The Father's House (6 page)

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “It's FOBF, knocking into innocent people.”

Two of his friends loomed up alongside him.

“Holy Magnifico! She looks like something the cat sicked up!” laughed one of them. “What's the matter, FOBF?”

Lucy hardly heard them. John's face was swimming before her eyes. She moved on. One of the boys grabbed her arm and swung her round to face them.

“We're talking to you, FOBF. Don't you turn your back on us.”

Trying to clear her head, she looked at the three grinning faces.

“We'll be fathers someday, and you'll just be a kitchen aunt, so show us some respect.”

Slowly, Lucy took in what they were saying.

“Oh, I thought fathers were chosen because they were clever and handsome, not stupid and ugly,” she said contemptuously. “The Holy Leaders must have changed the rules!”

She didn't wait for a response. As she turned one of the boys pulled her back by the neck of her jumper. David leaped forward between the desks and pushed him away. “Leave her alone!” he growled.

Matthew grabbed him from behind. “Come away, you idiot!” he muttered in his ear. “Let's go and get our lunch.”

“Ooh! Sir Galahad!” jeered one of the boys, and all three laughed and whooped as Lucy walked towards the door with as much dignity as she could muster.

David couldn't see Lucy in the canteen. He left Matthew at the counter and took his plate over to where Dorothy was sitting on her own at a window table.

“I think we'll have to give up on our idea of making friends with her,” he said, after he had described Lucy's reaction to the news about John, and the incident in the classroom. “She hasn't got a clue what goes on, or what the good doctors do. An outside friend who doesn't know things won't be much use to us.” He looked past Dorothy and noticed that Matthew had settled himself down with two buddies, and was talking nineteen to the dozen. Probably telling them about how stupid Lucy was, thought David.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dorothy checked over her shoulder. “But I think we should make one big and final effort, very subtly, to educate her. There isn't anyone else. Otherwise we'll just have to leave together at the same time.”

“Well, I've been making a really big and final effort for the past two months. It's like talking to a rubber wall. Whatever I say to her some polite response bounces back at me and that's it.”

“We've got to keep positive.”

“I know.” David watched the runny stew dribble off his spoon into the bowl and gave it a stir. “Yuk!” he said, pulling a face. “I hope it tastes better than it looks.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“She'll get suspicious if I'm too friendly,” said David when he had finished, “and I don't want Matthew to think I fancy her! He'd blab it out to the whole school, and she'd never speak to me again.”

“We'll have to think of a strategy.”

David looked out of the window. The sky was a miserable grey. “Look how dark it is, and it's still only lunchtime!” he remarked forlornly. “Everything's so depressing.”

“Mmm,” Dorothy was thinking. Her face brightened. “The clocks go forward on Sunday, and it'll be light in the evenings. You boys'll be allowed to take your bikes on the common after school.”

“Good! I'm fed up with having nothing to do except homework.”

“Count yourself lucky,” remarked Dorothy. “I wish girls were allowed to ride bikes.”

“Ah, girls would be tempted to ride away! The Magnifico wouldn't want to risk that.”

Dorothy laughed. “You're so right! We'd be off like a shot.” She lowered her voice. “You'll be going up South Hill to get to the common, and that's the way Lucy goes home.”

The significance sank in. David nodded. “Ah! Right. I see.”

“You might get a chance to talk to her.”

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “as long as I can do it without looking suspicious.”

“And I might be able to too.” Dorothy's voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “Some of the girls will go up to sit on the grass and pretend to do their homework while they watch whoever they've got a crush on – poor fools.” She tossed her head scornfully. “A waste of time seeing they'll be forced to marry a father! Anyway, if I come up with them I might have a chance to talk to Lucy on her way home.”

They finished their lunch in silence and stood up to leave.

“Change of mind!” Dorothy announced suddenly. She dropped her voice. “I'm not going to wait till the clocks go forward. I know where she'll be now. She'll be behind the bike shed digesting the news about John. Being subtle takes too long. I'm going to be direct. I know it's risky, but I'll suss her out a bit before I say anything stupid.”

Lucy was huddled up with her chin on her knees. There was a huge pain in the pit of her stomach. Big tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to reason with herself. It was not as if she had been friends with John. And the Magnifico must have a purpose. Even so, she felt her heart would burst. How could He be so cruel?

She looked up nervously as Dorothy slipped round the corner of the shed. “Oh, it's only you,” she whispered with relief.

“Only me,” said Dorothy quietly, sliding down next to her and putting her arms round her.

Lucy wriggled away. She used to cry on Aunt Sarah's shoulder sometimes years ago before she started school, but now Aunt Sarah would have told her sharply to pull herself together this minute! Sitting up abruptly she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don't be daft.” Dorothy handed her a tissue. “David told me what Matthew said. We're upset too, but it's not such a shock for us because we already knew about the Magnifico's ways.”

“It's his purpose, isn't it?” sniffled Lucy. “Why use poor harmless John to carry out his purpose?”

She stopped, aghast at what she had said, and looked around, almost expecting to see the fire licking towards her and melting her flesh.

Dorothy hesitated. This could all go terribly wrong. “There isn't a purpose,” she said.

“Yes there is.” Lucy sniffed and wiped the crumpled tissue all over her face. “Aunt Sarah told me. She knows. It's called having faith.”

Dorothy was wondering if she dare say more when the bell rang, and they could hear the playground aunt clapping her hands for them to go in. “Having faith isn't the same as knowing,” she said as she jumped to her feet. “And listen,” she added hastily, “David and I want you to be our friend. We'll talk about it some other time.” She walked quickly away.

