32

GREATER LOVE

 

What was he doing here?

“Are you awake, Margo?” Bane sprang from his seat and crouched beside the sofa.

“Is this supposed to be a pleasant surprise?” I said to him, under my breath. Though, in the face of Lucas’s generosity, any remaining anger seemed to have withered and died. I’d been trying to speak to Kyle, anyway.

Bane just shrugged. “I hope it might turn into one,” he murmured back. He made to sit back in his chair, but I caught his hand, so he sat on the sofa instead, and I used his lap for a pillow.

An awkward silence fell. I stared at Bane’s knees, looking for the right words. My anger had died, but not the hurt. I’d tried so often to make up and been rejected every time.

“Um, thank you for inviting me to tea, Margo,” said Kyle eventually, in a tight voice.

“Bane invited you,” I said shortly, still not looking up. “I didn’t know anything about it.”

Silence fell, even heavier than before, and I regretted my rebuff. I wanted Kyle to be here, talking to me, didn’t I? Yet I couldn’t pretend the pain wasn’t there.

“Bane is neglecting his duty as host,” said Bane after another long moment of silence, easing out from beneath me. “I’d better make a fresh pot of tea.” He picked up the pot—still mostly full, surely—and disappeared into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Right, it was just Kyle and me. Now I really had to say the right thing. Lord, help?

A rush of dark fabric… I looked up, startled.

Kyle knelt beside the sofa, hand half-extended as though he’d been about to touch me then hesitated. Such a look of anguish on his face. “Margo, I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t tell that lie you thought I did, but as for the rest, I was a useless, horrible brother and a dreadful Believer right when you needed both so desperately and I’m really, really sorry and…and…”

“Kyle, shut up,” I said.

His face fell into something too like despair…then I managed to lurch free of the sofa and throw my arms around him.

“Stop apologizing, Kyle,” I muttered into his hair, as he remained stiff with shock. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I…I’ve let you down as well.”

He relaxed and wrapped his arms around me, rocking me slightly. “Oh Margo! I’m sorry. I should’ve helped you. I should’ve helped you both! I’m useless!”

“You’re not useless, Kyle. You just…misdirected your protective instincts.”

“Well, that’s a nice way to put it,” he…sniffed?

I drew away slightly and looked him in the face. “Please don’t cry. Big brothers aren’t supposed to cry, right? Everything’s okay now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He drew in a big shaky breath. “Yeah, everything’s okay. No thanks to yours truly,” he added under his breath.

I collected another fraternal hug, then he saw me very conscientiously back onto the sofa, sitting beside me, since Bane was still clattering around in the kitchen.

“Kyle,” I said after a moment. “Is everything okay now?”

Kyle sighed, his face strained. “It’ll be better now, I think. I just…I got myself in such a knot. Emotionally. I’d never had a proper best mate, before Snakey. When he got killed…well, we’ve been taught over and over that if something big happens we should talk about it. But I didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry if…you didn’t feel I was there for you after Snakey died.” I said, my heart aching with guilt. I hadn’t really thought about Kyle, not until we went to Brussels. “I really let you down.”

“Not like I let you down, Margo.”

“It took two of us to mess things up this much, Kyle.”

“Margo, it was mostly me. Stop being so nice.”

“No, Kyle, a good sister would have checked her brother was okay when his friend got killed protecting her!”

“You must’ve been pretty upset yourself.”

“Everyone was. No excuse to be self-absorbed.”

“I think you were more husband-absorbed, actually. Hardly wrong, in the circumstances. I overreacted, Margo. I did know Bane had only hit you once and it wasn’t likely to happen again, I just didn’t want to admit it because it was such a relief to let the anger out. And what I said to you, Margo, it was just the most hurtful thing I could think of to punish you for saving Friedrich—and managing to do what I couldn’t, but knew I should. The way I’ve behaved…I think I am going to withdraw from the seminary, Margo. I just can’t imagine that I’m fit to be a priest.”

“What?” Dismay filled me. “Don’t do that! So you made a mistake with your emotional health. You won’t do it again, will you? Priests are only human, you know!”

He shook his head. He looked so…subdued. Tired. Resuming his grueling training when the rest of the seminary returned to the Vatican now the vote was safely won probably looked very unattractive. But he’d surely regret the decision later.

“Kyle, if you really think it was mostly your fault, will you do something for me?” I asked.

