The Chrysalid Conspiracy (35 page)

“Hello Joe. Thanks and sorry,” said Amelia gratefully.

“That’s okay. These two are my favourite customers. We get on fine, don’t we boys?” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, Mr Young,” they said in unison, recognising defeat.

“You just show them a bit of leadership and they’ll respond.”

“And what’s the secret of that?” Amelia wanted to know. Claire’s tirade echoing in her mind.

“For leadership you need the respect of the people you are leading. Simple really,” said Joe, with a shrug.

“I’m serious Joe. How do you gain that respect?” Amelia continued.

It occurred to him that this was an odd conversation, but her face told him she wasn’t indulging in idle chatter, as most of his customers did.

“Well, you can’t buy it. Or be promoted into it, it has to be earned. I learned that in the Merchant Navy. People have to learn they can rely on your judgement, and fairness when things go wrong. Believe me, I’ve worked under many people trying to earn respect who were working below the minimum wage. They were nonstarters.”

“Are some people natural leaders then?” she said tentatively.

“Oh yes. Some just have that way of attracting confidence. They usually make the best leaders. Why all the questions, Amelia? You in trouble?” Joe became a little more serious.

“No, no of course not,” said Amelia, trying to allay his fears for her. “But what happens if you make mistakes?”

“Of course you make mistakes,” he laughed. “It’s what you do about it that matters. I always found it’s best to own up and get on with it.” He had a big grin on his weather-beaten face. “If you try to bluff it out it’ll sneak round behind you and move in for the kill.”

“But what happens if you make mistakes and people die?”

Amelia blurted out without thinking.

“I think,” said a much more serious Joe, softly, “that your only mistake right now is to let these starving children wait for their food.” He turned to Zac and Miles, who had been sitting quietly, watching him.

“What’ll it be, me hearties? Same as usual, with everything?”

“Yes please, Mr Young,” they said together. They looked so angelic Amelia burst into laughter hurting her lips again.

“You see,” said Joe. “My burgers have already gained their respect. Now, what can I get you?” he asked.

She ordered just coffee and when she took a first tentative sip the effect was bizarre. The initial pain from her lip, plus the bitter welcoming taste forced her mishmash of emotions to unravel, revealing a clear course of action. Only one thought remained, and she knew what she had to do. Take control!

“Zac! Miles!” she said sharply. “Sit down and eat your food or you’ll be standing out in the cold watching me eat it.” Never having heard even a stern word from this ‘pushover’, they surrendered without comment.

Taking Zac and Miles with her she went over to the flower shop to see if her mum was okay. Bridie was in the kitchen making some sandwiches. The boys dived in to help as Amelia explained the situation.

“Be good, boys. Bridie’s a witch. She’ll turn you into worms and feed you to the birds,” Amelia told them, smiling. Zac looked horrified while Miles said, “Give us a break.”

Lucy was on her bed looking fresh and relaxed. “Hi Mum, you look well.”

“Hello, my love,” Lucy replied. “Actually, I feel good. I’m looking forward to this evening. How are you managing with the boys?”

She told her mother she was fine. Then, lowering her voice, told her what Rayn was wearing to the concert. She described Nigel (more him than his outfit) and Molly’s short, low-cut, star-spangled skin-tight dress and a white blonde Dolly Parton wig, with big sunglasses and huge earrings. They both curled up laughing. Amelia told her Mum about Lorraine and described her tuxedo. Lucy smiled. “I don’t know her well, but I got the impression she was. But it’s not our business. I hope you were respectful?”

“Of course, Mum. Don’t worry,” replied Amelia, then switching to the offensive suggested, “Don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence that she got her promotion on the very weekend she gets a chance to go to the greatest rock show in history?” and she left the question hanging. “I’ve got to go. I hope you crumblies enjoy the evening. Don’t get too drunk and call me if you need me, okay? Bye.” Rescuing a fast sinking Bridie, she grabbed her school bag and the Book and took the boys back to the flat.

***

After a meal of macaroni cheese, Zac rushed to their room and came back with a DVD. “Can we watch a film please, Amelia? Please, please?”

