I still don’t look at Celia. There’s nothing to say to that.
‘Your mother had an exceptional Gift for healing. Truly exceptional.’
‘My gran told me.’ Though she never told me that story.
‘They are interested in your ability to heal yourself.’
‘And?’ I look at Celia now.
‘I think you’re healed enough to do the washing up now.’
gran
The months after my Assessment pass; the routine is the same as ever. Autumn comes, the nights get longer and it’s good. Winter. Snow. Winds. I’m stronger than ever. I don’t mind the rain. The frost is beautiful. My feet are tough as hide.
The snow melts, though a few pockets remain in a few hollows. The sun has some warmth in it but I have to really stay still to soak it into my skin.
My seventeenth birthday is months away, not years.
Celia never talks about my birthday. I ask her often but she doesn’t tell me anything.
I’m inside one day, making bread. Celia is writing at the kitchen table.
I try again, with a well-worn question. ‘On my birthday, will I be given three gifts?’
Celia doesn’t answer.
‘If you want me to kill Marcus I’ll need my Gift.’
She carries on writing.
‘Will my gran give me three gifts?’
I know they wouldn’t let me near her, not in a million years.
Celia looks up, opens her mouth as if to answer but closes it again.
‘What?’
She puts the pen down. ‘Your gran.’
‘What?’
‘She died a month ago.’
What? A month ago! ‘And you forgot to mention it until now?’
They can tell me nothing or anything, and how do I know if any of it is true?
I throw the dough on the floor.
‘I’m not supposed to mention it at all.’
So Celia’s being considerate and for all I know that is another lie. And Gran is dead. That’s true for sure. They will have killed her or made her commit suicide and everyone else can be killed as well if they want.
‘And Arran?’
She blanks me.
I kick the chair over, pick it up and slam it down.
And they’ll do just what they want and kill everyone and I hate them, hate them, hate them. And I’m slamming the chair down again.
‘I’m going to have to put you in the cage if you carry on like that.’
I throw the chair and leap at Celia, shouting.
I wake in the cage, shackles on.
visitors
A few weeks after Celia tells me about Gran, I’m collecting eggs. I’m thinking about Gran and her hens and how they tried to get into the house, and Gran with her beekeeper’s hat on, lifting the honeycombs …
I put the egg basket on the ground and listen.
Listen hard.
A faint, not-quite-there sound: distant, but somewhere in the hills.
And a clatter from the kitchen.
I run on to the wall and from there leap on to the cage to look towards the south-west, where Marcus will come from in my fantasy.
The hills sit there quietly, giving nothing away. I swivel round, looking and listening, holding my breath.
That is not the wind.
It’s a growling, a distant growling.
Celia is at the kitchen window staring at me. She hasn’t heard it but knows something is up cos I’m on the cage. She disappears then reappears at the front door. And now it’s there, the unmistakable sound.
Not my father. A vehicle.
‘Get in the cottage!’ Celia shouts at me.
A 4x4 appears as a distant black cube moving along the track.
‘Get off the cage!’
But if these are people, real people – fains, walkers, holidaymakers – then I must be able to do something. I’ll tell them I’ve been kept in the cage. The choker – they might be able to get it off. Maybe I should wait until she gets rid of them and … club her with something …
But then she changes. Her body slumps a fraction. She says, ‘Get in the cage, Nathan.’ Her voice is flat now. She knows who it is.
I watch the jeep for a couple of seconds more before jumping down and going into the cage.
‘Padlock it.’
She walks towards the track.
I pull the door shut but don’t lock it. I go to the back of the cage and find my nail in the soil. I put it in my mouth, digging it into my cheek and healing it over.
The jeep revs and churns louder. It stops at the far side of the cottage. Celia walks over to it.
She’s talking through the driver’s window. Waving her hands around, in frustration it looks like. Unusually dramatic for her.
I can’t see the driver.
The jeep doors open and Celia is holding her arms wide as if she can stop them. They are almost as big as her. All in black, of course. I don’t see the driver’s face until Celia moves to the side, but I know who it is.
Have they come to kill me? What other reason? To give Celia instructions to do it? Do I padlock the cage now? It seems pretty pointless.
Clay is walking towards me.
Celia is a step behind him, and behind her are two female Hunters.
Celia says, ‘But I’ve not been informed about this.’
‘You’re being informed now. Get him out of the cage.’