The Special Ones (8 page)

I unlock the door and go in. ‘Lucille?’

There’s a whooshing sound and a terrible pain in my head that crumples me to the floor. The room whirls, ceiling and walls spinning wildly. I look up, skull throbbing, to see Lucille leaning over me with one of the bed’s wooden legs in her hand and a venomous smile on her face. She jumps over me and runs out the door into the corridor.

‘Lucille!’ I’ve bitten my tongue and my mouth is thick with blood. ‘Come back. Don’t be stupid.’ There’s no reply.

She doesn’t get far. Harry overpowers her before she’s even reached the kitchen. Despite my thumping head I manage to stagger out to help him, and together we tie her up again, rapidly passing the rope between us as the Lucille thrashes and sobs. Felicity sits eating her breakfast in the kitchen, watching us impassively. The girl’s hysteria doesn’t seem to bother her any more.

‘She’s not Lucille, you know,’ Felicity says just as we finish tying her up. ‘She’ll never fit in here.’

I frown at her. It’s dangerous to speak like this. But secretly I think she’s probably right.

Only when Lucille is safely back in the changing room does Harry untie her. Immediately she drops to the floor like a dead weight, all the fight seemingly drained from her. I sit outside her door for a while, running my fingers over the sore bump on my skull, even though I have lots of chores I should be getting on with. Maybe I’m hoping my being here will help. Maybe I’m just too exhausted to do anything else. I sit there for hours, watching as thin slits of light slowly trace a path across the floor and wall of the corridor.

We can’t go on like this,
I think.
We’ll have to start again with a new girl.
But this is such a terrible, overwhelming prospect that I squash the thought immediately. We have to make things work, however impossible that seems.

I’m so deep in my gloom that when Lucille abruptly taps on the grate of the door, I’m startled.

‘I’m ready,’ she says. There’s something different about her – I notice it immediately. Her voice has changed.

‘Ready for what?’ I say, getting up and looking at her through the grate.

Lucille’s eyes meet mine. ‘For transition.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

After it’s washed, I discover that Lucille’s hair has a natural wave to it that, she admits, she usually blow-dries out. It should be easy to encourage it into ringlets, especially when it’s been wrapped in rags overnight.

‘See?’ I tell her. ‘That’s even more proof that you really are Lucille.’

Lucille nods slowly.

I dye her hair over a basin that I bring into the changing room. Lucille bends her head over it without saying a word. She also submits to the brown contact lenses without a fuss. The change these two alterations make is astonishing.

‘
He
will be so pleased with you!’ I tell her.

Lucille’s eyes may be brown now, but they’re as sharp as ever. ‘Who is
he
, exactly?’

I slip into the familiar chant. ‘
He is the floor beneath our feet and the roof above –’

Lucille cuts me off impatiently. ‘Yeah, I read all that in the remembering book. But who is he really? Does he live here at the farm somewhere?’

‘Of course not!’ I say. ‘He lives out there, on the other side of the fence. But he sends us messages and watches over us.’

‘So none of you have met this person?’

Her questions make me nervous. It’d be so easy to slip up and say something wrong. ‘Not in person,’ I answer cautiously. ‘Look, your memories of him will return with time. The only thing you need to know right now is that he is there to guide and protect us.’

‘But protect us from what?’

I give her the best answer I can manage. ‘From everything
out there
.’

Four days before Lucille is due to rejoin us, Harry and I decide to bring her out for a test run. When I tell her that she can have breakfast with us the next morning, her face lights up. ‘I can leave this room?’

‘Yes.’ It’s nice to see her look happy for once. But I still have my reservations. ‘Make sure you’re ready when I knock tomorrow.’

She nods. ‘Don’t worry. I will be.’

And, sure enough, when I unlock the door the next morning Lucille is sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed and with her dark curls neatly pinned back. Her hands are folded in her lap, her expression demure.

‘Ready?’

‘Ready,’ she says, sounding excited and a little nervous. When I bring her into the kitchen, Felicity’s eyes widen with amazement.

‘You
are
her, after all!’ she breathes and then astonishes everyone by running over and hugging her. Lucille doesn’t try to push her off. Possibly she’s too stunned.

Harry stands up and pulls out a chair for Lucille. ‘It’s great to have you here with us,’ he says gallantly.

‘Thank you,’ she says.

For a moment, my eyes meet Harry’s and we exchange a grin. So far, so good.

Today we are having scrambled eggs cooked in the butter I made yesterday. Using the churn is hard work but I find it strangely enjoyable. I love the way the cream transforms – separating and solidifying, becoming something utterly different from what it was before.

