The Declaration Page 3

  And so she wasn’t particularly pleased when, a few days later on her way to Female Stockroom 2, she found him waiting in the corridor outside the sanatorium, which was also on Floor 2, along with most of the female dormitories.

  Grange Hall corridors were long, covering the width of the building. There were five storeys including the basement – Floor 0 housed the training rooms, Central Feeding and Mrs Pincent’s office; Floor 1 housed the boys’ dormitories with ten large rooms accommodating between ten and twenty occupants each (you could fit more Middles in a dormitory than Pendings, particularly the younger ones) and two bathrooms; Floor 2 housed the girls in a similar way; Floor 3 housed the Smalls and the Domestics, who were Legals that performed any cleaning and cooking tasks that weren’t taken care of by the Surpluses, and whose job it was to care for the Smalls, although ‘care’ didn’t come into it much. Every room and corridor was decorated in the same way – pale grey walls, darker grey concrete floors, fluorescent lighting and thin radiators which had been fitted when Grange Hall served a different purpose; now they were permanently turned off because Surpluses, Mrs Pincent said, had no right to central heating. The low ceilings and triple-glazed windows, each covered by a long, grey vertical blind, kept in the heat as well as excluding the Outside; security cameras on the perimeter walls screened every visitor to the Hall and ensured that no one could leave unseen.

  When Anna came across Peter, she was on her way to replenish the stock cupboard, one of her jobs as a Prefect, and in her hand she was carrying a detailed list of exactly how many tubes of toothpaste and bars of soap had been used in the past month by the Surpluses in her dormitory. One tube or bar too many, and they would all be made to work extra hours to make up for the squandering of essential resources. Anna’s dormitory never went over their quota, though, she made sure of that.

  She looked at Peter, narrowing her eyes slightly as she passed him, and it was only when he said her name that she reluctantly stopped.

  ‘Anna,’ he said softly. ‘Anna Covey.’

  She stared at him angrily.

  ‘Surplus Anna,’ she corrected him. ‘Please don’t use words from the Outside in Grange Hall, and please don’t pretend that you know my parents, because as far as I’m concerned I don’t have any.’

  Peter looked at her uncomprehendingly, his eyes making her shift uncomfortably on her feet because she wasn’t used to anyone scrutinising her like that.

  ‘So what goes on in here, then?’ he asked, looking at the door to the sanatorium.

  ‘Health check,’ Anna said curtly. ‘You’ll be checked for any weaknesses and given vaccinations against diseases. And weighed. Surpluses have a duty to maintain their health so as not to burden the earth further with illness.’

  Peter raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought Surpluses weren’t allowed drugs. I thought they wanted Surpluses to die off as quickly as possible.’

  His voice was low and had an edge to it and Anna found herself getting warm.

  ‘Of course Surpluses can’t have drugs,’ she said crossly. ‘Vaccinations are preventative, not curative.’

  She found her eyes drawn to Peter, drawn to his dark, agitated eyes, his pale skin, his defiant chin. Quickly, she forced herself to look away.

  ‘Being Surplus means you have to limit your impact on the earth,’ she said, with a sigh. ‘They don’t want us dead. They just don’t want us spreading disease, or being too weak to be Useful.’

  ‘And you’re “useful”?’ Peter asked softly.

  Anna frowned. ‘Of course. I’m set to be a Valuable Asset. They’re the most Useful Surpluses.’

  Peter nodded silently, his eyes cast downwards, then they flickered up to Anna’s. ‘Do you have computers here? Or a library?’

  Anna stared at him. ‘Computers?’ she asked cautiously. She knew what computers were. Mrs Sharpe turned hers on for two hours a day to watch television programmes and to read about the news, and Mrs Pincent had one, too, but Anna had never actually used one. How could she, when anything that used unnecessary electricity was banished from Grange Hall? She didn’t like the idea that this new Surplus might know more than she did. ‘We don’t need computers,’ she said defensively. ‘And anyway, they use too much energy. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Of course they do. Silly me,’ Peter said, with a sigh. His foot was tapping the ground beneath it, and once more, Anna felt her eyes pulled to his strong but slender frame. He seemed so full of confidence, energy and curiosity, and it made Anna both intrigued and nervous. Surpluses were trained to be passive, obedient, and just the glint in Peter’s eyes made Anna feel like she was looking at something she shouldn’t, like she was being drawn into a whirlpool, even though she suspected that the current would be too strong, even though she knew she couldn’t swim.

