The Chrysalid Conspiracy (16 page)

Amelia glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. Mrs Orugo would be finished by now. She wondered if Bridie was back yet. Her mum took a while to recover after those physio sessions.

Amelia felt concerned and a little guilty. When she looked back she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Nigel was flat on his back!

Rayn was standing over him, feet apart, hands on hips, while he struggled to co-ordinate his arms and legs in an effort to stand up. The look on Rayn’s face helped to confirm Amelia’s suspicions about her new friend. Not only did she like to win, but she really hated to lose.

They helped him to his feet and he shook his head to clear the mist. “Where did that come from?” he asked.

“That’s a left hook,” said Rayn, proud of herself. “My mum showed me how to do that.”

“It’s a long time since I’ve been hit that hard. No disrespect Amelia.”

“That’s okay, Nigel,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. That’s a great punch, young lady, but you won’t land it again.”

“You think so?” said Rayn as she danced around, flicking out left hooks.

“I know you won’t,” said Nigel. “Any competent boxer can take you apart.”

“Come on then, give it a try.” She challenged with an impish grin.

For some time Nigel boxed like Amelia. His main objective was to stop her landing one. He needed very much to make his point – not for him, but for her. As they sparred, he knew she had no idea how good she was and as she got more frustrated she got wilder, just as Nigel knew she would. He pushed out a quick left and caught her on the side of the head. She wasn’t hurt, just angry.

Determined to finish this she closed in on him, and again and again he caught her with the same jab. Rayn was livid. She came at him again and he hit her with a right, straight in the middle of the face. She went down, blood pouring from her nose. Amelia screamed and rushed to her friend’s aid. Rayn was trying to sit up, choking on the blood gushing into her mouth and throat.

Needing to staunch the flow and without thinking, Amelia whipped off her PE vest and held it to Rayn’s face. The emergency outweighed Amelia’s strong aversion to exposing her body and she was unaware of Nigel leaning forward to remove Rayn’s head guard and gloves. Suddenly he turned his back on them. “Amelia!” he stammered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Amelia realised that she was naked from the waist up. “That’s all right, Nigel. Could you get me Rayn’s jumper please?” she said, concentrating on Rayn, who was breathing again.

Nigel managed to complete the task without once looking at her. When she was covered he continued. “Oh Amelia, I really didn’t…”

“It’s okay, Nigel. Forget it,” she cut him off.

“I only saw one,” he replied, in a sheepish voice. Amelia felt so sorry for him. He was like a little boy caught with his hand in the sweet jar.

“I’m sure you’ve seen plenty, Nigel,” she said, trying to ease his embarrassment.

“Yes, of course. But that was them, this is you. It’s not right.”

Feeling the need to change the subject yet again, she turned on him. “Nigel, you didn’t need to do this,” she said, pointing to Rayn. She was angry, something that was rare for her. Rayn was recovering and holding the blood-stained shirt to her nose.

“Yes I did!” he said. It wasn’t a defence, it was a reason. “We’re not playing games here. Rayn, you’ve got the strength, the speed and the talent, but you have no discipline. It doesn’t work on rage. If you want this then you do it my way. You do what I say, when I say it. This is my job. I’m very good at it and I take it seriously. So either turn up for the next session on Wednesday, or don’t. It’s your choice.” and he stormed out.

Rayn burst into tears. She buried her head in Amelia’s chest and sobbed uncontrollably. The blood seeped into both of them as Amelia held her tight sensing this wasn’t about blood or pain, or even losing a fight, this went much deeper and Amelia held on to her friend.

“Oh Amelia,” stuttered Rayn. “I don’t like today.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up; you’ve an interview to give tonight.”

“Me? No. It’s you Carrieanne wants to see, not me.”

“Ooh no you don’t my girl,” said Amelia. “As far as everyone else is concerned, you were the first one on the scene. So it must be your interview. Comprende?”

“Oh yes,” said Rayn through the blood-stained shirt. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“In fact, as first on the scene, nobody can refute what you saw.” Amelia added.

“Oh wow,” said Rayn. “I feel better already.”

“Go ahead. Knock yourself out. I’ll vouch for you.”

“Ouch,” groaned Rayn as she tried to smile. “Actually, all I want to do is go to bed and wake up yesterday.

