Bright Young Things (21 page)

‘Great,’ says Jamie. ‘We’re fucked, then.’

‘As if what we put on the form’s going to make any difference,’ says Thea.

‘I said that I smoke,’ says Anne.

‘What?’ says Jamie.

‘On that form.’

‘But you don’t smoke,’ says Emily.

‘I know,’ says Anne.

‘Do you always lie on forms?’ asks Paul.

‘Yeah,’ she says.

‘I’ll go and look in the kitchen,’ says Emily. ‘In that big larder thing.’

When she comes back, she’s carrying 200 Silk Cut and 200 B&H.

‘I could only find these,’ she says, grinning.

‘Cool,’ says Bryn.

‘Where were they?’ asks Jamie.

‘With the medical supplies,’ she says. ‘Behind the beans.’

‘Medical supplies,’ says Paul. ‘Interesting.’

‘And the seeds,’ she adds mysteriously.

‘What seeds?’ asks Jamie.

‘For growing things. Herbs and stuff. Food.’

‘Weird,’ says Thea.

‘I’ll try a B&H,’ says Jamie, taking a packet out of the box.

‘Let’s have one of those, mate,’ Bryn says to Jamie.

Jamie wonders why Bryn doesn’t just take a whole packet for himself.

Thea takes a box of Silk Cut.

Everyone’s happy.

It doesn’t take long to finish the apple pie. Bryn’s moaning about there not being any other food, although there’s plenty in the kitchen. Thea’s not saying anything very much, although Bryn seems to have forgotten about what happened between them earlier. Either that, or he doesn’t care. Their special moment is now completely lost, though, for good or bad, and it looks as though Thea will just have to forget about the kiss she thought she might want.

The fire’s made the room cosy and warm. The flames are giving everyone a costume-drama glow. People are watching other people when they think they’re not looking, maybe searching for something in their faces. Who knows what they are seeing. Bryn and Emily are sitting together on one sofa, with Anne sitting on the floor in front of it. Thea’s on the other sofa with Jamie, and Paul’s on his way out of the door.

‘Where are you going?’ asks Emily.

‘Kitchen,’ he says. ‘I’m going to bring “Ultimate Snake” in here.’

‘Bring us something to eat,’ says Bryn.

It’s totally dark outside. But it seems cosier tonight with the fire and electric lights.

‘That light’s too bright,’ says Bryn.

‘Turn it off then,’ says Emily.

‘Won’t it be too dark if we do that?’ says Jamie.

‘We should get the candles,’ says Emily. ‘It’ll be nice.’

Anne’s reading something.

‘What about Anne?’ says Jamie. ‘She’s reading.’

Anne puts the book to one side and yawns.

‘I’ve finished,’ she says. ‘Candles would be cool.’

‘What is that you’ve been reading?’ asks Bryn.

‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘Just some space-community utopia thing.’

‘I’ll go and get the candles,’ says Thea.

Paul’s sitting at the kitchen table, eating what looks like a cheese sandwich.

‘What are you doing?’ Thea asks him.

‘Eating a cheese sandwich,’ he says.

‘Oh.’

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Are you still scared?’

‘Yes, of course I am. Aren’t you?’

‘No.’

He takes a huge bite from the sandwich.

‘Are you really a vegetarian?’ she asks.

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Me too,’ she says, and smiles.

She sits down next to him.

‘Do you want a bit?’ he offers. She takes the second half of the sandwich.

‘So why aren’t you scared?’ she asks.

‘Death doesn’t bother me,’ he replies. ‘That’s it. If you believe that death’s the worst thing that can happen to you, and you can make yourself not afraid of it, then there’s nothing to be scared of.’

‘That reminds me of a poster my old flatmate had in the bathroom,’ she says. ‘Something about there being only two things to worry about . . . Oh, I know, it goes,
There are only two things to worry about, either you are sick or you are healthy. If you are healthy, there is nothing to worry about. If you’re sick, there are only two things to worry about, either you will live, or you will die. If you live, there is nothing to worry about
. . . It ends up with you either happy in heaven, or happy in hell, shaking hands with your friends.’

‘I know it,’ says Paul. ‘It’s true. There is nothing to worry about.’

‘But you worry all the time,’ she says.

‘How do you know?’

‘I can see it in your face. You worry about loads of things.’

‘Yeah,’ he smiles. ‘I do worry about normal things. I worry about GM food.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Because it will kill us all. That’s why I’m not worried about death.’

‘But you worry about it because it will kill us. That doesn’t make sense.’

He smiles. ‘I just mean it’s inevitable.’

‘It’s inevitable that we’ll all die one day. We don’t have to like it.’

‘Oh, I don’t like it,’ says Paul. ‘I’m just not scared in a panicked way.’

‘Right.’ She finishes the sandwich, including the crusts, and lights a cigarette. ‘Oh, I forgot to say,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I think there may be a way down the cliffs.’

‘Didn’t Jamie look all around there yesterday?’

‘Not on this bit,’ she says. ‘You have to go over a rock, and then it seems as if you might be able to climb down. If we built a boat or something we could make an attempt at getting away from here.’

Paul looks less excited than she’d hoped.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t you want to escape?’

‘The water would be very cold.’

‘You don’t want to escape because the water might be cold?’

‘I’m not sure. This is quite fun, don’t you think?’

‘No. Come on, Paul. We can’t stay here forever.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I thought you liked making things,’ she says.

‘So?’

‘You could make the boat.’

‘I’ll make the navigation system,’ he offers. ‘But I don’t do woodwork.’

‘No,’ she sighs. ‘I suppose you probably don’t.’

‘Why are you so desperate to escape?’ he asks her.

‘Why?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why?’

