The Disappearances Page 19

  And then she looked up, saw him, and he was forced to break his reverie and walk towards her. ‘Evie,’ he said. ‘You are going to make a beautiful bride. And a beautiful citizen.’

  She smiled, but Benjamin noticed that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she turned to Sandra. ‘I should take this off,’ she said.

  ‘Not yet,’ Sandra scolded. ‘I need to pin it. You keep getting thinner, Evie. And you haven’t twirled enough. We want to see you twirl, don’t we girls?’

  The women laughed and egged Evie on; Evie duly turned twice, but Benjamin could see that her heart wasn’t in it.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘You pin, Sandra, and then Evie and I are going to take a walk to lunch. How does that sound?’

  Sandra nodded quickly and hurriedly pinned the dress before whipping Evie back into the sewing rooms; seconds later she reappeared in her usual clothes, looking up at him earnestly. That was how it was for Benjamin; he made a suggestion and before he had considered whether it was a good one, it had been carried out, quickly, efficiently. It was the sort of thing that could go to a person’s head; could be quite intoxi-cating, Benjamin knew that all too well. But he also knew that any power he had was only as strong as the commitment he had to his people; knew that they were not sheep following him, but that rather, that it was he who served them, he who owed everything to them.

  Evie looked up at him, anxiety written all over her face. He smiled. ‘So,’ he said, ‘shall we walk? It is a beautiful day today, don’t you think?’

  ‘Beautiful,’ Evie agreed.

  ‘And soon you are to be a citizen of this place. Does that make you happy, Evie?’

  She nodded fervently. ‘Very,’ she said, her eyes looking strained.

  ‘But you are fearful, nevertheless. Is your fear related to this place, to committing to it, or is it more a question of love, of personal commitment?’

  When he saw Evie’s eyes cloud over, he knew immediately that he had got to the nub of the problem.

  ‘I am not fearful of anything,’ Evie said quickly. ‘I am so happy here, Benjamin. I am truly lucky and I know that. We both do. I know that Raffy’s really sorry for what he did. And actually it was probably my fault really. So please don’t hold it against him. Neil said it was okay. He understood. Please don’t think Raffy’s … Because he doesn’t mean to be like he is. He tries …’ She trailed off; Benjamin could see the conflict in her face, the desire to protect Raffy competing with her own frustrations with him.

  Benjamin nodded slowly. Then he stopped walking. Immediately Evie stopped, too.

  ‘Love,’ he said, ‘is a difficult thing. We can love in different ways. Love our country. Love our parents. Fall in love. And out of it.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But love should never make us fearful, should never weigh us down. We are not responsible for each other, do you understand that?’

  Evie bit her lip. ‘I … I think so,’ she said. ‘And I do love Raffy. I really do.’

  Benjamin smiled. ‘Good. And don’t worry about those wedding nerves. I believe everyone has those. Ah, here’s Raffy. So, are you nervous about the big day too?’

  Evie swung round; she hadn’t seen Raffy approach.

  ‘Nervous? Not at all,’ Raffy said immediately, a slight edge to his voice. ‘I wish it was today. And so does Evie. Don’t you, Evie?’

  He looked at her intently; she nodded. ‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good,’ Benjamin smiled, then, taking one last look at Evie, he left them to go and eat, walking back to his rooms where lunch would be waiting for him on his desk as it always was. But as he walked back towards his rooms, he saw something that he hadn’t seen for many years, something he never expected to see again, and he realised that lunch would have to wait. It could have been there by accident, could well have blown in the wind from some faraway place. But Benjamin knew that it hadn’t. It was old, dirty, had several holes in it. But the scrap of material that was lying in his path was without doubt a red silk handkerchief. And that could only mean one thing.

  ‘What was he saying to you?’

  Raffy rounded on her the moment Benjamin was out of earshot. His hand was around her wrist, tightly holding her.

