Checkmate (41 page)

'Uncle. It's me.'

'Hello, Callie. Is anything wrong?'

'No, sir. I just wanted to say . . . I'm ready to go back to training camp. Any time you say.'

Silence.

'Sir? Are you still there?'

'Of course I am.'

'I'm sorry I missed last weekend's session but I'm ready to go back to training

'That won't be necessary,' said Uncle Jude. 'I want to talk to you about something special. Something only you can do, soldier.'

'Yes, sir.'

'When can you get away?' asked Uncle.

'Any time you say, sir,' I replied. 'And, sir?'

'Yes?'

'I promise I won't bail on you again.' I put down the phone, strangely at peace.

Was Dad watching me now? Was he sad? Proud? Gratified? Did I care? In a perverse way I actually think I did. Dad was evil, but he was committed. He did what he thought was right and he didn't let anyone stand in his way. No sacrifice was too great. Dad didn't set limits on himself. And much as I might detest him, I could still . . . appreciate the part of him I wanted to emulate
–
that single-minded determination to get what he wanted, by any means necessary. How strange to hate someone as much as I hated my dad and yet, in some inexplicable and chilling way, understand him. My head was seriously messed up, but I embraced my ambivalence towards my dad and his motives. I was no longer a part of what had been before. I wasn't doing the same things as my friends, I wasn't into the same meaningless trivia. I wasn't better than them, just no longer in the same place, occupying the same space. They were then.

I am now.

I've won. I know exactly which buttons to press to get Callie Rose to do exactly what I want. I've got a mission for Callie which will complete my revenge on the whole Hadley family. It's been a long time coming but the moment has arrived at last. The damage we in the
L.M.
have already caused to two government buildings and the departure lounge at the country's biggest airport are small fry compared to what's coming. My plan to eliminate the Defence Minister was foiled, unfortunately, but at least we came close. He'll be in hospital for a while so that's something. And the best is yet to come. The election is in three days and our
L.M.
activities have concentrated the nation's mind on our demands. But what I've personally got planned will ensure that we'll go down in history. No one will ever doubt the resolve of the
L.M.
or underestimate us again.

Callum, we've won.

And best of all, Sephy Hadley has lost.

The late afternoon sky was white-grey, with no hint or sign of the blue behind it. The weather matched my mood and suited my clothes. This would be the last time I came to this park and sat at this bench. This would be the last time I'd just sit and
be.

And I wasn't sorry.

Uncle Jude was right. What I was about to do was heroic, not to mention momentous. It's going to make a difference. I recalled the pride on Uncle Jude's face when I told him that I'd be honoured to take on the task he'd assigned me. That's when he told me who he was in the
L.M.
and how hard he'd worked to get there. Then it was my turn to be proud of him. My uncle is the General of the whole
L.M.
He became General when the previous one was captured and put in prison for life almost three years ago. Uncle Jude says that there is more than one way to serve though, and I believe him. That's why I'm going to go through with this. I'm not going to let him down. I know what I have to do, I just don't know the target yet. But Uncle Jude says my actions will make all the difference in the world. My actions will make life better for thousands and thousands of people – Noughts and Crosses. Surely that's worth something? More than I'd ever dared to hope.

'I thought it was you. Hi, Callie Rose.'

'Just Callie, Tobey,' I corrected, not bothering to look at him properly. I watched the wind dance with the branches above me.

'Sorry, I forgot,' said Tobey, sitting down on the arm of the bench. 'What're you doing?'

'Just enjoying what's left of the rest of the day,' I said easily.

'Mind if I join you?' Tobey asked cautiously.

'I don't own the bench,' I pointed out.

Tobey slid down to sit at the other end of the bench to me. I turned to look at him to find him already watching me. His appearance made me start. When had he shot up like that? And when had he had his hair cut short? How long had it been since I'd taken a good look at him? He certainly looked different to the boy who had stood in my garden all those years ago, his hands full of dirt.

'What're you thinking?' Tobey asked me.

'D'you remember when I was five or six and we argued about something or other and I said the only way I'd forgive you was if you ate horse manure?'

'You were seven, almost eight,' said Tobey.

'You remember how old I was?' I said, surprised.

Tobey shrugged. 'So what about it?'

'Would you have done it?' I asked. 'Would you have eaten that stuff?'

