The Special Ones (13 page)

I hesitate. I am fairly sure that
he
has not really given me permission to be out here in the middle of the night with Harry. And although I’ve never spotted any cameras out here that doesn’t mean they’re not there.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ Harry says in a low voice. ‘I won’t do anything …
forbidden
, I promise.’

I feel a strange flip in my stomach, but I’m not sure if it’s relief or disappointment. I walk over to the blanket and sit down at the far edge of it.

‘Now,’ says Harry. ‘Look up.’

I tilt my head up and gasp. A hole has been cut in the roof of the verandah – about the size of a large door – and through the gap I can see the sky, black and cloudless, strewn with stars.

‘What do you think?’ says Harry. He seems nervous and so adorably shy that my heart pirouettes.

‘Did you do this?’ I whisper. ‘For me?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why?’

‘Because you said the other night that you used to like lying down and looking at the night sky,’ he explains. He sounds a little embarrassed. ‘I wanted you to have the chance to do it again, before I left.’

I begin to laugh. ‘So – you destroyed the roof just so I can see the stars?’

‘Well, I didn’t
destroy
it,’ says Harry, laughing too. ‘I just removed some of the galvanised iron. It’ll be easy enough to put it back on later.’

What Harry’s done is crazy, and here crazy usually means dangerous – but that just makes it more beautiful. A gesture like this could easily make a person cry. But I manage, somehow, to keep myself together. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

‘My pleasure,’ he whispers back. ‘Now, look up and enjoy the view.’

It sounds boring, I know – lying on hard, rough, splintering floorboards, staring up into blackness. I’m sure the me from
out there
would’ve thought so. But I could have stayed there all night, watching only the tiny flickering and pulses of light from the stars.

Harry doesn’t try to talk to me, and at first I’m silent also. Then I discover that my face is wet, and I’m crying.

‘Esther?’ Harry says in a low voice. ‘Are you okay?’

I close my eyes, willing the right words to come. ‘I’m just so happy for you and the journey you’re about to take,’ I manage to whisper. There are tears spilling into my hair. ‘The process of renewal strengthens the soul. I’m … looking forward to meeting you again.’

I’ve never been able to speak freely with Harry. And soon he’ll be gone, without even knowing my real name. But I hope, harder than I’ve ever hoped for anything, that right now he understands how much he’s meant to me. How I’ll never forget him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry open his mouth, like there’s so much he wants to say. Then he closes it again. ‘Me too, Esther,’ he says finally. ‘Me too.’

I’m not sure how long we lie there – maybe a couple of hours, maybe more – but finally Harry sits up. ‘You’d better go to bed,’ he says, regretfully.

‘Yes, probably.’ I sit up too, but neither of us stands. Out in the darkness, I hear a bird begin to sing. Dawn must be near.

‘Harry?’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

He turns and looks at me for the count of three, and I’m startled by how strong the expression is in his eyes. He seems frustrated and angry – things I’ve never seen in him before. Finally, he looks away. ‘It’s nothing,’ he mutters. ‘You deserve way more.’

When I go out onto the verandah the next morning, the galvanised iron is back in place on the roof, with no sign of the hole.

It crosses my mind that it didn’t really happen. But then Harry emerges, humming ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’, and I know it was real.

I feel stronger after the star-gazing night. More able to cope. And there’s plenty of work to distract me from my darker thoughts, too. Lucille has to make Harry’s renewal outfit but as she is still
remembering
how to do it, Esther is allowed to help. I end up doing a lot of it myself.

There is a drawing in my remembering book of how everyone’s renewal outfits should be, and Harry’s consists of dark trousers, a waistcoat and a white shirt. I draft the pattern from this and, sitting in the changing room together, Lucille and I cut material and begin to sew.

It’s strangely soothing to work on these clothes, despite what they represent. I linger over the details and take extra care that the seams won’t irritate or rub, that everything is perfect. Lucille clearly finds my involvement a challenge to her skills, and makes a big show of checking everything I sew, pouncing delightedly on any tiny mistake.

But her behaviour can’t touch me. My head is full of other things, like my increasing obsession with trying to decide what it was that Harry did to trigger this renewal. Was it because he encouraged Felicity to jump around in the rain the night of the storm? Was it because of the chicken he slaughtered after he finally found the new Lucille? Or was there something else that happened that I don’t know about? Maybe something happened that he never told me about. Exhausted, I try to block the thoughts, but they creep in anyway.

Finally, the news I’ve been dreading comes. ‘The second message arrived,’ says Harry one morning, showing me that hated creamy envelope.
‘
I’m leaving tonight.’

He says it in the same way he might say ‘I’m off to milk the goat’, but I can tell he doesn’t really feel that way, no matter how well he hides it.

Lucille raises her hands above her head. ‘Let our joy rise up and take flight!’

I fight the urge to throttle her. How can she be so naive? Harry catches my eye and winks at me.
Don’t worry,
the wink is saying.
Don’t be sad
.

