The Chrysalid Conspiracy (34 page)

“Hey, look you guys.” It was Sambo. The boys had taken off their tracksuits and were in identical mini PE kits. They all cheered and Nigel received high fives from everyone.

The session went well. Molly was stunned when she saw Amelia and Rayn flying around the circuit. She was nervous anyway, never having been in a gym before. But the girls were very considerate and helped and encouraged her in her first attempts.

At the end of the session, Nigel gave the two girls a solid ‘army style’ rifting for letting themselves go over the holidays. He’d cleaned up the language, but it was still effective. Molly leapt to their defence and Nigel didn’t know what to say. Rayn, spotting Nigel’s confusion decided to cut in.

“Molly,” she said, “in here and out on the road, Nigel is in charge, completely.” Molly appealed to Amelia for support. Amelia just nodded in agreement with Rayn, without smiling. Molly looked back at Nigel. The expression on her face was one of awe. She was seeing a side of him that was new to her. And she liked it. A lot.

The only casualty of the day was Sambo. He was bruised, battered and totally exhausted. Trying to drag him to his feet he fought them off, a bit too aggressively, then he staggered out, muttering about ‘White Supremacists’ and getting his hands on some chocolate-covered hand grenades, or maybe some junior straitjackets. It was enough for Amelia to recognise a darker side to him, but she quickly dismissed it, after all, he had taken quiet a beating.

***

Amelia arrived at Molly’s flat at lunchtime on New Year’s Eve to be met by a new meaning to the word chaos. Lorraine, unable to believe her luck at getting the weekend off had taken the news of her up-grade to the main event with an old fashion swoon, and had needed to be treated with a large glass of ‘survivor reviver’. A contagious solution which quickly spread through the room.

In gratitude for both events she’d persuaded non-drinker Nigel to drive them in her seven- seater ‘people carrier’ to Grabsum Moore and treat everyone to a one-off throw away glitzy clothes orgy. Rayn had been forced to suspend her principles to accommodate the gathering enthusiasm.

The small living room was filled with boobs and buttocks as they tried on their own and each other’s purchases, and every available surface was drenched in outrageous fashion, the twin boys having been sealed in their bedroom with ‘no more Ninja pirates’ threats.

Lorraine appeared from Molly’s bedroom and there was a stunned silence.

“Well, say something,” she said. “What do you think?” giving a twirl to show off.

“Wow,” said Rayn.

“Oh, Lo, you look gorgeous,” said Molly, choking back the tears for her best friend. Amelia congratulated herself for her own insight and had to admit Lorraine looked magnificent.

She was wearing a tuxedo; with a bow tie, frill-fronted shirt and cufflinks, the full works. Her hair was cut short and dyed black, and combed into a central parting. The effect on those who knew her was staggering. A pair of patent leather shoes completed the immaculate ensemble.

“We wondered where you got to this morning,” said Molly. “Now we know. What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve always wanted to do, but never had the courage,” answered Lorraine. “In fact I’ve always been a bit of a ‘Coward’.”

Amelia was the only one who caught the reference to the famous playwright and ‘Dandy’ of the nineteen twenties, but it was just beginning to dawn on Rayn what was going on, and for once she didn’t have anything to say. Amelia came to her rescue.

“It must have cost a fortune,” she said. “How on earth can you afford it?”

Amelia had always had an open mind on the subject of homosexuality. ‘Good luck to them’ was always her stock answer. But to be confronted with it in person was a bit of a culture shock.

“Clothing allowance,” said Lorraine, with a big grin.

“What?” Molly blurted out. “What clothing allowance?”

“I’ve been promoted to supervisor and now I have to wear a suit. I told the housekeeper everything and she thoroughly approved. In fact, she was pleased I had told her and was told to go right ahead – as long as I didn’t frighten the guests.” Lorraine laughed and did another twirl.

Amelia and Rayn had sunk down on the sofa. “Come on Rayn,” said Amelia, “let me see what you’re wearing tonight.”

Rayn stood up again to give a demonstration, but couldn’t help glance at Lorraine.

“Don’t worry, Rayn. I’m not a predator. And you’re a child,” she reassured her.

“Oh, what the hell,” said Rayn. “Come on Molly, help me get dressed. Nigel will be here in a minute. Does he know, by the way?”

