Shattered
Page 19
I’m numb.
Nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
* * *
‘Take a seat,’ Mrs Medway says, and I sit opposite her desk. She closes the door.
‘Riley, have you enjoyed your week at our school?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I say, trying to be in the here and now for her, even though I failed at it most of the day.
She sighs. ‘I don’t quite know what to make of you, my dear. Our art department is screaming for you to be one of our next apprentices: you’ve made quite an impression there. That is fantastic, but the other days haven’t been quite as positive. The thing is, if we take you as an apprentice, you have to spend a year working in every year and class in the school.’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself these last few days.’ How could I be, when I don’t know who that is?
‘I understand you must be upset about your friend Madison. Is there something else?’
I’m startled she mentions Madison again; it isn’t the done thing – admitting to feelings about someone taken by Lorders. And her face is full of genuine interest, concern. There is nothing that threatens here. But how honest can I be?
I hesitate. ‘Confidentially?’
‘Of course.’
‘I found out recently that I’m adopted. It’s been a shock.’ I’ve never said anything more true.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I was wondering if there are any teaching jobs at orphanages?’
‘There used to be.’ She half frowns, shakes her head. ‘The nearest is the Cumbrian Care Facility; we used to supply teachers there on rotation. But a few years ago, they hired their own. Shut us out completely. I could ask.’ She hesitates. ‘I’m not sure what is going on there. It might not be a good place for you.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s isolated: stuck out in a valley with nothing but a few farms miles away, and people who work there never come to town.’ She frowns. ‘Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? Now, what shall we do with you?’ She opens a netbook, stares at the screen for a moment, then touches it and looks up again. ‘Right. I’ve recommended you for an apprenticeship here. If you decide to select us as your top choice, that should clinch it. But don’t decide until you’ve had the rest of your trials.’
I stare back at her, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Thank you.’
‘Riley, I’m taking a gamble on you here. I take our responsibility to every child in our care, every child we teach, very, very seriously. There are no off days allowed, however good the reason, when every child counts.’
‘I understand.’
‘Now, go. Whatever you decide, I wish you all the best.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, my throat feeling choked. She doesn’t even know who or what I am, but she is willing to give me a chance. I hesitate at the door.
She looks up. ‘Is there anything else?’
I long to tell her that I’m her missing student, Lucy, the one she couldn’t account for all those years ago. Does it still haunt her? But I’m not really her, anyhow.
‘No, that’s it. Thanks again.’ And I bolt out the door.
I stop by the Moot Hall, where Madison and I met with Finley and went on the walk up Catbells. I’d noticed they had maps up in glass cases on the side of the building, and study them closely.
‘There’s more maps inside,’ a voice says. I jump. Finley is standing in the doorway.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Apparently, my mind isn’t on my job enough to do anything fun, so I’m on duty here.’ He pauses, glances about. ‘Any news?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve got word out, but I’m waiting for contact still to get her put on MIA. It should be soon. But don’t get your hopes up,’ I say, gently.
‘So, what are you doing – planning a weekend walk?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Can I come?’
‘Maybe. Don’t ask why, but I want to go past the Cumbrian Care Facility. Do you know where it is?’
‘No, but I can find out.’ He gets me to follow him inside, hunts through indices and finds the right map. ‘I haven’t been this way before; it isn’t on a main walking route. But it’ll be good to get out and away from everything and everybody, and up high.’
‘I know. For me, too. Can we keep where we are going between us?’
He looks at me curiously. ‘Of course.’
We work out the way: we’ll have to drive out of Keswick to a point where we can pick up a trail, but Finley says he can borrow a car. He reckons from there it’ll take about three hours each way. We arrange to meet in the morning.
As I head back to the house, I wonder: what am I doing? Really. What possible good could it do to go look at an orphanage I may or may not have come from, something like seventeen years ago? Stella only guessed I came from an orphanage, and even if I did, there is no guarantee it is that one.
