The One Safe Place (26 page)

Twenty-Three

HE WAS IN THE
room at the top of the Place again. He opened his eyes and knew it instantly. He didn’t need the rosemary soap this time to identify his location or remember who he was. The memory of the scent had wedged itself too tightly in his mind to be easily dislodged. All the same, he knew he couldn’t afford to take the drugs that Mrs. Babbage would bring.

When she entered with the glass of liquid, he waited until she had gone and then got up and poured it down the sink. He had to do this as fast as he could because the temptation to drink it was very strong. Being inside somebody else’s body felt worse than ever. Before, he’d been numbed a little by shock, but now the full horror of the situation washed over him. He longed to grab at his own flesh and tear it away as if it were some repulsive animal that had latched on to him and wouldn’t let go. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t bear to touch himself. He stood shaking, nausea rising in his throat, his breath ragged with panic.

The code, he thought. The code.

In a little while he felt calmer. He went to the door and reached up for the hairpin on the ledge, his fingers groping through a thin layer of dust. For a second he thought it was gone, but then his fingers brushed against it and he heard himself wheeze with relief.

Devin didn’t know where he should start looking for the code. He lurched slowly down the stairs, clinging to the rail with both hands. He’d seen offices on his last visit to the Place; perhaps he should begin there. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left and shuffled into the first empty room he came to.

On the desk was a large screen. The moment he saw it, Devin felt a fresh clutch of panic. If the code was anywhere, it was surely in here, but he had no idea how the things worked. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He didn’t even know how to turn it on. He stared at it. The screen was as thin as a piece of paper, and there were no buttons anywhere. He brushed his hand across the glass, and then tapped it a couple of times.

Nothing.

He walked around the desk to look at the back of the thing, feeling stupid and helpless. It was completely blank.

Perhaps he should go to the room with the brochures and the portrait of Gabriel Penn. Perhaps there was something there that might help. He crept down the corridor, not sure exactly where the room was. He’d ducked into it so quickly before . . . He looked into one room and then another, eventually finding it more from luck than anything else. It was the same as before except that the roses were red this time instead of yellow. Devin looked around, not knowing what to do next.

There was a low dresser with a number of drawers, and he was just about to go and have a look at it when he heard the sound of footsteps and then the Administrator’s voice, loud in the corridor outside.

“If you’d like to follow me, please!”

The footsteps grew louder.

“This is our meeting room . . .”

Devin stood paralyzed. He had to hide. But where? If he’d been himself, if he’d been a boy, he would have simply dropped to his knees and crawled behind one of the huge chairs. But Gabriel Penn’s old body simply couldn’t bend fast enough. He’d be caught before he got halfway to the floor. He looked around wildly, saw a tall screen with a pattern of dragons and flowers on it, and staggered behind it, ducking his head only a second before the door to the meeting room opened.

“Please make yourselves comfortable,” he heard the Administrator say. How different her voice sounded! It was almost soft. There was a sound of murmuring and shuffling and sighing and the plumping of cushions and gasps of relief as several people settled themselves into the chairs. The screen had three separate panels, joined together with hinges. Devin put his eye to the gap between two panels and peered through. The room was filled with six or seven Visitors, all seated. He could see the Administrator. She had a bundle of brochures and was handing them out, one by one. A staff member was busy serving drinks.

“I’ll have water,” he heard one woman say in a thin, querulous voice. “With bubbles. But it has to be the right kind of bubbles. Small bubbles. I must insist on the kind with the small bubbles.”

“Scotch and soda for me,” a man croaked. “Only hold the soda—heh-heh-heh.”

“Perhaps we should begin,” the Administrator said.

Through the gap in the screen, Devin watched her flat, black eyes as they ranged over the room.

“You have seen our facilities, the operations room, and the accommodation. And I’ve run through the process of what we offer here. If you have further questions, now is your opportunity to ask them.”

“I want to know how much the whole damn thing costs!” It was the man who’d ordered the scotch and soda. “It can’t be cheap.”

“It isn’t,” the Administrator said without hesitation. Then she named a sum so high that Devin wondered if he’d heard correctly.

The man gave a long whistle.

“Please consider what’s involved,” the Administrator continued smoothly. “And consider that this is a unique opportunity. We are the only place in the world to offer this service. The technology exists nowhere else but in this building. And after experiencing our Re-Play Treatment, one hundred percent of our clients agree that it was worth every penny of the cost. Their lives are, quite simply, transformed.”

“But isn’t it . . . I mean . . . isn’t it . . . against the law?” Devin couldn’t see who had spoken. The voice was low and rather timid. But he saw the Administrator smile.

“Technically, yes, it is,” she agreed. “But the money you pay includes a fee that frees you from any legal responsibility whatsoever. Besides, I’m sure you’ll agree that such trivial laws hardly apply to people such as yourself.”

The Visitors exchanged glances and small, knowing smiles.

“Let me also take this opportunity,” the Administrator continued, “to reassure you that the children at our Home are all in the best of health and couldn’t be happier to be part of the program. They’ve told me on many occasions that they actually look forward to being of help to you. They consider it a great privilege.”

Behind the screen, Devin clenched his fists tight. The room was filled with happy chatter.

