The Legacy

by Gemma Malley

  Sheila didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then her eyes narrowed and she turned to Mrs Palmer. ‘You said you were my mother,’ she said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I . . . We . . .’ Mrs Palmer floundered. ‘We got your message and we talked and –’

  ‘We always wanted a child,’ Mr Palmer said stoutly, appearing from behind his wife. ‘She wanted parents to look after. Is it so wrong?’

  Jude’s eyes flickered over to Sheila, who was staring at her supposed mother.

  ‘You wanted a child?’

  ‘Always,’ Mrs Palmer nodded, opening her arms out. ‘Just like you, Sheila. We’ve been waiting for you all our lives. When you called us up we were so happy. Come to your mother, Sheila. Come here.’

  Sheila looked at her tentatively.

  ‘No, Sheila,’ Jude said, but she wasn’t listening. She moved towards Mrs Palmer, whose outstretched arms enveloped her. Jude noticed the woman’s eyes flicker over to her husband’s. Something wasn’t right, but Jude didn’t know what it was.

  ‘Sheila,’ he said. ‘We have to go. We have to go now.’

  ‘No, Jude,’ she said. ‘I’m going to stay here. It’s warm here. They need me here. I’m going to stay . . .’

  ‘You hear that? She’s staying. You’re the one who’s going,’ Mr Palmer said, advancing on Jude. His eyes were watery; Jude could see his reflection in them. And then he saw something else. His eyes widened; Mr Palmer noticed and froze.

  ‘You hold on to her,’ he ordered his wife. ‘I’ll get this one. Two of them will buy us much more.’

  Mrs Palmer nodded and her grip tightened around Sheila, who looked over at Jude uncertainly.

  Jude looked through the window at the men getting out of the unmistakable Authorities van. Then he lunged at Mr Palmer and pushed him down the steps. Grabbing Sheila, he pulled her down the stairs and into the kitchen as the front door flew open and two men entered wearing protective uniforms with masks, gloves and hoods. They froze, breathless, but the men walked straight past the kitchen door and up the stairs, where they seized hold of Mr and Mrs Palmer.

  ‘No!’ the woman screamed as she was dragged down the stairs. It was a scream of abject terror, of fear so deep it made Jude tremble. ‘No, leave us be! We have Surpluses. We called the hotline. Take them, not us. They’re in the kitchen. They’re –’

  The man didn’t appear to listen; he carried on dragging Mrs Palmer out through the front door. Immediately Jude pulled Sheila out of the back door and through the garden to an alleyway, and they sprinted back to the sewer where Peter was waiting, ashen-faced.

  ‘I thought they’d got you,’ he breathed.

  ‘I did too,’ Jude said grimly.

  ‘So has she got the ring?’ Peter asked as Jude crouched down to get his breath back. Sheila was still glassy-eyed, but her face was flushed from running.

  Jude took Sheila’s hand. ‘Did you take Peter’s ring, Sheila?’

  Sheila nodded and reached into her pocket, pulling it out.

  Peter snatched it, staring at it and turning it over in his hands.

  ‘OK. Pincent Pharma?’ he asked.

  Jude nodded uncertainly. ‘Sheila’s been drugged,’ he said. ‘She can barely walk.’

  ‘Then leave her here,’ Peter said. ‘We’ll get her later. We need to get Pip out safely. He’s our priority.’

  ‘Pip,’ Sheila whispered. ‘Yes, save Pip.’

  Jude looked at her translucent skin, her unfocused eyes, and felt a knot in his stomach. He’d saved Sheila once before and he’d do it again, as many times as it took. If she was broken, he’d mend her. If she was sad, he’d do everything in his power to make her happy. ‘Pip is a priority,’ he said quietly, ‘but so is Sheila. Sheila is my priority,’ he went on, his voice low. ‘She isn’t safe here.’

  ‘Perhaps she should have thought about that before she stole my ring,’ Peter said bitterly. ‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you let her send messages to me and my grandfather.’

  ‘Don’t you criticise me,’ Jude said angrily. ‘You’ve been up in Scotland playing happy families while I’ve been down here living in basements, tracking lorries full of dead people, watching everything collapse.’