“What?”

“Promise me that before you make any decision about your vocation, you’ll talk to Pope Cornelius about this. Tell him everything you’ve just told me. Consider what he says. Promise?”

He eyed me with obvious reluctance. He knew as well as I did that Pope Cornelius would make him see sense—and he wouldn’t end up giving up his vocation.

“Promise?” I insisted. Kyle would learn from his mistakes and go on to be a great priest, I was quite confident of that.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I promise.”

I slipped an arm around him and he slipped an arm around me, and we sat for a while in silence, until Bane returned from his epically slow tea-making.

“I’m glad you two managed to have a civilized conversation, actually,” I couldn’t help remarking.

Kyle smiled crookedly. “Well, when someone says, hi, here I am, hit me if you want to, then we can talk, it’s surprisingly hard to actually do it. So we skipped straight to the talking bit. And he said if I didn’t stop making you miserable, he was going to hit me. Then invited me to tea. I thought I’d better accept. Seeing that…well, Father Mark’s not here to mediate anymore, so we’ve got to sort ourselves out. After how I’ve behaved, I…honestly didn’t realize you cared that much, the way you ran off, the other day.”

Oh…Bane hadn’t mentioned the baby yet, then. I’d better explain. But Bane had put the pot down and gone over to the table by the door. “Snail gave me a parcel for you,” he said, coming back over and sitting in the armchair. “Here you go.”

A parcel? Who would be sending me parcels? Could it be from…Mum and Dad? My heart leapt. Of course, the last parcel I’d had I’d thought that and it had been from Lucas. But this one wouldn’t be. Pain momentarily pierced my happiness.

“Oh, Snail said don’t get too excited,” said Bane quickly, clearly seeing the hope on my face.

“Oh.” My excitement dwindled again. Though not my curiosity. I peeled up the pre-opened flap and slid out a cardboard box that had been neatly cut and glued by hand, by the look of it. I opened it… “Ah. Don’t get too excited. Right.”

Five rows of delicious-looking chocolates nestled mouthwateringly inside, exquisite but with that subtle air of being handmade. Something slid underneath the box, and I pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it.

 

Dear Mrs. Verrall,

That sounds rather formal but the counselor said I should put it like that what with you being married. Thank you for saving my life, when you didn’t need to at all. I’m sending you some chocolates that I made for you. I hope you like them. They just don’t seem enough. I will come and be your bodyguard as soon as they let me.

I am working in the kitchen 3 sessions a week now. When I arrived they said everyone has to do normal duties for the first 6 months. Then I cooked some Austrian buns and they said if anyone wanted to swap duties with me they could do it even before the 6 months were up! I will cook my ‘famous’ Full English later this week, after which I reckon I’ll be in the kitchen every day!

I’m quite surprised by how it is here, actually. It’s really not so bad. Some of the guys don’t agree! The religion is hard to get my head around. I’m trying, though, because I reckon I’ll need to be up on that to get picked as your bodyguard.

I hope the interviews I did helped you win the vote. I just stood up and told the truth, the way the Pope guy told me in Brussels. He said some stuff about everyone having choices, so I’m trying to make choices that will make me more like you and less like Reginald Hill.

I’m hoping to send you some Scottish shortbread biscuits soon. It’s harder than you’d think. I made you one lot of chocolates already, but the other guys ate them before I could get them posted. Clearly they weren’t paying attention in the session about why we shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to us. That’s not something I’ve ever done, by the way.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Georg Friedrich

 

“It’s from Georg Friedrich,” I said. “Shall I read it out?” I glanced at Kyle. “Oh, I can read it to you later, Bane.” I paused. “What am I saying? You can read it yourself later!”

Bane grinned.

But Kyle said, “No, it’s okay. Just read it.” Clearly working on forgiving Friedrich at last.

“Okay.” I read the letter aloud, but when I’d finished Kyle looked more deflated than ever. “Are you okay, Kyle?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He blew out a long breath. “Yeah. Listening to that letter makes me feel about this tall, is all.” He held finger and thumb very close together. “I made excuses in my head, but really, I just wanted him to pay. But I hear that and…he’s just a human being. It’s really…sobering.”

