‘I’m remembering more and more,’ Jasper said. ‘I remember the night of the concert after we were bound. I walked out on you.’ He stroked a finger across the top of her hand. ‘But you still came after me.’
Ana’s chest clenched. Did Jasper think deep down, beneath all the lies and confusion and betrayals, that she was in love with him? She wanted to get up, but something froze her to the spot. He had a right to know it was over.
‘Ana,’ he said softly. He stretched forward on the bed, stroked back the hair curtaining her face, touched his lips to hers. When she didn’t respond, he pulled away.
‘Sorry.’ Her voice was rough with self-reproach. ‘This isn’t real, Jasper. You and me. When I was outside in the City . . . I met someone. I’m sorry.’ She stood up, and never returned to his room again.
Ana sipped her soup. Cole’s probing gaze made her flush.
‘Jasper kissed me,’ she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it. ‘Just once. I didn’t kiss him back.’
A dark shadow scudded over Cole’s eyes, disappearing so quickly, Ana wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘He’d have been crazy not to have at least tried.’
‘Did Rachel try?’ The question shot out before she’d had time to bite it back.
‘Nah,’ Cole said. ‘Rachel’s more likely to try strangling me than kissing me.’
‘She came last night.’
Cole pressed his lips together. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘you wanna know about Rachel. Go ahead, ask any question you like. It’s only fair. You answered my questions about Jasper.’
Ana swallowed. Her face grew hot. ‘Until I showed up at the Project yesterday, why did she think you two were going to get back together?’
Cole picked up a pocketknife and began opening out the tools. ‘Rachel’s just like that.’
‘She was working the nightshift on the wall with you, wasn’t she?’
‘You think something was going on between us,’ he asked softly, ‘even after I’d met you?’
Ana blushed harder. ‘Maybe, deep down, you thought I wouldn’t come.’
Cole put away the pocketknife. ‘You’re right. It’s my fault.’
She lifted the backs of her hands to her burning cheeks in an attempt to cool them.
‘Before I met you, Rachel and I were off and on all the time. We’d split up for a few months and always end up back together. No doubt she thought it would happen this time too. But that was
before
I met you. After I left you with your dad, there was no way I could have gone back to Rach. Not even for a night. Even if you’d never come to the Project and I’d never seen you again. It wouldn’t have been fair on her. I’ve never felt about her the way I feel about you. I couldn’t ask her to accept that. And I couldn’t accept that anymore for myself.’
A knot far inside Ana unlooped. Her heart felt soft and transparent and open. She put down her bowl and leaned in, pressing her lips into the curve of his neck.
‘Let’s not talk about Jasper and Rachel, anymore,’ she said, feeling shaky and light-headed. She’d never made a move on a guy before. Obviously. But this was Cole. She’d left everything behind for him; she’d made herself vulnerable the moment she’d climbed the fence into the Project. In an effort to overcome her nervousness, she focused on her senses: the smell of his soap and a faint odour of last night’s sweat; the feel of his stubble against her chin, rough and solid. His lips turned to hers, meeting them softly, kissing her like he was savouring it. His tongue tentatively pushed through her lips, into her mouth. Anxiety mingled with desire, and Ana felt an electric rush, a feeling of being totally alive and in the moment; letting go and holding on for dear life, all at the same time.
His kisses became deeper, harder. His hand raked through her hair. She opened her mouth wider. He groaned and pulled away.
‘I er . . . er . . .’ He stood up abruptly, taking a step back like he’d just realised he was standing too close to a live electric current. ‘We could do with boiling up some water for later,’ he said, picking up the small pan and limping towards the door.
‘What about your soup?’ she asked, confused.
He turned. ‘The soup’s a bit too hot,’ he said. ‘It could do with cooling down.’ The side of his mouth turned up in a small smile. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Ana hugged her legs to her chest and squeezed. The desire, excitement and nerves created a strange storm in her body. She grinned to herself. He probably thought because of her Pure upbringing and the fact that she was married to Jasper, she’d feel torn and guilty about them becoming intimate. He was trying to give her time; not rush things. But she wanted them to wrap themselves together and shut out the rest of the world. She was scared, but she wanted to be as close to Cole as it was possible for two people to be.