  ‘And I’d still be there with Anna and the children if Sheila hadn’t tricked me into coming to London,’ Peter said equally angrily. They stared at each other for a few seconds, each daring the other to respond. Instead, Sheila opened her eyes.

  ‘Richard Pincent?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Is he here? Has he come for me?’

  ‘No, Sheila. No one’s taking you,’ Jude said quickly.

  ‘All right,’ Peter relented. ‘We’ll bring her. She might be better by the time we get there. OK?’

  Jude nodded. ‘OK.’ Then he held out his hand. ‘And I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean –’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’ Peter looked down. ‘I didn’t either.’ He took Jude’s hand; they clasped each other in a wordless communication, then let go.

  ‘So listen, what’s the plan when we get to Pincent Pharma?’ Peter asked lightly. ‘Do we just stroll in and demand that Pip is released?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Jude said with a shrug and a half-smile. Then he slapped Peter on the back. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. I’ll fill you in on the way.’

  ‘A plan?’ Peter said quizzically. ‘One that involves more tunnels, I presume?’

  Jude grinned. ‘You know me so well.’ Then he looked at Peter carefully. ‘Oh, and I think you should give me the ring.’

  ‘You? Why?’

  Jude raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s Peter Pincent’s ring. I think most people would expect it to be with Peter Pincent, right?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Peter said uncertainly.

  ‘So it’s safer with me,’ Jude said seriously. ‘You can trust me, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ Peter hesitated briefly, then took off the ring and handed it to his half-brother. ‘So, off we go then,’ he said, leaning down to pick Sheila up.

  ‘It’s OK, I’ve got her,’ Jude said quickly, lifting her into his arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sheila whispered as he walked slowly behind Peter. ‘Am I really your priority?’

  ‘My only priority,’ Jude whispered back, his eyes pricking with tears. ‘I need you, Sheila. I need you just as much as you need me. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ Sheila said happily, tightening her grip around his neck. ‘And I’m sorry I took the ring,’

  ‘I know,’ Jude said, watching as her eyes closed.

  ‘I just didn’t want you to take it, Jude.’

  Jude glanced over at Peter. He was only a couple of metres away.

  ‘Me?’ he whispered back uncertainly. ‘I wasn’t planning to take it.’

  ‘Yes, you were. I saw the message you sent to Peter. I saw the ones you sent to Richard Pincent too,’ she said sleepily. ‘You shouldn’t talk to that man, Jude. He’s not very nice. He’s not very nice at all.’

  ‘What was that?’ Peter asked, turning round. ‘What did Sheila just say about my grandfather?’

  Jude looked down at Sheila, but she was already fast asleep. ‘Nothing,’ he said carefully. ‘She didn’t say anything. Come on, let’s get a move on. We haven’t got much time.’

  .

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The trees were bare of leaves, the ground hard and unyielding beneath Jude’s feet, the barren landscape one of death, not life. Flies buzzed everywhere, gloating at the newly abundant landscape.

  Behind Pincent Pharma, he could hear diggers. But they were not part of some construction programme – they were digging large pits, unofficial graves for the unmourned, the unacknowledged. He looked down at Sheila who had curled up like a cat in the brambles where they were hiding and was now fast asleep, her gentle breathing and soft skin incongruous against the harshness of their surroundings.

  His heart thudding in his chest, Jude watched silently as Peter walked towards the
perimeter gate of Pincent Pharma. He was stopped by the guard, who looked at him curiously then made a call. Two minutes later the guard ushered Peter through and another rushed from the reception area to escort him in. Jude stared at the doors as they closed behind his half-brother. Jude’s plan was actually happening now. It was too late to change his mind now. Too late for any regrets, for second thoughts.

  His eyes travelled back to Sheila, his flawed, difficult, beautiful sleeping princess. Then, with a sigh, he shook her. ‘Sheila? Sheila, wake up.’

  ‘Mmmmm. Jude?’ She shook her head, disturbing her red curls so that they tumbled across her face. ‘I don’t want to. I’m asleep.’

  ‘You have to wake up. We’re going into Pincent Pharma.’

  Suddenly Sheila was wide awake. ‘Pincent Pharma? I don’t want to go in there, Jude. I don’t want to.’ She started to shake, and Jude knew it wasn’t from the cold.