  Evie looked up at him warily. She’d never known him like this – after the Neil incident, he’d seemed truly sorry, had really seemed to want to change. For a few days he had been like a different person – a little too focused on work, perhaps, but easy with her, supportive, cheerful, no angry glances when she talked to other people, no reproachful looks when she came back from an evening class. And then, suddenly, he had reverted again, only this time it was worse, this time he blew up at the slightest thing, flew off the handle and nothing would calm him down again. ‘He was talking to me about the wedding,’ she said. ‘He was saying what a beautiful day it was and how love was a powerful thing.’

  Raffy nodded, bit his lip. ‘And did you agree? Did you tell him that you agree?’

  ‘I think so. I mean, I don’t know, really. Raffy, you’re hurting me.’

  He didn’t let go but instead tightened his grip. ‘It is me that you love, isn’t it?’ he asked then. ‘I mean, we’re happy, right? The two of us? It’s always been the two of us, hasn’t it? And we’re happy. We’re getting married. It’s what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it. Isn’t it?’ He was staring at her intently; his soulful eyes boring into hers. She could see the pain in them, see the fear, but she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know why he was doing this.

  ‘Evie, you okay, love?’ It was Sandra, walking towards them. Raffy loosened his grip; Evie feigned a smile.

  ‘Fine,’ she said.

  ‘Just trying to find out what the dress is like,’ Raffy said lightly.

  ‘Ah well, don’t tell him!’ Sandra joked. ‘But she’s going to be stunning. Truly stunning!’ She smiled at them both before walking past.

  Evie looked back at Raffy; his eyes were fiery now, full of rage.

  ‘Raffy,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Of course we’re getting married. Of course we’re happy …’

  She felt tears pricking at her eyes, tried to force them back, but Raffy had already seen them, was already wiping them gently away with his thumbs.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly, his face changing, the anger gone, replaced by regret, by remorse. ‘I just love you so much,’ he said then, leaning down to kiss her, holding her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘All my life people have tried to take you away from me. And I’m not going to let them. I’m not going to let any of them. I’d kill someone before I let them take you away from me. Whoever it was. You know that, don’t you?’ He was looking at her so intently, so passionately, and Evie could see the gypsy boy she’d loved for most of her life, but she could also see the boy who wanted to keep her for himself, who didn’t trust her, who would never let her be free.

  ‘I know,’ Evie said, and as she spoke, she felt a hole form in her stomach, but she refused to acknowledge it. Because she knew he was telling the truth. And she knew that there was nothing she could do about it.

  33

  Lucas caught sight of Evie and felt himself gasp involuntarily.

  ‘What? What did you see?’ Linus asked. They were sitting in a leafy tree, a few hundred metres outside the Settlement. They were taking it in turns to watch the gate, waiting for the Informers; had been there for hours. But Lucas had allowed the binoculars to gaze over the Settlement itself, and that’s when he’d seen her.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘Just … a bird, flying towards me.’

  Linus raised an eyebrow and took the binoculars from him, training them on the Settlement. Then he raised his eyebrows even more; he had apparently seen the same thing Lucas had. ‘A bird, you say?’ he said. ‘That’s a pretty big bird.’

  Lucas breathed out, leant back against the tree on whose branches he was perched. Evie. Sh
e was there, so close he could almost call out, get her to see him, to come to him. She’d looked happy. Of course she was. She was with Raffy. He closed his eyes, then opened them immediately; he was so tired that if he closed his eyes he would fall asleep. Instead, he lifted his hand to his forehead and squinted, staring at the Settlement as though it might offer him some kind of answer. But he wasn’t even sure what the question was.

  He shouldn’t be here, he realised with a thud. It had been a mistake. This was all a big mistake.

  He looked over at Linus. It was early evening; the light was just beginning to fade. ‘You said they were safe here.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Linus said.

  ‘Maybe we should leave them here. Go after the Informers instead. They’re happy here. That has to count for something.’

  Linus looked thoughtful, then he put down the binoculars.

