I am Not A Number

by Lisa Heathfield

  ‘You may go,’ he tells the guard and I hear the door close.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘I promise we will work tirelessly to revive our culture and our way of life. We will restore our country to a place we’re proud to call our home.’ – John Andrews, leader of the Traditional Party

  The general looks at me. If he had a knife to peel back my skin he’d see how fast my heart is beating.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he says, looking confused. ‘I’ve only asked you here to clean.’

  To clean?

  ‘I need someone to clean my office,’ he continues, gesturing around him. I can’t tell whether his smile is warm, or whether there’s something hidden beneath it. ‘It won’t take long. It’s not exactly a big space.’ His laugh feels out of place, sticky against my skin. ‘You have cleaned before?’

  I nod. I can’t admit that at home my mum has to nag me to do anything.

  ‘Good. Good. We’ll make a start now then. Follow me.’ The general comes out from behind his desk. I take a step back as he comes towards me, but maybe he pretends not to notice. ‘This way.’

  We go out of the room. My footsteps sound faint next to his as we walk a few metres down the corridor.

  ‘We haven’t got much, but we’ll get more,’ he says, stopping to open a cupboard. The room is almost big enough to step into, with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Only one has bottles and cloths on it, the rest are empty.

  The general grabs some things, picks up a bucket from the floor and passes them to me. He’s awkward and clumsy suddenly. This close, I can smell the sourness of his breath.

  We walk back to his office and I think he’ll leave me alone, but he sits behind his desk.

  ‘Shall I come back later when you’re not here?’ I ask. It’s the first time I’ve spoken to him in this room and my voice feels too quiet.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Just work around me.’

  ‘But where shall I start?’ I have to be bolder. I have to be strong under his eyes.

  ‘You’re a female aren’t you? You should know these things.’ For a moment I fight an urge to spray the liquid cleaner in his eye. ‘The window.’ He points to the frame of glass behind him. ‘I’m not sure it’s been touched since the army were here. You can use the sink in the corner for water.’

  I have to walk behind him, but at least his back is facing me. On the wall, though, is a picture of John Andrews – his stagnant eyes fixed on me, that waxy face and soft-lipped smile. There’s the sound of water as I fill the bucket. When it’s full enough, I carry it and put it on the floor. I’ve never cleaned a window in my life. I hold the bottle up and pull the plastic trigger. A puff of liquid hits the glass and I press the cloth to it before it drips down too quickly.

  One side of the cloth is covered in black almost immediately. I squirt more liquid from the bottle, but I’m not doing much more than smearing the glass with grime. I dunk the cloth into the water and watch it swirl up, releasing its dirt. I rinse it out and try again and it’s a bit better this time.

  And now that I can breathe properly, I realise where I am. The general’s office. He seems to be the man who runs this camp, so there must be information in here about the trial that we’re on. I need to look but have to bite back the urge to see everything around me, because if I can get him to trust me maybe he’ll leave me alone in here.

  ‘Tell me,’ I hear the general say. ‘Are you really a Core supporter, or are you simply following the thoughts of your parents?’

  I keep the cloth on the window as I try to find the right way to answer. I want him on my side, but will he be able to tell if I lie? I don’t want to speak, but I know I have to.

  ‘I am a Core,’ I say, my heart beating so hard that my skin hurts, as I force myself to bend down to the bucket and squeeze the cloth clean again. To my left there’s a wall with two boxes on a shelf. That’s all I can see before I stand up in front of the window again.

  ‘That’s an honest answer, which is good,’ he says. ‘Honesty is very important to Traditionals. Maybe you are more like us than you realise.’

  Relief floods through me as I watch my fingers on the cloth. I’ve still got faint scratches of varnish on my nails from Sara’s last sleepover. And I don’t understand how I’m at this place. How we all are. How we’re suddenly so trapped when we should be at home.

