But when Evie opened the front door and went straight to the kitchen, just as she always did, she saw that they were not alone that evening; there, sitting next to her father, a large glass of wine clasped in his hand, was their Brother, the Great Leader’s appointed one, their mentor and guide. The Great Leader himself was old now, rarely seen; he himself had chosen the Brother to lead his people, to see that evil was never allowed within the City walls.
‘Evie!’ He smiled at her, his watery eyes not quite meeting hers, his flaccid cheeks rosy from the warmth of the kitchen and the alcohol in his blood. ‘And how are we today?’
Evie returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They were not due a visit from the Brother. He had come for a reason. Because he knew something. She felt the familiar feeling of dread creep up on her. ‘I’m well, Brother,’ she said nervously.
‘Then sit down. Eat. Your mother has prepared a pie. Such a wonderful cook, your mother. You should be very proud.’
‘I am proud,’ Evie replied quickly. ‘And grateful.’
‘Of course you are, of course you are,’ the Brother said, nodding. Then he looked at her, right at her, the way he used to when she was small, when he was teaching her about the Horrors that had torn the world apart and a past that was full of people who thought only of themselves. People who created religions only to use them to fight other religions, who allowed evil to roam amongst them because they wouldn’t listen to the Great Leader, because he wasn’t the Great Leader back then, just a doctor with an idea.
‘I hear you had a bad dream again.’
Evie’s eyes widened. ‘I had the dream, yes,’ she said fearfully, looking from the Brother to her mother to her father, her voice wavering. ‘But I didn’t mean to. I tried not to. I read the Great Leader’s Sentiments. I—’
‘You dreamt of a man you think is looking after you? A man you think is protecting you?’ the Brother cut in.
She nodded anxiously. ‘But I know that he represents evil. I will fight him, Brother. I will fight . . .’
The Brother sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. His pink cheeks were now glistening with a thin layer of sweat, beads of which had collected on his nose. ‘Yes, well, that’s interesting,’ he said thoughtfully, his eyes not leaving Evie’s. Then he leant forward. ‘You know that the brain is a dangerous thing. You know that it will lead you into darkness if you let it? That like riding a horse, we must keep a tight reign and stay utterly focused if we are to get to the destination of our choosing?’
Evie nodded again. She knew all this. She knew it. The last time she had seen the Brother he had shouted at her, told her that her dreams were brought to her by the evil inside her, that if she didn’t rid herself of the lies in her head then she would be punished by the System. She had cried, desperately, had begged him, had told him that she would dream no longer, that she would be strong and she would not let him down. She clasped her hands together; they had become slippery under a veil of sweat. Was this the judgement day she had feared for so long? Was everything over?
‘And the subconscious brain is the most dangerous of all,’ the Brother continued. ‘That is where darkness resides, where desire and greed and envy roam freely, unfettered by our conscious minds. We are pure of mind, but the New Baptism cannot protect us for ever. Our brains are predisposed to have a weakness for evil; after the New Baptism it is up to us to remain good.’
‘Yes, Brother. I know that,’ Evie said, full of shame, wishing she were someone else, someone good, someone who wasn’t tormented by terrible thoughts and dreams.
‘Yes,’ the Brother replied. ‘Yes, you do know. But I have consulted the Great Leader. I have thought deeply about you, Evie. And I have come to a conclusion.’
Evie closed her eyes. The Great Leader? A conclusion? It could only mean one thing. He was taking her away.
She took a deep breath. She was ready. She had been ready all her life. It was better this way, better that the truth was finally exposed, that everyone could hate her just as she hated herself. Evil had found its way into her brain. That’s why she did bad things. That’s why she had bad thoughts. She opened her eyes again. ‘Yes, Brother?’
The smile was returning to the Brother’s face. ‘Finally I think I understand. And I realise that there is no need to worry. The man in your dreams is the City,’ he said.
Evie stared at him uncertainly. She didn’t understand.
‘The City.’ Evie’s mother nodded firmly. ‘You see, Evie? There’s nothing to worry about after all. Is there, Brother?’
