The Special Ones (12 page)
I steady myself against the doorframe. This is very bad news. The tree has always produced impressive amounts of fruit. We eat peaches almost every day in summer, and I preserve as much of the excess fruit as I can for winter.
I realise Felicity’s eyes are on me. ‘It’ll be okay, won’t it?’ she says.
‘Of course it will.’ I force the words out. ‘Everything will be fine.’
She nods, but I suspect I’ve offered her no real comfort.
Harry is determinedly cheerful during lunch, but it’s different when he has a chance to speak to me privately. ‘The storm has done a lot of damage,’ he mutters. ‘All the tomatoes are gone, the wheat is pretty much destroyed. Some of the carrots will be edible, maybe the potatoes. Not the beans, though.’
I keep my lips pressed tightly together, afraid of what might gush out if I open them. This is my fault for hoping the rain would never stop.
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ says Harry, glimpsing my face. ‘We’ll survive it. The important thing is that we’re together.’
I know he’s trying to cheer me up, but I wish he hadn’t said this. It feels way too much like tempting fate.
We’ll survive. We’ll sort it out. We’ll make it work.
I keep repeating these sentences to myself as I go about my tasks. If I think it enough, maybe it’ll come true. There’s still a month or so of reasonable weather ahead. Time enough to plant new vegetables, Harry assures me – quick-growing things. And
he
wouldn’t let us die, would he? Maybe he’ll take pity on us and I’ll wake one morning to find emergency food rations on the kitchen table, just to tide us over until the new crops grow.
And at least we have water now,
I keep reminding myself.
But I carry with me the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
One morning I wake slightly later than usual – the morning light is already halfway across my windowsill – so I hurry directly to the chat room to receive my instructions. The guiding word is
reduce
and I walk back to the kitchen, wondering how to model it for the followers. How can I reduce anything from the little we have left? I jump when I see Harry standing there – still and silent – with an open envelope in one hand and a card, smelling of flowers, in the other. His eyes brush past me and there’s something in that glance, something so primitive and chilling that I freeze.
‘Harry? What is it?’ But I know. Harry hesitates for a moment and then turns the card around so that I can see it. The writing is formal and elegant, like you might see on an invitation to a fancy party.
Harry, please commence preparations for your renewal.
When I first read about renewal in my remembering book, before I’d actually witnessed one, I thought it must be like having a makeover. I figured that when a Special One was renewed, they would go away for a couple of days and come back with a new outfit or hairdo or something.
But then the first Felicity was renewed. When her replacement arrived, I realised in horror that I was expected to pretend this terrified stranger was the same person who’d left a few days earlier, just that she looked a little different and had
forgotten
who she really was.
I know only too well what happens to the new ones who are brought here. Gradually they are convinced to change, moulded to be who we tell them they are. But there’s another unanswered question:
What happens to the ones who leave?
At first I tried to convince myself that they simply returned to their old lives. But I know that can’t be true.
He
is many things, but merciful is not one of them. It would be too dangerous. Their families would want to know where they have been. The police would become involved. The girls might be able to figure out the location of the farm. There is no way he would risk that. The much more likely explanation is that renewal means death. And once I realised this, I decided that renewal was something to avoid, no matter what.
I started keeping a list in my head of what kinds of actions or mistakes seemed to trigger a renewal. I decided that if I could pinpoint the causes I could somehow protect myself – and the others – against it. Many things were obvious. Neglecting chores, for instance, or doing them poorly. Dancing. Sleeping in. Talking about life before coming here. Doubting or questioning anything to do with the Special Ones.
But I knew that avoiding renewal had to mean more than just sticking to the rules. It meant being like Harry. Harry, who never loses his temper or complains. Harry, who follows the rules without a blink, no matter how crazy they seem. Harry, who, if he doubts the purpose of the Special Ones, never lets it show on his face. And something dawned on me.
He’s acting. Doing it to survive.
I decided I’d follow his lead. Be the perfect Special One. Do what was asked of me without question or complaint. I buttoned myself into my Esther costume and threw myself into the part. This, and only this, would keep me safe.
But Harry’s renewal notice has changed that. Its arrival means that I was wrong. Because if someone as faultless as Harry can be renewed, then clearly none of us are safe.
Esther must announce the news of a renewal to the Special Ones as soon as possible. But at breakfast I can barely speak, let alone deliver this terrible information. I can tell Harry is waiting for it, but he doesn’t push me either.
Lucille and I spend the morning doing the first half of the weekly clothes and linen wash – a mammoth task that takes all our time and energy. There’s no chance of discussing Harry’s news and, besides, we all need to be together.
Harry and Felicity return for lunch, Harry doing a good show of being as cheerful and calm as ever. Felicity and Lucille don’t seem to notice anything different, but I can hear the tension in his voice.