  ‘We have to,’ he said. ‘We’ll be OK. I’m going to look after you. I promise.’

  Sheila’s eyes widened. ‘Are you going to give Richard Pincent the ring?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you got Peter to give it to you?’

  Jude didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he took her hand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents,’ he said quietly. ‘I did look for them. I wanted to tell you . . .’

  ‘That they were dead?’ Sheila looked down, blinked slowly. Jude knew her eyes would be filling with tears. He pulled her towards him.

  ‘They died a few years after you were taken to Grange Hall,’ he said. ‘Your mother joined the Underground. She trained as a nurse; she took out contraceptive implants so that supporters could have children. She was killed by an Authorities spy who pretended she wanted her implant removed. She was a hero, Sheila.’

  Sheila nodded, a funny snorty noise coming from her throat. ‘And my father?’

  ‘He was the Opt Out,’ Jude said. ‘He died not long after. A heart attack. I think his heart was broken.’

  Sheila sniffed loudly. ‘They loved me then?’ she asked tentatively. ‘I do remember them loving me, but . . . but . . . at Grange Hall they said I’d made it up. They said I was Surplus, that my parents never wanted me.’

  ‘They wanted you,’ Jude whispered. ‘Just like I do now.’

  Sheila looked up at him earnestly. ‘OK,’ she said.

  ‘OK?’ Jude asked.

  ‘OK I’ll come in with you. I trust you, Jude. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’

  Jude looked down at her tenderly. He could hear Pip’s voice in his head: When you’re ready to lead, Jude, you will know because people want to follow you. Was he ready? Was he really ready for what lay ahead? He steeled himself. If he had doubts, he couldn’t let Sheila see them.

  ‘Good,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go then. Just do exactly what I say and we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Exactly what you say,’ Sheila agreed.

  Her eyes met Jude’s; slowly, tenderly, he drew her towards him. As their lips met he felt an electrical charge shoot through him and for a moment, the plan didn’t matter – nothing mattered except being here, holding Sheila. But he knew he couldn’t stay there. Reluctantly, he pulled away and squeezed her hand. Then, moving tentatively to prevent himself from snapping twigs underfoot and alerting the Pincent guards to his presence, he crept towards the perimeter gate, motioning for Sheila to follow him, towards the door he had disabled earlier that morning. When got there he pulled Sheila towards him, flat against the wall. He tried the door, hoping against hope that no one had noticed the red light above it was no longer lit, then smiled with relief as it opened. Taking a deep breath, he jumped inside with Sheila and closed it behind them.

  Peter felt a sense of foreboding as he was finally taken to a lift linking the reception area to the rest of the building. It was a terrifying plan, walking into Pincent Pharma and asking to see his grandfather, but he wasn’t sure what the alternative was. And Jude was right: if his grandfather really needed the ring, then Peter would be safe. If his grandfather really needed the ring, they could name their terms.

  He remembered the first time he’d been here, remembered trying his best not to be blown away by the whiteness, the newness, the sheer scale of the place. Now it felt different, it felt like a terrifying prison, the last bastion of an emperor who was losing his empire. Gone was the busy flurry of white coats; now fewer people could be seen, all walking with their heads down. Guards were everywhere, their grey uniforms reminding Peter of the corridors of Grange Hall; it was a colour that sucked out all joy, all life.

  The guard who had been sent to meet him in reception had taken him into a small room and searched him comprehensively, stripping him of his clothes, of his dignity. Now, finally, he was being taken to his grandfather, the man he despised, to the man he wished more than anything he wasn’t related to.

  The lift felt slow – too slow, but eventually they reached the fifth floor and stepped out on to the luxurious carpet that covered Richard Pincent’s suite.

  His office door, a few metres away, opened and he appeared, the thin smile on his face not disguising the bags under his eyes, the strain, the exhaustion.

  ‘Peter,’ he said, walking towards his grandson.

  ‘I’ve come for Pip,’ Peter said levelly. ‘I know he’s here. I want you to let him go. Now. With me.’

  Richard said nothing for a few seconds, then he laughed. ‘And the ring? I understand you don’t have it.’

  ‘You’ll have the ring when Pip is free. And the Surpluses,’ Peter said, his voice wavering slightly with emotion.

