The Chrysalid Conspiracy (43 page)

“Yes, yes, yeeees!” She raced down the gym to do a perfect double somersault. Amelia reminded her that they shouldn’t do that without Nigel.

“Now what do we do? That must have stirred them up a bit!” She was exhilarated.

“We wait,” said Amelia, soberly.

“Yeah, let’s see what they come up with next,” said Rayn.

They waited, and waited, and nothing happened. Everything stayed exactly the same. Conversations, attitudes – it was as if the girls had not said anything to anyone about their observations. Any attempts to force the issue were met with silence or an obvious diversion.

The school backed off and Lucy explained that Dr. Barrenborn had a formidable battery of legal experts when she needed them.

Their next Sunday barbecue was a bit strained. There were no real conversations going on, Amelia noticed. There were bursts of laughter, but no real humour. Molly caught up with Amelia as she was collecting up arrows and asked her.

“What’s going on, Amelia? There’s a definite air of tension.” Amelia thought fast.

“Mum and I had a row. Our very first.”

“Is she okay? And what’s with Bridie and Rayn?” said Molly.

“Oh, it was me and Rayn against them. A good old knockdown, drag-out screamer. It’s over now, but you know how long these things take to settle,” Amelia lied.

“What was it about then?” Molly wouldn’t let it go, but Amelia knew she wasn’t prying. It was just her way of seeing if she could help.

“Oh, the usual, I suppose. The hubris of youth strikes again.” Her mind was working overtime trying to keep up with a story she hadn’t yet manufactured.

“What does hubris mean?” asked Molly.

“Arrogance, rebellion. Rayn and I are teenagers remember. We know everything, apparently,” Amelia explained.

“Don’t remind me. I’d hate to go through that again,” Molly replied. “Oh no!” she suddenly cried.”

The twins were up on the roof of the caravan, sword fighting. Rayn was the only one who could get them down, she’d been up there many times and knew the stress points. The incident gave a kick-start to the day. Differing opinions on whether the boys were courageous or stupid stimulated animated discussion and everyone seemed to shake off the blues. The laughter returned.

When Rayn and Claire wandered off, Amelia followed them, much to their surprise. She filled Rayn in on her story to Molly, in case it came up again. Claire reported that she was having no luck with the pentagram and blamed the restrictions imposed on her.

“I need to do a diagram and play around with it,” she complained. “I’ll be careful, but I won’t if you say no.”

“You go ahead and do what you have to,” relented Amelia. “We have to know what it all means.”

By the middle of the week, Rayn was showing the strain. “Maybe they’re smarter than we thought,” she said, when they were back in Amelia’s room again.

“Well, at least we’re not in jail.” Sighed Amelia.

“Yeah, that’s true. But if something doesn’t happen soon they’ll be dragging us off to the funny farm,” wailed Rayn.

“You never know,” Amelia smiled, as she tried to wind her friend up. “That may be the idea.” She was forced to change the subject after Rayn started mumbling about ‘padded cells for two’.

“What’s up with Lorraine these days,” she asked brightly. “She doesn’t smile much. Girl trouble?”

“No,” replied Rayn, seizing the lifeline. “She’s been offered a live-in job at the Hall. Assistant house keeper.”

“And that’s bad?”

“She doesn’t know whether to take it. She’s afraid she might lose touch with the gang, as she calls us,” Rayn explained.

Amelia was silent for a moment, mulling over this new development. “Tell her to take it,” she said suddenly.

“I can’t tell her what to do, Amelia. Give me a break.”

“It’s important, I think. Tell her I said she has to take the job,” insisted Amelia.

“Okay,” said Rayn. “But do you think she’ll take any notice?”

“Yes,” replied Amelia emphatically. “I’m certain of it. Tell her I said so.”

Rayn crossed the bedroom and gave her friend a hug. “See, I told you so. You’re getting there,” she whispered.

Amelia had come to trust Rayn’s instincts. The trouble was, where was ‘there’?

***

Saturday saw Amelia working in the shop. Her mother was in the greenhouse where she was spending a lot of time recently. Lucy had asked George to put some high powered halogen lights in and Amelia worried about the increased temperature she was working in, but had learned long ago not to interfere in her mother’s work.