‘You ask the weirdest questions.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Paul says. ‘What’s weird about it?’

‘Well, we’ve been kidnapped. Why wouldn’t we try to escape?’

He smiles. ‘That’s what I’m asking you.’

‘No, you’re asking why we
would
try to escape.’

‘Well?’

Thea frowns. ‘I think it’s the logical thing to do. Anyone who’s trapped tries to escape. It’s a natural reaction.’

‘What have you got to go back to?’ he asks.

Thea thinks about the old people’s home: the banana purée,
Countdown
and diarrhoea. Then she thinks about the sweaty, smelly arcade and the elderly out-of-season tourists sitting at the one-armed bandits all day, waiting until it’s their turn to go in an old people’s home just like the one she works in, but not even near the seaside. She thinks of the arcade game she’s just completed, and the one she was planning to start. She thinks of some friends she rarely sees, and the local film club she hasn’t attended for over six months. She thinks of the aerobics class she went to only once, and the boyfriend who dumped her three months ago. She thinks of evenings alone with freezer food that she has to eat on the day she buys it because she has no freezer. She thinks about her favourite TV programmes, less cool than the others’:
Newsnight
;
Modern Times
;
Late Review
. She thinks of her foster mother, dying of cancer, and her real mother who she hasn’t spoken to in ten years.

‘Loads,’ she says defensively.

She can hear voices through the pipes. Everyone’s talking about university.

‘Shall we go through?’ Paul asks.

‘Sure. I’ll just put some food together for the others.’

‘OK. I’ll see you in there,’ he says.

Thea decides that a salad would be good; all this fresh stuff’s going to go off soon. She boils some rice while she sets out a plate of cold meat. Then she makes a salad from the stuff in the fridge. It turns out well: spinach, lettuce, green beans, olives, little bits of celery, radishes, tomatoes, cucumber and onion. In a separate bowl, she mixes tuna, sweetcorn, onion, cucumber, diced tinned tomatoes and the rice. Then she butters the last of the fresh, crusty bread and arranges all this on a tray. Then she finds six plates and six forks.

All the while she’s been listening to the conversation through the pipes. The others seem to be talking about some pretty sensible stuff now. The education thing has taken off as a topic. Now they’re talking about their degrees. And it’s funny, but from what they’re saying, it seems that they all got Firsts. Thea finds the candles, then picks up the tray and takes it through to the sitting room. They’re still talking.

‘Cool,’ says Bryn, seeing all the food.

‘Yum,’ says Emily. ‘Cheers for doing this, Thea.’

‘That’s fine,’ Thea replies. ‘Help yourselves.’

They all do. She lights the candles herself, then switches off the light.

‘I got a First as well,’ she says.

‘What was yours in?’ asks Emily.

‘Film Studies,’ says Thea. ‘What about everyone else?’

‘Maths,’ says Jamie. ‘But you all knew that already.’

‘Art,’ says Emily.

‘Art,’ says Paul.

‘English and Philosophy,’ says Anne.

‘What about you, Bryn?’ asks Jamie.

He looks uncomfortable. ‘Chemistry,’ he says.

Thea can’t imagine that this is true, or that he got a First, but she says nothing. Maybe it is true, but he certainly never mentioned it to her. In fact, from what he said to her, the highest educational qualification he’s got is a BTEC.

‘So we all got Firsts,’ muses Thea. ‘Any MAs?’

‘Yeah,’ says Paul.

‘You’ve got an MA?’

‘MSc actually,’ he corrects.

‘What in?’

‘Computer Programming,’ he says. ‘Why?’

She doesn’t say anything, but she can see a pattern emerging. She wonders why Jamie didn’t spot this connection in his research earlier on.

‘No one else with an MA?’ Thea asks.

No one says anything.

‘Why do you think it matters?’ asks Jamie.

‘We really are bright young things,’ says Paul.

‘Yeah,’ agrees Thea. ‘We are exactly what our kidnapper advertised for.’

‘Which means?’ says Bryn, through a mouthful of tuna salad.

‘Maybe we weren’t chosen for the reason we thought,’ says Thea.

‘What, revenge?’ asks Emily.

‘Or whatever,’ says Anne.

‘Mmm,’ says Jamie. ‘Interesting.’

‘Are there any clues in the
house
as to why we’re here?’ asks Emily.

Everyone looks uncertain.

‘All the survival food has to mean something,’ says Anne.

‘Yeah,’ says Emily. ‘It’s like someone else’s desert island fantasy.’

‘All that Spam,’ says Paul.

‘Yuck,’ says Thea.

‘All that horrible lemonade,’ says Anne.

‘It could be worse,’ says Jamie. ‘There could be no food or drink.’

‘At least there’s lots of wine,’ says Emily.

‘It’s as if the person who brought us here wants us to have a nice time,’ says Paul.

‘Yeah, maybe we won a holiday and didn’t realise,’ says Bryn sarcastically.

‘Maybe we’re in space,’ suggests Anne.

‘Nothing bad’s happened yet,’ says Emily, ignoring Anne. ‘Not really bad.’

‘Merely keeping us alive isn’t like giving us a holiday,’ Thea points out.

‘There are all the challenges,’ says Paul.

‘What challenges?’ asks Thea.

‘The electricity, the logs, all that stuff,’ he replies.

‘That’s true,’ says Emily.

‘Maybe the biggest challenge is how to escape,’ says Jamie.

‘Maybe someone wants to see how fast we do it,’ says Paul.

‘Yeah,’ says Anne really slowly. ‘Like a game.’

Something happens in the room. The word
game
suddenly doesn’t seem fun; it seems scary. It’s like when you have children singing in horror film soundtracks.

‘We still need clues,’ says Jamie.