“Well,” I said awkwardly, “I s’pose I’d already had some practice at seeing bad guys as people, what with Lucas. But trust me, when I put that bandage on him, I wasn’t even close to forgiving him properly. Even in the TV studio, I wanted to do the right thing, yeah, but I didn’t exactly have lots of warm fuzzy feelings for the guy. But I hope he can make something of his life after all.”

I could smell the chocolates. And they weren’t actually making me feel nauseous. “I’m going to try one of these. Who wants one?”

A single chocolate was missing from one corner. Had the VSS guys analyzed it in their little lab, or had one of them taken the much tastier, but riskier, option of simply eating it and holding on to the parcel for twenty-four hours while checking for ill effects?

Bane reached for a chocolate at once; Kyle after only a slight hesitation. For a few moments we all chewed in silence.

Finally Bane said, “Quite definitely wasted in the military.” And reached for another one.

I’d have liked another, but…better not push it. The morning sickness wasn’t entirely gone yet. Morning sickness…

Time to tell Kyle about the baby!

 

“Thank you, Bane,” I murmured, when Kyle had gone. “It was a nice surprise after all.”

He brushed this off, looking pleased with himself. And spent the rest of the afternoon vetoing any attempt of mine to get off the sofa, except once when I had to dash to the bathroom after an overly ambitious biscuit—at least the chocolate had stayed down—and another half hour when he slipped off on (another!) mysterious errand of his own.

After all the tea, dry toast, cuddles, lying down, and making up I felt able to face the ordeal ahead. At least until we reached St. Peter’s, and I began to notice all the nooks and crannies Lucas had loved; all the fuchsias Ranulph had placed around the basilica.

I was crying into Bane’s shoulder before the bier was even brought in. Since when was I such a…faucet? I blamed the darling little boy inside me.

Kyle had joined us in our pew and now patted my hand awkwardly. “I am, uh, really sorry about this, you know, Margo. I know he was your friend.”

I gave his hand a squeeze and tried to collect myself.

It was almost time to start when I noticed a man and a woman standing behind the rope barrier that separated the ‘State’ part of the basilica from the ‘Public’ part, eyes searching the pews. “Kyle!” I gasped, pointing.

Kyle looked as well—his eyes widened and the next moment we were both on our feet. Bane jumped up as well—“What…?”—then he saw them too, and we were all scrambling out of the pew and racing across the marble floor.

“Mum! Dad!” I tried not to scream it at the top of my lungs. Reaching them, I flung myself into Mum’s arms, just managing not to flatten her.

“Dad!” I hugged him too; hugged Mum again. I’d missed them so much.

“Bane, darling!” said Mum. “Oh,” she gasped. “Kyle!” For a few minutes everyone was just hugging each other over and over.

“Oh my goodness!” I said at last, standing back and looking at them properly. It was so good to see them! They looked older and worn—unsurprisingly, alas. I knew how harrowing being on the run could be. Well, they were safe now. “When did you get here?” I asked.

“We literally strolled into St. Peter’s Square—ever so innocently—just now,” said Dad.

“I feel like my head’s still going around,” said Mum. “The last bit was the worst—getting into Rome.” She shuddered. “We handed over our last assets to a succession of taxi drivers to get ourselves put in touch with one with a nifty secret compartment in his car, who brought us in, quaking with terror the whole time.”

“That’s what we did! But I thought they’d got rid of the checkpoints? That didn’t last long.”

“Probably because of the Resistance,” said Bane. “Or that’ll be their excuse.”

“Yeah. Oh…I think we’re about to start,” I said. “You need to see Eduardo and get visas and everything, but it’ll keep until after the Requiem.”

“Requiem?” Dad looked startled, but Mum was looking closely at my barely dry face.

“Who is it for, Margo?” she asked gently.

“You really haven’t been reading the papers, have you?” said Bane. “You didn’t notice the team of military janitors attempting to clean the blood off the pavement out there? They’ve been at it for ages, apparently.”

I swallowed. Mum was giving Bane a sideways look. Just noticed that he had his eyes?

“It’s for Mr. Everington,” said Kyle.

“That EGD Security major?” exclaimed Dad.

“He was a very good friend of Margo’s. He sacrificed himself to get Bane’s eyes back.”

Dad looked at Bane and did a double-take. “You can see!”

“Thanks to Lucas,” said Bane somberly.

“Well, it sounded like he’d turned over a new leaf,” said Dad, after a moment of obvious struggle. “I expect you befriended him too, did you, Kyle?”

