Thin Air

by Storm Constantine

  ‘That’s what Terry implied. Have you ever seen people go?’

  Jem shook her head. ‘No. This is a different life. You have to accept that things don’t happen the same way as outside.’

  ‘But how did we get here, Jem? Who runs the mysterious bus - which incidentally I’ve never seen - that brings some people to Lestholme?’

  ‘People say it’s God’s bus.’

  Jay laughed. ‘Some fiery chariot!’ She sighed. ‘Come on, Jem, there has to be a rational explanation.’ She paused. ‘Do you want to stay here forever?’

  Jem wrinkled up her nose. ‘It’s not a case of wanting or not wanting, it simply is. I used to think about it, and how it must have involved a choice at some stage, but I must have forgotten that moment. There’s nothing outside that calls to me. I’m here, and this is everything.’

  ‘Is it happiness?’

  ‘I’m not sure that exists for me anymore. I’m not unhappy.’ Jem rested her cheek on her raised knees, her skinny arms clasped around her shins. ‘Days pass, and sometimes I can’t remember them. I come up here to think, and it’s always the same.’

  ‘You seem older than you look,’ Jay said. ‘You must think a lot.’

  ‘I have no age,’ Jem answered. ‘None of us have. Time is different here.’

  Jay laughed uneasily, feeling the firm contours of her reality beginning to wobble again. ‘This must be a dream!’

  ‘I had the same thoughts as you once.’ Jem twisted her mouth to one side, frowning. ‘People like to talk about the things that happened to them, but I don’t. That’s why I’m different. And you, you don’t have the same kind of thing, at least I don’t think so. When I found you in the church, you were a ray of light, a mind that had come to me. If this is a dream, maybe I conjured you up.’

  ‘You were lonely? You wanted to talk?’

  ‘Yes, that might be it.’ She looked Jay directly in the eyes. ‘When I lived in the outside, I saw something, something awful.. It happened to my mother and little brother. That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘God, Jem...’ Jay reached out and took one of Jem’s hands in her own.

  Jem returned the pressure. ‘It’s OK. I want to tell you about it. A man came into our house one morning. Broke in. I remember it was a beautiful day. I was upstairs, and I heard my mother yell out. When I came down, she was dying, bleeding on the floor, all stabbed. He was just a black shape, formless almost. The strange thing was, I wasn’t scared. I didn’t feel anything. I just stared at him, and to this day, I can’t remember what he looked like. Maybe he wasn’t a man, but something else. Surely a man couldn’t do what he did? It made no sense. He didn’t know us. My brother – he was barely more than a toddler - was screaming, in a terrible high-pitched, desperate way. The man must have hated that sound.’ She paused, put her head in her hands. ‘I can’t tell you how he killed little Ben. I can’t.’

  ‘Ssh,’ Jay soothed. ‘You don’t have to.’ She was crying, tears running freely down her face.

  Jem raised her head. Her face looked old, full of despair. ‘I ran outside, trying to scream, but only this weird, thin sound would come out, like in a nightmare. He must have come out behind me, hit me with something. But he was on his way really, by then. He just sat down in the middle of the road, apparently, and started honking like a pig or something. People came pretty quickly. I’d have been dead probably if they hadn’t.’

  Jay felt sick. A story like that didn’t belong in this golden world of perpetual summer. But of course, Jem’s experience, and everyone else’s here, were part of what made Lestholme. They were its core of darkness. ‘Jem, that’s... oh God, there are no words to say what it is.’

  Jem made a visible effort to control herself. ‘I know. I survived, and people wanted to know me because of it. It was very strange. For a long time, I was in the papers, like Terry and the others. The stories said how brave I was, what a wonderful person, but eventually all that interest faded away and I was alone again with what had happened.’

  ‘And that’s when you came here?’

  ‘I can’t remember properly. My father had died a year or so before, and I ended up living with my aunt, but I don’t think she knew how to deal with me. She wasn’t unkind, but just constantly awkward and embarrassed. Too cheery, if anything. Then there’d be days, whenever she looked at me, when she’d set her face in this puppy-dog, sympathy expression. I hated it.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’ Jay asked tentatively.

