The Chrysalid Conspiracy (29 page)

“I’ve never seen her this bad before. She usually bounces back pretty early. I think it must be a long time since she had a really happy Christmas,” said Rayn, offering an excuse for her mother’s predicament.

“I’m glad it went well,” said Lucy. “It’s the first time we’ve had a house full for dinner. I was worried it would all go wrong.”

“You didn’t need to worry Mum,” Amelia said. “Remember, it’s the company that’s important.”

Molly and Nigel nodded in agreement, never having heard it put like that before.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Nigel. “By the way, the reason we came over…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Sorry it’s a mess. Molly slept with it clutched in her hands last night.”

“What is it?” asked Rayn. Amelia sent her ‘sixth sense’ out into the room, looking for clues. It came up blank.

“You know that big charity concert next weekend?” Nigel continued.

“What? The one with Vomit Sox?”

“And Snake Belly,” added Molly. “Oh, and they’ve managed to get Lesley and the lesbi…”

“Do we have to have these graphic titles?” Lucy had raised her voice, hoping to overwhelm the boisterous excitement that surrounded her. It worked. In the sudden silence that followed, Rayn tried to explain.

“Sorry Lucy. They’re just musicians.”

“That is a matter of opinion,” stated Lucy. “Anyway, I gather you have managed to acquire some tickets for a concert that has been sold out for months?”

“How would you know that, mother?” asked Amelia in amazement.

“The news media may not be particularly accurate, but at least it’s consistent. And very insistent,” replied her mother.

Nigel was a little abashed at upsetting Lucy, so Molly replied on his behalf.

“George gave them to us for Christmas. We thought it might be in bad taste last night, so we kept them for today.”

“There are four tickets here,” said Rayn to nobody in particular. “Who are the lucky sods who get to go to the most fantastic rock concert in history?”

“George suggested that we take you two with us.” Molly paused. “That’s if it’s okay with your mothers.”

Amelia smiled. She knew that Molly had added that last bit. There was no way George would have said that. He would have assumed that the mere mention of his name would have been enough.

“Oh,” said Lucy, as if on cue. “If he said it’s okay, then why not? You’ll have Nigel to look after you, after all.”

Amelia gave Molly a smile and a slight shrug. Molly returned the gesture with a quizzical frown and a look of surprise. Her reaction confirmed Amelia’s earlier suspicions that there was more to Molly than met the eye.

Rayn, Nigel and Molly chatted on excitedly about seeing their favourite artists. Amelia looked at her mother in desperation. The last thing she wanted was to go to a rock concert. Her unsympathetic mother gave her one of those smiles that said “Get out of this one”.

Molly and Nigel got the boys to scoop up any odd things that had been left behind the night before, accepted Lucy’s offer to bag up some leftovers, wished everyone a ‘Happy New Year’ and left.

“How did you manage to get up this morning, Mum?” Amelia asked after they’d gone. “Bridie’s in no fit state to help.”

“Needs must,” her mother said. “I got myself up rather than stay in bed. Nigel helped me into my new chair. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kitchen. Thank you for that, by the way, I certainly couldn’t have managed it.”

“You dressed yourself?” said a surprised Amelia.

“Of course. I had to skip the underwear and I couldn’t do the physio, but it worked and I’m quite pleased with myself. So don’t spoil it for me,” Lucy said, smiling at her daughter’s bewilderment. “If you just help me with a shower later, I’ll forgive you for oversleeping.”

“Mum, we sat up talking all night. We shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry,” moaned Amelia.

Lucy looked at her daughter the only way a mother can; with love, warmth and compassion. “It’s the first time since you were six years old,” she said. “I’m not complaining. Let’s blame Rayn. It’s easier.” Rayn was quick to respond.

“If you want to blame anybody, blame my mum. After all, I’m older than she is.”

“Where is she, by the way?” asked Lucy. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“She’s trying to clean a clean kitchen. She’s on autopilot, I think. Silly bitch,” Rayn remarked.

“Don’t knock that woman, Rayn.” Lucy was quick to admonish her. “She’s had a life you can’t possibly imagine, and she’s come through it with an inner strength, determination and self-belief that would make Moses cry. Give her a break, she needs it.”