‘It’s on,’ Ana said, shivering with the drop in temperature and nervous anticipation. She and Cole were sitting in low reeds near the water’s edge, the observatory tower behind them. Ahead, the sun was a bright, hazy disc descending towards the horizon.
‘Seton didn’t waste any time.’
They had Cole’s interface propped up on the ground between them. The light from its projector was focused on a small piece of white plastic, dug into the earth to make a miniature screen. Cole had set the sound to speaker mode so they could both hear the news.
‘An alleged twenty year old recording,’ a reporter said, ‘of a secret Advisory Commission meeting has spread through thousands of blogs and websites within the last two hours.’ The reporter was sitting in a comfortable studio, wearing a serious but detached expression.
Professional
. ‘Since then, large crowds of protesters have been gathering outside each of the eleven London Communities and the atmosphere is tense. The government and the Board have asked the BBC not to rebroadcast the transmission in the interests of public safety. But I believe you’ve heard the recording, Tony,’ the reporter said. The image cut to a man holding a microphone. ‘Can you explain why people are so upset?’
The man stood at the side of a large, rowdy crowd, near a Community checkpoint. It was early evening. The report was live.
‘Over twenty years ago,’ the on-location reporter said, vying to be heard over the chanting crowd, ‘the Mental Health Advisory Commission, a government-funded agency, was established to address the country’s growing mental health issues, which escalated after the 2018 Global Collapse. The Commission was headed up by Evelyn Knight, now Chairman of the Board, but who, at the time, was unknown to the public.’
Ana had met the Chairman once, at her first ever Taurell Christmas party. The impression that lingered was one of a towering, spidery woman. A woman that her eleven-year-old self had been scared of.
‘The meeting,’ the reporter continued, ‘takes place between Evelyn Knight, the Honourable Peter Reed, who at that time was the Secretary of State for Health, and pharmaceutical tycoon, David Taurell.’
Shocked, Ana’s eyes shot to Cole. He met her gaze, frowning. It had never occurred to her that Jasper’s father could be part of the minister’s recording.
‘On the alleged recording,’ the on-location reporter said, ‘it is apparent that David Taurell was not only a huge investor in the government’s genetic research program, but that Novastra Pharmaceutics had already developed an early form of Benzidox—’ Off screen, some sort of tussle broke out. People shouted. A man fell sideways, knocking into the reporter. ‘And that Novastra,’ the reporter continued, raising his voice and trying to sidestep the scrap, ‘intended to use the government test to open up the Benzidox market.’
In the background, two Wardens barged towards the camera. There was shouting. A moment later, the camera was knocked. The image went black, then cut back to the BBC studios, where the anchorwoman wore an expression of detached concern. Though for a split second, just before the studio camera zoomed in on her, Ana had seen her eyes wide with alarm.
‘Let’s see if we can listen to this first-hand,’ Cole said. He picked up his interface and looped the chain over his neck.
‘Do you want me to search?’ she asked.
‘I can still do it with one hand.’ He switched into search mode and using hand gestures which were being picked up by the camera, began quickly picking through a trail of suspended blogs.
Ana bit her nails as she waited.
‘Got one,’ Cole said. His bright eyes reflected her sense of anticipation. He reset his interface down on the ground. The projection showed white lines on a black backdrop – voice modulations of a sound bite.
‘We’ve just finished,’ a male voice said, ‘the first phase of a clinical trial for a brand new medication called Benzidox.’ At the bottom of the screen a title appeared, but Ana didn’t need to read the name sited to recognise the voice. Despite the two decades between now and then, despite the poor quality of the recording, she knew it was Jasper’s father, David Taurell. ‘The reports you each have in front of you,’ David continued, ‘cover chemical composition, theoretical workability, the parameters of our testing and the initial results. The medication that we have developed successfully treats depression and anxiety without side effects. It may also be taken by any person not on other medication, without altering their health or normal brain functioning.’
‘It is still early days,’ a woman chimed in, ‘but we are looking at the first preventative medication in the field of mental health.’ As the woman spoke, a new title appeared at the bottom of the screen:
Chairman of the Board, Evelyn Knight.
