The Chrysalid Conspiracy (3 page)

Amelia’s mother laughed.
You’re damn right young lady, and that’s the way it’s meant to be.
The thought crowded into her mind, but she said, “That reminds me of our favourite university saying.”

“What’s that then?” Amelia asked.

“See the happy moron, she doesn’t give a damn. I wish I were a moron. Oh god, perhaps I am.” And they both laughed.

“I’m surrounded by idiots!” Amelia cried.

“Don’t knock idiots, young lady. We need them,” said Lucy.

“We do? Why?”

“It’s obvious. Without idiots, we’d have no satisfactory way to measure our own intelligence.”

Amelia raced from the room howling through her laughter. “I gottagoloo…”

By the time she returned, her mother had cleared the breakfast things so she put the table back against the wall and they both proceeded to get Lucy showered and dressed for the day.

Beige slacks, soft black shoes, a white blouse and a soft brown cardigan. Lucy insisted that, even though she couldn’t walk, that was no excuse for not trying to look nice. And she did. Her plentiful soft brown hair framed a pretty face. Her large brown eyes were warm and friendly. A touch of make-up to hide the depths of pain and depression she’d been through in her life, and when people spoke to her, she made them feel they were the most important person in her world.

As Amelia turned to leave the room, her mother called her back. “By the way, we have a problem next Saturday. Molly can’t come in.”

“What? But Mum, it’s my birthday.” Amelia’s mood began to darken.

“I know, and you haven’t let me forget it. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” And as her mother turned towards her dressing table Amelia went back upstairs trying to hold her anger in check.

“Damn,” she uttered. “Why does everything I want have to go wrong? For goodness sake, I don’t ask for much.”

Dressed in her school uniform, which was about as comfortable as it was inspiring, she found her school bag and checked the contents; looked at her timetable, which made depressing reading, then went back downstairs.

In the bathroom, she gave her teeth an over-energetic scrub and tore at her long, almost blonde hair. Then, remembering her ruined birthday, she slammed her hairbrush into the sink in temper.

As she picked the broken handle out she was hit by stomach cramps.

Another of nature’s delights, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror searching for someone to blame for her troubles. More disappointment followed when she realised that there wasn’t anybody, only her own reflection.
Who do you think you are, Amelia Jayne Jaxson?
She thought as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Stop all this self-pity rubbish and get a grip. Mother comes first, not you.

She didn’t feel the part, but it made her think. She was so very proud of her mum. The shop she had started had become a great success. It must have been a daunting prospect, losing her husband so tragically and having to adjust to life in a wheelchair with a toddler to look after as well. It showed what sort of person she was.

It reminded of her own problems and decided that, if her mother could face her disability with such determination and humour, without ever complaining (not that Amelia had ever heard her), then her own fears and doubts about life and growing up should be treated in the same fashion.

Feeling a little better about herself, she went into the kitchen and scooped an apple and a bag of crisps into her bag. Noticing the washing-up and the pile of clothes and towels by the washing machine her shoulders slumped. The mood she’d been fighting crept back into her mind, reminding her it was still Friday.

Trying to shake off her returning despondency, she went through to the shop where her mother was sorting the till float for the day.

“Sorry, Mum,” she said, even though she didn’t feel it.

“That’s all right, my love. Forget it,” Lucy replied, and to change the subject added

“Molly gets so flustered if she runs low on change, not that she’ll need much today.” Amelia, standing by the shop door to keep an eye out for the school bus, relaxed slightly. The mention of Molly brought her back to her own disappointment.

Molly couldn’t work on the weekends, not that she would. She loved spending time with her six-year-old twins, and why not? Amelia ran the shop with her mother on Saturdays and, as that day was her birthday would it have to be cancelled? Not that there were any great plans. It wasn’t, after all a national holiday, but the fact that it was Halloween didn’t help. She’d accepted her mother’s offer of a day to herself. Get up when she felt like it, do what she wanted, go shopping or slob around the house. Anything she liked, for a whole day.