Kyle shot me a panic-stricken look. Didn’t know what to say or didn’t know what I would say?

“Kyle didn’t know him that well, actually,” I said. “Lucas was awfully shy, and with the State running on minimum staffing levels, Kyle was ever so busy.”

“Lucas grew on one,” said Bane—rather glumly.

“Well, we’ll be very happy to attend his Requiem,” said Mum.

She looked so tired, though.

“Are you sure, Mum? You could both go straight in and get settled, put your feet up…”

“Nonsense,” said Dad. “If this chap was your friend and sacrificed himself to get Bane’s eyes back, we must attend his Requiem Mass. We can keep going for another hour.”

I hugged them both again, delighted that they’d accepted Lucas, even if posthumously.

The organ began to play.

“Uh oh, we’re about to be run down by the bier,” said Bane, shepherding us all along the aisle. We genuflected quickly and filed back into the pew. Jon got up when it was clear it was going to be a huge crush and slipped off to find a spot further back. He’d remained in his seat for the reunion—he’d never actually met my Mum and Dad, after all.

“Thank you; sorry, Jon,” I whispered, as he passed me.

The entry procession was indeed coming. Ranulph had offered to be a pall bearer, with Unicorn, Snail, and Eduardo volunteering as well. No need for more, with no coffin and an undernourished corpse.

The bier was placed on trestles in front of the balustrade of St. Peter’s tomb, and Mass began. I tried to concentrate. Pope Cornelius had chosen the readings in the end, and they were beautiful. Psalm sixty-four, perfect. The reading from Corinthians about love. And the famous reading where Our Lord says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” The homily was beautiful too, though I didn’t hear half of it. I caught “…act of incredible generosity…” which made me cry again, despite my joy at my parents’ unexpected presence, and “…brutal and summary execution…” made me cry too, but clearly Pope Cornelius was giving the press something to chew on.

Afterwards, Pope Cornelius came round to the front of St. Peter’s tomb. Huh? Only then did I notice the portable font standing there.

“It’s not normal to combine a baptism with a funeral,” Pope Cornelius said. “However, in this particular case, it did seem appropriate. Could the candidate and his chosen godparent, please approach the font?”

Bane gave me a look almost shy. “Um, would you be my Godmother, wife?”

Mum and Dad gasped in delight.

“Really?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I probably should’ve…got done…sooner, but…well, I was just so furious…with God, with…everything. Lucas has kind of…given me a kick up the backside, to be honest. So yeah, really.”

Embarrassingly, there was then a slight delay whilst I cried all over him.

Finally, we got to the font.

“Do you reject Satan?”

“Do you reject all his works?”

“And all his empty promises?”

Soon we were at the Confirmation. I mopped my eyes, put my hand on Bane’s shoulder and muttered, “What name, Bane?”

“St. Luke,” he muttered back.

By some miracle I just managed to squeak, “St. Luke,” to Pope Cornelius before burying my face in my hankie again.

We went on with the Requiem Mass, and most of the tears I shed were sad ones, but for a short time, as I knelt to receive communion and Bane knelt to receive beside me, they were tears of joy. By the time they’d laid a clean white sheet over the bier and the body and we got up to process out after it, I’d almost run out of tears. I walked, my arm around Bane and Bane’s around me, dry-eyed, Kyle and Mum and Dad and Jon following behind.

A familiar voice seemed to be murmuring in my head, “But…this is a very happy day for me, isn’t it, Margaret? I’m with God.”

Yes, you are, Lucas. Yes, it is.

The bier was lowered carefully into the fresh grave. Kyle took Mum and Dad in tow when the ceremony was complete, and everyone else drifted away, but I stood, watching as the gardeners filled in the hole. Only when they began fitting the turf back on top did I let Bane lead me off to the reception Jon had arranged.

 

I went back there later the next day with Bane, clutching the small purple fuchsia from the cafe. Unicorn had ventured across the white line to try to buy it back for me, but the cafe owner had immediately made a gift of it.

A little circle of soil had been left, same as on Father Mark’s grave, and the irrigation pipe had already been extended from one to the other. I dug a little hole, put the fuchsia in place and watered it carefully, trying to remember everything Lucas had ever said and everything he’d written in his copious notes.

Finally I brushed off my hands and stood up. “There we go. Hope it doesn’t die.”