Bridie and Rayn were down at the campsite. Horace wasn’t well and they were anxiously waiting for the vet, who couldn’t give them a specific time.

Molly and Nigel were in Grabsum Moore with the boys, buying them new shoes. They were growing so fast it was a job keeping up with them, Molly had said.

Amelia was waiting to close up, reflecting on how quiet the day had been. It was as if the world was waiting, gathering its strength for the traditional battle between consumer and retailer during the annual Easter uprising.
With all that money sloshing around it’s no wonder the church had lost out to chocolate rabbits eggs,
she thought.

She was in the kitchen peeling potatoes thinking of closing a little early when she heard the door go.

As she entered the shop her usual professional smile froze on her face. A man and a woman stood there. They were so unusual her brain was trying, without success, to find a reference.

They were tall and wearing identical clothes, almost like twins. They wore black single-breasted, expensive suits with the jackets open to reveal white polo-necked sweaters. The woman wore a gold pendant on a chain. Their soft, black leather shoes made no sound as they moved. Again, it was their looks that made them appear so different. Dusky Arabian skin with highly articulated features and jet-black hair. The man, though he had a longer nose and a more angular jaw line, had the same hairstyle as the woman. Although hers was longer and fuller, they both had it pulled back into a tight ponytail, the man revealing a single gold earring. Their eyes were matching pairs. Bright, penetrating and highly intelligent. His were warm and friendly, while hers showed some disdain for her surroundings.

They were both so beautiful that they had no need to make an effort to impress. They just did.

“Will you tell Dr Jaxson we are here?” the woman said in almost perfect English. Just the hint of an unidentifiable accent.

That was no request,
thought Amelia.
No please or thank you, no greeting, just an order.
Amelia’s guard went up as the man stepped forward..

“If you would be so kind.” He had a rich, strong voice with the same accent. “I am Mykl, and this is my sister Ryxyl. We’ve brought Dr Barrenborn’s tree for her to look at.”

Amelia met his gaze. The eyes and voice engulfed her as if she were immersed in some warm mercurial substance.

“We are in a hurry,” Ryxyl cut in. Direct and impatient.

Amelia forced her way back to solid ground, fighting off thoughts that were uncomfortably pleasant and beyond her years. She went to get her mother, not trusting herself to speak.

Lucy was well experienced at dealing with awkward customers and soon had the aloof Ryxyl responding to her. Mykl was pleasant and engaging and the spectacular little tree was placed on a small table in front of Lucy’s chair.

Amelia stood there, trying to reassemble her self-confidence, which had been cut down by these two magnificent creatures. While she could hardly take her eyes off Mykl, she noticed a similar reaction from her mother when she looked at Ryxyl.

Strange
, she thought.
What’s going on here then?
She wished desperately that Rayn was here to do her ‘party piece’.

They were getting ready to leave and Ryxyl bent down to gently caress the plant. Mykl spoke to her and Ryxyl looked up to answer him. Lucy was on a level with Ryxyl’s right shoulder and she saw the woman in profile, looking up. The sound of a cello crashed into Amelia’s head.

Controlling her breathing to counteract the fear that invaded her, she stood perfectly still while they left. Lucy said her goodbyes in a weak, disembodied voice.

Amelia closed the door behind them and put the closed sign up. When she turned her mother had gone. The beautiful miniature tree remained sitting on the table.

“What do you want me to do with the tree, Mum?” Amelia called.

Lucy’s voice came back almost hysterical. “I don’t care. Burn it!” and Amelia heard the greenhouse door slam so hard she was astonished that it didn’t break.

Amelia stood looking at the elegantly sculptured living plant. Her self-assurance had taken such a battering on meeting Mykl that she realised she didn’t know what to do. The only, and rather inane thing she could think of was to make a cup of tea. She felt as if she were six years old again and a cup of tea cured all ills.

The cello faded as she put the kettle on. She needed Rayn desperately to give her some support and encouragement. She needed that inner strength the girl had and she’d never, until now, been aware of how much she depended on her.

It was then she heard the scream. High-pitched, it was a combination of anguish and absolute terror. One word, over and over.