'To get you to be my friend again? Yeah,' said Tobey.

He made it sound like I shouldn't even have to ask. Tobey really was one of the strangest guys I knew. He didn't seem to fit anywhere. He stood out wherever he went, at school, on the street. He didn't try to blend into the scenery like most people. He was a misfit, like me. But once he'd made up his mind to be your friend, he'd be your friend for ever. Lucas on the other hand was Mr Popular. He was friends with everyone, and everyone liked him
–
except maybe Amyas. But Lucas wasn't losing any sleep over that one. Lucas had the self-confidence that came from being told every day of his life that he was good enough. Tobey had the self-confidence that came from having to work that out for himself.

'So what will it take for the two of us to be friends again now?' asked Tobey.

'What are you prepared to do this time?' I smiled.

'Whatever it takes,' said Tobey seriously.

If I told him what I'd been ordered to do, would he join me? Would he stand by me? Would he try to talk me out of it? Or betray me? Which one? I wondered. I regarded Tobey. He and Lucas were so alike in some ways and so different in others. It wasn't just their physical similarities and differences that made me pause, or even what they said and how they said it. No, the major difference for me came in which one of them I was more inclined to believe.

'Just ask me,' said Tobey.

'It means that much to you?'

'It always has.'

And I could see he meant it, meant every word, but in my constantly simmering anger I had turned away and missed it. Tobey and I were unfinished business.

'Tobey.' I slid along the bench to sit next to him. I offered my hand. 'Friends again?'

'I'd like that, very much,' he said, taking my hand in his.

Then he surprised the hell out of me by kissing me, full on the mouth. And I couldn't help comparing the way he kissed to the way Lucas did it. I pulled away, puzzled.

'What was that about?'

Tobey smiled but didn't answer. We sat in silence, watching the others in the park, watching each other. It took me a while longer to realize we were still holding hands.

Just look at the swine! He makes me want to throw something at the TV screen. He's got the scent of blood in his nostrils. And look at that smile. Could it be any more smarmy! The General Election is only a couple of days away and he reckons he's going to glide into power on a landslide. I recognize that look. Kamal will never change. He thinks there's nothing to stop him getting back into power
–
and if the latest opinion polls are anything to go by, he's right. His brand of politics always makes the headlines, the politics of hate.

Our policies are failing? Blame the other political parties
–
remind the people that we may be bad, but they were worse or things would be worse under the other lot. Or if we can't blame the main opposition, find a new scapegoat
–
a section of society with no power, no voice. Blame the travellers or the noughts or the immigrants. Cheap, gutter politics to appeal to the lowest common denominator.

And Kamal gets away with it.

If I were to tell just half of what I know about that man . . . all the dirty deals and backhanders and mutual back-scratching that went on when he was a councillor and a junior minister. I know where the bodies are buried, though much good it does me.

The General Election will come and he'll slither into power on a trail of slimy promises and unctuous, oily handshakes.

He's going to get away with it. Again.

Nana Jasmine swallowed two painkillers, followed by three or four other pills, washing them all down with a glass of bottled water. She'd lost so much weight, she looked gaunt. Her skin was closer to grey than brown. I watched her, my mind swimming further and further out in a sea of sadness.

'Nana Jasmine, w-why didn't you tell me you were so ill?'

'What good would it have done?' asked Nana.

'I would've known,' I told her. 'I should've been included.'

'No one was trying to exclude you, darling. I didn't even tell Sephy and Minerva about having cancer until I had to. The first time round, I had my biopsy, a lumpectomy and a course of radiotherapy and I thought that was it. But I was unlucky and it came back.'

'You still should've told me,' I said, my voice wobbling. 'I only found out about your . . . about you because I overheard Mum and Nana Meggie talking.'

'Callie, you can say it. The word won't kill you,' said Nana Jasmine.

I didn't want to say it. I didn't want Nana Jasmine to be ill. I didn't want a lot of things. Why did the world hurt so much?

'Can I do anything to help?' I asked.

'Yes, you can talk to your mum,' said Nana Jasmine at once. 'She loves you very much.'

'I'm not an idiot, Nana Jasmine,' I said with impatience.

'I never for a moment thought you were,' said Nana.

It was sweet of Nana but we both knew the truth, even if Nana didn't want to say it.