“I’m sure Ranulph will keep an eye on it as well,” said Bane.

“I hope so.” I stared at the mound, with the turf that didn’t quite cover it. “It’s stupid,” I said, “considering how little time I really knew him—let alone liked him—but…I miss him so much.”

“A friend is a friend,” said Bane. “Sometimes I don’t think it matters how long you know them.”

“I think you’re right.”

He put his arms around me and hugged me tight. “Anyway, he’s reached his happy ever after, isn’t that what you’d say?”

“Yeah. What you’d say too, yes?” I traced the sign of the cross on his forehead with my thumb.

He blinked. Looked intent for a moment. Then his face softened. “Yeah, I s’pose I would.” He leaned his forehead against my scarred one. “Hope there are plants in heaven, or he’ll probably escape and come back here.”

A laugh sputtered from me. “He’s so not going to want to come back here, Bane!”

“That’s better,” he murmured, encircling me.

I turned to lean back against his loving bulk, and before long his hands strayed to my belly.

“Well, at least we have a name, now,” he added softly, rubbing my bump gently. “Grow strong, Lucas.”

“Lucas Mark?”

“Yeah. Lucas Mark Verrall.”

“We’re really looking forward to seeing you.”

Both of us seeing you,” added Bane.

“Yeah, both of us. You’ve got your Uncle Lucas to thank for that, little Luc.”

“We’ll have to tell you all about your Uncle Lucas,” Bane told my bump, so seriously I had to smile a little. “And your Uncle Mark. And…”

I listened to his happy voice and watched the purple fuchsia’s leaves stir in the breeze, the sun warm on my face.

Thank you, Lucas.

Thank you, Lord.

Thank you so much.

 

 

###

 

 

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DON’T MISS BOOK 5

 

MARGO’S DIARY

 

Contains the novella

 

VISITORS

 

and

 

‘Squire Thane and the Dragon’

(The story Margo wrote for Bane at the beginning of I AM MARGARET)

 

Also includes:

UNDERGROUND LATIN PRIMER—MAPS—PSALMS—‘PROCAMERA’ MASS KIT DIAGRAM—PRAYERS—ETC.

(Plus a lot of graffiti from Bane!)

 

 

OUT NOW!

 

Scroll on down or CLICK for a SNEAK PEEK!

 

Or for a Sneak Peek of ELFLING, click HERE.

 

 

Or check out the following:

 

The I AM MARGARET Series

Brothers (A Short Prequel Novella)*

1: I Am Margaret*

2: The Three Most Wanted*

3: Liberation*

4: Bane’s Eyes*

5: Margo’s Diary*

6: The Siege of Reginald Hill*

7: A Saint in the Family (Coming Soon)

 

The YESTERDAY & TOMORROW Series

Someday: A Novella*

1: Tomorrow’s Dead (Coming Soon)

 

The UNSPARKED Series

BREACH! (A Prequel)*

1: DRIVE!*

2: A Truly Raptor-ous Welcome

3: PANIC! (Coming Soon)

 

STANDALONE WORKS

Elfling*

Mandy Lamb & The Full Moon*

Secrets: Visible & Invisible (I Am Margaret story in anthology)*

Gifts: Visible & Invisible (unSPARKed story in anthology)

Three Last Things or The Hounding of Carl Jarrold, Soulless Assassin* (Coming Soon)

The Raven & The Yew (Coming Soon)

 

 

*Awarded the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval

 

 

***+***

 

 

 

A Note about the Annotations in MARGO’S DIARY

 

Margo’s Diary has been extensively ‘annotated’ by Bane. Unfortunately, ebooks allow limited fonts and formating, which means that the full effect can really only be gained from the paperback. However, the annotations have been included in the ebook in square brackets [ ] and prefaced with either B for Bane, or M for Margo, as in the Sneak Peek below.

 

 

MARGO’S DIARY Sneak Peek

 

 

27th October (20 today)

U gave me this nice notebook today for my birthday, so I think I’m going to try to keep a diary! I’m sure I’ll have loads to write about Lucas Mark when he arrives!

 

19th December (20) [B: What a very Margo-centric way of marking the date!

M: Oh shut up, Bane! I just find it easier to keep track!]

Bane’s Birthday! We had a lovely romantic dinner together, enjoy some uninterrupted time together while we can! Not long now. Little Luc is due in January.