  ‘I can’t say. I told you time is different here.’

  ‘But roughly: a long time - like years - or a short time?’

  ‘It feels like a long time,’ Jem said. ‘But I haven’t changed.’

  Jay stared at her. ‘Jem, are you saying that time stops in Lestholme, that you’ve grown no older?’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying.’ Her head sank to her knees once more.

  ‘That can’t be.’

  Jem didn’t answer.

  For a few moments, the only sound was that of the wind, then Jem raised her head from her knees and gazed up at the monument, her profile looking like that of a much older girl. ‘Did you ever wonder what happened to all those people, the ones who were famous for a while? For just a short time, everyone’s interested in them, but it doesn’t last. That interest is like a big wave of energy that’s constantly moving, seeking out new prey. And the people: sometimes, they are lost and empty. Their lives have been changed, they have been picked up by the wave and carried along in it for a while. The wave can be good or bad. It didn’t hurt me as much as it hurt Father Bickery, even though what happened to me was far worse than what happened to him.’

  Jay spoke softly. ‘What is this place, Jem? You know, don’t you?’

  Jem stared at her for a few moments, and Jay wondered whether she’d answer. ‘It’s somebody’s conscience,’ she said at last.

  Jay frowned. ‘What?’

  Jem stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  They walked through the heather until they came to the foot of the monument. Close to, it was bigger than Jay had thought. The tower was quite wide, and spiralling steps could be seen beyond the doorway, disappearing up into blackness. ‘Do we have to climb it?’ She didn’t relish the thought.

  ‘No. It’s dangerous.’ Jem took hold of Jay’s arm and led her past the monument to the edge of the hill. On this side, the ground fell away precipitously and the wind was strong. Trees were sparser and smaller; clumps of feathery birch. Beyond them, on the plain below, fields, forest and occasional lakes were laid out in a patchwork. Lanes threaded between them, but Jay could see no cars. For as far as the eye could see, there were no telegraph poles or electricity pylons. There was just countryside, with a river running through it. If she squinted, Jay could perceive what looked like mountains far away through a shimmering haze, but no cities, no towns. Nearer, at the foot of the hill, cupped by dark woodland, was a great, white house. It had pillars at the front and a sweeping drive that led to a lane beyond. Jay gasped, then held her breath. ‘Whose house is that?’ It looked like the building in the photograph she’d taken from Dex’s hidden box.

  ‘It is the house of a god,’ Jem said. Her voice was dry. She pointed up at the statue on the monument. ‘And that is the god looking down at his house, protecting it.’

  Jay threw back her head and shaded her eyes to stare at the statue. ‘Does this god have a name?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jem said. ‘Sooner or later, we all learn it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Lorrance,’ Jem murmured.

  It took a moment for the implications to sink in, then Jay snapped, ‘Rhys Lorrance?

  Jem shrugged. ‘Don’t know. He is known to us simply as Lorrance.’

  ‘Have you seen him? What is this? Does he own Lestholme?’ Ideas were racing through Jay’s mind. Lorrance: music industry man, but media man too. Media casualties, village of respite. Was he somehow responsible for Lestholme? Jem had already said it was somebody
’s conscience.

  ‘I’ve not seen him,’ Jem said. ‘I don’t think people do. Gods don’t appear to people.’

  Jay gripped Jem’s shoulder. ‘He’s not a god. I know of him, Jem. He’s a real person. He owns the recording company Dex used to be with. We must go down there! Dex might be there!’

  ‘You can’t go down,’ Jem said. ‘You can look on the house of God, but you can’t reach it. Not that people often try.’

  ‘Have you?’

  Jem looked away. ‘Yes. Several times. I wanted to meet God and ask him questions. The hill is endless though, and wherever you walk, you end up back in Lestholme. I’ve tried lots of different ways, using markers and thread, all sorts of things. It never works. We’re kept away. We’re not meant to get to the house.’

  ‘How is Lestholme Lorrance’s conscience?’

  ‘The god commits many acts that shame him, but he cannot turn his face to them. That is what we are told. He created Lestholme as a sanctuary, but it was only one aspect of him that did it. All his other aspects are unaware of it.’