She’d had to admit to a feeling of guilt as their lifestyle didn’t lend itself to these luxuries of behaviour. But her mother had insisted, with the added reasoning that, for her, it was a cheap way out. It was when she had been told that Mrs Orugo, the physiotherapist, was coming in to get her mother up that she had felt a genuine stab of jealousy.

Her devious mother had also added that being fifteen gave her licence to leave her room in a mess legally. She’d given her mum a hug and wondered how she’d known about her room, and was that some kind of threat?

As the coach came into sight she unlocked the shop door and with a quick wave to her mother she stepped out into the rain. The wind tore at her and she felt for a moment as if she were in some Gothic story, struggling across desolate moorland, calling the name of her lost love. Fat chance! She thought, as a passing lorry soaked her shoes.

“Is this the happy ending?” she grumbled to herself, as she looked down at her wet feet. “What else can go wrong today?”

***

Stepping onto the bus she found a seat and tried to ignore the smell of wet clothes and stale tobacco breath, and the swearing from the back seats. Nobody spoke to her and she just sat there feeling lonely and miserable as she watched the shop disappear.

This place was so precious to her. This was her home, her life, and she loved it so much she was quite prepared to put her own hopes and dreams on hold. A straight choice between obligations and ambitions she considered a ‘no contest’.

At least her resolve released her from the problem of what to be when she grew up, her future was set in stone and it was what she wanted, she mused. College, university and academic success, along with romance, marriage and kids she considered to be no more than social engineering to maintain the status quo; finishing up with the long struggle against debt and doubt wasn’t her idea of a life, working hard for somebody else’s benefit.

Amelia was well aware that she was light years ahead of the rest of the pupils in her school. She’d smiled at the remarks the sociology teacher Mr Osmond had made to her in her first year at high school. “Don’t get upset Miss Jaxson, he’d said, we’re all basically the same; it’s just that some have differing social values”. But privately Amelia still preferred to call them ‘geeks and plebeians’. The very idea of a life spent jumping through carefully constructed hoops in the struggle to purchase more labour saving devices than there are labours was almost abhorrent to her. And being pleased with the bonus of two for one dog chews as reward for your efforts all seemed so pointless.

That first year at High School had been a nightmare for her. Launched from primary in a blaze of glory for her achievements both in the classroom and the sports field, great things had been predicted, but she’d soon learned the sad truth. Proud of her abilities she’d forged ahead with her class work, unaware she was making the rest feel inadequate, and not a little jealous. She won everything on the sports field and the others gave up trying.

The net result was that she soon found herself ostracised from normal social interaction, and that’s when the bullying had started. Her mother’s complaints to the School Board had resulted in a cursory investigation and it was decided there was no evidence to support her claims. Open season on Amelia Jaxson was inevitable.

Mother and daughter grew closer during those years. She owed her very existence to her mother. Everything she was and everything she would be belonged to her and it went far deeper and was much more precious than the much sought after student loan. If Molly was off and she didn’t get a birthday then she would have to lump it. After all, it was just another day really. Whatever happened, her mother came first and she vowed that, come what may, she would never, ever, let her down.

Amelia Jayne Jaxson was fortunately unaware that, before she was much older, her vow would be tested beyond the limits of even her own vivid imagination.

The bus journey usually took about fifteen minutes but, with the wind and the rain conspiring to let them know that winter was on its way, it was going to take a lot longer this morning. After a few heart-stopping miles, with the normally non-committal driver struggling and swearing non-stop, they reached the fork where the bus swung left, up the hill towards its destination. Amelia heard several gasps from the other children. Someone said, “Oh no!” and a few “Wows!” and expletives came from the back seats.

Where the road forked left up the hill towards Warem Down stood the Moonraker pub. It was an impressive old building rumoured to be haunted and once a smuggler’s den, complete with the pond which supported its name. Large and misshapen where many and varied additions and alterations had been carried out over the centuries. Everyone was looking at the huge old oak tree that had stood next to it. Now a victim of the storm it lay like some mortally wounded creature, its branches writhing and lashing out its death throes in futile defiance at the storm. The thought came to her that, one day, her life would be over too, and Amelia Jayne Jaxson had her first glimpse of her own mortality.