 

30th December (20)

This diary is not going very well! [B: (It’s really not, is it?)

M: Bane!]

 

12th January (20)

Luc born today! More or less bang on time! What a good baby! The less said about the ‘arriving’ the better; now he’s out, I don’t care! Pope Cornelius is going to be his Godfather. What a lucky baby he is. Anyway, I’m putting this down because I want to cuddle our baby again. Sorry diary, you cannot compete.

[B: Thought I was going to pass out. So glad to be a guy, today!

M: Er... YOU’RE complaining? Seriously, Bane?

B: I’ll have you know, it was highly traumatic. :) Actually, I thought you were amazing. xxx

M: xxx]

 

4th March (20)

Unicorn told me some interesting things today. So did Fox. I must write them in here some time. Haven’t got time now. All about how Snakey got his nickname. It’s not what I thought!

[B: Are you sure about that, Margo? Asking seriously...]

 

6th March

Okay, so I was thinking about it, and perhaps I’d better not write about that in here. The stuff about U was top secret, and Snakey didn’t like people knowing about what happened, so it feels wrong to write it all down, even if it is a private diary. [M: Look up this word, Bane!!!

B: Means: do not read—unless it’s left open on my chair, desk or pillow!]

It’s not the sort of thing I’m likely to forget.

 

14th May (20)

Okay, so something happened today that I really wanted to record. But it was obviously going to be a really long entry and I couldn’t face handwriting it, so it’s the old print, cut and paste. Because I was typing this, it’s ended up sounding pretty much like one of my books, actually, but that’s okay, it just means I’ve put more detail down.

[B: More fun to read, too!]

Anyway, I was walking along the side aisle of St Peter’s when I noticed the man balancing a proCamera on his twisted, claw-like left hand while he took a shot of the main basilica. I stopped dead—looked more closely...and it was...

[B: Dum, Dum, Dah!

M: Bane, stop it!]

When I waved a hand behind my back, a guy who’d been drifting along behind, apparently admiring the paintings, and another who’d knelt to pray at a side altar as soon as I stopped both seemed to lose interest in what they were doing and headed towards me. I hastily made another gesture, the one that meant, ‘I think it’s fine, just pay attention,’ and their interest in art and prayer returned to them. [B: Does Eduardo know they were SO obvious?

M: Bane, just STOP, or I’m going to get white-out from the store.]

I went a few steps closer to the man with the camera. “Watkins...?”

The camera slipped from his hand, landing safely on the end of the carry strap around his neck, and he spun around. “Margaret?” He sounded astonished.

I couldn’t help laughing. “You must know I live here, surely?”

“Well, of course, but...it didn’t occur to me I’d run into you.”

I’d not thought about it before I approached him, but suddenly I felt awkward. After all, the last time I’d seen him I’d shot him with a nonLee, stripped him to his underwear and left him to face the music. [B: Hahahaha!]

He didn’t seem to share my awkwardness. “How are you, lass? And your wee lad? And your bigger lad, come to that.”

“We’re all very well. Bane’s looking after Luc, I was just having a break. Uh...how are you?”

He was out of a job partly because of me, as well...

He seemed to follow my train of thought this time. “I ended up retiring slightly early—along with everyone else. And very happy I was about it, I assure you.”

“The retiring, or the everyone else retiring?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Both,” he said cheerfully. “You’ve done a helluva good thing, Margaret Verrall.”

“Me and the voting population of the EuroBloc,” I pointed out quickly.

“Including me,” he grinned.

I grinned back, delighted. Even EGD Security had voted against Sorting! Some of them, anyway... “Er, how’s Sally?” Watkins’ equally nice, female, colleague...

He pulled a slight face. “Well, she’s living with her brother’s widow. She takes care of the kids so her sister-in-law can work longer hours. The boys don’t really see enough of their mum, but Sally tried for ages to get a job with no luck. Sally’s got a bit of pension, and so has David’s widow, so they’re comfortable. Sally voted no, too, you know, and she’s not sorry, but she gets a bit down, thinking she’ll never work again. But I reckon she will. Thanks to you. I’m glad of an opportunity to thank you for those posts you put up about giving people like us second chances.”

I shrugged, blushing. “So I pointed out that they’d all been paying your wages for decades. It’s the truth.”