  Jay shook her head, her mind reeling. ‘Do you know what Rhys Lorrance is out in the real world?’

  Jem shrugged. ‘It is of no consequence to us whether he exists in the outside or not. Here, it is different.’

  ‘He’s a very powerful man, Jem. He works for a corporation that owns newspapers, record companies, magazines. It virtually runs the entertainment industry.’ She shook her head again. ‘He must be mad, creating this place, making everyone think of him as a god. I can’t believe it!’

  Jay wanted to take this knowledge outside immediately. Everything was making sense to her now. If a part of Lorrance abhorred that some people were crushed by fame, their lives irrevocably changed by media attention, perhaps he had bought this village up, and somehow, through some vast conspiracy, arranged for people to be brought here, should they need an escape from their lives. It stretched credulity, but had to be more possible than the more mystical, supernatural explanations. Maybe Jem hadn’t stopped ageing at all. She sometimes looked older than she appeared. Perhaps she simply dressed and acted young, because in her mind, she remained at the age she was when she’d left home. Yes, it made sense now. Jay was filled with excitement, feeling as if she’d somehow reached familiar territory. If her suppositions were correct, Lorrance could even arrange for everyone to be fed and housed; they wouldn’t need state assistance. The villagers might be odd in their ways, because they were fed some kind of euphoric drug, designed to make them feel content. It was fantastic, in the literal sense, but what a story.

  ‘Dex is here somewhere,’ Jay said. ‘I just know it now. I have to get to that house.’

  Jem laid a hand on her arm. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I’m going to try,’ Jay said firmly. She laid her hand over Jem’s. ‘Try with me.’

  As they walked back to Lestholme, Jay began to make plans for the forthcoming foray. Jem listened, a slight frown on her face. ‘It all adds up,’ Jay said fervently. ‘All that stuff about people saying “God will provide for us”. They obviously mean Lorrance. We have to think, Jem. We have to try and remember what happened to us, how we got here. We may have been drugged.’

  Jem looked glum. ‘What about your lost months, then? How do they fit in?’

  Jay made a sound of irritation. ‘Drugs again. It must be. And my coming here must be connected with Dex.’ She frowned. ‘Some things don’t add up, though. Why would Lorrance bring me here? Unless Dex asked him to, of course. He did want me to get away from London. Perhaps I’m here for my own safety. I have to find out what I’m being kept safe from. And the only way to do that is confront Lorrance himself.’

  Jem sighed, hitting out at the lush grasses of the hedge-row with a thin stick. ‘It doesn’t feel right. You don’t understand, because you haven’t been here long enough. I used to wonder about the explanation, but I’ve come to accept that Lestholme simply is; a special place for the lost. It isn’t just down to someone buying the village and putting people in it. It’s not about drugs. I know it isn’t.’

  Jay ignored her remarks. ‘You’ve tried getting to the white house by going down the hill. There must be another way through the lanes. We’ll try tonight. We can use the stars to keep our bearings.’

  ‘I’ve tried that way. All roads lead back to Lestholme.’

  ‘That’s impossible, Jem. You’ve got to stop believing in the fantasy. I know my ideas sound fantastic, but at least they are possible.’

  Jem sighed. ‘Do what you have to. Then you’ll see I’m right.’

  Chapter Five

  They set off after sundown; two adventurers, one fired with energy, the other somewhat reluctant. Jay noticed Jem dragging her heels. ‘You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’

  Jem’s face was very white in the moonlight. ‘I thought you wanted me to come.’

  ‘I do. And I think you want to know the truth, but you mustn’t come if it worries or scares you.’

  ‘I’ll come.’ Jem’s voice was low. ‘It doesn’t matter if I’m scared.’ She glanced up at Jay. ‘I feel I have to keep an eye on you, anyway.’

  Jay laughed. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  The expedition had begun with another sortie to the hill-top. Here, Jay examined the position of the moon and the few constellations she could recognise, and even made a rough map of what she could see below. The house of Lorrance looked chalky and insubstantial against the shadowy, blue backdrop of its cup of forest. No lights burned in the house that she could see. Perhaps the owner lived in the other side of the house, where the windows faced the trees. ‘The river cuts through Lorrance’s land back there,’ Jay said, ‘perhaps we should follow it.’

