Cairo
The night was almost over. Soon the valley would echo with birdsong and the steady tolling of the bell. The boys would sit up in their bunks and make faces at Havana in her cot, and she’d screech with laughter because she found her brothers hilarious. The family would walk across the grass to join their friends at Early Call.
But the bell didn’t toll. Instead a car’s horn blasted, then someone shouted an obscenity. The Gethsemane mist was thickening around her, bringing the chill of fear and shame and loneliness. She was in a frightening, familiar house, and a stranger was sprawled under a duvet on the floor.
Sliding out of bed, she crept to the bathroom. Perhaps, if she washed enough, she could rid herself of the shame. She stripped off her dress and stepped into the shower, sitting on the floor with her legs drawn up and her face pressed into her knees. Water cascaded over her bent head.
Rain was thundering onto the roof of the wharenui. She could smell the sweet wax of the candles. Justin was nearby. She couldn’t see him, but she felt the glorious comfort of his presence.
He spoke into her ear. Cairo?
She lifted her face, letting the water flow over her eyelids. ‘Justin! I’m here.’
I think you have something to confess.
He sounded desperately sad. She heard her own sobs as she stepped up onto the dais. People were staring at her. All the people she loved, their faces distorted in the candlelight. Shame weighed on her chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
You’ve betrayed our trust. You’ve hurt us. You’ve hurt me.
Cairo held out her hands, trying to find him. ‘I’ll be back soon, I promise.’
You can never come home. You’re lost.
She heard thumping and banging. A voice shouted through the dark reaches of the universe. Cassy? What’s happening in there? Let me in, you daft tart!
She felt herself falling and knew that this was hell.
Diana
‘We found her in the shower,’ she told Cameron Allsop. ‘Curled up in the flood she’d caused by lying on the drain. We had to break a panel in the bathroom door.’
‘How is she now?’
‘She’s asleep, thank God.’
‘Floating,’ he said. ‘It’s horrible for relatives to see. The pull of the place is extremely powerful, so sometimes a person dissociates from real life and slips back to them.’
‘What on earth do I do? She will come back to us, won’t she?’
‘It’s early days. Wait and see how she gets on. You’ve had a long journey, she’ll be sleep-deprived. Don’t try and get her to see Mike just yet. She might need some kind of medication, or she might need a lot more help. What she needs most of all is for you to stay calm and listen without judging.’
‘I feel sorry for her.’
‘Mm? I can hear a “but” in that statement.’
Diana laughed tiredly. ‘Good hearing! Okay. But … I sometimes want to slap her. She’s safe. We’re doing our best. What more does she want?’
There was silence for a moment. She imagined him marshal-ling his thoughts. Then he said, ‘Cassy’s been through things you can’t imagine. Bad things, and good things. Her sense of self has been broken down. Give her time.’
‘How much time?’
‘Piece of string, I’m afraid.’
Once the call was over, Diana sat and fretted. Give her time.
Mike knew Cassy was home. He’d already rung, asking when she’d be visiting. Time was the one thing he didn’t have.
Cairo
Justin stalked her dreams. He took her fishing, or walked with her among the crosses on the promontory. How could you betray me? he asked, and she woke up in tears. Sometimes he stood on his island beach and shouted across the water. His voice was vivid, ricocheting in her mind: Cairo, come back!
By day she hid indoors, gazing out at grey concrete and endless traffic, trying to find the courage to visit her father. On the second afternoon she spotted a family out on the street. The mother pushed a toddler in a buggy. The eldest child whizzed merrily along on his scooter, and a white-hatted baby peered out from a carrier on her father’s back.
‘They look like my family,’ said Cairo wistfully.
‘Who?’ Tara put down her tablet. Her hair was dyed jet black, bundled into a knot. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt, and for the first time Cairo noticed that one eyebrow was pierced. ‘Those guys? Wow. It’s really weird to imagine you with three rugrats.’