The tree disappeared from sight and she sat down, feeling a strange uneasiness. The old oak tree was said to be over five hundred years old and she thought about its life and all the things it had seen. Generations of children playing in and around it, war, peace, young lovers, old lovers; gone, forever. It reminded her of her mother’s words of not so long ago. ‘
Everything changes, Amelia. Nothing stays the same. Get used to it, you can never go back
’. Had there been a touch of bitterness in her words? She didn’t know, but sadness wormed its way into her thoughts, extending her mood.

Her mind wandered into the twists and turns of time. Yesterday that tree was where it had always been, and tomorrow it will never be there again. She would always think of this as a personal ‘before’ and ‘after’ with that bit in the middle as the marker for change.

I hope the change from child to adult is not so traumatic,
she thought, and was still wondering about growing up being for better or for worse when the bus stopped.

***

St Margaret’s Catholic School was a large ugly building in the early Victorian Gothic revivalist style. The slate roof did nothing to enhance its architectural appeal,

Hesitating on the bottom step, wondering whether to jump the large puddle the driver had found or to walk through it with her already wet shoes Amelia was suddenly pitched forward when somebody collided with her from behind. Falling forward into the puddle she landed on her hands and knees, feeling the crumbling tarmac ruining her school uniform green tights and raking her skin. Whoever it was landed on her back and they both ended up lying face down in half an inch of dirty water with the rain pounding on their backs. They lay still and were lucky not to get trampled by the laughing squealing hoard that followed them, stamping in the large puddle for their own twisted amusement then running off whooping and cheering, taking delight in someone else’s misfortune

Standing up trying to brush the water off their clothes Amelia looked up to see a girl about her own age who looked absolutely terrified.

“I hate Fridays,” said Amelia, mostly to herself.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl was saying. “I’m so, so sorry.” She was blustering in panic.

“It’s okay. It was my fault. I stopped on the bottom step. You couldn’t have missed me. Please don’t worry, and ignore the ignorants, it’s their idea of fun”

Looking at the girl, she saw a pretty face with a wide mouth, and a skin texture that told of a love of the outdoors. She had bright, penetrating green eyes with over-long lashes, but the most striking feature was her
over-abundance
of hair. Whatever had been holding it together had been lost in the fall, and the wind was tearing at it as if to strangle her. But above all was the colour, a deep luxurious red.
Like dancing flames,
thought Amelia to herself. The rain, however, was winning, giving her the appearance of a young, frightened Medusa as her hair became plastered to her head,

Amelia bent down to investigate the damage to her uniform tights, brush the gravel out of her knees and wipe the blood stars away. When she looked up she couldn’t help smiling at the look of horror on the girl’s face as she stared at the school building.

“Isn’t it great?” said Amelia. “Notice the subtle absence of all architectural features, and how the style conjures up a feeling of total revulsion.” The girl was speechless. “Don’t worry, it gets better,” Amelia added.

“And exactly how could that be?” said the girl, with a slight Irish accent.

“Once you’ve seen the inside it makes you appreciate the outside more.”

“Oh Jesus, help!” responded the girl in a quiet voice.

“First day?” asked Amelia.

“First school,” answered the girl.

“Wow! Ever?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s tough. My name’s Amelia,” she told her. “What’s yours?”

“Rayn,” said the girl. “Spelt with a y.”

“That’s odd.”

“Not really. It was supposed to be Ryan, but my dad was dyslexic,” she grinned.

“Isn’t Ryan a boy’s name?” Amelia laughed.

“Yeah, but he was also pretty stupid. Anyway he’s dead now.”

“Oh I’m so sorry.”

“Really? I didn’t know it was your fault.” grinned Rayn.

Laughing together they linked arms and, skip dancing through the rain they entered the school. Both girls being loose limbed and athletic, their buoyant mood belied their appearance and Amelia couldn’t help but notice how Rayn’s wide-mouthed smile seemed to draw her in. It was highly contagious and she felt as if she could breathe freely again.