“Oh yes,” said Lorraine. “And we both know that Moll isn’t.”

Rayn and Molly set to and in a few minutes she was ready.

Amelia was shocked, amused and pleased all at the same time. Rayn wore pink and silver glittery tights, a florescent green mini skirt (which was little more than a wide belt), a white short halter-top and a short denim jacket complete with metal studs. She’d had yellow highlights put in her hair, which was piled on top with luminous green hair grips. She also wore black lipstick, blue eye shadow and star transfers below her eyes, but it was her long legs, her perfectly sculptured body and a radiant physical beauty that put her in a league of her own.

Amelia was thrilled for her. “Rayn, you look fantastic. And, may I add, very beautiful.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” accused Rayn.

“No, of course not. But can I make a suggestion?” Amelia proposed hesitantly.

“Here it comes,” said Rayn. “Be gentle with me, or I’ll fatten the rest of your face.”

Amelia couldn’t resist. “Well, at least the attitude fits the image,” she laughed. “Molly, have you got a camera?”

“Yes,” answered Molly. “Just for the occasion.”

“Good. Can I suggest you take some pictures of our party girl wearing something that doesn’t show quite so much bare flesh?”

“Why?” demanded an irate Rayn.

“So that you have something a little more reassuring to show your mother. You get my drift?”

“Ah, How did you get so clever, and thank you.”

“Good idea,” agreed Molly. “That’s one woman I never want to upset.”

Nigel arrived amidst the laughter and he became confused as the room went suddenly quiet. He’d left earlier to escape the tide of feminism that was sloshing around the flat. Having used the Old Forge to get changed, the transformation was stunning. He stood in the doorway unaware of the devastation he was causing to the hearts and minds of his audience; even Lorraine gasped in surprise. He was wearing tight white jeans tucked into black calf length leather boots, a white wrap-over pirate style shirt with long loose sleeves with a leather studded belt around his waist and a black leather jacket and, topped off with one of Bridie’s hats he looked magnificent.

“What?” he asked.

“Wow!” chorused all four girls.

“Nigel, you look so good even I fancy you,” said Lorraine.

Every one roared with laughter and Molly was ecstatic with pride.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked, not really sure what all the fuss was about.

“One more thing to do,” said Rayn. “Molly, where’s your camera? And no, Amelia, you can’t have the negatives.”

***

It was gone four by the time they left. She’d taken the twins up the village to pick up a few treats and some dinner, and then thanked them for putting the shopping away.

“If you leave ice cream to melt you can’t eat it,” explained Zac. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

Amelia smiled at him. “Thank you, Zac. I shall remember that.”

She got the boys to find some coat hangers and tidied up the flat. When the dust had settled she checked the time.
five fifteen,
she thought.
Okay, let’s give it a try and see what turns up.
She helped the boys with their coats and they stepped out.

Walking through the estate, they passed the primary school and reached the church up by the green. She could see the flower shop up on the main road at the other end of the village. They gazed up at the spire less church tower. The clock was about two hundred years slow; but she thought, it must be right twice a day. The bells hadn’t sounded for several years, after a lengthy court battle by the villagers.

The arched oak door was wide open and she ushered the boys into the dim, cold interior. Looking up at the architecture her heart sank. She hated all forms of religion but she did love old buildings, especially churches and cathedrals. Originally considered ‘God’s socially engineered inspiration’, to her it was pure human endeavour and artistry.

The huge wooden beams she had expected to see had been replaced by skeletal iron girders. It had been repaired in recent years, very cheaply. It was as if this magnificent old building had been bludgeoned into the industrial world then left to ferment in the murky waters of indifference.
Vandalism by neglect,
she thought.

“I can hear music,” said Miles.

“Over there,” cried his brother and before she could stop them, he two boys burst through a small door into the vestry. A completely surprised Carrieanne and Claire looked up from their task. “Hello you two, what are you doing here?” asked Carrieanne. “Is mummy with you?”

“Almost,” said Amelia as she popped her head in the door. “Hi, guys. What on earth are you up to?”

“Amelia,” they gasped, and looked very uncomfortable at her surprise visit, and at her discoloured and swollen face.