  ‘It does. But I think the goalposts have changed a bit.’

  ‘They have?’ Lucas raised his eyebrows. ‘How?’

  ‘How?’ Linus exhaled slowly. ‘How,’ he said again, as though to himself. ‘Well, for starters, the Informers aren’t entirely what I expected. I mean, they are, in many ways they are, but in many ways …’

  He trailed off; Lucas looked at him impatiently. ‘They are but they aren’t? Linus, please, this is people’s lives we’re talking about. Stop talking shit. If you have something to say, say it.’

  Linus’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Got that off your chest?’ he asked, a note of sarcasm in his voice, then he let his head fall back. ‘Truth is, Lucas, I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t know what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Linus shook his head. ‘The technology they have. The sophistication. This isn’t some group of survivors who snagged some good stuff before the Horrors destroyed everything. This goes way beyond that. The information they have. It’s …’ He pulled a face. ‘It puts a different slant on things,’ he said, after a brief hesitation. ‘It makes me review my former belief that Raffy is safe where he is. That any of this is as straightforward as I’d believed. They have bombs, Lucas. They have weapons that weren’t even invented during the Horrors. What is a group of survivors doing with bombs? Just who are they planning to attack?’

  Lucas digested this. ‘We need to get Raffy and Evie,’ he said.

  ‘Not yet,’ Linus said cautiously.

  Lucas stood up and started to pace. ‘You want to tell me why? I can get over that wall and get the two of them in five minutes. What are we waiting for?’

  ‘We’re waiting for the Informers. Because they’re following us. Have been since we left their camp.’

  Lucas stared at Linus angrily. ‘Are you serious? We led them here? To the very people we’re trying to protect?’

  Linus shook his head. ‘They’ve always known where Raffy is,’ he said quietly. ‘They know everything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That computer system … I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.’

  ‘So then why are they following us? They want Raffy; Clara told me.’

  Linus shrugged again. ‘I don’t have all the answers,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I do have questions. Like why didn’t Clara die? Why are the Informers on our tail? What is it that they really want? This whole thing is more complex than we can see right now. It’s like a game. Only I don’t know yet what we’re playing for. Or who we’re playing with.’ He raised the binoculars again. ‘Okay, I think it’s time to go. Look.’

  He handed them to Lucas, who shifted his gaze to the barriers that divided the Settlement from the barren landscape around it. The thin fence Linus had thrown something over; a fence that looked almost apologetic, timid, and yet Lucas found it much more confident than the City walls that were so high, so well guarded. But guarded from who? From what? Not the Informers, certainly. He heard a sound, a car engine in the distance. And then he saw it: not a car, but a small van, driving quickly towards the Settlement, dust flying as it sped along. ‘They’re here,’ Linus whispered then, his voice barely audible. ‘They’re here.’

  Benjamin sat very still. Around him hung a veil of silence, the only sound the hum of activity just audible through his open window. His rooms were sparse; his robes simple. But he was not without his one luxury, the only one that mattered to him. Peace. Peace and quiet. A few minutes each day without noise, without interruption, this was what he insisted upon. Time to gather his thoughts, to plan, to consider; time to let his brain wander; time to let his shoulders relax. He had had enough noise in his life. Certain noises he never wanted to hear again.

  He took a deep breath and enjoyed the feeling of exhaling, slowly, thoughtfully. A wonderful thing, the human body, he mused. So complex and yet, ultimately, so simple. Air to breathe, food to nourish it, clothes and shelter to protect it, a friendly face, a hug … Humans strived for so much, but needed so little, really. He looked around his room, as he liked to do each day at this time, its stillness and sparseness pleasing him immensely.

  Again, Benjamin breathed in and out, slowly, meaningfully, then he stood up and walked towards the window, a full-length one that looked out over a courtyard; on the other side was farmland, continually worked and tended. Food. Nourishment. He had chosen this view specifically; he wanted to see life, not death. Wanted to see hope, not devastation.