‘And Suva. Don’t forget Suva.’
‘What’s your man like?’
‘Aden’s a great father. Never flustered. Sexy smile.’
‘Got any photos?’
‘Sorry.’ Cairo was sorry. She’d love to show Tara some pictures of her family. ‘We don’t use cameras.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
Cairo didn’t argue. ‘And how about you?’ she asked. ‘Have you got anyone?’
‘I’m off men at the moment. They’re all so frickin’ needy.’
For a few wonderful minutes, the veil of Gethsemane seemed to lift. Cairo felt her anxiety lessen. Her mind cleared a little.
‘Tell me what you’ve been doing,’ she asked, turning away from the window. ‘I’ve missed so much! When I left, you’d just taken your GCSEs.’
Tara seemed pleased that she’d remembered. ‘I did all right in those. After that, it was downhill all the way.’
They began to talk—and even if it was stilted, it was better than nothing. So much had happened, so much had been lost, so much was carefully left unsaid. Cairo listened while her sister described the trouble she’d got into at school, and the apprenticeship she was doing, and the young men whose hearts she’d broken.
Then Tara mentioned the elephant in the room.
‘I dropped out of school because this family fell apart,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Bloody hell, Cass. Didn’t you get any of my messages? Why did you shut down your Facebook page?’
‘We don’t use the internet at Gethsemane.’
‘Not at all?’
‘Only certain people, for specific purposes. I’m not one of them. The internet is a door by which negativity can come into a person’s mind. We’re all much happier without it.’
‘So how d’you manage?’ Tara seemed genuinely perplexed. ‘How do you keep in touch with what’s going on? How do you live?’
Cairo smiled. ‘We just live.’
‘Yeah, in the Dark Ages!’
‘The children play real games. The adults have real friendships.’
Tara rolled her eyes and left the room, muttering about making tea.
Describing Gethsemane had brought the veil down again. Cairo wasn’t seeing the street any more. She was rounding the headland. Wood smoke. Sunshine. Diamond flashes on water. There was the jetty, and her children scampering to meet her. Home. I’m home.
Tara was tapping her on the arm. ‘Hey. Hey! You there?’
Cairo shook herself. ‘I’m here.’
‘Tea, just the way you like it,’ said Tara, holding out a mug. ‘I remembered, sis! Ridiculously strong. Milk and no sugar.’
Cairo thanked her, and sipped dutifully at the alien taste.
‘So … I’m assuming there’s no Netflix in that place?’ asked Tara, as she sat down again.
‘What’s Netflix?’
‘Never mind. Telly? Radio?’
‘Nope.’
‘No Olympics, no Royal Wedding, no Downton Abbey. Sounds like some kind of weird social experiment. How d’you know what’s going on in the world?’
Cairo thought about this. ‘The Companions monitor the news,’ she said. ‘It’s their job. They always tell us when there’s been a disaster.’
‘Who the hell are the Companions? Don’t worry, I can guess … so they only tell you about disasters? Don’t they pass on any good news?’
‘What good news?’
‘Are you serious?’ Tara laughed. ‘You know what I think? I think they treat you like mushrooms. They keep you in the dark and feed you shit.’
Cairo put down her mug, stood up and walked out of the room. She knew exactly what the Companions would say about Tara: Your sister is pure negativity. Cut yourself off from her. Leave that house today.
There was nowhere to hide. Her bedroom was festooned with pre-Gethsemane life: books, photos, jewellery, makeup, toys. Even the clock was alien. These things belonged to Cassy, not Cairo. They were soaked in Cassy’s emotions and memories. They disturbed her.
She tore everything off the noticeboard and hurled it into the cupboard—followed by Babar, the books, the dreamcatcher, the wooden dolls and everything from the dressing table. She locked the cupboard door. Then she lay down and pulled the duvet over her head.
She could hear Justin. He was calling to her from across the lake. He sounded heartbroken. Cairo! Cairo!
But his voice was growing fainter.