Rayn was caught somewhere between pride at Lucy’s unsolicited praise for her mother and her own well deserved rebuke. Borrowing Amelia’s tactics she quickly changed the subject.

“You’re closed for the week then? Not going for New Year’s Eve?” she said.

“No,” said Lucy. “It’s not worth it. We don’t sell alcohol or party poppers. Nobody needs us. We had a very good run through the holidays, so we’re not doing too badly.”

“Was it good, then?” asked Rayn.

“Oh yes,” she replied. “All the craftwork went. In fact, it brought in a lot of extra business, and nobody gets out of here without buying a potted plant,” she grinned impishly. “No,” she continued more seriously, “the real work starts next week. We have to go flat out for Valentine’s Day. That’s our biggest week of the year. And then flat out again for Easter, so we need the break. And Mother’s Day is in there somewhere too. It smooths out in the summer, and that’s when we rely on the good old funerals and weddings.”

“But when do you get the chance to work on your miniature trees?” said Rayn, seizing the chance.

Inside Amelia’s head her extra sense ‘pinged’ like a microwave oven. Rayn was fishing and she was worried. Her mum was no fool.

“Oh, I get plenty of time,” said Lucy, amiably. “They don’t need a lot of work. Just consistently perfect conditions and some TLC. It’s more routine than anything.”

“But I thought you did all that splicing and stuff? You know, Genetic Engineering?” Rayn was out on a limb, already struggling. Amelia was thinking
Steady girl, not too fast.

Lucy was about to light a cigarette when Rayn finished speaking. She stopped, let the lighter flicker out and looked directly at Rayn. “Really?” Lucy’s smile vanished. “What made you think that?”

Rayn looked at Amelia, who just shrugged. The look on her mother’s face was too intense for her to risk changing the subject. Rayn faltered, realising that she wasn’t going to get any help.

“I just thought…” began Rayn, doubt crowding in on her. “I just thought that’s what you did. I mean, it must be very complicated making miniature trees, after all.”

Lucy sat back and lit her cigarette. “No, it’s not that difficult. If you know what you’re doing and you understand them.”

“Understand them?” echoed Rayn. “What do you mean?” She was trying hard to keep her expression and her mind and her body language as childlike as possible, yet stay sharp.

“They are living things,” Lucy spoke deliberately, emphasising her point. “They are connected to all other forms of life, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Rayn. “I got it wrong. Still, what’s the point of it?”

Amelia was furious at her friend, and secretly a little frightened of where this was going. She tried to reach her on another level, willing her to stop.

Lucy drew on her cigarette, inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her voice sounded distant as she replied quietly, with a deep passion. “If you can grow a miniature and study it, we might just be able to find a way to help it grow to full size more quickly and efficiently, and be more productive. I think you’ll agree that the planet is getting rather short of them, don’t you?”

There was a long silence. Rayn had run out of things to say and Amelia was confused by her mother’s show of melancholy.

Lucy suddenly sat up. Smiling again, she gave herself a mental shake and threw off her disconsolate mood. “Come on, I’ll show you. Rayn, will you lift me into my wheelchair please?”

“What?” said Rayn? “Me?”

“Yes, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never done it before. What happens if I drop you?”

“Then I fall,” laughed Lucy. “Our problems start if I don’t hit the floor.” She laughed.

“You two go ahead,” said Amelia. “I’ll check on Bridie.”

Rayn stared in wonder at the small but compact workshop. As usual the floor was clear for Lucy to move about without hindrance. The benches around the walls, the sink unit, taps, everything was at wheelchair height. Doorless cupboards and shallow drawers made for easy access. There was low-level lighting and Rayn noticed a number of wicker baskets suspended from the ceiling with pulleys and cords. They looked as though they had been adapted from roller blinds.

Lucy explained that it was all George’s work and that the baskets were storage space she could get to.

“Only light things. If anything falls it won’t hurt so much,” she laughed again and Rayn relaxed.

A drawer was slightly open and Rayn saw several coils of different gauge wire, some fine plastic mesh and some rolls of soft tape. In one corner of the room were some shallow ceramic pots of different designs and colours. Next to them were stacked some ordinary earthenware plant pots of varying sizes.

