by C F Dunn
“They dropped my surveillance some time ago,” Dan pointed out.
“Mine too,” Harry said. “What about you, Maggie?”
“The last I recall was over a month ago. I haven’t seen anything since then, but then I’m not the focus of attention, am I?”
I disregarded her snipe, even if I could still sense the shards of glass she sent on splinters every time she looked at me. “So they’re only interested in us, Matthew.” I swallowed. “You, me and the children.” He had become increasingly withdrawn over the course of the conversation and now he stood obliquely, radiating clouds of doubt and something I wasn’t used to – fear? “Matthew? Do you know who’s hunting us?”
Resting his fingertips on the polished surface of the table, he studied them. “I don’t know for certain, but I had knowledge of an organization – neither associated with the military, nor dependent on it for funding – that was established by the government specifically to coordinate scientific research for military purposes. It was mostly research into advanced technology to support weapons development, but not all. One section concentrated on the effects of viruses, nerve gases, famine and glut – that sort of thing – using volunteers. But there were also rumours of experimentation of a different – clandestine – nature.”
“Like the sort of thing that went on at Porton Down, you mean?” I asked.
“Worse.” The faint tick of the clock from his study marked the seconds in which his colour flared and faded. “Much, much worse.”
“Matthew?” I asked tentatively. “How do you know?”
“Because they tried to recruit me.” Pale afternoon light filtered through his lashes and reflected off indigo eyes. “Anyway, the unit was disbanded after the war along with the agency – or so it was believed.”
Dan lifted an eyebrow. “You think it – or something like it – is behind this surveillance?”
“Possibly. Probably.”
“Could it be your research they’re interested in?” I suggested.
“It might, although it has no military potential as far as I’m aware.”
“But if you’ve been seeking to reverse the effect of whatever made you this way, might they not be interested in exploiting the same mechanism to recreate the effects?” Dan persisted.
“Geesh, you make it sound like Universal Soldier, Dad,” Joel snorted from the fireplace, where he outlined the pommel of the medieval sword with a finger.
“Is that what you’ve been working on all these years?” Harry asked. “A way to reverse what you are? Who we are?”
“I did, among other things.” Matthew took my hand and held it between his own, his finger tracing the lions on my engagement ring. “But not now. I am what I am, but it’s taken me this long to accept it, and now I will use it to protect you all for as long as I am able. You might as well know, one of the reasons I wanted us to be together today is to tell you that we plan to leave here in a few weeks. It’s time to move on.”
“Where to?” Dan asked. “I need to give Jeanette some warning.”
Matthew looked at each of them in turn. “I’m not asking you to come with us. You will all have a home with us if you want it, but it will be safer if you go your separate ways – sever all contact – for now.”
Strangled dismay erupted from Maggie’s throat and she started forward, knocking a chair. “I can find work anywhere where you are…”
“No, Maggie, it’s too risky. You all move on – take on new identities and new lives for as long as it takes for them to lose sight and forget us.”
Harry hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Yeah, we’ve prepared for this enough over the years – just didn’t expect it ever to happen, you know?”
“I know,” Matthew replied evenly.
“And now?” Dan asked.
“And now it is time to eat and give thanks for what we have. We have time to talk over the details of our move later, but for now I hope you’re hungry.”
Joel did a drum roll against his stomach. “I thought you’d never ask, Old Man. Hey, Emma, what have you been cooking? Smells good.”
“Nothing to do with me, Joel. Ask Matthew. I didn’t even make it back in time to do the veg. I’d better go and fetch the children.”