  There was a knock at the door; he turned. ‘Come in.’

  It was Stern. ‘Benjamin, we have some visitors. The Informers.’

  ‘The Informers?’ Benjamin frowned. He had been expecting visitors, but not these. But then again, he had learnt in his life that few things could be predicted. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘They are outside. They wish to speak with you.’

  ‘Then give me a minute,’ he said, ‘and we’ll see what they have come for.’

  He waited for Stern to leave, then closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath to prepare himself. The signal had rattled him earlier; it had been so long since he’d seen it he’d almost forgotten the pact he had made years before, having been visited by a strange man called Linus, one of the City’s founders, who seemed almost like a prophet from Biblical times: wise beyond his years, his teaching made up of stories that Benjamin hardly knew how to interpret. But he had been a good man; Benjamin could see it in him, knew he could be trusted. And before he left, they agreed on a signal. A signal that would alert them to danger, that could not be ignored. But there it was, and now these men … Were the two connected? How could they possibly not be?

  Steeling himself, he opened the door and went outside. The men and their vehicle were only just inside the perimeter wall, Benjamin noticed, as he walked towards them. They were not here for hospitality. They did not intend to stay longer than was absolutely necessary. Which was probably good news; it would be another transaction, an increase in demand, that’s all. He often wondered if Linus had anything to do with these demands; often hoped, somewhere deep inside, that he didn’t.

  There were three of them, one dressed smartly, the other two in khakis. The smartly dressed one he recognised. They had met several times in the past, most notably six months after he had established the Settlement when the man had come to see him, all silky smiles and offers of protection that essentially led to demands for food. Tithes to the City; a monthly request for food to ship down to the City’s people.

  And Benjamin, to his eternal shame, had agreed. He had been tired of fighting. He had not wanted to see more death.

  He scrutinised the other two men. Were they armed? The Informers did not carry weapons, that’s what they always said; they didn’t need them.

  He nodded at the smartly dressed man who had chosen never to divulge his name. ‘My name is Benjamin. Welcome, brothers,’ he said, stretching out his hand. The two men in khakis said nothing.

  ‘Good to see you again, Benjamin,’ the suited man said with a smile. ‘We’ve come to ask you a favour.’

  Benjamin didn’t return the smile. Visits from these men always meant trouble, meant
that the City was either upping its demands for the Settlement’s taxes or communicating some grievance. But Benjamin knew he could meet them. They would work harder, produce more, do whatever it took. Just like every other little civilisation in this godforsaken land, Benjamin knew that the Informers were too powerful to refuse; knew that paying what they asked would give them the independence and peace they so desired. He hadn’t even told his people that a quarter of the Settlement’s produce went to the City every month; it was easy enough to send the shipments when the Informers came, and so much better to have a people happy with their lot than one that resented a City far away. Resentment led to war, and war was something Benjamin never wanted to see again.

  ‘A favour?’ He could hear Stern behind him, clearing his throat, knew that it was his way of making a stand, of signalling his unhappiness. But Stern was not the Settlement’s leader; he did not have to make the hard choices. Before Benjamin had ever had a visit from the Informers, he had heard about townships being burnt to the ground, all their people shot down. Townships that had not been so amenable to the Informer’s proposition, that is, who felt that the City had enough already, that it did not need more. Benjamin had known early on that the Informers meant business. ‘I didn’t think we were due a visit so soon. I’m afraid you find us unprepared.’

  ‘I am not here to collect,’ the man said, a reassuring smile on his face. ‘At least, not the usual produce. I wonder, Benjamin, might we talk inside?’

  Benjamin nodded slowly, mentally preparing himself. The Informers never usually stepped inside any of the Settlement’s buildings; they preferred their visits to be short, to the point and rarely left the side of their vehicle. On collection night (and it was always at night), they would simply check that everything was in order, then drive around the back to the collection point where goods would be loaded onto their lorry.