  ‘Why are we here?’ I look back at the general. He’s eating a biscuit and my hunger starts to rip me open from the inside out.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ His eyes flick to the half-cleaned glass under my hand.

  ‘No,’ I say. From here, I can see curls of hair growing too low on his neck. They squeeze out of puffy white skin.

  ‘The Traditionals are working towards a perfect country,’ he says, as though talking to a little child. ‘And the only thing stopping us is the Core Party.’ He leans back in his chair, the leather squeaking. In front of him is a computer, but the screen is turned off. ‘Imagine having a dream so close in your hands, but it keeps getting taken away. You’d want to keep hold of that dream, wouldn’t you? You would do everything to eradicate what’s in the way.’

  ‘Eradicate?’ I feel my fingers grip the cloth and a line of greasy water drips down.

  ‘Maybe that’s too strong a word,’ he says. ‘In essence, we need to have us all thinking the same.’

  ‘Which is why you’ve set up this trial camp?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You think that by keeping us all here, you can turn us into Traditionals?’

  ‘I know I can. Because I have absolute belief that what we’re doing is right. How could anyone not want a safer, happier, more prosperous society?’ I think he’s waiting for an answer from me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of one. ‘I know that you’ll see sense. If you do this properly, all of you will.’

  Nearer the door there’s a filing cabinet. There must be papers inside it, information I need.

  ‘How did you choose which Core supporters should come here?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s geographical,’ the general says. ‘We took a twenty-mile radius and tried to get as many as we could from that area.’

  They cast a net and I fell in.

  ‘Why our area, though? There are Core voters all over the country.’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ the general says. ‘But we chose a place where the density was greater.’

  Density. Are we some sort of chemical mass, only good to be experimented on?

  ‘And if we take away the influence,’ the general continues, ‘it weakens anyone remaining.’

  ‘If there are less Core supporters, then it’ll be difficult for them to recruit more,’ I say.

  ‘Exactly,’ the general says. ‘We could use the analogy of a table. If you take away its legs, with nothing to support it, it becomes useless.’

  ‘It will fall,’ I say, needing for him to believe he can influence me, that I could be on his side.

  ‘Yes. It becomes rubble which we can then use as a foundation to build a stronger table. A better nation that won’t fail.’

  There are two drawers in his desk, one on either side of him. How easy it would be to step forward and open one of them.

  ‘Are you going to hurt us?’ I ask.

  The general crosses his arms. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I hope not.’

  He turns back to the papers in front of him, but from here I can’t see what’s written on them. As he picks up his pen I have to concentrate again on scrubbing the cloth roughly along the edge of the window, to where there’s a latch. I could open it. In another life I could just climb out.

  ‘Why have you chosen me to come and clean?’ I ask.

  The general doesn’t answer. A strange feeling slides up me. I shouldn’t have asked and it feels like I’m falling. I push the cloth into the bucket, hoping the water will calm my shaking hands.

  ‘You remind me of my daughter,’ he says quietly, his back still facing me, his fingers still on his pen. ‘She died. T
en years ago. You look like her.’

  It’s so far from the answer I thought I’d get and now I don’t know what to say. I don’t know whether I should ask him about her, at least acknowledge her existence. All I do is wash the cloth over the glass again.

  Through the window, not far from the fence, there’s the loch on the other side. I stare past the barbed wire to see its water completely still, reflecting the mountain rising steeply next to it. It’s so peaceful and it helps me.

  ‘What was she called?’ I ask, stopping again to look at the general, needing my eyes to show concern.

  He puts down his pen. ‘Zoe,’ he says. ‘Zoe Jane.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ I say. As I watch his mind drift towards her memory, I feel a sting of genuine pity. Because here, like this, his sadness still blinds him.

  But it’s only an instant and he’s back in this room, this office, and now I know he only sees a Core supporter standing in front of him.

  ‘The window looks fine now,’ he says, turning from me. ‘You can go now.’