Rosie had trotted ahead down the stairs with Ottery and I had Theo in my arms clutching Bear, when Maggie came out of the bathroom, patting her hands dry on a handkerchief. She made to walk past without acknowledging us.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” I said to the back of her head. From two steps below me, she stopped and turned around, curious despite herself. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends. I would have liked to have known you better, but it seems that we’ll be going our different ways soon and I don’t know when we’ll next meet. For Matthew’s sake, and that of your family and our children, I hope one day we can find common ground.” Balancing Theo on my hip, I held out my hand. She looked at it with cold eyes, then at me, and proceeded down the stairs without saying a word. I let my hand drop. “Ah, well,” I spoke into Theo’s hair as he sucked my jade beads, “we tried, didn’t we? At least what’s said can’t be unsaid, and perhaps she’ll remember it one day when it really matters.”
“In your best bib and tucker, Uncle Theo?” Dan chuckled, putting the cornbread on the table next to the golden turkey. I took Bear from Theo’s hand and tucked it down beside him in the high chair pulled up to the table.
“Hey, buddy,” Joel whispered in a theatrical flourish from next to him, “this turkey ain’t big enough for the two of us.”
“It sure isn’t big enough for you, bro,” Harry enjoined, puffing his cheeks like a bullfrog.
Like old times. I had to smile, despite the circumstances.
Ranged around the glossy table, candles the only form of lighting except for the new flames exploring the logs in the fireplace to brighten the snow-dull day, we took each other’s hands and bowed our heads as Matthew said the Grace of his childhood and gave thanks to God for bringing us safely together. So much had changed since I had heard him recite it that first Christmas when we had all been together and when only I knew the foundations of his past. The truth had caused so much pain, had driven the family apart, and yet Matthew had found some peace within himself, even if it had come at a price. We all felt Henry’s absence, missed Pat’s homely wisdom, but there was a wholeness here also, where I guess it had always been, unstated yet understood, in Matthew’s grounded presence.
“Mummy, I’m not hungry,” Rosie said a touch plaintively, when I put a teaspoon of peas on her plate next to the smallest helping of turkey and vegetables possible.
“I’m not, either,” Matthew said, “but we’ll pretend we are.”
“Like when I had to have a sandwich every day at preschool even when I didn’t want it?”
“Exactly. I’ll show you how to make it look as if you’ve eaten something.”
“I gave Lewis my sandwich. He said my mummy makes the best sandwiches…”
“That’s a first,” I murmured.
“… but then my teacher said I mustn’t give my food away and I must eat it all myself.”
“What did you do then, Rosie?” Harry asked, helping himself to more gravy.
“I sticked it under the table like this,” and Rosie demonstrated, making the silver candlesticks rattle as she slammed her little hand on the underside of the old table.
Stifling a smile, Matthew steadied a napkin ring as it headed for the edge. “That reminds me of being told to eat spiced smoked eel when I was about, oh, seven or so. It was one of the first times I had been allowed to join my father, grandmother and uncle at the table and I thought myself very grown up as we had important guests, although I had to wear a high lace collar and it tickled like spiders.” He scurried his fingers across Rosie’s hand and up her arm and she wriggled and laughed. “All went well until a dish of eels – a gift from one of the guests – was served. It took one mouthful for me to know I didn’t like eel. My grandmother told me to eat what
was on my plate – one of these very plates we have here.” He tapped the silver sixteenth-century dish in front of her. “Well, I couldn’t – I wouldn’t. Luckily for me, we had a hound who would sit next to me hoping I might drop some food…” He looked sideways at his daughter and she clapped her hands to her mouth.
“Daddy, that was naughty! Did your granny see you?”
“No, but my uncle did and he thought it very funny because he didn’t like eel either, although Horace, our dog, certainly enjoyed it. But I did like cowslip tart with nutmeg grated over the top and I ate all of that.”
“Not this nutmeg!” Rosie wiggled it on its stout chain. “I won’t let anybody eat this nutmeg.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Quite right, Rosie-posy. You keep it safe.” It was the first time he had spoken so openly about his childhood in front of his family, and now that he had done so, it was as if something inside him was released, so when Harry said, “Is this the same uncle that you had… problems… with?” Matthew answered, “William. Yes, it was,” and went on to talk about him in greater detail than I had ever heard before.
