The Chrysalid Conspiracy (19 page)

“Good for you, Molly. Well done. Keep it up,” she encouraged, and went up to her room.

Slumping into her swivel chair she picked up the book, reasoning that it was more important at the moment to take on Professor Melkins than do battle with the monster that had replaced her bedroom.

So far, the book was what seemed to be a fictional account of a possible (but improbable) pre-history of ancient medicines, but she couldn’t find an argument.

Where was the anthropology? Come to that, what was anthropology? It was hard going but she was more determined than ever to finish it.

By lunchtime she was no nearer getting a handle on ‘Melkins Meanderings’ and gave up. She grabbed her anorak and headed off down to the water meadows. She wondered if Bridie would be there or if she would get a chance to talk to Rayn alone.

The sky was overcast but there was only a light breeze and no rain. She was enjoying being out in the fresh air, despite her mental gloom. The river was behaving itself and had lost its rust colour from the storm. She made her way onto a rocky outcrop and, kneeling down, she let her hand trail in the cold autumn water. It was a familiar feeling and had become almost a ritual.

“How you doing, old fella?” she muttered to it. “Still you and me against the world?” She stayed still and let the life around her resume. She couldn’t see any eels in the river, but she knew they were there, further out. A pair of grey squirrels watched her from a tree on the riverbank opposite. The violent storm at the weekend had stripped most of the autumn leaves, but a group of silver birch had managed to hold on to some of their yellow and gold. The effect made the evergreens seem dark and forbidding.

Scooping up a handful of brown and red leaves from the river, she allowed them to fall back. Standing up, she wondered if the swans had arrived yet on their way south, but it was still a little too early.

Halfway down the lane was the Exotic Animal Sanctuary. It was a private concern consisting of about five acres of old caravans, some barns, a very big greenhouse and a small cottage. It was run by two elderly sisters, Girda and Elsa Hartz. It was rumoured they were the daughters of an infamous Nazi doctor who was hanged at Nuremburg after the war.

Amelia hated rumours. Being a practical girl she tended to rely on proven facts, this was probably why she found this conspiracy thing hard to cope with.

The two women were out at the front of their property with heavy gauntlets and wire cutters repairing the fence. “Hi Elsa. Hi Girda. That doesn’t look much fun,” Amelia greeted them. They smiled at her and greeted her in return. “Guten tag Amelee. Ve gehts?”

“Fine thanks,” she smiled back at them. She had always found the two women very pleasant. Always fresh-looking and warm and friendly. Amelia had dropped several hints in the past about having a look around, but the sisters had explained that the animals became distressed at the sight of strangers. She had been disappointed but understood and respected their decision.

“Mensch!” cried Elsa. A piece of wire had sprung back and caught her in the face. A thin trail of blood ran down her cheek.

“Dumkopf,” her sister said as she laughed and the two women launched into a tirade of rapid German, for which Amelia was grateful she hadn’t a hope of understanding. They didn’t even notice when Amelia bid them farewell.

“Auf wiedersehn, got to go,” she said, and slipped away.

Crossing the wide iron bridge she followed the path as it angled up the slope away from the lakes but afforded a beautiful view down through the dark skeletal trees. She loved scuffing her feet through the dried leaves.

A blackbird flew down to investigate the newly disturbed patches, and she wondered why she and Nigel never came this side of the river. They always jogged down the other side to the old mill. Unused since the nineteen fifties the building now proudly wore its copious vegetation as a sanctuary for wildlife. As far as Amelia knew she and Nigel were the only people who ever went there.

Looking down at the reeds and marsh grasses, fading to yellow in the onset of winter, she could see the footbridges across the maze of water ways and streams which gave access to the meadows. A small group of twitchers were out there, loaded down with binoculars and cameras.
I suppose it’s better than guns and nets
she consoled herself.

Jude and Gypsy met her and escorted her to the caravan site; staring enviously at the beautiful great caravan she went to greet Horace. Amelia was sure he gave her a wink. Daisy and Dexter greeted her with a total absence of enthusiasm or interest and kept eating.

Amelia enjoyed being out in the countryside, but today it seemed special. Today she felt part of things, aware of all the wonders of life surrounding her. It felt as if the very essence of life itself were knocking at the door of her consciousness, eager to gain access to her very being.