The Brother flashed her a little smile. ‘No, Delphine. You can stop worrying.’ He turned back to Evie and his smile broadened. ‘The man in your dream is not the Devil. That is why you haven’t been able to push him away. The man in your dreams represents the City, carrying you towards goodness, saving you from evil. This great City, which looks after us all, which has our best interests at heart – that is what the man represents. That is the comfort you feel. That is why you return to the dream again and again. You are not evil, Evie. You are not evil after all.’
‘But . . .’ Evie’s mind was racing. Nothing made sense. She stared at her father, who smiled at her.
‘The City,’ he said, sharing a glance with the Brother before smiling at her again. ‘Doesn’t that make you feel better? There’s nothing to worry about, Evie. Not any more.’
Evie managed to nod. It didn’t feel right, not at all. But she recognised that this was a way out, a door opening – an opportunity to stop the questions and end her parents’ suspicious glances.
‘Thank you, Brother,’ she said, trying to look grateful, to look good.
‘You’re welcome,’ replied the Brother. ‘I’m glad we don’t have a candidate here for a second New Baptism. Aren’t you, Evie?’
Evie nodded. A second New Baptism. The ultimate recourse for a lost soul. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, Brother. Thank you. May the City watch over me and the System reward and reprimand me.’
‘Indeed,’ said the Brother gravely. Then his eyes left Evie, his expression changing as he turned back to her mother and father, his eyebrows rising, his eyes glinting slightly. ‘Although I think the System is more interested in reprimanding Mr Bridges from Road 14. You’ve heard the news, have you?’
Evie’s father frowned. ‘What news? Mr Bridges is in trouble? He always seemed a nice man. Learned.’
‘Learned indeed. A researcher,’ the Brother said, his eyebrows still raised. ‘Research that he was using to disguise his true agenda of deviancy, I’m afraid. He has been labelled a D by the System. I would urge you to stay away from him lest his dangerous thoughts infect this community.’
Evie’s mother gasped, but Evie suspected from the look in her eye that she already knew. The letter would only have arrived with Mr Bridges today; the notice would be outside Mr Bridges’ house tomorrow. But word spread on report changes ahead of the signs, which were replaced on an almost daily basis. And whilst Evie’s father steered clear of gossip, her mother considered it part of her responsibilities as a City citizen. ‘That despicable man.’ She shuddered. ‘Only the other day he was in the cloth district buying clothes. We will not sell to such a man, Brother, you can be sure of that.’
The Brother nodded sagely. ‘I think that’s a good idea, Delphine. Whilst the Sentiments tell us to leave punishment and retribution to the System, when we clearly have evil in our midst it is our duty to hound it out, to show others who are tempted by evil that we will not tolerate it within these walls. Do you not agree?’
‘Wholeheartedly,’ Evie’s father said firmly, banging his hand down on the table. ‘We must be on our guard. All the time. Every minute of every day.’
‘You are so right,’ replied the Brother. Then he pushed his chair back and patted his belly. ‘So, Delphine. Pie, wasn’t it? I think we are all ready now. I think it is time to eat. Happy now, Evie?’
‘Very,’ Evie lied, and they all started to eat.
The Brother left at 10 p.m. after patting his stomach and refusing thirds of the pudding Evie’s mother had made. Her parents saw him to the door; he embraced them both, smiles on all their faces. Then Evie’s father disappeared into his study and her mother returned to the kitchen, the smile gone, a scowl replacing it.
‘That is the last time,’ she said, ‘the last time that the Brother calls at this house because of you. Do you understand, young lady? You are not a child any more. You will be married soon. And until then, until you leave this house, you will do nothing more to worry the Brother. He has enough to worry about. He is a very important man, Evie. Do you understand?’
She was staring at Evie; Evie reddened and nodded. She wanted to point out that she had not asked the Brother to come, that it was her mother who had made the request – or so she suspected – but she remained silent. She had learnt long ago not to argue with her mother.
Her mother sat down at the table and sighed. ‘Well? Are you going to clear away the dishes? You don’t think it enough that I cooked the food?’
Evie jumped up and started to clear the table. ‘Of course not,’ she said quickly. ‘I just know that you don’t like things cleared away until—’
‘Until the meal has ended. Until the guests have left. Yes,’ her mother barked. ‘But I think it’s clear that the evening has come to an end.’
