CHARLES Wallace sat there tucking away turkey and dressing as though it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He was dressed like Charles Wallace; he looked like Charles Wallace; he had the same sandy brown hair, the same face that had not yet lost its baby roundness. Only the eyes were different, for the black was still swallowed up in blue. But it was far more than this that made Meg feel that Charles Wallace was gone, that the little boy in his place was only a copy of Charles Wallace, only a doll.
She fought down a sob. ‘Where is he?’ she demanded of the man with red eyes. ‘What have you done with him? Where is Charles Wallace?’
‘But my dear child, you are hysterical,’ the man thought at her. ‘He is right there, before you, well and happy. Completely well and happy for the first time in his life. And he is finishing his dinner, which you also would be wise to do.’
‘You know it isn’t Charles!’ Meg shouted. ‘You’ve got him somehow.’
‘Hush, Meg. There’s no use trying to talk to him,’ Calvin said, speaking in a low voice into her ear. ‘What we have to do is hold Charles Wallace tight. He’s there, somewhere, underneath, and we mustn’t let them take him away from us. Help me hold him, Meg. Don’t lose control of yourself. Not now. You’ve got to help me hold Charles!’ He took the little boy firmly by one arm.
Fighting down her hysteria, Meg took Charles’s other arm and held it tightly.
‘You’re hurting me, Meg!’ Charles said sharply. ‘Let me go!’
‘No,’ Meg said grimly.
‘We’ve been all wrong.’ Charles Wallace’s voice, Meg thought, might have been a recording. There was a canned quality to it. ‘He isn’t an enemy at all. He’s our friend.’
‘Nuts,’ Calvin said rudely.
‘You don’t understand, Calvin,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Mrs Whatsit, Mrs Who and Mrs Which have confused us. They’re the ones who are really our enemies. We never should have trusted them for a minute.’ He spoke in his calmest, most reasonable voice, the voice which infuriated the twins. He seemed to be looking directly at Calvin as he spoke, and yet Meg was sure that the bland blue eyes could not see, and that someone, something else, was looking at Calvin through Charles.
Now the cold, strange eyes turned to her. ‘Meg, let go. I will explain it all to you, but you must let go.’
‘No.’ Meg gritted her teeth. She did not release her grasp, and Charles Wallace began to pull away with a power that was not his own, and her own spindly strength was no match against it, ‘Calvin!’ she gasped as Charles Wallace wrenched his arm from her and stood up.
Calvin the athlete, Calvin the boy who split firewood and brought it in for his mother, whose muscles were strong and controlled, let go Charles Wallace’s wrist and tackled him as though he were a football. Meg, in her panic and rage, darted at the man on the chair, intending to hit him as Charles Wallace had done, but the black-smocked men were too quick for her, and one of them held her with her arms pinioned behind her back.
‘Calvin, I advise you to let me go,’ came Charles Wallace’s voice from under Calvin.
Calvin, his face screwed up with grim determination, did not relax his hold. The man with red eyes nodded and three of the men moved in on Calvin (at least it took three of them), prised him loose, and held him as Meg was being held.
‘Mrs Whatsit!’ Meg called despairingly. ‘Oh, Mrs Whatsit!’
But Mrs Whatsit did not come.
‘Meg,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Meg, just listen to me.’
‘Okay, I’m listening.’
‘We’ve been all wrong, I told you; we haven’t understood. We’ve been fighting our friend, and father’s friend.’
‘If father tells me he’s our friend maybe I’ll believe it. Maybe. Unless he’s got father – under – under a spell, or whatever it is, like you.’
‘This isn’t a fairy tale. Spells indeed,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Meg, you’ve got to stop fighting and relax. Relax and be happy. Oh, Meg, if you’d just relax you’d realize that all our troubles are over. You don’t understand what a wonderful place we’ve come to. You see, on this planet everything is in perfect order because everybody has learned to relax, to give in, to submit. All you have to do is look quietly and steadily into the eyes of our good friend here, for he is our friend, dear sister, and he will take you in as he has taken me.’
‘Taken you in is right!’ Meg said. ‘You know you’re not you. You know you’ve never in your life called me dear sister.’
‘Shut up a minute, Meg,’ Calvin whispered to her. He looked up at the man with red eyes. ‘Okay, have your henchmen let us go and stop talking to us through Charles. We know it’s you talking, or whatever’s talking through you. Anyhow, we know you have Charles hypnotized.’
‘A most primitive way of putting it,’ the man with red eyes murmured. He gestured slightly with one finger, and Meg and Calvin were released.
‘Thanks,’ Calvin said wryly. ‘Now, if you are our friend, will you tell us who – or what – you are?’
‘It is not necessary for you to know who I am. I am the Prime Co-ordinator, that is all you need to know.’
‘But you’re being spoken through, aren’t you, just like Charles Wallace? Are you hypnotized, too?’
‘I told you that was too primitive a word, without the correct connotations.’
‘Is it you who are going to take us to Mr Murry?’
‘No. It is not necessary, nor is it possible, for me to leave here. Charles Wallace will conduct you.’
‘Charles Wallace?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Now.’ The man with red eyes made the frightening grimace that passed for his smile. ‘Yes, I think it might as well be now.’
Charles Wallace gave a slight jerk of his head, saying, ‘Come,’ and started to walk in a strange, gliding, mechanical manner. Calvin followed him. Meg hesitated, looking from the man with red eyes to Charles and Calvin. She wanted to reach out and grab Calvin’s hand, but it seemed that ever since they had begun their journeyings she had been looking for a hand to hold, so she stuffed her fists into her pockets and walked along behind the two boys. – I’ve got to be brave, she said to herself. – I will be.
They moved down a long, white and seemingly endless corridor. Charles Wallace continued the jerky rhythm of his walk and did not once look back to see if they were with him.
Suddenly Meg broke into a run and caught up with Calvin. ‘Cal,’ she said, ‘listen. Quick. Remember Mrs Whatsit said your gift was communication and that was what she was giving you. We’ve been trying to fight Charles physically, and that isn’t any good. Can’t you try to communicate with him? Can’t you try to get in to him?’
‘Golly day, you’re right.’ Calvin’s face lit up with hope, and his eyes, which had been sombre, regained their usual sparkle. ‘I’ve been in such a swivet – It may not do any good, but at least I can try.’ They quickened their pace until they were level with Charles Wallace. Calvin reached out for his arm, but Charles flung it off.