Not only did she have the urge to fling the door open, but she desperately wanted to cling on to this new and insistent feeling.

“Come on in, Amelia.” Bridie’s pleasant voice disturbed her seclusion.

“Hi, Bridie. How’s the patient?” she answered as she went up the steps.

“I’m glad you’re here. Madam here is milking this for all it’s worth. I’ve got to go up to the village to the laundrette. I’ll pick up some lunch too. Fish and chips be okay?”

“Yes please,” said Amelia, realising how hungry she was.

“And you, Rayn?” Bridie asked her daughter.

“Oooooh!” murmured Rayn. Amelia looked at the wreckage of her friend and tried not to laugh. She was sitting up in bed; her mass of hair was down and pulled forward, completely obscuring her face.

“What on earth is that?” Amelia asked Bridie with a grin.

Rayn parted her hair and Amelia saw why. Her bloodshot eyes were half closed due to the yellow and purple swelling. Her nose was discoloured with ugly red blotches.

“Oh no,” Amelia exclaimed. “I had no idea. You poor thing.” She rummaged in her bag and came up with a pair of mirrored sunglasses. “Here, these will help stop the glare and hide the bruises.” Rayn put them on, very carefully.

“Thanks Amelia,” she said. Then added, in a louder voice, “See! Someone cares that I’m in pain.”

Bridie rolled her eyes. “You have my permission to hit her again!” she said to Amelia. Instinct telling her it was no accident.

“Oh, I doubt anyone could do that to her again.” said Amelia, confirming Bridie’s initial reasoning. Bridie left, carrying a black bin liner full of washing, and Amelia turned to Rayn. “How are you really, then?”

“Fine,” she replied. “I’m just trying to make her pay for keeping me here in bed. The trouble is she knows what I’m up to.”

“Right then. Listen, I have some information which, unfortunately, fits very neatly into our, er, FFCT” Amelia said to her.

“Our what?” said Rayn. Her expression didn’t change, which was understandable under the circumstances.

“You know! Our fantastic fictional far-fetched conspiracy thingy,” she replied.

“That’s four Fs,” said Rayn. “We’re on dangerous ground here. Be careful.” Amelia laughed, and Rayn demanded, “Tell me!” almost salivating with anticipation.

“Well, there are other explanations I suppose,” Amelia said. “Like most of our theory, but this seems just a bit too convenient.”

“If you don’t get on with it you’re going to end up looking worse than me,” threatened Rayn.

“You and who’s army?” Amelia retorted, laughing.

“Oh stop. Tell me, please.”

“Okay,” Amelia said. “Nigel and I ran out to the Moonraker this morning, or nearly. He told me some really interesting stuff. Apparently, it was Granddad’s idea that he should take me on for training. How about that? I always thought it was my idea.”

“Devious, these grown-ups, aren’t they?” said Rayn. “We already know it was his idea about me. I wonder what he’s up to.”

“That’s not all of it,” carried on Amelia. “But before I tell you, can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure,” said Rayn, eager to get the information.

“Well,” continued Amelia. “When you and your mum moved around a lot, were you alone or did you travel as a troupe, so to speak?”

Rayn looked at her friend. Amelia could see her own reflection in the mirrored glasses.

“It was a sort of loose gathering. There were usually three or four vans together, but people drifted in and out – you know, stay for a few months or even a few years. Why?”

“How did you get into this fitness thing? How did you start off?” Amelia questioned.

“When I was about ten this couple joined us. They were retired circus acrobats. Trapeze, bareback riding, acrobatics, all that sort of thing. They used to entertain us. They were quite amazing considering their age. They must have been as old as my mum.”

“And whose idea was it for you to take it up?” asked Amelia.

“I think it was mine, but it may have been Mum’s. Anyway, they took me on and after about a year I was as good as they were and they left,” said Rayn.

“And what happened then?”

“Next was funny. Two guys joined us. They were real darlings. Very gay. One was a fitness fanatic boxer and the other one was an out and out thief, a second story burglar; hell of a climber. They were great. Mum said she felt safe when I was with them. I didn’t understand at the time, but I get her point now.”

“That’s when you learned the athletic stuff?” Amelia asked again. “More training and boxing?”