Lucille looks down at her plate, frowning. ‘Can’t I have toast instead? I don’t like scrambled eggs.’

‘Today’s word is
quiet
,’ I tell her. ‘Toast is too noisy.’

‘What is
that
supposed to mean?’

‘Every morning
he
gives us a word to guide us through the day,’ I say as patiently as I can. Lucille should already know about this from her remembering book. ‘Today’s word means that we must eat quiet food, speak quietly, have quiet thoughts.’

‘But that’s so dumb!’

Felicity eyes her disapprovingly, putting a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t you
know
what quiet means?’

My heart begins to pound as Lucille pushes away her plate. ‘I can’t believe you all just accept this stuff,’ she says loudly. ‘You just go along with it all. We should be able to walk wherever we want. There’s a big fence around this place, right? It’s not like we can go very far.’

‘Lucille!’ I hiss warningly. It’s not just herself she’s endangering; it’s all of us. What must
he
be thinking, watching this scene? My hands begin to sweat.

Lucille goes on as if she hasn’t heard me at all. ‘My remembering book is so full of rules – and most of them are so ridiculous! Like that one about none of us being allowed to dance.’ Lucille shakes her head. ‘I mean, seriously? If we’re so “special” how come we’re not allowed to have any fun?’

Harry seems as calm as ever. But I’m not Harry and I can’t stand this any longer. I jump up and grab the Lucille by the arm.

‘What are you doing?’ she screeches.

‘You’re going back to the changing room!’ I tell her. My fingernails dig into her skin as I drag her back. I can’t believe she would be so stupid. She knows better than to fight me, at least – but she keeps complaining about the ridiculous rules even after I’ve slammed the door in her face.

When I return to the kitchen, Harry says to me, ‘You did the right thing,’ but I am not so sure he means it. I peek at his face and it’s ashen. It’s clear that he has the same concern that I do – that there’s no way Lucille will be ready to join us by the end of the week.

It feels like I’ve only just drifted off to sleep when I wake again with a start, my heart racing. I can hear something out in the corridor. Someone calling.

‘Esther? Are you awake?’ Even when I realise, with a flush of relief, that it’s just Harry out there, my heart still pounds.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I received a message,’ he tells me, his voice just on the other side of my door. ‘We’re doing a sharing tonight.’ Before I can say anything, he adds, ‘Lucille has to be there too.’

‘Really?’ I can’t imagine Lucille standing there and confessing to the mistakes she’s made. I doubt she thinks she’s made any.

‘Yes,’ says Harry. ‘
He
was very definite about it.’

I get up. ‘I’ll go and get her,’ I say. ‘You wake Felicity.’

Lucille sits up as I walk into the changing room with a candle held high.

‘What’s going on?’ she says. There’s a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
Good
. This is what she should be feeling. It’s what I feel myself.

‘Get dressed and you’ll find out,’ I tell her. ‘And make sure you behave yourself. Believe me, you don’t want to make any mistakes tonight.’

Lucille dresses quickly and silently while I wait. Her breathing is rapid, unsure.

When she’s done, I lead her down the corridor to the parlour where Harry and Felicity are already waiting, hands folded in front of them. Lucille hovers in the doorway. ‘What’s going on?’ she says.

‘We’re doing a sharing,’ I tell her. ‘It’s when we four come together and share with the others the mistakes we’ve made. The things we’re feeling weighed down by.’

‘And then what?’ Lucille asks, suspiciously.

‘Then we wait to see who feels the burden of their guilt the most,’ I say. ‘And that person …’

Harry finishes the sentence for me. ‘They are given a chance to have their burden taken away from them.’

I glance at him. I suppose that’s one way of putting it.

‘What if I don’t feel guilty about anything?’ says Lucille.

Harry smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’ He stretches out a hand towards her. ‘Come on, Lucille. Come and join us.’

Lucille doesn’t accept his hand, but walks over to where he and Felicity are standing. My insides squeeze together at the thought of what I must share.
I grabbed Lucille by the arm and dragged her back to the changing room.

‘Should I go first?’ asks Felicity.

I start to say yes, but Harry holds up a hand. ‘No. Lucille must start.’

Lucille crosses her arms angrily. ‘I’m not saying anything!’ she says, her voice cracking at the edges. ‘Why should I? It’s all of
you
who should be feeling guilty about what you’ve done to me, keeping me locked up, not feeding me properly, not letting me shower or speak to my family.’

She pauses for a moment, swallowing and shaking her head. ‘I’m the innocent one! You have
no
idea how hard this has been for me.’

‘I know you don’t really feel like that, Lucille,’ Harry says gently. ‘I reckon you’re actually feeling pretty bad about how you’ve been acting.’