And then, from the road that led out of the Valley of the Rocks, a sound: singing. Men singing, a mass of men, men who had known and lived in loneliness too since their women died so long ago. The men poured into the Valley, their voices loud, their arms open, and there was a man for every Unloved.
Leading the men to their destiny were Nate and Thomas, brave ones, with babies of their own in their arms and a future to fight for. They had gone out into the world and found that future, and brought it back to the Valley. And so the Group could begin again, the many becoming one, the one growing and growing, to make a beautiful world populated with so many happy men, on and on, until the end.
‘No,’ says Thomas.
The dining room is lit only by a few candles and the smouldering logs in the grate. He stands up and he is alive with his indignation; it jumps out of him like the short, sharp breaths he exhales.
I try to tell him with my eyes that I am sorry, but it must be done. I must get Ted to side with me, to order us away. It’s our only chance. ‘We’ll go and get help. We’ll save everyone. You’ll be a hero,’ I tell him.
‘No. Not now. Not ever.’ The candlelight makes him look bigger, taller. He has a dignity that I have not seen in him before. Thomas says, ‘You say the Unloved will kill and rape, and I say they won’t. Why are you right, and I am wrong? Just because you know how to wrap it up in a story?’ He is warming to his outrage, his hands flying out like sparks. The curtain wrapped around his chest where Holly rests gives him the air of invincibility.
Ted stays in his chair, arms crossed, not bothering to stir himself. Bonnie stands to attention behind him. ‘Nate,’ he says, with a smile, ‘what makes you so sure that the Unloved, as you have named them, want us? Perhaps they are simply protecting the children. In which case, they’re not going to be happy if you try to take Thomas and Holly away with you. Besides, lad, if they really wanted to come in they could. Windows can be smashed. Doors can be knocked down. They’re easily strong enough for that.’
I hate the way he diminishes me with his ‘lad’. Oliver and Jason, on blankets near the fire, nod along. I will need better arguments.
I say, ‘If they are only protecting us, why are we cowering in the house all day and all night? Why don’t you simply walk outside, Uncle Ted? Right now?’
He shrugs. ‘What is there to go outside for? We’ve had a long cold winter and it’s been easier to stay indoors. That’s all. I think maybe those long dark nights and your… pregnancy… are playing tricks on your brain, lad. Come the summer, everything will look better. We’ll go out, into the woods maybe. When your little one arrives, we’ll have a fine time playing out together.’
Jason and Oliver have copied Ted’s smile. Thomas sits back down with an air of vindication. Can they really not feel it? This threat that encloses the house? Or perhaps they cannot name it. They have no practice in naming the truth and now they do not trust me to do it for them.
I see in the four faces that patronise me that my time as a storyteller is at an end. I have no listeners any more. I could talk on and on and it would be as if the world had gone deaf.
I can’t stay here.
‘If nobody will come with me, then I’ll go myself,’ I say. ‘I’ll save you, even if you don’t want saving.’
‘Don’t be an idiot.’ Ted shifts in his seat. He says, ‘You and your jumped-up ideas. I always knew it would lead us all into trouble. You need to learn how to give up your selfish ways now. There’s that thing in your body to think about. The mushrooms are so desperate to keep it safe and I’m not going to let you put us all in danger.’
‘What are you going to do? Keep me here against my will?’
‘So melodramatic, as usual. So keen to sniff out a good tale. From now on, I’ll tell the tales and you can shut up and listen. You’re just like your mother. Get yourself into trouble, and then whine when you’re told what to do.’ He gets up and faces me; I can see he is what he believes a man should be. His hand moves to the stick in his belt. How he loves to threaten those that are weaker. My mother gave way to him. Maybe I was in her body already when she was brought here and Ted told her it was the only way to be safe from the scary world out there.
Now the same choice is upon me. And I find I am not powerless. Not at all.
‘Get back,’ I say. ‘You are not to touch me.’
Bee shifts from the corner of the room. The other Beauties stir, rock from side to side.
‘I’ve known you since you were a baby, Nathan, and I will reprimand you if that is necessary. Don’t push me, boy.’
I put my hands on my bump. It is cold and firm, getting bigger every day. I say, ‘I’m no longer a boy, Uncle Ted. And I will leave this place.’
He says, ‘You will not.’
I take a step forward. He blocks my path to the door.
But I am the powerful one. I have the baby in me, and he cannot touch me. He knows it. I see it behind that mask of stone he uses.
He steps aside.
‘Nate!’ calls Thomas, a plea. I ignore him and carry on walking to the kitchen. I grab a canvas bag from under the sink and take it to the larder. It’s too dark to see properly. I grab whatever I can identify: some stored apples, some bread.
The larder door slams behind me. The darkness is total. I yelp, sounding like a dog. It takes me an age of groping to find the handle, but my relief gives way to intense dread when the handle won’t turn. It won’t move for me. I am trapped.
‘Stay in there until you learn some sense,’ says Ted, from the other side.
This is what Ted does. He forces his problems into the dark, and keeps them there. Like my mother’s feelings, like the women he killed and buried in the forest. But I will not be kept in the dark. He has finally managed to teach me how to be a man. I will do whatever is necessary to beat him. I am ready to kill.
I call Bee with my mind. I tell it what to do. I show it a picture, every detail, with slow deliberation. I leave nothing out.
Then I wait.
I hear Thomas and Ted arguing, but I pay no attention. I concentrate on what Bee shows me. I can see through Bee’s eyes.
Bee is coming, moving to the kitchen. It shows me that Ted has jammed his chair against the pantry door and is sitting on it. Thomas, Jason and Oliver hover, trying to persuade him to move. Are those tears on Thomas’s cheeks?
Bee touches nobody but Ted. It picks him up by his neck. I thrill at the strength of my beautiful Bee. Ted does not make a sound, but he fights and fights, his kicks and punches connecting. Bee feels arms around the waist. Bonnie is in the room, squeezing hard, fighting for Ted. I feel white pain in my mind, but Bonnie is not strong enough to stop this. Bee knocks Bonnie down, and looks around.
The others huddle back against the sink. Holly is awake now, I feel her fear. She wails. The Unloved hum, hum, hum – a nest of hornets. Bright red flowers in my head light up my darkness. But I tell Bee – do it. Do it.
Bee grabs one of Ted’s arms as he flails and breaks it, clean, like the snapping of a stick. He goes limp. Bee carries Ted out of the kitchen, down the corridor to the front door. It opens the door, and throws him out into the night.
Bonnie screams. It is a human sound. It plunges out after Ted, and Bee closes the door, not looking at what is happening. It does not want to look.
The larder door opens and my normal vision returns. I can see Thomas’s tear-soaked face. He holds out his arms to me and I push past him and go to Bee. I let it scoop me up and hold me tight. It pats the bump, over and over. I feel our mutual relief amplified in my mind like a circle, no beginning, no end.