“More fighting than boxing. I think he did those illegal bare-knuckle fights. No rules, last man standing stuff. I’m glad he can’t see me now,” Rayn smiled, the other one taught me free climbing. We used to chase each other through the woods without touching the ground. That was real fun I remember.”

“What then?”

“We came here. That was Mum’s idea,” answered Rayn. “Then I met you and…” she paused. “Nigel, the perfect coach! Amelia! Where are we going with this?” she was beginning to sound desperate.

Amelia told her what Nigel had said about her. Rayn was silent for some time.

“Well, say something,” urged Amelia.

Rayn spoke very slowly. “To fit into our…what was it? Our FFCT. It would have to mean that we have been controlled and manipulated for years. I, for one, find that very hard to believe. In fact, almost impossible.”

“I’m glad you said almost, Rayn,” Amelia said. “Because there’s more, from our dear departed Headmaster.”

“What. You read the book?

“Not that lucky, but at least I managed the introduction.”

Rayn took a deep breath. “Did you get past the introduction then? Did you manage to read any of it?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been over and over it but the more I do the less sense it makes,” moaned Amelia “I fell asleep on it. Now my shoulders hurt.”

“Why don’t you get Mrs. Orugo to give you a going over?” Rayn suggested.

“No thanks.” Amelia was quick to answer. “That’s like crawling into a coffee grinder just to get a manicure. I’ll live with it thanks. But yes, I did get through the introduction.”

“And what did it introduce for crying out loud?” Rayn demanded.

“It’s rather cryptic in places. He claims that he’s discovered a history before history, and that it has a profound effect on the future of the future.”

“Oh no.” said Rayn. “He’s not one of those writers, surely.”

Amelia smiled. “Not really, he claims to have had evidence, but most of it has been destroyed, and his claims ridiculed and suppressed.”

“He sounds a bit paranoid to me,” said Rayn.

“I don’t think so,” Amelia replied. “This guy gives the impression that he has something to say.”

“What, as if he’s scratching at some truth that people don’t like?

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time in history, would it? It’s in his covering letter, which I can only assume he wrote after he’d put his book in my locker. I brought it with me. “Look,” she said as she opened the envelope. “He says, and I quote; ‘In this manuscript, I’ve attempted to pass on everything I have learned. I hope it survives the literary holocaust and helps to ensure that there are future generations to live and enjoy what we have’”.

“That sounds a bit heavy.” Rayn remarked.

“Try this bit then, ‘This is the last and only copy, you must protect it with your life, as I am about to do, having run out of alternatives’.

“And get a load of this, ‘The key lies within the book itself. Find it to unlock the sequence, and discover an inescapable truth’. And how about, ‘The knowledge that this book exists will put you in grave danger. But with no knowledge of it, all is lost anyway’. Amelia paused for a while then said, “So, what are we getting ourselves into here?”

“Hey, with all this talk of grave danger, not so much of the ‘we’.” Rayn exclaimed.

“Okay then,” Amelia smiled her reply, which was more of a challenge. “We could destroy the book and cut our losses? Or keep going to see what happens.”

“You’re right,” said Rayn. “We have to keep going, but I’m going to stay in bed till I’m old and grey.”

Amelia jumped up. “Not on your life. It’s my birthday this week, then it’s Christmas, then your birthday and I intend to enjoy them all. That’s if I get an invitation to yours.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that, there are an awful lot of people who want to come, you know,” Rayn teased.

“You bitch!” shouted Amelia and they both collapsed with laughter, pleased at the diversion.

“Slip some warm clothes on and come and show me how to brush Horace’s mane. He looks decidedly tatty,” Amelia suggested.

“Sure,” replied Rayn. “But if Mum catches me up I’ll have to stop complaining.”

When they reached the paddock Horace knew there was something up. He looked from one to the other of the girls, waiting. Rayn showed him his large horse brush and he seemed to relax a little. But when she handed it to Amelia his head went up and he stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Amelia. I don’t think he’s going to let you,” said Rayn, quite disappointed.

“We’ll see,” replied Amelia and she climbed over the gate. She slowly walked toward the giant Shire horse, some newfound confidence spurring her on.

“Amelia!” cried Rayn. “Be careful, watch your feet.”