Then we were walking in silence again, and as we came out onto the High Street, I said:
‘Well, even if there’s something to your theory, Tommy, there’s a lot more we’ll have to find out. For one thing, how’s a couple supposed to apply? What are they supposed to do? There aren’t exactly forms lying about.’
‘I’ve been wondering about all of that too.’ His voice was quiet and solemn again. ‘As far as I can see, there’s only one obvious way forward. And that’s to find Madame.’
I gave this a think, then said: ‘That might not be so easy. We don’t really know a thing about her. We don’t even know her name. And you remember how she was? She didn’t like us even coming near her. Even if we did ever track her down, I don’t see her helping much.’
Tommy sighed. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Well, I suppose we’ve got time. None of us are in any particular hurry.’
By the time we got back to the car park, the afternoon had clouded over and was growing pretty chilly. There was no sign of the others yet, so Tommy and I leaned against our car and looked towards the mini-golf course. No one was playing and the flags were fluttering away in the wind. I didn’t want to talk any more about Madame, the Gallery or any of the rest of it, so I got the Judy Bridgewater tape out from its little bag and gave it a good look-over.
‘Thanks for buying this for me,’ I said.
Tommy smiled. ‘If I’d got to that tape box and you were on the LPs, I’d have found it first. It was bad luck for poor old Tommy.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference. We only found it because you said to look for it. I’d forgotten about all this lost-corner stuff. After Ruth going on like that, I was in such a mood. Judy Bridgewater. My old friend. It’s like she’s never been away. I wonder who stole it back then?’
For a moment, we turned towards the street, looking for the others.
‘You know,’ Tommy said, ‘when Ruth said what she did earlier on, and I saw how upset you looked …’
‘Leave it, Tommy. I’m all right about it now. And I’m not going to bring it up with her when she comes back.’
‘No, that’s not what I was getting at.’ He took his weight off the car, turned and pressed a foot against the front tyre as though to test it. ‘What I meant was, I realised then, when Ruth came out with all that, I realised why you keep looking through those porn mags. Okay, I haven’t realised. It’s just a theory. Another of my theories. But when Ruth said what she did earlier on, it kind of clicked.’
I knew he was looking at me, but I kept my eyes straight ahead and made no response.
‘But I still don’t really get it, Kath,’ he said eventually. ‘Even if what Ruth says is right, and I don’t think it is, why are you looking through old porn mags for your possibles? Why would your model have to be one of those girls?’
I shrugged, still not looking at him. ‘I don’t claim it makes sense. It’s just something I do.’ There were tears filling my eyes now and I tried to hide them from Tommy. But my
voice wobbled as I said: ‘If it annoys you so much, I won’t do it any more.’
I don’t know if Tommy saw the tears. In any case, I’d got them under control by the time he came close to me and gave my shoulders a squeeze. This was something he’d done before from time to time, it wasn’t anything special or new. But somehow I did feel better and gave a little laugh. He let go of me then, but we stayed almost touching, side by side again, our backs to the car.
‘Okay, there’s no sense in it,’ I said. ‘But we all do it, don’t we? We all wonder about our model. After all, that’s why we came out here today. We all do it.’
‘Kath, you know, don’t you, I haven’t told anyone. About that time in the boiler hut. Not Ruth, not anyone. But I just don’t get it. I don’t get what it’s about.’
‘All right, Tommy. I’ll tell you. It may not make any more sense after you’ve heard it, but you can hear it anyway. It’s just that sometimes, every now and again, I get these really strong feelings when I want to have sex. Sometimes it just comes over me and for an hour or two it’s scary. For all I know, I could end up doing it with old Keffers, it’s that bad. That’s why … that’s the only reason I did it with Hughie. And with Oliver. It didn’t mean anything deep down. I don’t even like them much. I don’t know what it is, and afterwards, when it’s passed over, it’s just scary. That’s why I started thinking, well, it has to come from somewhere. It must be to do with the way I am.’ I stopped, but when Tommy didn’t say anything, I went on: ‘So I thought if I find her picture, in one of those magazines, it’ll at least explain it. I wouldn’t want to go and find her or anything. It would just, you know, kind of explain why I am the way I am.’
‘I get it too sometimes,’ said Tommy. ‘When I really feel like doing it. I reckon everyone does, if they’re honest. I don’t think there’s anything different about you, Kath. In fact, I get like that quite a lot …’ He broke off and laughed, but I didn’t laugh with him.
‘What I’m talking about’s different,’ I said. ‘I’ve watched other people. They get in the mood for it, but that doesn’t make them do things. They never do things like I’ve done, going with people like that Hughie …’
I might have started crying again, because I felt Tommy’s arm going back around my shoulders. Upset as I was, I remained conscious of where we were, and I made a kind of check in my mind that if Ruth and the others came up the street, even if they saw us at that moment, there’d be no room for misunderstanding. We were still side by side, leaning against the car, and they’d see I was upset about something and Tommy was just comforting me. Then I heard him say:
‘I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. Once you find someone, Kath, someone you really want to be with, then it could be really good. Remember what the guardians used to tell us? If it’s with the right person, it makes you feel really good.’
I made a movement with my shoulder to get Tommy’s arm off me, then took a deep breath. ‘Let’s forget it. Anyway, I’ve got much better at controlling these moods when they come on. So let’s just forget it.’
‘All the same, Kath, it’s stupid looking through those magazines.’
‘It’s stupid, okay. Tommy, let’s leave it. I’m all right now.’