I shrug. I don’t know. Something inside wants to go there, to see it.
That night Stella knocks on my door, peeks in. ‘May I?’ she asks, hesitant. I nod.
‘I’ve brought something to show you.’
In her hands is a small album. It doesn’t match the others in the wardrobe. She opens it, and inside are page after page of a small baby, much tinier than that four-week-old one I saw yesterday. With loads of dark hair, eyes that don’t quite open. Even in the photos she seems very still.
‘This is Lucy.’
‘Why did you give me the same name?’
She shrugs, uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have.’ She sighs. ‘I’ll always regret that she died, but I still loved you – and I still do – for who you are. That doesn’t change because of any of this.’
‘But the name Lucy must always remind you what you lost.’ I stare back at her, and some inkling of understanding creeps in. She was so afraid of losing me, like she lost the baby in these photos. All the other babies, too. Then, years later, when I disappeared, all her fears came true. I feel like I’m starting to understand her, just a little.
Doesn’t mean I always like her.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
* * *
‘There is something about being up here, that no matter how life sucks, I feel better.’ I’m looking through my camera at the lonely fells sweeping around us, valleys below. The climb ahead.
Finley is silent, and I lower the camera. ‘Sorry,’ I say, looking at him sideways.
‘It’s okay. I haven’t got the worldwide monopoly on misery; you can have some of it, too. So why is your life sucking?’
I shrug. ‘Mostly I can’t say.’ I hesitate. ‘But there is something I can. Between us. Somebody I care for got hauled off by Lorders not long ago, too.’
‘Somebody?’
‘Okay. A guy.’ Ben.
‘And you loved him.’
‘Correction: I love him. Past tense not allowed.’
‘Deal on that one.’
We continue on, mostly silent after that, stopping to check the map a few times when paths branch off, steadily climbing all the way. We reach a ridge: high on a desolate path, wind bitingly cold sweeping across it. No snow up here: blown away? The sky is almost clear, but it seems thin, as if even the oxygen has been stolen by the howling wind. We’re walking fast to stay warm.
‘Nice day you picked,’ Finley says, but I can tell he doesn’t care, any more than I do, about being battered by the weather. But when we dip down again it is still a relief to get out of the wind.
‘Nearly there now; the orphanage is in that valley.’ He points it out; we have a traverse down this hill. ‘Are you going to tell me why we’re going there?’
I glance at him sideways. Sigh. ‘To be honest? I’m not really sure. But it’s a long story.’
‘We’ve got time.’
I shake my head. ‘How about you tell me a story instead?’
‘What about?’
‘I don’t know. Where do you live?’
‘Keswick Boys: land of noise and beautiful toys.’
‘What?’
‘We have a reputation for boat races. And a few other things. It’s not far from your place. A quick row across and then a walk, or about an hour’s stroll along the lake’s edge on foot, up the hill.’ He shows me on his map.
‘I hear it is more chilled out than our house.’
He laughs. ‘Very much so. We come and go at all hours. I couldn’t believe what Madison said about your place.’ His smile fades. ‘Tell me. Was it because of getting out of that lunch to see me?’
He doesn’t say what he means, but I know.
‘It’s not your fault. Whatever happened to Madison: you didn’t do it. Lorders did. And their reasons are their own.’
I can tell by the grim set of his face that he’s not convinced.
‘I know what it’s like,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘To think what happened to somebody is your fault. It eats you up inside. She wouldn’t want that, Finley.’
‘Neither would your boy. But you can’t stop how you feel.’
‘No.’
We’ve been steadily descending into the valley as we talk, still high enough to see all around, and then, there it is. A cluster of buildings set in a clearing in some woods below us, along a creek that meanders; a distant fence that wanders around it encloses large grounds. A scenic place, but somehow odd, and cold, and it isn’t just winter that makes it so. It looks lonely and devoid of life.