In the kitchen, Felicity hands me a basket full of hard, greenish peaches. ‘That’s all we could save,’ Harry says apologetically. ‘I hope they will see you through for a couple of weeks at least.’ His carefully chosen words are painful to hear.
You
, not
us
.
As we sit down to eat Harry asks, ‘Any news?’ He’s prompting me.
I shake my head.
Not yet,
I think. Saying it out loud –
Harry’s being renewed –
will make it official. I sit and stare at my plate. I can’t eat. Can’t talk. My hand shakes as I raise my glass, and the water tips onto the table. I jump up to grab a cloth and catch Harry’s kind eyes watching me, his face full of sympathy. After a couple of seconds he looks away.
I am suddenly ashamed of myself. I’m such a coward.
‘Esther.’ Harry’s voice is surprisingly firm. ‘It’s time to tell them.’
Lucille latches on instantly. ‘Tell us what?’
Usually I plaster on Esther’s
good news
smile when I make a renewal announcement, but I can’t manage it this time. ‘Harry has received his renewal notice.’ The words are a string of thick sausages being pulled from my mouth.
Felicity’s chair clatters to the ground as she leaps up and flings herself onto Harry. ‘No! You’re not allowed to go.’
‘Renewal is a necessary process, Felicity,’ Lucille says disapprovingly. ‘It’s a reason to celebrate.’ I want to hit her. She gets up and walks over until she’s standing in front of Harry. ‘Congratulations, Harry,’ she says loudly, one hand on his shoulder. ‘I look forward to seeing you again in your new vessel.’
Harry nods at her. ‘Thanks, Lucille,’ he says and pats her hand.
What does it feel like, being touched by Harry? His skin is probably a little rough from all the hard labour he does, but I imagine it being warm and also somehow soft. A feeling rises inside me – tingling and very un-Esther-like.
Lucille withdraws her hand and gives Felicity and me a disdainful glance. ‘This is a moment of great happiness for Harry.’
Rage flares up in me, strong and bright.
Happiness?
And before I can stop myself – ‘Are you really that stupid, Lucille?’
Lucille’s eyes bulge. ‘You can’t talk to me like that, Esther!’ she says, spluttering with indignation.
‘Can’t I?’ I shoot back. I know I’m close to losing control and, even more dangerously, I don’t really care.
‘Esther, calm down,’ Harry says. I know he’s looking into my face, and I keep my eyes averted. But in my peripheral vision, I see him stretch a hand towards me as if he’s planning to touch my arm.
I freeze, wondering if he’ll dare. Perhaps he’s decided that it wouldn’t really matter now that he’s being renewed. His finger hovers there, close enough for me to feel (or at least imagine I can feel) the warmth from his hand.
‘Harry!’ gasps Lucille.
Harry doesn’t answer but he puts his hand down again. ‘Esther,’ he says softly. ‘You trust me, right?’
‘Of course I do,’ I mutter.
‘Then you must believe me that everything will be fine. I’m promising you.’
I nod, feeling calmer, even though I know what he says can only be wishful thinking. Because how could everything be fine? I’ve seen so many renewals and I know exactly what will happen. At evening chat tonight, we’ll announce to the followers that Harry will be going away for a short while.
For spiritual revitalising and soul cleansing
. We’ll pretend that it’s nothing more than a health check-up.
Tomorrow, Lucille and I will start preparing a set of clothes for Harry – the ones he’ll wear when he leaves. We’ll all behave like nothing terrible is going to happen. In a few days, the second message will come – the one announcing that today is
the
day. Harry will dress in his renewal clothes. We will share a last meal together. Then Harry will walk out the door and I will never see him again.
Time begins passing in morse-code moments: some long and drawn-out, others passing in a flash. Harry and Felicity work on the farm from first light until sunset, planting new crops. I am sure Harry is trying to pass on as much information as he can, and Felicity will try her best to absorb it all – but she is far too young to replace him on the farm in any real way.
It’s always been Harry’s task to find the new Special Ones when someone is renewed. But who will find the new Harry?
The new Harry.
It’s impossible to accept this concept.
One night, as I lie awake in bed, Harry knocks on my door. ‘Come out here,’ he says. His voice sounds different. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you.’
Quickly I tie my robe around me and hurry to the door. Harry is standing in the hallway, dressed in his day clothes.
‘What’s wrong? Is someone sick?’
‘Everything’s fine. I just want to show you something. And before you ask, yes – you can leave your room.’
He turns and walks off down the corridor. I pad along behind. He leads me through the parlour, and when we arrive at the front door Harry opens it wide and walks through.
‘Where are we going?’ I’m having crazy thoughts.
Harry is planning to run away and he wants me to come with him
. Would I go?
‘Don’t worry, we won’t break any rules,’ he says. He steps out onto the verandah, the wooden planks creaking as he walks across to a blanket that has been spread out across the boards. Harry sits down on it and pats the space beside him. ‘Come and sit,’ he says.
