Читать книгу Flawed / Perfect - Cecelia Ahern, Cecelia Ahern - Страница 29

After a night of nightmares, of hearing that man in the Branding Chamber screaming in anguish, of dreaming of bleeding tongues and of ghoulish Flawed reaching for me and grabbing at me from the barricades as I walk through the courtyard, I wake up feeling exhausted and scared, confused as to where I am. It is the day that I will testify on my own behalf. The day I tell Bosco’s lie. It is Naming Day.

I’m awake at five am, lie still until five-thirty and then get up, pacing like a caged animal waiting for everything to commence. Carrick wakes at six and lies in his bed, sleepily watching me from under his blankets. After a while, he sits up, back against the wall, knees raised, elbows resting on his knees, already familiar with this routine. This frustrates me even more. There is nowhere I can escape him, apart from the small toilet, but I can’t spend any amount of time in there longer than necessary. I’m sure they’ve made it the size of a hole for a reason.

At eight am Tina and Funar come to our cells, and we are guided to the showers. I expect Carrick to ignore me as he did most of the day yesterday, but he gives me a light nod, and there’s something softer behind his eyes. Perhaps I’ve gone up in his estimation in not being sent home yesterday, and I understand. I have always felt that he and I are in this together, ever since I saw him walk into the holding cells. For him, it took about eighteen hours to agree. Even in all the times I woke up during the night, afraid and disoriented, I looked across at Carrick and immediately felt oriented. He was the trigger to calm me, nothing else in the room. I don’t know if having someone of his build on my side is simply wishful thinking. I know this connection seems so intense over such a short period, but I feel as though I’m in a pressure cooker, and he is the only person in it with me who could possibly understand. Experiencing it at the same age only adds to that connection.

I smile a good morning, and he holds out his hand to let me walk ahead of him. Funar whistles lightly, childishly, a whit-whoo, and Tina tells him to shut up. I smile and look behind me quickly to catch Carrick’s reaction. Not so much a smile as a light behind his eyes. Maybe they’re green. Our eyes meet to share the joy of Funar’s embarrassment at being silenced, and then I quickly turn back to follow Tina. I feel self-conscious that Carrick’s behind me, and I’m also hoping we’re not being taken for another “lesson”. I guess that we’re not, seeing as Tina is here, and I wonder if I should tell her what happened yesterday when she was upstairs, or if I should suck it up as Carrick has done. Perhaps there are rules in bravery. If so, I will follow Carrick’s lead.

He’s taken left; I go right. After the shower, I dress in fresh clothes and I’m taken back to my cell. Carrick is already in his cell, sitting at a table with a dumpy man in a tattered suit. Carrick’s hair has a shine to it, still wet, and he looks freshly shaven and is in a new sludgy-green T-shirt. I’m sure Mum would have chosen something else, something warmer, to bring out his eyes, whatever colour they are, but I like it. It’s like he’s a soldier, because it strikes me that he’s not looking for clemency, he’s looking for a fight. I study him when he’s not looking, to see what colour his eyes are. I don’t know why I’m obsessing over this. I suppose it’s because Art’s are so clearly blue. You see them before you see him. They’re one of the things I love most about him, whereas with Carrick, his eyes seem black, but they can’t possibly be. Perhaps his pupils are just constantly dilated from anger.

The dumpy man in Carrick’s cell has a red, flustered face, and it looks like breathing is a difficult act for him. He rifles through papers. They’re talking and it’s intense, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. The man is explaining something. He is hot and bothered, and Carrick’s face is angry already.

My door opens. It’s Tina.

“Who’s he?” I ask.

“His adviser.”

I notice she never uses Carrick’s name.

“But I thought he was representing himself.”

“He is, but he still needs assistance. Paperwork to be filed, et cetera. Paddy is his mentor. You would be sent one, too, but you have Mr Berry.”

I look at Paddy, who seems like he’s about to die of a coronary, and I’m once again grateful for Mr Berry despite the fact that in any other situation, I wouldn’t trust him. Just enough to trust him with my life.

“There’s someone here to see you. In the canteen.”

My heart flips. Art. I need him. I want to be back on the summit with my legs wrapped around him, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. I know that as soon as I see him, I will feel calm and human again, and not like this caged animal.

As we’re walking by Carrick’s cell, something, a flash of colour, attracts my notice. I don’t hear anything, because the glass is soundproof, but I see it out of the corner of my eye. I stop walking and look to see a tray of food fall from the window to the ground, cups and saucers and food lying in pieces on the floor of his cell. Behind it is an angry Carrick, the one responsible for firing it directly at my head, his face twisted in anger and aggression.

I’m stunned. It was clearly aimed at me, but I can’t figure out what I’ve done.

Tina surprises me by laughing. “So I guess he just found out.”

“Found out what?”

“Bark! Funar!” she calls. “Bad egg.”

Funar appears at the guards’ office door and grunts.

She turns back to me, and we continue walking. “He’s learned that his case is on hold until yours is finished,” she replies. “That’s the fourth time that’s happened. First Dr Blake, then Jimmy Child and then Angelina Tinder.”

“How long has he been here?”

“A few weeks.”

“Weeks?” I ask, shocked. “And how much longer will he be here?”

“Whenever you’re finished. He’s a flight risk and has anger issues, obviously. Can’t risk letting him go. Been trouble ever since he got here. Serves him right, to be honest. If he didn’t act like such an animal, his case could have been pushed through by now. Now come along this way. You can get breakfast here, too.” She takes me by the elbow and pulls me along.

I look back at Carrick. He stares at me with his cold, hard eyes, chin raised, chest heaving up and down at the exertion of his fit of rage. Tina called him an animal, but I don’t blame him at all. A few weeks in this place and I’d start to behave like one, too. I try to give him a look of apology, but I’m not quite sure how to pull that off. I need words, and he and I have never shared any. I half-walk, half-run along as Tina pulls me. He stands still, hands on his hips, and watches me all the way out the door, probably wishing I’d never come back. Maybe his eyes really are black.