  ‘I have to go now,’ she said quickly. ‘I have stock to collect.’

  She started to walk away, but she stopped again when she heard Peter’s voice.

  ‘You . . . you like it here, Anna?’ he asked softly, his gaze challenging.

  Anna turned and frowned. What kind of question was that? She bit her lip, and found herself reddening as Peter smiled at her, a little twinkle appearing in his eye, which made Anna feel like she was already in the whirlpool and drowning.

  ‘I am here,’ she said, her voice suddenly slightly hoarse. ‘And so are you. Surpluses aren’t here to like things, Peter, they’re here to do things. Useful things. And the sooner you learn that, the better for everyone.’

  Quickly, Anna turned and marched briskly down the corridor, trying to push the picture of that smile out of her head and to focus instead on the number of toothpaste tubes she would need for the following month.

  Anna didn’t see Peter at any more training sessions that day. The male and female Surpluses shared certain sessions – Science and Nature, Decorum, Laundry and House Maintenance – but the majority were single sex. The classes were held in smallish rooms with the desks packed tightly together and on rare hot summer days it was not uncommon for weaker Surpluses to faint from heat exhaustion. Today, though, it was bitterly cold, and as she listened to the Instructors Anna had been desperately tensing and untensing her leg muscles under her desk, just in order to try and stay warm.

  By the time she got to supper that evening, she was so cold and ravenous that she didn’t notice Peter slipping silently behind her in the queue for broth. It was only when she had the hot bowl in her hands and was carrying it towards one of the long, narrow tables that filled Central Feeding, that she saw him, and realised that he was about to sit down next to her.

  ‘Usually the boys sit together,’ she said tightly, as she put her bowl down and immediately started to spoon the lumpy mixture into her mouth. She felt tired and irritable, and she just wanted to sit quietly and eat her food; the last thing she needed was Peter with his stupid comments and constant questions.

  ‘But not always?’ Peter asked, putting his bowl on the table and noisily scraping back the bench so that he could sit down.

  Anna ignored him and continued to eat as the table filled up.

  ‘This is disgusting,’ Peter said a few moments later. ‘What is it? It tastes vile.’

  No one said anything, and after a few seconds of silence, Anna reluctantly put her spoon down.

  ‘This is good, nutritious food,’ she said wearily.

  ‘What’s good and nutritious about it?’ Peter demanded. ‘This isn’t even meat. It’s like sawdust.’

  Anna swallowed her mouthful. ‘It’s reconstituted meat,’ she said. ‘With flour to thicken it. And I think it’s delicious.’

  ‘Then you can have mine,’ Peter said, pushing his bowl towards her.

  Anna stared at him. ‘You have to eat your food, Peter. It’s our duty to stay strong and . . .’

  ‘Strong and healthy, yeah,’ Peter interrupted her. ‘Well, I’m not going to be either if I eat this.’

  Anna felt her heart begin to quicken in her chest. All the other Surpluses at the
table were studiously looking down, but that didn’t mean they didn’t know what was going on. An offer of extra food was a rare thing, and Anna’s eyes were already looking at Peter’s bowl greedily. But if Mrs Pincent found out that Peter hadn’t eaten, he might be beaten for selfishness.

  Looking around furtively, Anna grabbed Peter’s bowl and poured half of its contents into her bowl, then pushed it back towards Peter.

  ‘You have to eat the rest,’ she said, her voice low. ‘You have to eat something.’

  Peter shrugged. ‘There’s worse things than being hungry, you know,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t you agree, Anna?’

  She could feel Peter’s eyes on her, and she decided to ignore him, gulping down her broth quickly. She wanted to get away from Peter, wanted him to stop talking to her and looking at her as though he thought she was interested in anything he had to say.

  But instead of taking her hint, Peter moved his head closer to Anna’s. ‘Your mother is a wonderful cook, Anna. She makes the most delicious food. Shall I tell you?’