“I suppose growing up is a bit like climbing a mountain.” Amelia replied.

“How do you mean?” asked Rayn.

“Never look down.” Amelia smiled.

Bridie walked into the garage unsure of what to expect. It was a large cavernous building, mainly corrugated iron but with a transparent roof. The lights were on so she knew he was still around somewhere.

Leaving her shopping on a bench by the door she wanderd around the workshop. She wanted to call out, but her throat was dry and her mind thick with emotion.

Bits of cars and trucks lay strewn about the edges of the floor. One wall was covered with hubcaps. “Why do they do that?” She asked herself with a smile. The smell of oil and petrol permeated everything.

The car he had been working on was in the centre of the floor. The bonnet was up with the radiator and bits of the engine on the floor in front of it. Wires and hoses looked as if they were trying to drag the bits back in. She was reminded of a gutted animal, or worse. She shuddered.

The workbench was as she would have expected; a stool, a clutter of tools, a kettle with tin mugs and a jar of coffee with the remains of his latest mechanical autopsy spread among them. She also noticed a pair of glasses, open and ready for use. An old armchair stood close by with a small canister of Nitromin heart spray wedged in the cushions. Small as it was it spoke volumes to a saddened Bridie.

As she gazed at a faded picture of ‘Miss July, 1973’, she heard a voice from behind her, quiet but firm. “Keep very still. This baguette I’m holding is loaded.” But it was already too late. She’d moved so fast the baguette was covering empty space. Bridie ended up to his left, the kettle pointing at his head.

“Move and I’ll boil your brains out,” she responded.

They laughed together. “Not bad, for a couple of old has-beens.”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” she replied.

They gave each other a hug. He was a good four inches shorter than she was and he looked up into her face like a long-lost son.

“It must be ten years,” he said. “You and Rayn look fantastic.”

“Seems longer,” she replied, as she broke away. “Now, stop this mushy stuff and get that kettle on. It’s freezing out there.” George did as she asked, then dragged a battle-scarred cat from the filthy, threadbare armchair and offered her a seat.

“No thanks,” she said. “That thing is so bad I think even the Titanic would have thrown it overboard before she sank.” They both laughed again. “So, Stephen, how have you been then?” she continued.

“Oh, you know me,” he replied, with a sigh. “I’m always better than yesterday, but not as good as tomorrow.” They chatted aimlessly about the weather, both unsure of the other’s reactions. The memories went deep.

He handed her a mug of strong, black, sugarless coffee and she took a grateful sip.

“Stephen, you still make the best coffee in Ireland. It’s a pity we’re in Hampshire.”

“I see you haven’t changed much. Still the warm, tolerant, friendly girl I used to know,” he laughed.

They looked at each other. The unspoken understanding was still there. Too much history had formed a timeless bond between them. He broke the silence. “You’d better call me George. We might slip up,” he said. “It’s a pity, I liked the name Katja.”

“So did I,” she replied. “But she’s gone George, forever!” They stared into each other’s eyes, remembering.

“It’s just as well,” he smiled, lightening the mood. “I’ve reached the age when my ambitions exceed my abilities.” They both laughed again; a laugh that concealed memories struggling for recognition.

She told him about the conversation she had heard from the girls. “I’ve been trying to listen in on the girl’s conversations. I hate myself for it, but I’ve no choice. It seems that poor old Theodore Melkins chose exactly the wrong moment to throw in the towel. Everything was working according to plan. The girls have met and become good friends. Just what we’ve all worked for. But his death has given them a kick-start to their progress. They’ve started questioning everything and putting things together. I’m afraid they’re smarter than we all thought they’d be at this stage.”

“I wonder if this is what this is all about?” he queried. “I knew Amelia was due to team up with somebody, but I had no idea it would be Rayn.”

“George…” Bridie knew it was time to ask the question that had both haunted and terrified her all these years. She steadied her voice. “Did you know that Rayn was involved when we were together?”

“Yes,” he replied. She felt the tears of frustration and sorrow pricking behind her eyes. “Remember the code,” he continued quickly. “No direct interference? I broke the rules. I got too close and stayed to long. I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you.”

Bridie was staggered. She knew him well enough to believe him.