‘Look there,’ Finley says. ‘Along the fence line.’ I focus where he points, and dots are moving along the fence, inside the boundary: people? But they are evenly spaced, moving at the same rate. Odd.
I get the camera out again, and zoom in. A long line of children are walking along a path on the inside of the fence. I sweep along; where visible, it looks like the path runs all of the perimeter of the grounds.
‘What can you see?’ Finley asks.
‘Children. They’re out for a walk, I guess.’ I frown. ‘It’s weird, though.’
‘How?’
‘They’re walking, evenly spaced, in single file. ’
‘Shall we go down for a closer look?’ Finley asks, and I hesitate. Something feels wrong, so wrong, but I don’t know what, and there is a sense of foreboding inside. One that says we shouldn’t be here. At least, Finley shouldn’t be here.
I pull us back along some trees. Take off my pack. ‘Can you wait here? I’m going down for a careful nosy. I don’t want us to be seen.’
‘I don’t know. I should come with you.’
‘Honestly, there is nothing to worry about,’ I lie. ‘I’m really good at staying hidden, and it’ll be easier without the pack. I’ll just creep down, have a quick look and come straight back up. Just stay out of sight here. All right? I’ll be fine. I promise.’
‘You’re just going to have a look and come back.’
‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ he says, and looks at his watch. ‘I’ll give you an hour. If you’re not back by then, I’m coming down to look for you. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
I take off my outer coat: it’s light blue and might stand out. My wool layer underneath is grey and should blend into shadows.
At first I stick to the path: it is cut into the hill, so with me bent down I shouldn’t be visible from below. Then as I get closer to the trees I cut off the path into the scrub, hugging rocks, then trees, heading for the fence along from where we saw the children, estimating where I should intersect them with the passage of time. Moving careful, quiet, slow. These skills, so useful now, of moving without noise, using the cover such as it is to best advantage, are all things I learned from Nico and the AGT years ago. I stop behind some rocks, the fence a bit less than fifty metres away, and wait.
Nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
* * *
‘Take a seat,’ Mrs Medway says, and I sit opposite her desk. She closes the door.
‘Riley, have you enjoyed your week at our school?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I say, trying to be in the here and now for her, even though I failed at it most of the day.
She sighs. ‘I don’t quite know what to make of you, my dear. Our art department is screaming for you to be one of our next apprentices: you’ve made quite an impression there. That is fantastic, but the other days haven’t been quite as positive. The thing is, if we take you as an apprentice, you have to spend a year working in every year and class in the school.’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself these last few days.’ How could I be, when I don’t know who that is?
‘I understand you must be upset about your friend Madison. Is there something else?’
I’m startled she mentions Madison again; it isn’t the done thing – admitting to feelings about someone taken by Lorders. And her face is full of genuine interest, concern. There is nothing that threatens here. But how honest can I be?
I hesitate. ‘Confidentially?’
‘Of course.’
‘I found out recently that I’m adopted. It’s been a shock.’ I’ve never said anything more true.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I was wondering if there are any teaching jobs at orphanages?’
‘There used to be.’ She half frowns, shakes her head. ‘The nearest is the Cumbrian Care Facility; we used to supply teachers there on rotation. But a few years ago, they hired their own. Shut us out completely. I could ask.’ She hesitates. ‘I’m not sure what is going on there. It might not be a good place for you.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s isolated: stuck out in a valley with nothing but a few farms miles away, and people who work there never come to town.’ She frowns. ‘Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? Now, what shall we do with you?’ She opens a netbook, stares at the screen for a moment, then touches it and looks up again. ‘Right. I’ve recommended you for an apprenticeship here. If you decide to select us as your top choice, that should clinch it. But don’t decide until you’ve had the rest of your trials.’
I stare back at her, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Thank you.’
‘Riley, I’m taking a gamble on you here. I take our responsibility to every child in our care, every child we teach, very, very seriously. There are no off days allowed, however good the reason, when every child counts.’