Recognising defeat, she agreed and looked at the title. Her face fell as she read ‘Return of the Alien Teenage Ninja Pirates from Space, Part Four’.

“Oh well,” she said out loud, “at least it’s better than monopoly.” She hated board games, they made her feel as if her mind was in a strait-jacket. Leaving them to it while she washed up and cleaned the kitchen then made herself coffee, which was once again strong, black and sugarless. Wondering if it was addictive it made her think of Joe from the burger bar. What was it he’d said? ‘
A leader has to earn the respect of those he leads
?’ And what was it Claire had said? ‘
We look to you for leadership’. Why?
she asked herself.
As she’d said, they hardly knew her and she certainly hadn’t done anything to earn their respect. Was my promise to them an empty one? What is there I can do? I don’t know how to help them, and what is it that makes me think it’s up to me? Why do I feel that I must? So many questions, and not one single answer. I must have this teenage thing back to front.”
She smiled despite herself.

A tremendous crash and the sound of splintering wood shattered her reverie. She dived for the living room to see Miles sitting in the wreckage of the coffee table. It wasn’t an expensive one but it was worth a lot less now.

Thank goodness it’s not glass,
Amelia said to herself.

Zac was leaping up and down on the sofa waving his plastic sword and yelling “You’ll never take me alive.”

Miles rolled over and grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be Amelia’s school bag. He scooped it up and threw it at his deadly foe. “Die then,” he yelled back. The bag hit Zac in the face and he, the bag and the sofa fell backwards with another almighty crash.

Amelia screamed at them to stop but they were no longer six-year-old children. They were enemies fighting to the bitter end. Zac leapt to retrieve the bag and swung it round his head.

Amelia’s trusted school bag was old. It had served her well over the years, and they’d been through a lot together. But this was too much; way above and beyond the call of duty, and the seams finally gave up the struggle.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Zac lost his centre of balance and fell backwards. The bag glided through the air distributing its priceless cargo of work folders, books, pens, sweet wrappers, a dried-out apple core and empty crisp packets. Sheets of A4 paper floated to the floor like giant snowflakes.

The Professor’s book hit the glass fruit bowl on a side table and they both hit the floor together. Tiny shards of glass scuttled into every available nook and crevice.

Amelia tried to move but she tripped over the boy’s shoes and hit the floor with everything else. She lay on her back amidst the wreckage and wondered if she opened her eyes, would she see her little green clock laughing at her.
No
, she thought.
This is for real.

Not moving, her eyes still closed, she tried to speak in an almost pleasant voice. “Would you be kind enough to put the sofa back? Then get yourselves a glass of milk and go to bed. Oh, and turn the TV off please.”

“Yes Amelia. Sorry,” they said between them and retreated to the kitchen. She could just hear the heated, whispered argument over who was to blame. She didn’t even flinch when she heard a glass of milk distribute its contents and the sum of its parts across the tiled floor. There was a minor stampede, the bedroom door slammed shut and there was silence.

Amelia sat up. “Well”, she said, “nought to chaos in seven seconds. Not bad.” She wasn’t mad or upset. All she could think of was Joe’s words.
Everybody makes mistakes. It’s what you do about it afterwards that matters.

Amelia stood up, testing the ankle she had twisted and was relieved to find no damage. “Zac, get Henry for me please,” she called out and by the time she had moved the remains of the coffee table to the again upright sofa, Henry the Hoover had appeared. It sat there like a mini robot with its ridiculously long nose and its painted-on eyes looking eager to be of assistance. She hadn’t seen or heard Zac approach.

Stuffing all her school things, including the rubbish, back in her bag she threw it on the sofa with the ruined table. Plugging Henry in she started vacuuming up the fruit bowl, slowly and meticulously. It was then she noticed the book. The beautiful red leather cover had slid under the dining room table, the inner text slightly skewed where the binding had come adrift. Amelia felt sick. How could she have forgotten it? Picking up the hardback cover, she pushed the pages back inside and put it on the table, out of more harm’s way.