“No! No! Nooooo.” Amelia almost vomited on the spot at the sound of that indescribable, heart-rending scream from the greenhouse. She couldn’t move. Helpless, inadequate, lost and frightened. Her legs wouldn’t obey her. The screaming changed to one long, hideous shriek, the crash of something falling and the sound choked off into a guilt-ridden wailing, like a child, completely uninhibited.

Amelia was somewhere between real fear and panic. The sound of the crash revitalised her motion sensory responses and she flew, devoid of all thought, to her mother’s aid.

Lucy had fallen onto her left side into the foetal position. Her left arm was across her chest, hugging herself tightly. Her right thumb was in her mouth and she was making whimpering sounds. Amelia pulled the upturned wheelchair out of the way and knelt down beside her. She could do nothing. In fact, doing anything at all never occurred to her. She let out a loud scream of anguish and a silent scream for help. Her mother’s eyes were open but sightless and Amelia cradled her head, rocking back and forth, while she shuddered out her tears.

Words began to form in her head.
Phone! Ambulance! Move!
and she began to take in the situation. Unable to stand, she crawled into the bedroom and found her mother’s phone.

She called the emergency services and it seemed an age for someone to answer, though in reality it was only seconds.

“Slowly, calmly,” she said to herself and struggled to take her own advice. She clearly and concisely gave the information she was asked for and kept it steady till the end.

“And can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” said the disembodied voice.

“She’s f****** sick!” she shouted down the phone. “Please, help us.”

Never having used that particular expletive in anger before, she realised she had greatly underrated its emotional value.

Time took its usual leave of absence and she had no idea how long it was before an ambulance arrived.

“It’s okay, everything is all right now,” came a familiar voice. It was George.

“But Mum, she…” Amelia blurted out.

“She’s in good hands,” he said. “They know what they’re doing.”

The two paramedics who had followed George in were going about their work quietly with great care.

“Look,” said George, “there’s something I need to do. Why don’t you go and make us both a nice strong coffee and let them get on with it.” He offered her some oily scrim cloth to dry her tears. She declined and went to the kitchen on very shaky legs. George followed her after a few minutes, putting his mobile phone away.

“How is she?” she asked.

“She seems okay. They’ve sedated her and she seems to be sleeping,” George replied.

“What do you think is wrong?”

“It looks like overload. Some sort of traumatic shock. I’m guessing, mind you. I don’t really know. What happened?” His gaze was steady as he asked the question.

“I don’t know,” she said, bending the truth. “She screamed and fell down.” She had the feeling George knew she was lying slightly, but she was way past caring.

“I’ll go to the hospital with her,” said Amelia. “I must be there when she wakes up.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea right now,” he told her, out of the blue.

“What?” demanded Amelia. “Why?”

“Well, you’re a bit upset at the moment. Visit her in a couple of days, give her a chance to recover…” his voice tailed off as he took notice of her change of mood.

“A couple of days? How dare you.” Amelia was incensed. George raised his voice.

“Amelia, you have to stay here. That’s an order,” he said sharply. Amelia found she had a focus for her fear and anger. What her honorary Grandfather had forgotten was that Amelia was just a very frightened fifteen-year-old child, and needed somebody to blame, someone to take the brunt of her fear.

Rayn appeared in the doorway. She was breathing hard and sweating. But her presence gave a welcoming boost to Amelia’s fast-flagging determination.

“That’s an order?” Amelia repeated. “An order? You have the audacity to give me orders, after the years of lies and your underhanded scheming and two-faced pretence. Who the hell do you think you are?”

George’s face was ashen as he stared at her in amazement. He had no argument, no defence. Instead, he was forced to accept the rapid progress he had only guessed at.

“We are trying to keep you both safe,” he said, trying to put some authority in his voice while pleading for understanding.

Amelia couldn’t stop now. She saw a half smile and a nod from Rayn and went for the throat. “Keep us safe?” she was shouting at him, a new experience for both of them. “You have no idea, have you? You don’t even know that our friendly neighbourhood vicar, who just happens to live up the road, is the president of Galileo. He IS Galileo. And you think we’re safe?”

George was completely bewildered. “Amelia, he can’t be. It’s not possible. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”