‘I understand.’
‘Now, go. Whatever you decide, I wish you all the best.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, my throat feeling choked. She doesn’t even know who or what I am, but she is willing to give me a chance. I hesitate at the door.
She looks up. ‘Is there anything else?’
I long to tell her that I’m her missing student, Lucy, the one she couldn’t account for all those years ago. Does it still haunt her? But I’m not really her, anyhow.
‘No, that’s it. Thanks again.’ And I bolt out the door.
I stop by the Moot Hall, where Madison and I met with Finley and went on the walk up Catbells. I’d noticed they had maps up in glass cases on the side of the building, and study them closely.
‘There’s more maps inside,’ a voice says. I jump. Finley is standing in the doorway.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Apparently, my mind isn’t on my job enough to do anything fun, so I’m on duty here.’ He pauses, glances about. ‘Any news?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve got word out, but I’m waiting for contact still to get her put on MIA. It should be soon. But don’t get your hopes up,’ I say, gently.
‘So, what are you doing – planning a weekend walk?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Can I come?’
‘Maybe. Don’t ask why, but I want to go past the Cumbrian Care Facility. Do you know where it is?’
‘No, but I can find out.’ He gets me to follow him inside, hunts through indices and finds the right map. ‘I haven’t been this way before; it isn’t on a main walking route. But it’ll be good to get out and away from everything and everybody, and up high.’
‘I know. For me, too. Can we keep where we are going between us?’
He looks at me curiously. ‘Of course.’
We work out the way: we’ll have to drive out of Keswick to a point where we can pick up a trail, but Finley says he can borrow a car. He reckons from there it’ll take about three hours each way. We arrange to meet in the morning.
As I head back to the house, I wonder: what am I doing? Really. What possible good could it do to go look at an orphanage I may or may not have come from, something like seventeen years ago? Stella only guessed I came from an orphanage, and even if I did, there is no guarantee it is that one.
I shrug. I don’t know. Something inside wants to go there, to see it.
That night Stella knocks on my door, peeks in. ‘May I?’ she asks, hesitant. I nod.
‘I’ve brought something to show you.’
In her hands is a small album. It doesn’t match the others in the wardrobe. She opens it, and inside are page after page of a small baby, much tinier than that four-week-old one I saw yesterday. With loads of dark hair, eyes that don’t quite open. Even in the photos she seems very still.
‘This is Lucy.’
‘Why did you give me the same name?’
She shrugs, uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have.’ She sighs. ‘I’ll always regret that she died, but I still loved you – and I still do – for who you are. That doesn’t change because of any of this.’
‘But the name Lucy must always remind you what you lost.’ I stare back at her, and some inkling of understanding creeps in. She was so afraid of losing me, like she lost the baby in these photos. All the other babies, too. Then, years later, when I disappeared, all her fears came true. I feel like I’m starting to understand her, just a little.
Doesn’t mean I always like her.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
* * *
‘There is something about being up here, that no matter how life sucks, I feel better.’ I’m looking through my camera at the lonely fells sweeping around us, valleys below. The climb ahead.
Finley is silent, and I lower the camera. ‘Sorry,’ I say, looking at him sideways.
‘It’s okay. I haven’t got the worldwide monopoly on misery; you can have some of it, too. So why is your life sucking?’
I shrug. ‘Mostly I can’t say.’ I hesitate. ‘But there is something I can. Between us. Somebody I care for got hauled off by Lorders not long ago, too.’
‘Somebody?’
‘Okay. A guy.’ Ben.
‘And you loved him.’
‘Correction: I love him. Past tense not allowed.’
‘Deal on that one.’
We continue on, mostly silent after that, stopping to check the map a few times when paths branch off, steadily climbing all the way. We reach a ridge: high on a desolate path, wind bitingly cold sweeping across it. No snow up here: blown away? The sky is almost clear, but it seems thin, as if even the oxygen has been stolen by the howling wind. We’re walking fast to stay warm.