The large heavy oak table was covered in newspaper to protect it from the array of brass and silver table ornaments that covered it. There were tins of metal cleaner and a stack of well-used polishing cloths, and both girls had stained hands.

“A little spot of cleaning,” explained Claire. “At Daddy’s request.”

“This isn’t all church stuff,” said an observant Amelia. She’d noticed the very colonial-looking images on some of the larger pieces, and some that obviously belonged to a ‘men’s club’.

“No,” said Carrieanne. “It’s some private company’s dinner display stuff.”

“But what’s it doing here?” Amelia was incredulous.

“Oh, our parents are off to a weekend bash at some country house tonight, and they are taking it with them,” volunteered Claire. “What happened to your face by the way?”

Amelia explained about the gym and the boxing and Carrieanne remarked, ‘Well, after seeing Rayn’s nose and your face, if that’s what fitness training does to you, I’ll stay unhealthy and keep my looks, thank you.”

“How come you’re cleaning the silver?” asked Amelia. “Don’t they have servants for that sort of thing?”

“Oh yes,” added Carrieanne. “We think dad’s just scoring some brownie points by offering to help. He tells people that he has this happy band of volunteers only too willing to do God’s work.”

“The only trouble is,” said Claire. “We are his happy band. And God seems to have an awful lot for us to do. It’s not fair.”

“Or legal, I’m sure,” said Amelia. “Do you need a hand?”

“No thanks, we’ve just finished,” said Carrieanne. “We just have to pack them up and dad will pick it all up later and take it with them. Anyway, you have enough problems of your own,” and they watched as the boys raced around the room.

“Oh, they’re okay. Sometimes,” replied Amelia, making excuses for them. “Zac, Miles, go and explore the church. Don’t break anything.”

“Your dad not having a midnight mass or something tonight, then?” she asked.

“No, this dinner came up and he’s guest of honour,” replied Carrieanne. “He decided that if the villagers didn’t want the bells, they could do without him for the night. Can’t really blame him for that, I suppose.”

“So what’s this guest of honour thing then?” Amelia asked.

He’s being made president of some organisation. Here’s the cup he’s getting. His name’s already on it. It says ‘President of the Galileo Project’.”

***

Alarm bells screamed through every part of Amelia’s being. ‘The Galileo Project’ was mentioned in Professor Melkins’ book several times, and she cursed herself for not paying enough attention to it.

“Really? That’s odd.” She tried to keep her voice calm. “You know who Galileo was, don’t you?” Both girls shook their heads, and given their father’s profession, she wasn’t surprised. “He discovered that the earth went round the sun,” she told them. “Not the other way round. It meant that the earth wasn’t the centre of the universe. The religious authorities threatened him with torture and kept him under house arrest for the rest of his life unless he recanted.”

“So what sort of project could that possibly be in this day and age?” asked Claire.

“I don’t know,” said Amelia. “But I’m told that among serious atheists, the ‘Galileo Syndrome’ means ‘suppress the truth, exploit the fear’.”

“You’d better go,” said Claire. “They’ll be here in a minute to pick this lot up. They’d better not see you in here. I’ll see you to the door.”

Reaching the outside door Clair suddenly grabbed Amelia’s arm and spun her face to face, “Amelia, for some reason we trust you and to look to you for help and friendship. I don’t know why, as we hardly know you. But I’ll tell you this. My sister is on the edge and can’t take much more of this. We need help, and if you don’t do something very soon, then I will. You got that?”

Amelia saw the same fire in her eyes that she saw in Rayn’s. But where with Rayn it was mostly humour and rebellion, with not a little petulance, Claire’s eyes reflected deadly intent and determination.

Outside once more in the cold, pale winter sunshine, Amelia was struggling to cope with her tangled emotions. She walked the boys across the village green to the burger bar as she’d promised them, but her mind was running riot. Thoroughly shaken by Claire’s outburst, it was all she could do to concentrate on her charges who were at that moment, putting a chair on the table to make a defendable fort, and whooping like pirates.

The manager came over. He was a very large man with arms like a gorilla. He lifted the boys off the ground by their coat collars, one in each giant arm, and held them up while they kicked and struggled.

“Hello Amelia, I see you drew the short straw then. Where do you want these?” He then gently lowered them into their seats.