Читать книгу Neil White 3 Book Bundle - Neil White - Страница 24

John was outside the farmhouse, at the old man’s window, nailing a wire grille to the frame, as Arni ordered. The breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees opposite and brought a glow to his cheeks. Dawn appeared in the doorway next to him, her arms folded across her chest.

She stayed silent for a few moments, before saying, ‘That won’t stop them.’

‘What, the grilles?’

‘They should be on the inside of the window, because if someone does come, they’ll just rip them off.’

‘Who are they?’

Dawn shrugged. ‘Whoever Arni is trying to protect us from.’

‘But who do you think they are? And why now?’

‘Things have changed,’ Dawn said, and then she shook her head. ‘We weren’t about all this at first.’

John was wary. This could be a test. Henry had once said that he should trust no one.

‘Isn’t it more important to be about where we are now, rather than where we once were?’ he said.

‘Don’t give me that,’ she said, her eyes narrowing. ‘You don’t believe in what’s going on here. Not truly, deep down, in here,’ and she banged her chest with her hand.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You watch them too much, as if you are working out the right thing to say, not what you truly believe. What is it, just some fun?’

He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. I believe in Henry’s message. And what do you mean by them? Don’t you mean us?’

Dawn looked at John, her lips pursed, wariness in her eyes. ‘I don’t mean anything.’ She pointed towards the window that now had a metal grille hammered into its frame. ‘The old man. Is he awake?’

John put his face against the grille and saw the old man turn his head towards him. His breaths looked shallow, and there was pleading in his eyes. He had no hair, apart from the wisps around his ears. His scalp seemed almost translucent, the veins visible through the tired pallor of his skin, his cheekbones just sharp edges.

John nodded. ‘How long has he been like this?’

‘He was always frail, that’s why he let us stay here, so that we could help him with the farm, and shop for him. He told us he had no family. We’re not helping him anymore though.’

‘How many were there of you, when you first came here?’

‘About ten of us, plus Henry.’ Tears popped into her eyes. ‘Some have left, some more have come. When we came here, it was an escape, that’s all.’

‘From what?’

‘From what we were doing. We were travelling round, going to all the demos. It was fun, but sometimes you’ve got to get away and have some downtime.’

‘What got you into all of the political stuff?’

She shrugged. ‘It was the togetherness, I suppose, the people you meet. A lot of us didn’t have that when we grew up.’

‘What about you?’

‘I grew up in care. The first lot of us did.’

‘How was that?’ He banged another nail into the window frame and then bent it around the grille.

‘Just typical, I suppose. You get warned about stuff, or hear about them, and you think it will be different for you, but it isn’t. It’s just the same. We’d hang around, and the men would come cruising. They were always too old for us, but it didn’t matter, because they could get us drink and fags, and we could ride around in cars with loud music and spoilers and stuff. It seemed like fun, but then you realise it’s a trap, that no one cares for you.’

‘Where were your parents?

‘Not with me,’ Dawn said, her sadness showing in her voice. ‘I went into care and they never tried to get me back. The care workers did their best, but they couldn’t give us the love we needed, the affection. But when you’re young, you confuse affection with sex, and so if you’re getting fucked, you’re getting love, except that you’re not. You’re being used. So one day, six of us left and never went back. We went to the festivals, and then the camps, you know, the protest ones, climate change and ones like that. The people were nice. No one used us, because they wanted to teach us stuff, and we listened.’

‘When was this?’

‘Three years ago.’

‘Are you all from care, the ones who came here?’

‘The newer ones are different. Posh kids, just looking for an adventure. Take your Gemma. She’s from a good home, but she wanted to break away. We all have different reasons. I was living in a hostel when I first met Henry. A lot of the girls were talking about him. He was older but different to the others, because he seemed more determined. He had things to tell us, his take on the world. Then he started to talk about getting away from the city, starting on our own, like a commune, where we made our own rules.’

‘And so you ended up here?’

‘Only by a fluke. We were between squats and we came to a party in the field next door. It was just a bonfire and people sleeping out, but in the morning the old man let us use his toilet and bath, and so we cleaned up for him, and then we ended up staying. And then Henry attracted more people, because, well, people follow Henry.’ Dawn smiled, although John detected regret in it. ‘It was great at first. We had a base. We could go to the camps but we had somewhere to come back to. The student demos were the best, because the nice kids would join in too. That’s when we hit on the masks.’