  ‘I’ll have the ring now or Anna will die, do you hear me?’ his grandfather said suddenly, his face going red. ‘She will die and the Surpluses will die. Slowly. Painfully. And you will watch them suffer. They will die knowing that you didn’t save them.’

  ‘You don’t know where Anna is,’ Peter said levelly. ‘Don’t throw empty threats at me.’

  ‘I don’t know where they are?’ Richard smiled coldly. ‘No, Peter. It seems that you are the one who doesn’t know where they are. They are here. Derek brought them here. I only discovered them this morning – can you imagine what a delight that was?’

  He laughed as the blood drained from Peter’s face.

  ‘You’re lying,’ Peter seethed. ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘You are a fool,’ Richard said, shaking his head. He moved forward, grabbed Peter by the shoulders. ‘Get me the ring, Peter,’ he shouted. ‘Get me the ring now.’

  Peter stared resolutely ahead. ‘You don’t have them,’ he repeated. ‘I know you don’t.’

  His grandfather let go of him. Then he walked back to his desk and picked up his phone. ‘Bring the girl up. The Surplus girl and her Surplus progeny,’ he said, his lip curling with distaste as he spoke. He turned back to Peter. ‘We’ll see whether you’ll have nothing to say when the baby is killed,’ he said darkly. ‘We’ll start with the smallest, shall we, and work our way up?’

  Peter swallowed uncomfortably. In his pocket was the bleeper Jude had given him for emergency; silently he pressed the button. Jude would hear it; Jude would come.

  Please, Jude, he thought silently. Please don’t let me down.

  Jude didn’t notice the flashing light on his handheld device; he was too busy orienting himself, working out which way to turn. They were in a vast, bleak corridor, too visible, too vulnerable; they had to get to their destination quickly.

  It was the smell that had made him freeze momentarily. A smell of scrubbed floors, of disinfectant. Sheila smelt it too and he felt her stiffen with fear. He hadn’t feared coming back until now, hadn’t really understood what it would mean to be back inside Pincent Pharma, inside the centre of Richard Pincent’s power base, the prison where Sheila had been kept. But the smell brought memories back more vividly than anything else, reminding him how dangerous this place was, how sinister. He took her hand and squeezed it; she gripped it hard.

  ‘You ready?’ he asked.

 
Sheila nodded.

  ‘OK. This way,’ he said, pointing down the corridor. They were on the west wing of the building, the opposite side from where he’d been kept a year before, but it looked the same: white soulless corridors, heavy doors with numbers on them hiding what lay behind. Silence surrounded them; the rooms could be filled with people but not a sound would escape. Jude moved quickly, tugging Sheila behind him, until they got to the door he was looking for: the door to room W576. He opened it and he and Sheila hurried in.

  She glanced around the room apprehensively. Jude, however, wasn’t interested in the room; he was already looking up at the ceiling, at the vent. He’d chosen this room specifically, had searched the whole of the ground floor for the easiest access to the hub, to the control centre.

  ‘I’m going up,’ he said to Sheila. ‘I need you to help me.’

  ‘Up there?’ Sheila’s brow wrinkled.

  ‘The vent. I can get to the camera system that way. I can find out where Pip is, where Peter is.’

  ‘Is that where . . .’ Sheila looked at him searchingly.

  ‘Where I found you? Yes,’ Jude said quietly. He moved towards her, pulled her into him. Then he lifted up her chin so she was looking right at him. ‘Can you do this? I’m going to go up and see what’s going on. You have to wait here. Silently. Then I’ll come back.’

  ‘How soon?’ Sheila whispered worriedly.

  ‘Soon,’ Jude promised. ‘Very soon.’

  ‘OK.’ Sheila laced her fingers together, looking at Jude sternly when he appeared uncertain. ‘I can take your weight,’ she said tersely. ‘I trust you. You have to trust me.’

  ‘I trust you,’ Jude replied, placing his foot in her hands and jumping up. He grabbed hold of the vent and punched it hard – there was no time to undo screws. As he punched he lost his balance and almost fell, but on the second attempt it gave way and he hooked his hands round the opening, pulling at the vent until it lay in pieces on the floor. Then he hauled himself up into the void above the ceiling.