  Go? I’ve hardly cleaned at all, but I do as he tells me. I tip up the bucket of dirty water into his sink and slowly clean the rim of dirt from the porcelain bowl, glancing around the room to see as much as I can. There’s a small empty table on one side and a wastepaper basket next to the filing cabinet.

  ‘Ruby?’ the general asks, as I walk towards the door. It’s unnatural to hear my name from him. ‘You’re not to tell anyone what I just told you. Do you understand?’ His voice is cold now, layers of warning clear within it.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, before I leave him behind his desk and go from his office.

  I’m alone in the corridor. The sound of my footsteps follows me to the cupboard before I click it open. I stand inside it and try to remember every detail of the general’s office before I put the bottle, the cloth and the bucket back in their place. I run my hands along the rest of the shelves. Maybe there’s a key forgotten here? I kneel down and search on the floor, but there’s nothing.

  I know I have to go back to the bunk room now, but I’m on my own so maybe I could get lost on the way. I could find out what’s in the other buildings. For the first time since we’ve been in this camp I feel a flicker of hope as I step out into the corridor.

  A guard is standing here.

  ‘What are you doing?’ On the woman’s cold face is a pinch of glee.

  ‘I was cleaning,’ I say. Look her straight in the eyes and don’t turn away.

  ‘Cleaning?’ she shouts, staring at me as though I’m stuffed full with dirt.

  The general’s door opens. ‘Yes,’ he says, not even stepping out. ‘That’s correct.’

  The guard looks from him and then back to me. I know what she’s thinking and I wonder if I care. Let her tie herself in knots with the wrong idea.

  ‘And you’ve finished?’ she asks me, a gross smirk twitching her lips.

  ‘Yes,’ the general says. ‘Escort her back to her room.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the guard says. It’s satisfying seeing her grovelling, but she’s ruined my chance to look around. ‘Walk in front,’ she tells me. Is there a part of her that’s afraid of what I might do?

  The general goes back into his office and closes the door. The guard and I have only gone a few steps when she grabs me by the top of my arm, gripping sharp enough to bruise my breath. The fear is back, trickling down inside me before I can stop it.

  ‘You’re not special,’ she whispers in my ear, her lips close enough to touch my skin. ‘So don’t think you are.’

  But maybe I am? I look like the general’s daughter. He thinks of Zoe when he sees me. I can use it. I can use him. Maybe his daughter is who I need to get us out of here.

  ‘Why did the general want you?’ I don’t think my mum’s hug will ever end.

  ‘To clean,’ I say. I know that other people in the bunk room are listening.

  ‘I didn’t know where you’d gone,’ Lilli whispers. I can tell she’s been crying.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘It was a bit weird, but I’m fine.’

  ‘Where did he make you clean?’ Darren asks, as Mum brushes back the hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. I shake it loose, as I always do.

  ‘His office.’

  Mum’s hand stops. ‘Did he do anything to you?’

  ‘No. I just cleaned the window and then was told to leave.’

  ‘And that was it?’ Darren asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did he ask you?’ Mum asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’ The lie is easy and difficult all at once.

  ‘You promise he didn’t make you do anything else.’

  ‘I promise,’ I say.

  ‘Ruby!’ It’s Luke’s voice from across the room. His head is poking out from some sort of den that’s been made out of sheets and stacked up coats. Children surround him – the four who I saw climb down from the coach earlier. The youngest girl is sitting on the floor, holding the ear of her rabbit underneath her nose.

  ‘Let her go with them,’ Darren says to Mum and before she asks more questions I hurry across the room, stepping over people stretched out on the floor.

  ‘Having fun?’ I laugh, as I get to Luke. Among all the horror, his smile is something that’s real and true.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Cleaning.’

  Luke bursts out laughing. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ I want to tell him about the general’s office and everything I’ve seen.

  ‘Were you any good?’ Luke asks.

  ‘No. It was odd.’

  Destiny’s head appears next to him and I try to keep my smile in place as a stone falls heavy in my stomach. Jealousy is definitely an emotion I need to work on.