“Oh, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her. “I knew you didn’t love me, it couldn’t last and I would have had to leave eventually. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I was just happy to be there.”

She fell into his arms, the tears streaming down her face. “Oh Stephen, I’m so sorry. I never suspected.”

“Hey, look at you. Ten feet tall and built like an Amazon beauty queen and me straight out of the Neanderthal stable. It would never have worked. We could never have gone out together, and imagine what our children would have looked like!”

“Is that why you never married?”

“Please don’t. Please don’t ask me about this again,” he pleaded. “But I’m glad it’s Rayn. Glad for both of you.”

Bridie wiped her eyes, trying to get her emotions in check. It wasn’t the answer she had expected, or even imagined. How was she going to face up to this?
Come on, focus on the problem, she thought.

“Amelia and Rayn have only known each other for a few days. How can they be this far ahead?” she asked him.

“A lot has happened in those few days. None of it expected. Perhaps we’re not as smart as we thought we were?”

“Or perhaps their abilities have been underestimated,” she suggested.

She had to leave then. George promised to get more advice and they shook hands, setting the future of their relationship.

***

Bridie was late back to the shop. She felt greatly relieved. Her meeting with George had lacked the animosity she had expected and she found herself thinking he was still the best friend she had ever had.

He’d answered the question about his knowledge of Rayn, and she’d managed to pass on the information gained by her ‘eavesdroppings’. Bridie smiled at her accidental humour. She felt better now than she had for a very long time.

Back at the flower shop she checked on Lucy. She’d drifted off to sleep and looked relaxed, so Bridie left her where she was.

Sorting the shopping on to the kitchen table she discovered she’d bought far too much food for a variety of meals.

“Talk about indecision,” she said to herself.

Her attention was diverted for a moment as a large tin of pineapple rings made its bid for freedom. It rolled off the table, hit the floor and rolled into the hall, at speed. Stooping to retrieve it, her mind full of the revenge she would exact on her daughter for this aggravation, she saw spots of blood on the flagstone floor. They led to the bathroom and she could hear the shower going. Her stomach turned cartwheels and she banged on the door in panic, any thoughts of revenge replaced by trepidation.

“Rayn! Amelia!” she called out. “Are you all right?” Amelia’s muffled voice answered her.

“Come in Bridie. We’re okay, really.” Came Amelia’s muffled reply.

Bridie opened the door and immediately felt very uncomfortable. Both girls were in the walk-in shower. Amelia still had her clothes on and was holding a naked Rayn in her arms.

“Oh, sorry, I…” her voice trailed away. She wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Don’t worry,” said Amelia. “Come on in.”

Bridie found her voice. “I’m sorry. I thought for a moment…”

“Oh, give us a break, Mum. You don’t have to worry about us,” said Rayn, who was holding a flannel over her mouth.

Bridie noticed the blood-stained clothing on the floor. “What happened?” she cried, staring at her daughter’s bloody nose and red eyes.

“She got a nose bleed,” Amelia told her. “It’s nothing major.”

“Says who?” retorted Rayn.

“It was an accident,” Amelia explained, thinking correctly that Rayn needed to preserve her dignity. “I caught her with my foot when we were exercising.”

“Mum, why are you carrying a tin of pineapples?” asked Rayn.

“Oh, gammon steaks for dinner. Are you really all right? You look awful.”

“Yes, Mum. I’m fine. But I hope you bought plenty, I’m starving.

“Well, as it happens..”

“Me too Bridie.” Chipped in Amelia, wondering why her normally balanced body should be treating her like a wheelie bin.

Bridie thought of the amount of shopping she had bought but consoled herself with the fact that the trip had been far from a waste of time in more ways than one.

By the time the girls had dried and dressed Bridie had washed the blood off the hall floor, sorted out their bloody clothes, applied some antiseptic to her daughter’s face, topped her up with pain killers, and got Lucy up and dressed.

While they were all in the kitchen preparing dinner Amelia related the incident where Nigel had seen her boobs, and his reaction.

It caused such a laugh that Lucy had to rush to the toilet. Amelia didn’t mention Nigel’s sudden change from boy to man. “I suppose I’ll have to start wearing a bra soon,” she said, looking down at herself.