Joel indicated the swords hanging on the chimney breast. “Is that the sword he attacked you with?” Everyone had finished eating except Theo, who continued to munch steadily through the little pile of peas in front of him, picking them up and inspecting them one by one with round eyes.
Matthew rose and, going to the fireplace, removed his sword. “No, he used a main gauche – that’s a parrying weapon – while this is my rapier, given to me by my father.”
“Isn’t that the one you used to cut your wedding cake?” Dan asked, holding his hand out to Joel, who inspected the notched blade. Matthew nodded. “It is, but it was used for the purpose for which it was made prior to that. I cleaned it thoroughly, in case you were wondering,” he grinned. “And that is the Lynes lion on the pommel, and that…” he said, his face becoming animated as he pointed to the old print in the gilded frame next to the medieval sword still hanging above the fireplace, “… is New Hall, our family home. That is where I grew up, where generations of Lynes lived and died before me. That is where I come from. That is who I am.” His face shone, almost indistinguishable from the light shining from within him, infusing the air with a palpable vibrancy until the room tingled with it.
“I can’t get my head around it,” Joel said, shaking it. “It’s something else knowing your great-grandfather’s four hundred years old, but that he’s also English! Geesh, and it’s Thanksgiving; is nothing sacred?” Laughter rippled around the room with the exception of Maggie, who maintained a profound silence.
“It’s what Dad always wanted to know,” Dan said quietly, “where we come from. He knew Ellen’s history, of course, but not yours.”
The light faded from Matthew’s face. “I know, and I would have done anything to be able to tell him and to have them here with us today.”
Maggie had remained mutely observant as usual, only speaking to accept or decline a dish passed to her, or speak quietly to her brother. Now, however, her voice cut across the normal hubbub around the table and the occasional sing-song from Theo. “So you never knew your mother,” she stated, fixing Matthew with expressionless eyes.
“I have only the vaguest memory of her, yes. My father, grandmother and uncle brought me up, Maggie. They – and Nathaniel Richardson, our steward – were the constants in my life – that and my God – until my uncle betrayed us. I cannot overstate the importance of my family and my faith in sustaining me through these years. Without them, life would have been unimaginable.” He held her gaze until she dropped it, and she made no further comment.
I stood, breaking the awkward pause. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll make a start on cleaning these.” I began to gather the small silver dishes with the Lynes coat of arms. “Get Matthew to tell you where they came from; that’ll make your heads spin.”
The last dish had been put in its soft bag, and joined the rest of the silver in the big trunk secreted under the floor of the pantry, and Dan and Harry were playing horses with the two children, with Maggie looking on with an almost wistful expression. Her colours had changed over the course of the meal, becoming muted, softer, flexing and changing as she listened to the conversations – something I’d never observed in her before. I couldn’t easily interpret them, but I noted their confusion, and wondered whether she was experiencing the self-doubt and inner reflection that seemed to elude her before.
Excited squeals echoed from the drawing room, but the dining room was a pool of quiet. Bear had become lodged between a table leg and the high chair and I was bending to extract it when I sensed a change. Like a quiver in the density of the air. I straightened, looked around. The only movement came from the fire burning low in its grate. Light spread in a narrow arc from the door into the kitchen. I tried to find the locus but saw nothing in the room. There it was again – a blind movement, felt, not seen. Puzzled, I went to the window and squinted outside. Snow had stopped falling from scattered clouds, and the intermittent sun glazed my breath against the glass.
I started as a low voice warned, “Move away from the window.” I stepped back against the wall, knocking my hip in my haste as Matthew swung the shutters across the window and secured them with the heavy iron bar. From the hall, I heard the bar being dropped across the front door and similar sounds from the rooms above my head. All noise of play had ceased. “The sensors have picked up movement at our perimeter.”
In the moment it took for me to absorb what he said, he had closed the shutters on the other window, thrusting the room into darkness.