The Administrator let them talk for a while and then clapped her hands. “If nobody has any more questions, I’d like to direct you to my office for further refreshments and the signing of contracts . . .”

With a seemingly endless amount of shuffling and sighing and heaving of limbs out of chairs, the whole group rose to their feet and exited the room. For a moment after they’d gone, Devin could hardly move from sheer rage. How easily the Visitors had accepted the Administrator’s lies!

It’s because they don’t care, he thought. They just don’t care about us.

But Devin couldn’t afford to waste time with anger. It was late in the day and he was no nearer to finding the code than he had been before. And with the Place milling with Visitors, the chances of being caught were higher than ever. With a sinking heart, he decided to return to his room.

Devin sat on the edge of his bed, too tired and anxious to shudder any longer at the sight of his bony knees and shriveled legs.

He hadn’t been able to find the code. He’d failed.

He sat without moving for a long while. It grew dark outside. There was a quiet click as the lights in the room came on automatically. Devin raised his head. He was directly opposite the window, and in the glass he saw his reflection again. The face of a stranger. The face of Gabriel Penn.

He stood up and slowly stepped forward, forcing himself to look and not turn away. Gabriel Penn had once been handsome, and there was still a shadow of something fine and strong in the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the set of his broad forehead. But time had all but destroyed whatever attractiveness he might have had—time and a thousand heartless choices that had put money before kindness and ambition before love. It was a hard, shut-off face without a trace of kindness or feeling. Devin remembered Penn’s first arrival at the Home, how he’d left the Administrator standing there without even bothering to get out of the car to greet her. Even his own daughter meant nothing to him.

But as Devin watched, something seemed to tremble behind Penn’s cold eyes. Was it just a trick of the reflected light? Devin walked forward until he was close enough to the glass to put two hands up against it. He stared, searching.

There it was again, behind the eyes: the faintest flicker of heartache, a yearning for something—or someone—that was long gone and never to return. It was as feeble as a flickering candle, but it brought a gleam of humanity to Penn’s face, like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Or maybe, Devin thought, he had it the wrong way around. Maybe it was a light at the start of the tunnel. All the way back to where Gabriel Penn had begun. And suddenly he knew who the boy was in the dream.

He had to find him again. He had to sleep.

He turned away and drew back the white sheets of the bed and lay down. He was frightened, but strangely calm. He closed his eyes.

There was no empty plain this time. Instead he dreamed of the farm, and it was more beautiful than it had ever been. It was morning and spring, the fields new green and the stream running fast and the air full of dandelion spores drifting on the breeze. Devin clattered down the steps of the porch and ran across the yard, looking for the little boy. He wasn’t in the barn or the orchard. Devin ran around the side of the farmhouse.

He found him sitting on the stone wall, his small legs dangling. No old man’s face this time, but the soft skin and wide blue eyes of a five-year-old child. He had a dandelion in his hand and was blowing on it, his little cheeks puffed out.

“You’re him,” Devin said. “When he was little. You’re Gabriel.”

The boy stared at him and then smiled. “It’s not Gabriel, it’s Gabe.”

“You’re in his head . . .”

“I’m part of him,” the boy said.

“So you know . . . you know things about him.” Devin said. “I need your help, Gabe.”

“Are you lonely like me?”

Devin shook his head. A wind was picking up. The trees on the top of the hill swayed, and the long grass bent and sighed. “Do you know where the code is?” he asked. “Do you know how I can find it?”

“Is this a game?”

“Yes,” Devin said. “A game . . .”

“Only I never get to play anymore. Not even ever. He grew up and left me behind.”

“Please tell me. It’s important.”

The boy laughed, his face lit up with merriment. “But it’s so easy! An easy game! It’s not a mirror, silly!”

“I don’t understand.”

“You just stand and wave!” the boy cried. “And then you use the ball!”

The wind was even stronger now. It whistled through the stones in the wall and whipped the hair around Devin’s face.

“What do you mean?”

But the boy bowed his head and twisted his hands in his lap.

“I miss him,” he whispered. “I miss him bad.”

“He misses you too, Gabe.”

And with the strange insight that sometimes comes in dreams, Devin knew he spoke the truth. Gabriel Penn had lost all touch with the child he used to be. But he longed for him. Perhaps his childhood was the only time in his life that he’d ever been happy. He’d invented a way to swap minds so that people could feel like kids again, but it hadn’t been enough for him. He must have known that it wouldn’t get him any closer to the boy he once was because he’d never tried it for himself until now. Perhaps old age had made him desperate.

“But no matter how many times he swaps with me, it’s not going to work,” Devin said. “He’ll never find you. He’s done too many . . . terrible things.”

“Then I’m lost,” the boy said. “Where can I go? Can I stay here?”

“This is my farm.” Devin said. “You don’t belong here. You’re a part of him.”

“But now I’m a part of you too, aren’t I?”

The idea should have been disturbing, but it wasn’t.

He’s innocent, Devin thought. Just an innocent little boy.

The wind had dropped and the meadow was starry with wildflowers. Blossoms drifted in the shady orchard. Down at the stream, the water ran clean and tawny, turning paddling feet to gold. There would come a day when a basket of apples would be dropped in the yard, and a grave dug amid the rosemary. But that was not today and today would last forever.

“Okay Gabe,” Devin said, very gently. “You can stay here.”