Lucy waited behind and then sidled out on her own, and made her way back to class. It was impossible to concentrate. Her mind switched back and forth from John to Dorothy. The astonishing offer of friendship had brought fleeting joy followed by puzzlement and suspicion. She'd never had a friend and would love to think she could be seen as potential friend material, but why? After all, they'd known her for the past ten years. Anyway, she couldn't even contemplate it. They'd both had the guidance cane and there was the risk of being tempted to their ways. It would be wrong to put herself in the way of temptation. Perhaps there could be a sort of friendship if she were to make it her task to persuade Dorothy that there was such a thing as the purpose. But was there? She wouldn't dare ask Aunt Sarah, so she'd have to ask Thomas.

Thomas wasn't there when Lucy got home. She was disappointed, but not surprised. He only came to do the father's garden when he could fit it in, and he couldn't always stay long because he had two proper jobs – one as a corporation gardener, and one as a nurse at the Mortimor Hospital at the end of the road. Even so, she sat down on a pile of sacks inside the garage door and waited, just in case he did come. Sometimes he called in after his shift at the hospital finished.

Lucy thought she loved Thomas. She wasn't sure what love was, but she certainly knew that she liked him very much. He wasn't good-looking or clever enough to be a father, but he worked hard and was useful to the Holy Envoy, so he must be a good man. Not only did he look after the local parks and do three days a week as a nurse, but on top of that he was paid by the Holy Envoy as an infiltrator into the local authority and into the health service. If anyone knew what was going on it was Thomas.

He was skinny and pimply with thin, sandy hair, but he had such a kind face. Leaning up against the garage wall he would roll himself a cigarette and chat, asking Lucy about herself and Aunt Sarah and the father, and how things went on at the house. He was the one person in the world who seemed interested in her, and what was more he always answered her questions if he could without making her feel guilty for asking. And he told her things. Once he had shown her the secret hand signal the infiltrators used if they needed to make themselves known to other infiltrators. He'd crossed his right thumb over his palm and dropped his hand to his side in a twisting movement. It had to be done very subtly and quickly so people wouldn't notice. According to Thomas some of the councillors used it when they came to meetings at the town hall.

Lucy had practised it over and over again, and he'd told her she might make a good infiltrator one day. They were always looking for people to train.

Sometimes he gave her a sweet, and she would hide behind a shrub to eat it, for the sweet things in life were forbidden. Lucy knew that when she was sixteen, less than two years from now, she would have to marry some unknown father she had never met before. She would rather marry someone like Thomas.

After waiting a good ten minutes she scrambled to her feet. He'd have turned up by now if he was going to come. When she entered the kitchen Aunt Sarah was sitting with Paul on her lap playing ‘round and round the garden' on the palm of his hand, and they were both laughing. Lucy couldn't remember when she last saw Aunt Sarah laugh. Paul reached up and fingered the gold circle that hung from a chain round Sarah's neck.

“Pretty,” he said. “It's got flowers in the middle.”

“Three daffodils. My mother put it round my neck when I was taken from her, just your age. The Holy Leaders were kind and let me keep it.”

Lucy hung up her coat and went to her room to change out of her school clothes. When she returned to the kitchen Paul was standing in the open doorway looking out into the back garden and chanting, “Holy Leaders, Holy Leaders,” over and over again to himself. Aunt Sarah was briskly setting out the tea table.

Lucy fetched some mugs.

“John's died,” she said.

Aunt Sarah's face softened. “Yes, I heard,” she said sadly. “Aunt Martha told me. Poor little fellow!” She looked at Lucy's stricken face and touched her hand. “It's the purpose. We must try not to grieve. He's probably sitting at the Magnifico's right hand at this moment, and is happier than he ever was in this sad world.”

Paul clambered up into his high chair with Lucy shoving him from behind, and Sarah put a fish paste sandwich on his plate. “Now come along and eat up both of you. We're running late as it is, and I've got the upstairs suppers to cook yet.”

“Where's my mother?” asked Paul with his mouth full.

“You were taken from her just after you were born.”

Sarah sighed. Already she could see the questions in Lucy's eyes. “Some fathers think it's cruel to let children remember their mothers, so they let the mothers name them and nurse them for a month, and then they're put with the foster aunts till they're two or three, same as you were, except you were lucky. You didn't have to go to a commune. It was the same for Lucy too.”

She took down a saucepan from the shelf above the sink and started laying out supper ingredients onto a wooden board. “Mind you, it's not cruel for everyone. I'm glad I can remember my mother. I'll know her when I see her.”

Lucy couldn't stop herself. “Where is she?”

“She's in Paradise,” said Aunt Sarah, “waiting for me.” Her face lit up with a flash of pure joy. “And when I get there she'll hold me close.”

It was April, and today was adult achievement day at the school. An atmosphere of suppressed excitement filled the hall. Lucy's class sat near the front and she had to crane her head up to look at the stage. In the centre, seated on a splendidly carved chair, was a Holy Leader, one of the Magnifico's worldwide body of priests. He stroked the wispy beard that straggled over his black robes, and his small hooded eyes darted back and forth over the rows of children, penetrating their souls and prising out their sins. To his right stood the headmaster, head thrown back, eyes closed behind little round glasses, and the palms of his hands held up to the ceiling. His pink chins quivered and shook and the little tuft of white hair on his head stood upright pointing towards Paradise. No-one would have guessed he was wondering what was for dinner.

When complete hush had fallen over the congregation the headmaster lowered his arms and spread out his plump hands. The twelve boys and girls who had reached their sixteenth birthdays by the beginning of March were lined up in the aisle that ran down the centre of the seating area. The girls were dressed in white and the boys in suits.