Evie stacked the plates, ran the water and took out the scrubbing brush and started to scrub. She wasn’t sure when she’d become such a disappointment to her mother; what it was exactly that she’d done to incur her wrath. All she knew was that she was a burden that her mother had to carry, and she did not bring her mother happiness.
‘Did you see Lucas today?’
Evie turned. ‘Yes Mother.’
‘When you marry him,’ said her mother, ‘then you will be his responsibility. Make sure you do nothing to vex him, Evie.’
‘I won’t,’ Evie said hotly. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t.’
‘And yet you vex me without a second thought?’
Evie put down the scrubbing brush. ‘I don’t mean to vex you,’ she said cautiously.
Her mother half laughed. ‘You don’t mean to? Don’t tell lies, Evie. You do mean to vex me. Otherwise why would you behave as you do? Why would you cry out in your sleep? Why would you insist on working for the government instead of following me into the seamstress quarter where I can keep watch over you? Why would you have a look in your eye that is so furtive, so secretive, as though you are inviting evil into your life instead of pushing it out?’
Evie stared at her uncertainly and took a deep breath. She had to stay calm. She had to resist the urge to get angry, to argue, to prove her mother right about inviting evil in. No one argued in the City. Certainly no one argued with their parents. But Evie sometimes wondered if that was because no one else had Delphine as their mother. ‘The Brother explained about my dreams,’ she said, when she was sure she could control her voice. ‘And I thought you were happy that I worked for the government. I thought—’
‘You thought? No, Evie. You just did what you wanted to do without thinking. How do you think the other seamstresses view me when my own daughter won’t work beside me? How do you think that looks?’
Evie regarded her mother carefully. ‘You’ve never said that to me before,’ she replied. ‘You said that you were pleased I had a job. A job that is respected and—’
‘I said I was pleased because your father was pleased,’ her mother cut in. ‘Because he likes to see the best in you, Evie, and I don’t want him to be disappointed. But I know the truth. I know that you’re hiding something. I’ve always known. So don’t think you can fool your mother. Don’t think I’m not watching you.’ She gave her daughter a sharp look, then pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘The sooner you marry Lucas the better,’ she said, as she walked out of the room. ‘Then I can stop worrying that you’re going to bring shame on us, Evie. Let us hope that he is as easily fooled as your father, shall we? Let us hope that he doesn’t see through you before it’s too late.’
Evie watched her as she walked through the door then slowly turned back to the dishes, anger welling up in her like an avalanche. Anger and sadness and frustration and all the other things that she wasn’t meant to feel, because in the City everyone was safe and good and there was no place for such emotions. It was anger and sadness and frustration that led people to do evil things – that had led to the Horrors – and that had to be kept out of everyone’s heart at all costs.
But Evie couldn’t keep them out. She didn’t want to. She was angry with her mother, with herself, with everyone and everything that had conspired to make her feel so helpless and hopeless. But her anger had nowhere to go. Not right now. And tonight of all nights she wanted to be left alone. Tonight she needed her parents sleeping deeply in their beds. So she let the anger and the sadness and the frustration simmer deep inside her where they couldn’t be detected, then she finished the dishes and went to bed.
She checked her watch. Midnight. Her parents had been asleep for nearly an hour now. Carefully, silently, Evie slipped out of her bedroom, down the corridor and out of the back door. It was warm; she had only her night clothes on, some shoes and a light cardigan. As she walked, her heart thudded in her chest; if she was seen, her life as she knew it would be over. But her desire was too strong; her need too compelling. She carefully lifted the hinge on the back gate, then ran down the passageway until she reached a little clearing. Then, cautiously, excitedly, she made her way to the huge, hollow tree that she’d known since she was little, which stood in the middle of the green. She eased her way inside, which was less easy now that she had grown to almost five foot five, and her eyes lit up when she saw a little candle flickering, a tall figure crouched over it.
‘I thought you’d never get here,’ Raffy whispered, his eyes full of longing, just as they always were at their furtive night-time meetings. He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her.
‘I’m here now,’ Evie whispered back as their lips met and her arms encircled his neck and she felt, as she always did, as though she finally belonged somewhere. A little breeze brushed her forehead as she kissed Raffy, blowing her hair back and making her feel slightly wild, like the gypsies in her mother’s stories, girls and boys who lived wild and free, travelling the land in houses on wheels, never staying anywhere for too long.