“They’re here?”
He strode back across the room and took me by my elbow, propelling me towards the hall. “Get the children. We’re leaving.”
“But…”
“Now, Emma.”
He disappeared into the study, leaving me standing. Footsteps from the hall heralded Dan carrying Rosie, wide-eyed and anxious, and behind him Harry with Theo clinging. Maggie hovered by the study, fingers plucking at the skin between her thumb and forefinger, pecking air in little gasps. The snake necklace quivered at her throat. Matthew reappeared with the battered case and the document folder. “If any of you have a cell phone, leave it here. We can’t risk being traced.” He put his on the hall table. I found my burner phone in the bottom of my bag and left it next to his.
Dan patted his pockets. “I got rid of mine some time ago.”
“So did I,” Harry said.
Maggie put hers on top of mine. “What do I do now?” she asked, eyes staring.
“What we’ve practised, Maggie,” Matthew said. “You go with Dan and drive north-west to the designated area. You remember where that is?” She nodded. “Then you will know what you need to do next. Go!”
“What will you do? Will you be there? How can I…”
“Margaret, there’s no time to debate this.” He turned to his grandson. “Your car shouldn’t be tracked, Dan, but take the alternative route just in case. Harry, take Emma and the children – you know where to go…”
“No!” I said. “Matthew, we go together or not at all.”
“It’s me they’re after, Emma. They’ll follow my car and it’ll give you and the children time to get away. I’ll meet you at the airstrip if I can, but I have to get back to the lab and destroy E.V.E. It has data on it that I can’t let them find.”
Harry was dragging his coat from the hooks. “You’ll lead them straight to it – that is if they’re not already there waiting for you. I’ll do it. They won’t follow me if they think you’re somewhere else. I know the codes and I know the drill. Better still, I’ll take the Aston and they’ll think it’s you – buy you some time.”
Feet thundered overhead, and Joel all but tumbled down the stairs.
“Six of them – at least – about three hundred yards and closing. They have door breakers, Matthew. It won’t take them long to breach our defences. We could fight them off…”
“
No – only as a last resort. I don’t want anybody hurt. Get going, Joel; you know what needs to be done.”
Joel grabbed his jacket and found his keys as Matthew lifted the heavy bar from the door. He nodded once, opened the door and Joel sprinted down the steps to his car. He was gone as Matthew slammed the bar into place. “We’ll leave from the back. Harry, are you ready?”
“I’ll go to the lab, then head south and warn Gramps. Dad, can you contact Ellie? I’ll let you and Mom know I’m OK when I cross the border.”
“Take care, son.” Dan embraced Harry, smiled briefly at me and placed Rosie in Matthew’s arms.
Matthew picked up the case in his free hand. “We need to move. God speed, all of you. Maggie, go with Dan…” He looked around. “Where is she?”
“Maggie?” Dan called. He checked the study, the drawing room, the doors crashing open as he yelled, “Maggie! We must leave now.” He returned to the hall without her.
“Has she already left?” I asked, and as if in answer, from the courtyard came the faint roar of a powerful engine. I checked the line of hooks by our own coats. “Matthew! Your keys have gone.”
Subduing oaths, he ran to the kitchen and flung the door open, sprinting across the icy flags towards the furious tail lights as the Aston Martin tore through the massive gates now standing wide, and out into space beyond. He stood for a second, fumes hanging in the air, then his head jerked around, listening. He turned, and ran back towards us. “Get inside!” He slammed the door shut and bolted it. “Maggie’s taken my car and left the courtyard wide open – she’s in no fit state to drive. What the hell’s she playing at?” He thumped the counter in frustration. “We’ve got to get out of here or we’ll be trapped.”
“Two’re approaching the front,” Harry warned, watching the monitor.
Matthew viewed the screen for a few seconds then swore again under his breath. “They have stun grenades.”
“Grenades?” My heart lurched. “They won’t attack us, surely? The children…”