‘Nice day you picked,’ Finley says, but I can tell he doesn’t care, any more than I do, about being battered by the weather. But when we dip down again it is still a relief to get out of the wind.
‘Nearly there now; the orphanage is in that valley.’ He points it out; we have a traverse down this hill. ‘Are you going to tell me why we’re going there?’
I glance at him sideways. Sigh. ‘To be honest? I’m not really sure. But it’s a long story.’
‘We’ve got time.’
I shake my head. ‘How about you tell me a story instead?’
‘What about?’
‘I don’t know. Where do you live?’
‘Keswick Boys: land of noise and beautiful toys.’
‘What?’
‘We have a reputation for boat races. And a few other things. It’s not far from your place. A quick row across and then a walk, or about an hour’s stroll along the lake’s edge on foot, up the hill.’ He shows me on his map.
‘I hear it is more chilled out than our house.’
He laughs. ‘Very much so. We come and go at all hours. I couldn’t believe what Madison said about your place.’ His smile fades. ‘Tell me. Was it because of getting out of that lunch to see me?’
He doesn’t say what he means, but I know.
‘It’s not your fault. Whatever happened to Madison: you didn’t do it. Lorders did. And their reasons are their own.’
I can tell by the grim set of his face that he’s not convinced.
‘I know what it’s like,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘To think what happened to somebody is your fault. It eats you up inside. She wouldn’t want that, Finley.’
‘Neither would your boy. But you can’t stop how you feel.’
‘No.’
We’ve been steadily descending into the valley as we talk, still high enough to see all around, and then, there it is. A cluster of buildings set in a clearing in some woods below us, along a creek that meanders; a distant fence that wanders around it encloses large grounds. A scenic place, but somehow odd, and cold, and it isn’t just winter that makes it so. It looks lonely and devoid of life.
‘Look there,’ Finley says. ‘Along the fence line.’ I focus where he points, and dots are moving along the fence, inside the boundary: people? But they are evenly spaced, moving at the same rate. Odd.
I get the camera out again, and zoom in. A long line of children are walking along a path on the inside of the fence. I sweep along; where visible, it looks like the path runs all of the perimeter of the grounds.
‘What can you see?’ Finley asks.
‘Children. They’re out for a walk, I guess.’ I frown. ‘It’s weird, though.’
‘How?’
‘They’re walking, evenly spaced, in single file. ’
‘Shall we go down for a closer look?’ Finley asks, and I hesitate. Something feels wrong, so wrong, but I don’t know what, and there is a sense of foreboding inside. One that says we shouldn’t be here. At least, Finley shouldn’t be here.
I pull us back along some trees. Take off my pack. ‘Can you wait here? I’m going down for a careful nosy. I don’t want us to be seen.’
‘I don’t know. I should come with you.’
‘Honestly, there is nothing to worry about,’ I lie. ‘I’m really good at staying hidden, and it’ll be easier without the pack. I’ll just creep down, have a quick look and come straight back up. Just stay out of sight here. All right? I’ll be fine. I promise.’
‘You’re just going to have a look and come back.’
‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ he says, and looks at his watch. ‘I’ll give you an hour. If you’re not back by then, I’m coming down to look for you. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
I take off my outer coat: it’s light blue and might stand out. My wool layer underneath is grey and should blend into shadows.
At first I stick to the path: it is cut into the hill, so with me bent down I shouldn’t be visible from below. Then as I get closer to the trees I cut off the path into the scrub, hugging rocks, then trees, heading for the fence along from where we saw the children, estimating where I should intersect them with the passage of time. Moving careful, quiet, slow. These skills, so useful now, of moving without noise, using the cover such as it is to best advantage, are all things I learned from Nico and the AGT years ago. I stop behind some rocks, the fence a bit less than fifty metres away, and wait.