  Now, Jem directed them towards the willowy banks, where the slow-moving flow slunk through the night. It was like the essence of all rivers, tangled with tall reeds, iris and bullrush. Occasionally, some slick-backed creature would break the surface. The water had a low, murmuring voice; as if naiads were gossiping softly together. Bats flirted with the river, skimming it with their wings. Jay and Jem walked along the footpath that wound alongside the water. It was overhung with ancient willows so immense that sometimes two trees on opposite banks would be entwined with one another. Jay was sure in her estimations of the landscape. ‘We can cut across the park land here, by this spinney.’

  Jem offered no resistance, said nothing. They tramped away from the river-bank, through tall grasses. Surprisingly, on the distant horizon, a fork of lightning shimmied down the sky. Then a wind started up, smelling strongly of ozone.

  ‘Jay,’ Jem said in a warning voice.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Jay murmured. She would not surrender to signs and omens. Rhys Lorrance was a powerful man, but only in the sense of money and position. She did not, could not, believe he wielded any higher force. But as much as she chose to ignore the phenomena, she still felt that in some way they signalled she was getting close.

  Jem put a hand on her arm, forcing her to stop. ‘Listen.’

  Jay cocked her head on one side. ‘To what?’ Why were they whispering? She could hear the wind shushing through the grass and perhaps a sound like rain, though none fell.

  ‘I think we should go back,’ Jem said. Fear oozed out of her infectiously.

  Jay refused to allow it to touch her. ‘We’re all right,’ she said. ‘It’s just superstition.’

  Jem exhaled; a soft, whining sound of anxiety. She was lagging a few paces behind.

  Jay noticed the movement in the grass before Jem did, but said nothing. It could be the wind. Then sounds came: yelping, panting, the thud of feet. The canopy of the trees ahead was waving wildly now, and between the branches could be glimpsed the white shimmer of stone. ‘The house,’ Jay said. She knew there was something between them and the building ahead, but kept moving. It was not far now.

  Then she saw them. Dark shapes leapt and bounded towards them: dogs. Jem screamed Jay’s name.

  Jay reached out for the
girl’s arm. ‘Stand still! Stand still!’

  The dogs were of all breeds and sizes: dark Labradors, shaggy Alsatians, lean red setters, bouncing terriers. They did not look like typical guard dogs, more like family pets, but there was no doubt in which direction they were headed.

  ‘There must be over two dozen of them,’ Jay said. ‘Lorrance must really like dogs.’

  ‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ Jem urged, pulling against Jay’s hold.

  ‘If we run, we’ll have had it,’ Jay said. ‘They’re not snarling. They might be friendly. Just stand your ground.’

  Jay was thinking quickly; what should she do if the animals attacked? Could they keep running forward and make it to the house? They had no weapons on them, not even a stick. Don’t show them your fear, she thought. They’ll smell it. Her body felt drenched in cold sweat.

  Then a voice came out of the night. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  Jem uttered a short, low screech, and Jay jumped sideways. A figure had appeared beside them, as if it had manifested out of the air. It had one arm raised towards the dogs, who now seemed to be soaring towards them, tongues lolling, pelts rippling. For one hellish moment, Jay thought the animals were upon them. She was surrounded by movement and noise. Then, she realised that the pack had simply leapt past them, in a flurry of paws and fur and panting. Jay could smell their dog aroma, feel the warmth of their passing, but already their yelping had diminished with distance. They had been like a phantom wild hunt, hurrying through the night.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ she said, bracing her hands against her knees. She felt out of breath.

  ‘Jay, they wouldn’t have hurt you.’

  She looked up and saw a familiar stranger. ‘Dex.’

  ‘It’s an angel of the god,’ Jem said, her voice still full of fear.

  ‘It’s Dex,’ Jay answered slowly. ‘Isn’t it?’

  He folded his arms. He looked different now, less haggard and wild than when she’d seen him in London. He was dressed in a long jacket, dark trousers, heavy boots. His hair was tied back at his neck. His features seemed translucent in the pale light. Jay was torn between wanting to hug him or utter a sarcastic remark.