'Poor Callie,' Nana Jasmine sighed.

'Why d'you say that?'

'You really have no idea just how many people care about you.'

'Like who?'

'Like whom, dear,' Nana Jasmine corrected.

'Whatever,' I said edgily.

'You are loved by me, your Nana Meggie, your mum, your aunt and all her family and that boy – what's his name? Tobey. And that's just for starters.'

I stared at Nana. 'What're you talking about? Tobey doesn't love me. He's not even my boyfriend. Lucas is my boyfriend.'

'And I really like Lucas, even though you've only brought him here twice. But that doesn't alter the way Tobey feels about you. Every time he looks at you, it's as unmistakable as a bad facelift,' smiled Nana.

'Are we talking about Tobey Durbridge? My Tobey?'

'Your next-door neighbour. Yes,' said Nana Jasmine.

'But he's . . . he's

'He's what?'

'He's just Tobey,' I dismissed.

'Who is crazy about you.'

'I'm not being funny, Nana, but I think your pills are making you hallucinate.'

'Actually, my pills are helping me to see more clearly than I have in a long, long time,' said Nana calmly. 'Why is it so hard for you to accept that anyone could love you?'

'Because I know the truth,' I replied. 'I went to the library and looked up all the information I could find about my dad and mum. D'you know, when I was born, Mum put an announcement in the paper saying I would take my dad's name of McGregor. She hated me enough to saddle me with a terrorist's name.'

'Nonsense. She loved Callum enough to want the whole world to know who you were,' said Nana Jasmine.

'Then why did she change her mind? It says Hadley on my birth certificate, not McGregor.'

'You'll have to ask her that.'

'I'm not asking her anything,' I dismissed. 'I'm never going to speak to her again.'

'Callie Rose, you are so young. And like all young people you think you've got it all figured out. You think you know exactly how many blue beans make five. But the older you get, the more you realize just how little you know.'

'I know how many blue beans make five,' I argued.

'Oh yes?'

'A bean, two beans, a bean and a half and half a bean. Everyone knows that saying.'

'Now tell me why Sephy, your mum, didn't marry Sonny.'

'Because she's not interested in any man who isn't a murdering, terrorist bastard,' I answered harshly.

'Please don't use that kind of language in front of me, sweetheart,' said Nana. 'Why did your mum have you? She didn't have to, you know. She could've had an abortion.'

'She had me to spite my dad,' I replied.

'To spite Callum? Exactly how did that work?' Nana Jasmine frowned.

'Mum had been bonking my dad for years and then they broke up and she went to another school. So my dad got some of his
L.M.
friends to kidnap Mum and that's when . . . that's when he raped her and I was conceived. If she'd got rid of me then maybe my dad wouldn't've hanged. But she hates me, because of the way I was conceived.'

Nana Jasmine stared at me. 'Where on earth did you hear that . . . that garbage?'

'It's not garbage. I read it in the newspaper archives at the public library.'

'Oh, then it must be true,' Nana Jasmine said with sarcasm. 'The newspapers of fifteen years ago never wrote about noughts unless it was something negative. And your grandfather made sure that no one printed Sephy's version of events.'

That's when I remembered that I hadn't read that bit. Uncle Jude had told me. That's how I knew it was true.

'So what did happen?' I asked.

'Why don't you ask your mother?' said Nana Jasmine.

That phrase was really beginning to irritate.

'And if Sephy really was raped, surely that was even more reason to have an abortion,' said Nana Jasmine. 'So why didn't she then?'

'I don't know. Moral reasons? A cosmic ray scrambled her brain or maybe she just wanted to piss off my grandad? I don't know.'

'Then why don't you ask her?'

That phrase again.

'Callie Rose,' said Nana Jasmine quietly. 'You think you know the truth, but you don't. The only person who can tell you the truth is your mum.'

'She hasn't so far,' I said.

'She had her reasons for that.'

'Which were?'

'Why don't you ask her?' we both said in unison.

'Look, Nana, can we please change the subject?' I appealed.

Nana Jasmine regarded me. 'The truth doesn't stop being the truth just because you don't want to talk about it or won't face it.'

'Nana

'All right, darling. But take it from me, don't leave it too long to talk to your mum or one day you'll wake up and find it's too late.'

I shook my head. 'Nana Jasmine, it's already too late.'