“Sometimes it helps if people hear it.” A less pleasant smile curled his lips. “Did you hear about Finchley?”

“The bit about having to go into protective custody to escape a mob or the bit where he confessed to goodness knows what in order to stay locked up?”

“I think most of it was true, you know.”

I shrugged. Finchley’s confession had covered everything from drugs possession to the one charge I knew was true. “It was you who told Lucas what he did, wasn’t it?”

Watkins shrugged. “That woman was a fool to let something like that go. He’d only have tried again.”

Yeah, I bet he would.” Only he’d probably have chosen someone like Sarah the next time... I swallowed bile and tried to push down the fury that still surged up inside at the thought of Finchley. Forgiveness. Forgiveness.

“So, uh, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Oh, well, I have that hearty pension of mine so I’d no need to go begging for another job. I thought I’d go round the bloc, see the sites while I’ve still got a bit of use of the old hand.” He displayed it to me matter-of-factly. It looked like he could hardly straighten his fingers now. “Couldn’t miss St Peter’s, could I? And...” he hesitated. “Well, to be honest, I was quite curious to see where the old man ended up. Who’d have thought it would be here?”

It took me a moment to realize he was using ‘old man’ as slang for a respected superior...that he was talking about Lucas, easily twenty years his junior.

He was very happy here,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. No tearing up, Margo, it’s been almost a year... “Uh, would you like to...pay your respects?”

Watkins looked startled. “You mean...visit the grave?”

“Umhmm.”

“Would I be allowed?”

I had to smile. “If you’re with me. I live here, you know.”

“Well...yes. I would.”

“Come on, then. Though...you may get a black mark from the EuroGov for entering the Vatican Free State.”

“Only a little one, seeing that I’ll be leaving again.”

I led the way down the side aisle, and the VSS agents drifted casually after me again, sticking a bit closer than usual. I didn’t really think Watkins was going to try and hurt me, but I’d got in the habit of being particularly careful whilst Luc was inside me.

We went through the doorway that provided the main access from the basilica to the rest of the state and stopped in front of the security desk.

“Hi Snail, can I get a visitor’s pass for Mr. Watkins, please?” It was only as I said it, that I realized I didn’t actually know Watkins’ first name.

“Of course.” I’d spoken in Latin automatically, and Snail replied in the same, then switched to Esperanto. “Could I see your ID card, please, Mr. Watkins?”

Watkins handed it over and Snail made a show of checking the image and information before casually putting it down on the desk—or rather, onto a concealed flat card reader. He began filling something in on the computer screen, sneaking a look at Watkins’ ID database entry while he was at it. Almost at once a hint of a frown crossed his face. He hit a couple more keys—pinging Eduardo, no doubt—and smiled politely at Watkins. “Length of planned visit?”

Watkins looked at me.

“A day pass will be fine. That’s anything less than staying overnight,” I explained to Watkins.

Snail took his time filling in the simple form, and was running out of ways to stall when, surprise, surprise, Eduardo came prowling up. He began to root around in the desk drawer as though he’d simply come to get something—he tried very hard not to advertise to the EuroGov that he could access their system—but he did glance at me and at Watkins. “Friend of yours, Margaret?”

Er...well, yes, basically,” I said, and gave my eyebrows a slight waggle—yes, Eduardo, I do know he’s ex-EGD Security. Snail was only doing his job.

Eduardo accepted my non-verbal communication and turned to Snail. “Have you seen the lists?”

“Jack took them earlier,” said Snail.

“Right.” Eduardo gave me a polite nod and headed off again.

Snail handed Watkins a visitor’s pass and locked the ID card in a little box on the wall. “We do a swap when you come out,” he informed Watkins.

Watkins clipped the pass to his collar happily enough. Snail glanced at his camera. “Oh, I must inform you that your photos will need to be reviewed before you leave. Alternatively, you can leave the camera here.”

Watkins put a hand to the camera rather protectively. “I’ll hang onto it. I won’t point it at anything security-related.”

“Well, as long as you understand we’ll have to check.”

“Oh, I understand about security concerns.” With a smile and a nod to Snail, he followed me past the desk.

As we headed along the stone corridors, Watkins was too busy staring around to talk, beyond an occasional mutter of, “No one is ever going to believe where I am right now!”

“Take a picture,” I suggested, amused.

“I don’t want my memory card wiping.”