‘A normal functioning person,’ Evelyn continued, ‘who may be susceptible to developing one of these illnesses, will benefit from the long-term use of Benzidox.’
‘I thought we were here to discuss the funding and viability of the Pure genome research program.’
Cole straightened up. ‘That’s Peter,’ he said. A title confirmed this
. The Honourable Peter Reed, ex-minister of State for Health. Murdered six weeks ago.
‘Indeed,’ Evelyn Knight said. ‘The goal of the Pure program is to establish a preventative health care model that will save the government billions in the long term. As we are all aware, a genetic test will encourage greater awareness of mental issues, symptoms and the willingness to seek early medical care.’
‘We all know the financial advantages of preventative health care,’ Peter Reed said, irritably.
‘Mixed anxiety and depression is Britain’s most common mental disorder,’ Evelyn Knight continued. ‘If the second and third phase of Benzidox testing is successful we will have the means to provide precautionary medication for it. A medication without side effects.’
‘Are you saying the Pure genome test is redundant?’ Peter asked.
‘No. The Pure genome test is essential. Without a definitive test, the majority of people will not opt for preventative medication.’
‘So Novastra is willing to continue funding the research?’
‘We will renew our investment,’ David Taurell said, ‘under certain terms and conditions. We would like to choose a new head of team to run them. We wish to report any findings directly to Ms Knight and the Advisory Commission. Additionally, we wish to have a contract nominating Novastra Pharmaceutics as the only approved mental health supplier providing preventative medication to the NHS for the next thirty-five years. And finally, we would expect the Pure genome test to be run by an independent administration body headed by Ms Knight.’
‘The Department of Health will need time to study these proposals,’ Peter said. There was a scraping noise, like he’d moved to stand. A faint sound of footsteps. When Peter spoke again the acoustics had altered, as though he now stood near a door leading outside. ‘Our financial analysis of Novastra,’ he said, ‘indicates that if your gamble to create a workable test doesn’t pay off, Novastra is likely to go bankrupt.’
‘Failure is not an option,’ Evelyn Knight responded. ‘Our country’s welfare and prosperity depends on it.’
The white voice modulation lines vanished.
*
Ana gazed numbly at the plastic screen. ‘But they didn’t confess anything. They didn’t say the tests were fake.’
‘Not in so many words, but it was all there, if you read between the lines.’ Cole switched off his interface and hung the chain around his neck.
‘That’s the problem though, isn’t it? People aren’t reading between the lines. People are afraid to read between the lines.’ Frustration spread over Ana’s sense of emptiness.
‘Not everyone, or there wouldn’t be hundreds of protesters gathered outside the Communities already.’
‘But this won’t change anything. It isn’t enough.’
Cole removed his arm from her back and began tracing circles on her knee with his finger. ‘The government purposefully misled the public,’ he said. ‘Novastra weren’t supposed to have been directly involved in the development of the Pure test.’
‘But they had total control over the research.’
‘Yeah. Talk about vested interests. Either they succeeded or they went bankrupt. Not the impartial outside investor the public was led to believe they were. And because they beat the odds and succeeded where no one else could, they gained a monopoly in the field of preventative mental healthcare.’ Cole picked out the scrap of plastic by his feet that they’d used as a screen. He rubbed off the dirt. ‘It might not be conclusive,’ he said, ‘but this should force the government to investigate the real science behind the Pure test.’
They sat silently for a minute. Light fled the earth, leaving faint wisps of turquoise in the sky. Disappointment sank deeply into Ana. The public release of this recording had put many lives in danger – and for what? It wasn’t a clear cut confession. It wasn’t indisputable proof against the Pure test. Most people naturally assumed governmental organisations worked to protect and help the public. Even if people accepted the recording was genuine, they wouldn’t believe David Taurell and Evelyn Knight were capable of falsifying the Pure genome research so that they could push millions of people onto Benzidox.
Eventually, they both got up and went back into the tower. Cole rolled out the bed mat and zipped together their sleeping bags so they would have more room, but still be able to curl up together. Ana gazed through one of the high slit windows. Across the marsh lights flickered in some of the City tower blocks. The evening dwindled to grey. She scanned the wetland for signs of people, then checked the alarm system.