Dalip knelt by the river a little way off. He was washing, a great loop of jet black hair falling from his head into his hands, shining with water and sunlight. Face bowed to the stream, he was oblivious to her stares, so she carried on watching.
He massaged the water through his hair, twisting and squeezing it out then rewetting it several times. Then he twisted it for the last time, wrapping it tightly like a rope and coiling it around his head. A black bandanna held it close to his head, which he tied into place with deft, practised moves.
It was then that he looked up, and she looked away, too slowly. She could feel her cheeks burn for no reason whatsoever. It wasn’t like he’d been hiding, and it wasn’t like she’d been witnessing something private. A kid washing his hair and tying it up, that was all. She should probably do the same, except she wasn’t going to without hot water, separate bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a towel and a hairdryer.
She daren’t turn back, so she dried her mouth on her sleeve and walked back to the camp. Stanislav was using a long branch to open up the fire and pile on the last of the wood, while the others milled about and grumbled at their stiffness and hunger.
‘Morning, Mama.’
Mama looked dishevelled, like she was laundry and she hadn’t been ironed.
‘I’m going back,’ she said, and pointed with a fat finger. ‘Back to the beach. Back to the door. I’m not spending another minute here longer than I have to.’
‘The door’s gone, Mama. Didn’t you see? It closed behind us.’
‘There’s no door that ever existed that can just vanish. We opened it to get here. We can open it to get back.’
‘But the tunnels, the fire—’
‘Fire’s don’t burn forever, girl. They get put out. I’m going back, back to my babies. They need me.’
‘Mama…’
Mary got the look.
‘There’s no way I’m walking for two days in the wrong direction, no roads, no tracks, no transport, just to talk to some crazy witch with a crazy name. The way out is back the way we came in, am I right, ladies?’
The three other women were close enough to overhear, not that Mama was trying to be quiet.
‘We should go and see,’ said Luiza. ‘We need to be there in case the door only opens at low tide, or at the same time every day.’
‘Perhaps it will not open again for a hundred years,’ said Stanislav as he passed by. Mama drew herself up, ready for an argument, but the man didn’t wait and went off towards the river.
‘What if he’s right?’ asked Mary, watching him go. ‘The rules are different here.’
‘We don’t belong! There’s nothing here for us, girl, and the sooner we get away, the better.’ Mama’s hands were on her hips. She wasn’t going to back down.
But Mary was struck by a thought: what if Mama was wrong, and the wolfman right? What did that mean for her? There was nothing waiting for her in London, save her probation officer. Here, she could be whatever she wanted to be. For a moment, she felt giddy with unfettered possibilities.
‘Mary?’
She was aware she’d taken a step back, away from the others.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘What if the door won’t open? What do we do then? We can’t just stay here, can we?’
She knew that Mama was used to getting her own way, but it was different this time. Bending Nicholls to her will had been easy. Trying to force a, a what? A whole world to do her bidding? Could she do that?
‘I’m not spending a second here that I don’t have to,’ said Mama, ‘and you’re coming with me, girl, to keep you out of trouble.’
‘I’m not in trouble.’ Mary took another step back. ‘I’m not in trouble here.’
‘Every moment you stay, you get into trouble with the folks back home. You’ve got meetings of all sorts you’ve got to attend, and don’t pretend you haven’t. Oh, you know what I’m talking about. They’re going to throw your sorry backside in prison if we don’t find a way to leave right now.’
She felt the rush, the flow of blood and passion from her heart to her head. Everything she’d been taught about controlling the Red Queen was forgotten.
‘Fuck you. Fuck all of you. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t tell me to do anything. So fuck you. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me. Dead in the tunnels and I’d be glad because I wouldn’t have to put up with your fucking nagging. You don’t get it, do you? We’re stuck here. This is it, all right? We are never going home. Fuck.’
She screamed her last word, and if Mama had been any closer, Mary would have been hitting her with her closed fists, anywhere she could but mainly the face because that hurt the most.
The women had drawn together behind Mama, eyes wide, mouths open.
And behind them, just in the open ground, were Stanislav and Dalip. The older man had his arm stretched out across the Sikh boy’s chest, barring his way, holding him back. They weren’t going to interfere. They were going to make their own choices, but what was more, they were free to make their own choices. No one was telling them what they had or hadn’t to do.
‘I’m not one of your fucking babies, so stop talking to me like I was. Fuck off, then, if that’s what you want to do. There’s no door, and you’ll drown looking for it. If you do, at least it’ll be quieter. Go on. Go.’
She was done. Spent. Her throat was raw, and she was shaking with the effort. She turned away, and stumbled into the woods. She couldn’t go far, because her legs wouldn’t take her. She found a tree, slumped with her back to it, and slid down the trunk. She’d deafened herself, and she could hear nothing of what was happening behind her.
She knew though. Everyone else would be shaking their head and saying how disgraceful her behaviour was, how no one could help her. How it’d better for them to simply abandon her, because she was just too difficult. She couldn’t be tamed. She was self-destructive, and better that she destroyed herself, rather than take anyone else down with her.
She sat there, staring at nothing between the brown trunks and the green leaves, while they came to the inevitable conclusion. She waited for what she thought was long enough◦– it may have been minutes, but it felt like hours◦– before getting to her feet again.
What would she do? She supposed that she’d start walking, see if she could find this geomancer by herself. It wasn’t like she had anything better to occupy her time.
The moment she came out from behind the tree, she could see Dalip, working away at collecting firewood over to her left. There was no one else around.
If he was collecting wood, then it looked like the decision to stay in the clearing for another night had been made. Or at least, he’d made the decision to stay there another night, while the others went back to London. Or tried to go back to London. Or, as she’d cruelly predicted, drown in the sea.
And what did that matter? She could do whatever she wanted: she could go in whichever direction she chose. The kid wasn’t going to stop her, not after what she’d said and done. No one was.
He slowed briefly when he saw her and then, by the way he carried on dragging the thick, dead branch over towards the fire, decided to ignore her. He passed in front of her, glancing briefly at her feet.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.
He kept on going, and if she was going to hear his answer, she had to follow him.
‘They’ve gone back to the door. Well, Stanislav hasn’t. He doesn’t think they’ll get it to open, but in case they do, he’s going to watch them from the shore.’
‘Your mate doesn’t say much, does he?’
‘No. Perhaps he doesn’t think he has to.’
Which was more than a little pointed, and she could feel herself rise to it. Then it was gone, like a fast car in the street.