But how can I not worry? How can I not be sad? I rise silently and go to the changing room to finish working on Harry’s shirt.

Harry spends the entire day down on the farm, not even returning with Felicity at lunchtime. ‘He’s got too much to do,’ she reports and I try not to feel hurt that he doesn’t want to spend every last moment he can with us. With
me.

He joins us for dinner, clearly exhausted but still managing to smile. I bring out some of the dried goat’s meat and place it in front of him.

‘Who’s hungry?’ he asks, lifting the plate and offering it around.

I shake my head. I couldn’t eat anything. Felicity also refuses.

Lucille accepts two slices. ‘
He
doesn’t like food to be wasted,’ she says piously.

I clear the table and wash up mechanically.
Don’t think, don’t feel …
It’s the only way I’ll get through this.

Then we gather in the parlour, standing in the four points of a square, heads bowed, eyes closed. Lucille, Felicity and I begin to recite.
‘We are sending Harry on his journey today. We wish him well …’

I try to disconnect myself from the words, pretending I’m back at high school – my old one, from before we moved – performing in the end-of-year play. I have no doubt that
he
will be watching us carefully right now, zooming in on our faces to check that we have the right expressions, that we look as if we’re happy and excited. Then Felicity and Lucille sing the renewal song, the only song that Lucille is allowed to sing: ‘
Oh, you Special One! Your journey starts today. Make haste with your return …’

I keep my head bowed throughout, throat tight. For once I’m glad I’m forbidden to sing.

Afterwards, Harry goes to the changing room, where Lucille has laid his renewal outfit out on the cot. There are no specific clothes for the rest of us on renewal day, but Felicity wants to put on the bluebird skirt that Lucille made for her. Unfortunately, it’s nowhere to be found and she has to select something else.

Lucille, Felicity and I wait outside the closed door. Lucille knits her fingers together. ‘I just hope they fit,’ she keeps saying, as if she alone made them.

Harry steps out of the changing room a few minutes later, straightening his collar. The clothes fit perfectly. I knew they would. ‘How do I look?’ Harry asks, sounding a little self-conscious.

All I want to do is stare at him. Fix him in my mind. He is so familiar and so
there
, somehow, that it’s impossible to believe that in a short time – just a few minutes – he will be gone. ‘You look just right,’ I manage to say.

And then it’s time. The final farewell. We must, as always, stay calm and controlled, no big displays of emotion are permitted, because we must all pretend that a Special One leaving for renewal is just a temporary thing. That they will soon return, the same – if not better – than before.

At the front door Felicity and Lucille hug Harry goodbye – Lucille in a stiff, formal kind of way and Felicity so tightly and for so long that Lucille finally reaches over and peels her off him. I step forward, my hand outstretched to take Harry’s. The cameras will surely pick up my nervousness, but I can’t help it. This will be the first – the only – time I can touch him.

There is another reason I’m on edge. I have something to give Harry. I prised it out of my mattress this morning and I’ve been carrying it around with me ever since, waiting for this moment. It’s the twenty-dollar note that I’ve managed to keep hidden ever since I first arrived here. It had seemed like such a lot when it was still in the mattress. But once I fished it out, it suddenly seemed like nothing. I’m still determined to give it to Harry, though. Maybe it will help with whatever he finds waiting on the other side of the gate.

Harry’s hand slips into mine and I press the folded bill into his palm with my thumb. I see surprise flash momentarily on his face. Then his thumb curls in just enough to secure the gift and he looks me steadily in the eyes.
Thanks.
Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. He squeezes my hand tightly in his.

His skin feels just as I thought it would – a little rough but also warm. I was worried I would cry at this moment, but I feel strangely calm. ‘I’ll miss you,’ I whisper.

His eyes are shiny. ‘I’ll miss you too.’

‘That’s long enough,’ says Lucille.

I’m hoping Harry will ignore her, but after one last squeeze he pulls his hand from mine. The money is carefully hidden from view and he slides it into his pocket. A moment later he removes his hand and presents me with something. ‘For you.’

It’s a small comb with very fine teeth, smooth and pale, carved from bone.

Lucille frowns. ‘We don’t give gifts for renewal,’ she says, but both Harry and I ignore her. My fingers curl around the comb. I can still feel the warmth of his hand on mine, encasing it in a glow.

‘I’ll see you again soon,’ Harry says. His voice has taken on an urgent tone. But that’s probably not so surprising, considering these are the last words he’ll ever say to me. ‘We’re connected.’

He suddenly grabs my hand again, his eyes looking directly into mine. ‘Esther. Remember that, won’t you?
We’re connected
.’

I nod, swallowing hard.

We all walk with Harry to the verandah. This is as far as I can go. Although it is late, the sunset lights up the garden like a stage set. I stand at the edge of the steps and watch as the rest of them walk as far as the garden gate, where Lucille stops. Harry looks back at the house for a moment and I watch him, glowing like an ember. Then he takes Felicity’s hand again and walks with her through the gate.