Having inspected the remains of the coffee table and declared it defunct, derelict and definitely
non compos mentis,
she stacked it in a corner ready to begin its new career as kindling wood. After cleaning the rest of the room she then decided it was time to put the boys to bed.

“Now, how about some hot chocolate before bed?”

“Wow, yeah! Can we help make it?” chorused the twins.

“I think I’ve had enough help for now, boys. Don’t you?”

A few minutes later they sat on the sofa sipping hot, sweet chocolate. Amelia winced as the heat stung her lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by Zac.

“Why don’t you put it in the microwave on rewind?” he said. “Won’t that cool it?” Amelia couldn’t help laughing; despite the pain it caused her face. She tucked them into bed rubbing noses playfully with them instead of a kiss, and they went peacefully to sleep.

With a sigh, she slumped down on the sofa, relieved that she could now enjoy some well-earned peace and quiet then jumped up again remembering what was on the table.

It was while she was trying to reassemble the book that Amelia could see how badly it had been made. The pages themselves were individual sheets, and she noticed they were typewritten on what looked like quality paper. Not your usual book materials, she thought. Not that she knew a lot about bookbinding, but she was pretty sure that a strip of duct tape down one edge to hold the pages together wasn’t your average method of book binding. She wondered how he could possibly have imagined it would stay together for long.

Opening the hardback cover, she looked at the inside of the spine. There were the torn remains of glue patches at the top and bottom, but down the centre was the reason it had been so badly made. The professor hadn’t wanted it to stay together indefinitely. He’d wanted it to fall apart eventually to expose the sheet of paper that had been carefully rolled, flattened, and then stuck inside the spine with sticky tape.

Amelia sat very still. Her normally active and competent mind was not open for business. Her body wasn’t even on answer phone.

Unaware of time’s inexorable journey, she eventually stood up. Walking round the table, she turned suddenly to test her sanity. The book stared back at her and she realised this was a ‘before’ that would crumble in the dust as the ‘after’ came at her like an express train.

In the kitchen, making an extra strong coffee, she found herself constantly glancing through the open door to see if it was still on the table, the book stared back at her. Coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to go away, she spoke aloud, mainly to break the suffocating silence. “Rayn, Rayn. Where are you when I need you?” She needed her friend to be with her for this event, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to wait. With shaking hands, she peeled back the sticky tape, unfolded the paper and began to read:

Look with your eyes but see with your mind.

The truth is hidden for all to find.

Knowledge released within the page,

Transports one back beyond the age

Of prophets, seers, imagined Gods,

Those all-consuming ravenous dogs.

To a life with knowledge as its prime,

Indivisible by nature’s time.

The science of truth in paragraphs,

Which can be moved but not by halves.

Should you expose the truth within,

Beware the dogs who are circling.

They all revere the one who picks

Those mortals who would scorn the Styx.

If good men do nothing the tree is blind,

And will lose the kingdom of the mind.

Start at two and follow through,

Go to the place the Sanddancers knew.

Amelia sat back and sipped her coffee. “Thank you, professor,” she said to the book. “What the devil are you talking about?”

***

Somebody was gently shaking her by the shoulder and she surfaced slowly to find herself on the sofa covered with a duvet sporting a super hero motif. Zac and Miles were smiling at her. She noticed they had pulled a chair up next to her on which stood a cup of tea and two pieces of toast.

“Good morning, Amelia,” they said. She smiled at them as best she could, not quite ready to speak yet.

“I put my duvet on you,” said Miles. “You looked cold. Was that all right?”

“Yes,” she managed to say. “Thank you very much. And thank you for breakfast. Have you had yours?”

“No. We were waiting for you to tell us what to have,” said Zac.

“Okay,” replied Amelia. She sipped the well-made tea. “Tell you what, why don’t you go and help yourselves? Don’t break anything and I’ll clear up. How’s that?”

“What’s a Sanddancer?” Miles’s question caught her in mid swallow. She choked out the first thing she could think of and told them some nonsense about crabs and crustaceans walking sideways. It worked. They lost interest immediately.
But what prompted the question in the first place?
she thought.