  Anna clamped her hands to her ears, knocking her spoon to the ground in the process. ‘No,’ she hissed. ‘No, she doesn’t, and no I don’t want you to tell me anything.’

  She leant down to pick up her spoon, but as she reached for it, a large, heavy foot landed on her fingers and she yelped.

  ‘Dropped something?’ a voice asked, and Anna grimaced. It was Surplus Charlie, another Pending, tall like Peter but broad too, his large frame pushing at the seams of his overalls.

  ‘Get off my hand,’ Anna said angrily, pushing at his leg with her free hand. ‘I’ll report you . . .’

  ‘Are you bowing down to me, Surplus Anna?’ Charlie asked thinly, his greenish eyes mocking her. ‘It looks to me as if you might have finally Learnt Your Place.’

  Anna gritted her teeth and tried again to pull her hand away, but before she could do so, Charlie suddenly went tumbling to the floor. She rescued her hand and sat up to see Peter towering over Charlie, his foot pressed into his chest.

  ‘Maybe you need to learn your place,’ Peter growled. ‘Maybe you need to learn some manners.’

  He looked at Anna with a little smile. ‘What shall I do with him, Anna Covey?’ he mouthed silently, and she stared at him fearfully. Fights between Surpluses were tolerated in dormitories, but in Central Feeding Surpluses weren’t encouraged to even talk to each other; Peter could have all three of them beaten if any of the Instructors saw what had just happened. What made it worse was that he had pushed Charlie down to defend her, and it made Anna feel vulnerable, the one thing that she’d worked so hard to avoid.

  ‘I don’t need a protector, Surplus Peter,’ she said angrily. ‘And if you don’t let Surplus Charlie go right this minute, we’ll all end up in Solitary. You might be comfortable down there, but I’m not, thank you very much.’

  Peter frowned slightly, then shrugged and moved his foot.

  Charlie scrambled to his feet and looked at Peter menacingly. ‘You’ll regret that, you Outside scum,’ he said bitterly.

  Charlie walked away to join the food queue, and Peter sat back down next to Anna, making her shift along the bench self-consciously. Everyone was staring at them, and she could feel her heart quickening as she felt Peter’s eyes looking towards her.

  ‘I was only trying to help,’ he muttered, putting his elbows on the table and hunching over them.

  ‘Surpluses don’t help each other; we’re here to help Legals,’ Anna said tightly. ‘And I can handle things on my own, thank you very much.’

  ‘Fine,’ Peter said irritably. ‘Then I’m sorry I even bothered. I just thought . . .’

  ‘Well, don’t!’ Anna said. Her eyes flickered over to Peter and met his, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, before Anna managed to pull her eyes away.

  Chapter Four

  11 February, 2140

  The new Surplus is ‘difficult’. He thinks he’s better than a Surplus, thinks he’s better than me. And he’s not. He’s quite stupid, actually, and he lies all the time. He’s already been in Solitary twice, and frankly I think he should be kept down there.

  He doesn’t Know His Place and he thinks it’s OK to whisper things during training sessions when it isn’t at all. He said he wasn’t Surplus Peter; that he was called Peter Tomlinson, like he was Legal or something. And he told me my name was Anna Covey and that he knows my parents. I mean, how stupid is that? Everyone knows that Surpluses don’t have more than one name, and that my parents are in prison where they belong. What – so he grew up in prison with them? Yeah, right. He’s a troublemaker, just like I thought he’d be. And he’s lying, just to get some attention. Like Sheila did when she first arrived.

  It shows what happens when they don’t catch Surpluses early enough. Shows how lucky I am to have come to Grange Hall when I did. The way he walks, you’d really think he was Legal. You’d think the world belongs to him, when the truth is he’s got no right to be here, like the rest of us.