‘The masks in the pictures?’ John said. ‘I saw them in the house, but I didn’t know you’d started that. I used to see them on the news. They’re creepy. All white and expressionless.’

‘Shop dummies,’ she said. ‘It was symbolic, you know, because that’s what we had become, faceless. And it made it harder for the police to identify us, which was the real reason. When other people see you like that, they see you as a group who are getting their stuff together, and so they want to join, and people followed us on the marches, rather than us following them.’

‘I saw the masks on the news during the riots last year.’

‘The riots were just the best times, but then they became sort of the worst times.’

‘Why the worst?’

Dawn’s jaw clenched. ‘Because that’s when Henry changed. And we changed, as a group.’ She looked at the Seven Sisters and took a deep breath.

John followed her gaze. ‘I like them,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘The stones. They’re atmospheric, sort of mystical.’

Dawn closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she said, ‘They are not what they seem.’

‘What do you mean?’ John said, as he turned to hammer another nail into the frame.

‘You don’t really know what they stand for,’ she said. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t think that.’

‘Tell me then.’

Dawn looked towards the Seven Sisters again and tears came into her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something, but then there was some quick movement, and Dawn yelped as Arni’s cane was thrust through the open doorway, the metal handle under her chin. She turned round slowly, John following her gaze.

Arni was standing in the hallway, his arm outstretched. John hadn’t heard him. Arni was glowering, his anger giving him a flush to his cheeks and a quiver to his arm.

Dawn’s breaths started to get ragged, eyes flicking between John and Arni.

The cane stayed there for a few more seconds before Arni lowered it, still staring at Dawn.

‘We were just talking,’ she said.

Arni ground his teeth and then said, ‘Be careful what you say. You are either with the group or you are not.’

‘I am with the group,’ Dawn said quickly, nodding apologetically.

Arni stared at her, making Dawn more agitated, until they were distracted by soft footsteps on the stairs as Gemma came into view. John felt a small burst of pleasure. He smiled, he couldn’t stop himself, but before he could say anything, Gemma looked past him, her eyes widened.

‘Someone’s here,’ she said. ‘It’s Henry.’

John followed her gaze towards the woods on the other side of the field. There was movement in the trees from a band of people dressed in black, Henry at the rear of the group.

Gemma waved at them, and someone waved back. She turned to Dawn. ‘Henry’s back.’

Dawn didn’t respond at first, as if she was weighing up the right thing to say, but then she flickered a smile. ‘That’s good.’

Gemma held her gaze for a moment, and then went towards the door.

John watched as the group walked across the field, Henry encircled, and then as he looked, he saw someone new, a woman he hadn’t seen before. She was tall and attractive, her clothing more provocative than the others, in tight blue shorts and a cropped vest top, making her breasts bulge out.

‘It’s Lucy,’ Gemma cried, and she darted past John, running barefoot across the grass. When she got to the group she threw her arms around the newcomer, and the laughs of the crowd drifted across the field. Arni scowled and went back inside.

John watched as Henry got nearer, and when Gemma got back to the house, she skipped excitedly, clapping her hands.

‘What’s the excitement?’ John said.

‘Lucy’s home,’ Gemma said, and giggled.

John was surprised. He’d never heard of Lucy, but from the way the others spoke to her, it seemed like everyone knew her.

Before John could ask anything else, Henry came towards him, looking wound up and edgy.

‘What’s on your mind, John?’ he said.

‘Sorry, I was just wondering who she was.’

‘Interested in her?’ he said, and looked round at Lucy. ‘She’s very pretty.’

‘No, not like that,’ John said quickly, catching Gemma’s glare. ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’

Henry cocked his head, his dark twists of hair flopping with him. ‘It’s not just about what we do on the demos, or even from here. There are people out there, doing vital work. Lucy is one of them.’

‘And she’s back now?’

‘Yes, she’s back, because the time is getting nearer for positive action.’

‘How do you know?’

Henry’s eyes showed his excitement. ‘I just sense it. Don’t you?’ He banged his chest with his hand and grinned, his teeth bright white, matching the gleam of his eyes. ‘If you have belief, you know it. Do you have belief, John?’

‘I believe in you, Henry.’

‘That’s all you need,’ Henry said, and grinned again.

‘So what do we do?’

Henry looked back across the fields, towards Oulton. ‘You stay here, John, because I trust you to keep watch. When they come for us, fight them. We have a message, and they will try to stop it being heard. We have to be ready.’

John smiled. ‘Whatever is coming, Henry, I’m with you.’