  ‘Are you going to join us?’ Destiny asks, wriggling out her whole body and standing up. I glance at the red material on her arm, where she’s tucked her number underneath.

  ‘You’re breaking the den,’ a boy squeals, as he rushes to the back and holds it steady.

  ‘It doesn’t look like there’s room for three.’ As soon as I say it I know how it sounds.

  ‘Always room for you,’ Luke says, jumping up and leaning in to kiss me. I don’t really let him and I can’t tell whether it’s because of Destiny, or because I still haven’t brushed my teeth since I came to the camp. It’s stupid as all I really want to do is spend the entire day with his arms round me.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Want to come under the sheet, then?’

  It’s that smile. It somehow puts everything right. He should be the one who’s in charge of the country – everyone would just melt and do whatever he asked.

  ‘Alone?’ I ask.

  ‘Alone,’ Luke says, taking my hand. ‘I have to take this beautiful girl into the den,’ he tells the watching children. ‘To explain a special mission to her.’

  ‘Can we go too?’ I hear a boy ask.

  ‘In a minute.’

  There’s not much space, but it’s enough to hide both of us inside. Immediately, Luke’s lips are on mine, but I push him away.

  ‘What were you doing in here with Destiny?’ I ask him.

  It’s a muffled light under the sheets, but it’s clear enough to see the disappointment on his face. He knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘She’s gorgeous,’ I point out.

  ‘And so are you.’ I try to speak, but Luke takes my words by kissing me again. ‘I don’t want to be with Destiny,’ he says. And even in here, where I couldn’t be further from gorgeous, we kiss again. When we stop he holds my face gently, so I have nowhere to look but into his eyes. ‘The only one I want to be with is you.’ And I know it’s true. Luke is a part of me and I’m a part of him. He’s in every cell of mine. And I wish more than ever that we were back at his in his bedroom.

  The sheets above us whip back. Luke’s dad is glaring down at us.

 
‘Out,’ he says.

  ‘Bad timing, Dad,’ Luke says, helping me stand up as the children giggle around us.

  ‘None of this is funny, Luke,’ his dad says. ‘If I’d been one of the guards, you’d be in serious trouble.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

  ‘I know it’s difficult,’ Robert continues. ‘But you two have to get a grip on how serious this is. If they find you like I just did, they’ll separate you. And God knows what else.’

  His words drip dread into me.

  ‘Okay,’ Luke says. ‘We’ll be more careful.’

  ‘No,’ his dad tells him. ‘In this place, you won’t do it at all.’

  Everyone around us is quiet now.

  ‘We’ll go and sit and do a jigsaw puzzle together then,’ Luke says. But his dad isn’t in the mood. At all.

  ‘Can we still play dens?’ one of the boys asks.

  ‘Of course.’ Robert smiles down at him. ‘But these two aren’t allowed in there. Okay?’ The little boy nods up at him. ‘What’s your name?’ Robert asks him.

  ‘Zamal,’ the boy says.

  ‘Right, Zamal, you’re in charge.’

  There are so many words in the look that Robert gives Luke and me as he heads back across the room.

  Before bed, I’m standing in the corridor next to Darren in the queue for the toilets. I hate that so many of us have to share the same ones and that I can’t have more than a few moments on my own. It rattles anger through me, but I know if I start to let it out then I might never stop screaming.

  ‘Why are we even in this place?’ I ask Darren. ‘We haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘You’re right. We haven’t,’ he says.

  ‘Then they can’t be allowed to do this.’

  ‘I know, but somehow they are.’

  I can’t tell whether it’s Darren or me who’s changed, but in here everything feels different. Now I want to speak to him and spend time with him and I feel safe, not irritated, when he’s near.

  ‘I was thinking,’ I say more quietly now. ‘If this really is some sort of trial, surely we can just go along with it all and pretend to be Trads, so they let us go.’