  There was another boy here once before who didn’t fit in either. His name was Patrick and when he arrived he cried all the time, even though he was virtually a Middle and should have been more grown-up than that. He was always in Solitary or getting beaten, because when he wasn’t crying he was arguing with the Instructors, telling them that he wanted to go home, that his parents were going to find him and that then Mrs Pincent would be sorry. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he refused to listen. Mrs Pincent says that sometimes Surpluses find it hard to adjust and don’t like to ‘face facts’. He thought he was better than the rest of us, Mrs Pincent said. He only stayed a few weeks and then they took him away. Mrs Pincent said that he was going to a detention centre, where they could deal with people like Patrick better, where he wouldn’t interfere with our training. If Peter isn’t careful, he’ll end up going there too. Mrs Pincent said that they have to do hard labour all the time in a detention centre. And that the boys don’t even get one blanket, even when it’s really cold. It was for Patrick’s own good that he went there, Mrs Pincent said. If he didn’t learn how to be a Surplus, he’d never find employment, and then what would he do?

  Yesterday, Peter was put in Solitary because he told Mr Sargent that it was old people who were Surpluses, not us. None of us could believe it when he said that and I’ve never seen Mr Sargent so angry. He didn’t even go red – he went white instead and the vein on his forehead started throbbing. I think he was going to beat him, but then he decided to call Mrs Pincent instead and Peter was taken away to Solitary. The worst thing of all was that he winked at me as they took him out. Like it was really cool to be put in Solitary.

  He came out this evening, but I’m not sure it taught him anything, because he still grinned at me stupidly across Central Feeding, like we were friends or something. Peter isn’t my friend. I wish Mrs Pincent would send him away so things can get back to normal around here. Or even better I wish Mrs Sharpe would decide that she wants me as her permanent housekeeper, to go around the world with her and keep her house spotless and clean. I wish she’d take me a long way from here.

  Anna carefully closed her journal and secreted it back on to the ledge behind the bath. Already it felt like a close friend, a confidante. When she’d been little, she and the other Surpluses in her dormitory used to talk to each other, sometimes late into the night, sharing secrets and thoughts. But then Mrs Pincent had appointed her Dormitory Monitor, which meant that she had to report any secrets or wrongdoings of anyone in the dorm. It hadn’t taken long for her former friends to stop taking her into their confidence and ever since then she’d become used to walking into a room and seeing groups of people breaking up, whispered conversations halting. She didn’t care, she told herself proudly; it was more important to be a good Surplus. Surpluses weren’t supposed to spend time whispering to each other, anyway. They were supposed to take orders, to listen to Legals. Anna was determined to be the best Surplus ever. She’d be so good, it would almost make up for her exist
ing in the first place. But it was still quite lonely having no one to talk to, particularly now, with Surplus Peter making her feel agitated and confused. He’d been at Grange Hall for three weeks, and every time she glimpsed him in the corridor, Anna felt herself go red, found herself looking away, only to turn to look at him once he’d passed. He unsettled her, kept trying to talk to her when all she wanted him to do was leave her alone. Anna felt like he was watching her constantly with that slightly mocking smile on his face, making her self-conscious, and confused, and she was determined not to let him know that she’d noticed.

  After getting out of the bathtub and drying herself quickly, Anna shot one last look at the bath to make sure that her journal was completely hidden, and made her way back to her dormitory, running through the next day’s schedule in her head as she went. Managing Supplies Efficiently was at 8.30 a.m., followed by Decorum at 9.30 a.m., and then they were having a polishing demonstration with some real silver. Mrs Sharpe had had a great deal of silver in her house – cutlery, candlesticks, frames and more – so Anna was confident that she would impress everyone with her ability to create a real shine. ‘It’s a job you can’t rush,’ Mrs Sharpe had told her. ‘And nor should you want to. Polishing silver is therapeutic.’ Anna agreed. Silver was beautiful when it gleamed and she hoped that one day she would work in a house with as much silver as Mrs Sharpe had.

  Everyone was asleep by the time Anna got to her dormitory. Quietly, she slipped off her robe and got under the thin sheet and blankets, tucking the edges under herself to keep the warmth in and allowing herself to fall quickly into an exhausted sleep.

  She was so tired that when, twenty or so minutes later, she felt a light tap on her shoulder, she nearly slept through it. But the tapping was insistent and wrenched her from her dreamless sleep back into the cold, dark dormitory. She opened her eyes silently, then sat up, her eyes wide with incredulity. It was Peter, crouched down over her bed.