I don’t remember what else we talked about until the others showed up. We didn’t discuss any more of those serious things, and if the others sensed something still in the air, they didn’t remark on it. They were in good spirits, and Ruth in particular seemed determined to make up for the bad scene earlier on. She came up and touched my cheek, making some joke or other, and once we got in the car, she made sure the jovial mood kept going. She and Chrissie had found everything about Martin comical and were relishing the chance to laugh openly about him now they’d left his flat. Rodney looked disapproving, and I realised Ruth and Chrissie were making a song and dance of it mainly to tease him. It all seemed good-natured enough. But what I noticed was that whereas before Ruth would have taken the opportunity to keep me and Tommy in the dark about all the jokes and references, throughout the journey back, she kept turning to me and explaining carefully everything they were talking about. In fact it got a bit tiring after a while because it was like everything being said in the car was for our – or at least my – special benefit. But I was pleased Ruth was making such a fuss. I understood – as did Tommy – that she’d recognised she’d behaved badly before, and this was her way of admitting it. We were sitting with her in the middle, just as we’d done on the journey out, but now she spent all her time talking to me, turning occasionally to her other side to give Tommy a little squeeze or the odd kiss. It was a good atmosphere, and no one brought up Ruth’s possible or anything like that. And I didn’t mention the Judy Bridgewater tape Tommy had bought me. I knew Ruth would find out about it sooner or later, but I didn’t want her to find out just yet. On that journey home, with the darkness setting in over those long empty roads, it felt like the three of us were close again and I didn’t want anything to come along and break that mood.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The odd thing about our Norfolk trip was that once we got back, we hardly talked about it. So much so that for a while all kinds of rumours went around about what we’d been up to. Even then, we kept pretty quiet, until eventually people lost interest.
I’m still not sure why this happened. Perhaps we felt it was up to Ruth, that it was her call how much got told, and we were waiting to take our cue from her. And Ruth, for one reason or another – maybe she was embarrassed how things had turned out with her possible, maybe she was enjoying the mystery – had remained completely closed on the subject. Even among ourselves, we avoided talking about the trip.
This air of secrecy made it easier for me to keep from telling Ruth about Tommy buying me the Judy Bridgewater tape. I didn’t go as far as actually hiding the thing. It was always there in my collection, in one of my little piles next to the skirting board. But I always made sure not to leave it out or on top of a pile. There were times when I wanted badly to tell her, when I wanted us to reminisce about Hailsham with the tape playing in the background. But the further away we got from the Norfolk trip, and I still hadn’t told her, the more it came to feel like a guilty secret. Of course, she did spot the tape in the end, much later, and it was probably a much worse time for her to find it, but that’s the way your luck sometimes goes.
As spring came on, there seemed to be more and more veterans leaving to start their training, and though they left without fuss in the usual way, the increased numbers made them impossible to ignore. I’m not sure what our feelings were, witnessing these departures. I suppose to some extent we envied the people leaving. It did feel like they were headed for a bigger, more exciting world. But of course, without a doubt, their going made us increasingly uneasy.
Then, I think it was around April, Alice F. became the first of our Hailsham bunch to leave, and not long after that Gordon C. did too. They’d both asked to start their training, and went off with cheerful smiles, but after that, for our lot anyway, the atmosphere at the Cottages changed forever.
Many veterans, too, seemed affected by the flurry of departures, and maybe as a direct result, there was a fresh spate of rumours of the sort Chrissie and Rodney had spoken about in Norfolk. Talk went around of students, somewhere else in the country, getting deferrals because they’d shown they were in love – and now, just sometimes, the talk was of students with no connections to Hailsham. Here again, the five of us who’d been to Norfolk backed away from these topics: even Chrissie and Rodney, who’d once been at the centre of just this sort of talk, now looked awkwardly away when these rumours got going.
The ‘Norfolk effect’ even got to me and Tommy. I’d been assuming, once we were back, we’d be taking little opportunities, whenever we were alone, to exchange more thoughts on his theory about the Gallery. But for some reason – and it wasn’t any more him than me – this never really happened. The one exception, I suppose, was that time in the goosehouse, the morni
ng when he showed me his imaginary animals.
The barn we called the goosehouse was on the outer fringes of the Cottages, and because the roof leaked badly and the door was permanently off its hinges, it wasn’t used for anything much other than as a place for couples to sneak off to in the warmer months. By then I’d taken to going for long solitary walks, and I think I was setting out on one of these, and had just gone past the goosehouse, when I heard Tommy calling me. I turned to see him in his bare feet, perched awkwardly on a bit of dry ground surrounded by huge puddles, one hand on the side of the barn to keep his balance.
‘What happened to your Wellies, Tommy?’ I asked. Aside from his bare feet, he was dressed in his usual thick jumper and jeans.
‘I was, you know, drawing …’ He laughed, and held up a little black notebook similar to the ones Keffers always went around with. It was by then over two months since the Norfolk trip, but I realised as soon as I saw the notebook what this was about. But I waited for him to say:
‘If you like, Kath, I’ll show you.’
He led the way into the goosehouse, hopping over the jaggy ground. I’d expected it to be dark inside, but the sunlight was pouring through the skylights. Pushed against one wall were various bits of furniture heaved out over the past year or so – broken tables, old fridges, that kind of thing. Tommy appeared to have dragged into the middle of the floor a two-seater settee with stuffing poking out of its black plastic, and I guessed he’d been sitting in it doing his drawing when I’d gone past. Just nearby, his Wellingtons were lying fallen on their sides, his football socks peeking out of the tops.
Tommy jumped back onto the settee, nursing his big toe. ‘Sorry my feet poo a bit. I took everything off without realising. I think I’ve cut myself now. Kath, do you want to see these? Ruth looked at them last week, so I’ve been meaning to show you ever since. No one’s seen them apart from Ruth. Have a look, Kath.’
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