Along one wall was a plain, stainless steel bench with a sticky tape and a string dispenser attached to the side, and some large sheets of tissue paper, where Lucy made up the special orders.

Two things struck Rayn. The first was the smell, or lack of it. She wondered how, in this small, enclosed room with its tiny windows and artificial lighting, the air could be as fresh as a meadow in spring.

The other thing that struck her as strange was the plant standing in a shallow bowl on what looked like a potter’s turntable.

It was a young plant, no more than a foot tall and its trunk and branches were wrapped in coiled wire. Lucy laughed when Rayn remarked that it looked cruel.

“Don’t worry, we’re well regulated by the Royal Botanical Society, and the National Bonsai Association. Lots of rules and regulations, particularly about imports,” she explained.

“Are you a member?” asked Rayn, recalling the ‘Lucy Lacey’ remark from Felix.

“I was,” said Lucy. “But not anymore. They think of me as a rogue dealer. As long as I look as if I’m obeying the rules they leave me alone. I know more than they do, anyway.”

Rayn filed away this piece of information for further use and asked about the tree in ‘bondage’. Lucy explained the principles of shaping and pruning that stopped the tree from fully developing, along with the all-important shallow root system.

Rayn began to understand the reason for some of the odd array of tools she could see lying around. Different shaped pliers and scissors, something that looked good for dentistry, and a tumbler full of what appeared to be chopsticks.

Lucy explained with a smile that they all had their uses. She told Rayn the tree was a fig tree. The attraction was the trunk, which would develop gnarled and knotted and looking very old.

“It will still bear fruit later,” she added. “There’s an older one in the greenhouse, but please don’t go in. It’s temperature-controlled and bug free.” She explained to an increasingly interested Rayn about potting methods and did it with a sense of pride. This was her world and Rayn found herself becoming fascinated.

Amelia walked in smiling, relieved at this outcome. “You can see why I was so interested in the Monkey tree when I was little,” she said.

“Interested?” replied Rayn. “I would have been obsessed, it’s so beautiful, almost majestic.”

“That’s enough, now. I must go to the toilet,” said Lucy, as she ushered them out. “Amelia, would you be kind enough to help me with the shower? I want to get to bed early. I’ve got to do the tax returns by the weekend. The Saturday delivery won’t be very big. It’s just as well; I’m not going to get much help from you two on Sunday after your Rockin’ an’ a Rollin’.”

“Oh,” said Rayn. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Sorry Mum,” Amelia added.

“Really?” said Lucy with heavy sarcasm. “I thought you teenagers knew everything.”

“I’m beginning to think that may only be half true,” confessed Amelia.

“It is,” said her mother. “You know all the answers – you just don’t know the questions.”

As Rayn heard the bathroom door close, she turned to Amelia.

“I’m sorry Amelia,” she whispered, “but she’s lying like a politician. That little presentation sounded like a prepared statement.”

“I know,” said Amelia. “But does she know that we know?”

Mischief flashed in Rayn’s eyes when she answered.

“What really blows my mind is, does she know that we know that she knows, and does she know that we know that she knows what we know?”

“Rayn! Shut up!”

***

In the shower, Amelia undressed her mother and sat her in her in the seat. Instead of drawing the curtain, as usual, she stripped off her own clothes and walked in with her.

“Hello then,” said a surprised Lucy. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, it’ll be easier to wash your hair,” Amelia replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No, there’s more to this,” said Lucy, giving her a warm smile. “I know you too well.”

“Oh Mum, I’ve got this hang-up, as Molly calls it, about my body. I get so embarrassed about it. I thought if I’m going to get over it, this is the best place to start.”

“Well, I thank you for your honesty, and your trust in me. But I don’t see anything you need to be embarrassed about. You have a body that could have been sculptured by Angelo himself. Much better than the one I had at your age. But Amelia, don’t go too far. It’s okay here, with me, but a little naivety is not a bad thing. Try and keep some of the mystery. You’ve got plenty of time to adjust to the slings and arrows of adult life. Now you’re here though, let’s give our hair a good scrub. We’ll save on hot water.”

Later, while she was having her massage, she said to Amelia, “That was a strange question that Rayn asked. Does she know I’m a genetic engineer?”

“You were a genetic engineer, Mum. You gave up, remember?”