“They wouldn’t do that. They’d just delete individual photos.”

“Well... Will you tell me if you think I’m pointing it anywhere I shouldn’t?”

“Of course.”

Watkins was soon snapping away happily. “There’s so much history here,” he enthused, photographing a pair of motionless Swiss guards. “I thought about coming when the EuroBloc had it, you know—they were showing behind the scenes, for a price—but I didn’t really want to encourage them, it being bare-faced theft, and everything. But this is fantastic. Much nicer to see it occupied in time-honored fashion. Huh, there’s a real nun...” He pointed the camera eagerly.

“A religious sister, actually,” I remarked. “But I won’t bamboozle you with the distinction. But you can photograph sisters at home, now, surely?”

“Well...in theory. I’ve only seen one, since the permanent lifting of the Suppression. And I didn’t have my camera with me.”

Watkins went on clicking away as we came out of the network of buildings and headed for the gardens cum graveyard. The sun was shining and it was a lovely day. Perhaps Bane and I could take a walk later, give Luc some fresh air.

But Watkins’ photography became more hesitant as we got in among the flower beds and gravestones. “This is a bit weird,” he said after a moment or two. “It looks just like some grand old formal garden...until you look closely.”

I shrugged. “There’s not a lot of space to waste, in here. Anyway, we don’t think of graves as scary, the way nonBelievers do. They’re only sleeping.”

Watkins merely grunted in response to that. I couldn’t say why, exactly, but I’d always had him pegged as an atheist. The kind who would probably call himself a humanist. But we’d hardly been able to discuss such things in the Facility.

“Well, here we are.” I turned into a secluded dell and stopped by one of the pair of graves there. The purple fuchsia was flourishing, almost tripled in size since I’d planted it the previous summer. The white one on the other grave was equally spectacular. I brushed the gravestones with my fingers, murmuring my customary, “Hello, Lucas; hello, Father Mark” under my breath so as not to freak Watkins out.

Watkins was standing rather awkwardly by the grave, looking a little bemused as he read the headstone. It just said:

 

Lucas James Everington

 

Sinner

 

+

 

And the years he’d lived.

“That’s a bit...brief,” said Watkins. ‘Harsh’ was probably the word he’d swallowed. “I thought you lot had forgiven him.”

I looked at the stark words and sighed. “We did and we have. He still didn’t entirely like himself, though. He told me that’s all he wanted, just the day after his baptism—I can’t even remember how it came up. When only a few days later, he... Well, I felt I should honor his wishes.”

‘And only the years, for pity’s sake,’ he’d said. ‘No one is ever going to care whether I was born in March, April or May, let alone what day. I don’t care myself.’

Had he been laying his plan even then, knowing how it might turn out?

“Did you want to say anything?” I asked Watkins, to distract myself from the bad memories.

“There’s nothing left but moldering bones, lass.” But after a long, long silence, he spoke anyway, very softly. “Well, sir, I couldn’t have imagined when you arrived that you’d end up in the ground before me. Such a nice young man. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what happened that changed you so much, but I’m glad you found a home here, even if it wasn’t for long.”

He gave a firm nod, and it was clear he’d said what he wanted to say. His words sparked a storm of curiosity in me, though. He’d known Lucas for so long.

“Is this his fuchsia?” Watkins asked. “I think you mentioned it on your blog.”

“Yes, this purple one grew from his seeds. They were in the parcel you sent for him.”

Watkins’ head swiveled to look at me. “That was for you? But why? The charges against him were false... What else was in it?”

I hesitated. The vote was won, and we’d kept the pressure turned well up on the EuroGov so far to combat any attempt at regression on their part. But. If the EGD ever managed to reopen the Facilities, they might revise their security procedures—but they might not.

“The charges were certainly false,” I said guardedly. “But he did do one thing to help our cause—but only after the escape. When he was sure he was doomed.”

Watkins sighed. “Yes, I sensed that. I felt so bad for him I didn’t ask as many questions as I might have done. You’re not going to tell me either, are you?”

“Sorry. It’s still rather valuable information.”

Information...” I meant the identity of what had been sent, but Watkins’ hands rose, tracing the shape of the remembered parcel in the air, a look of sudden intentness on his face. “He did burn all his documents. That was the only charge that was true. All the Facility paperwork, records, the lot. I thought he was just getting his own back—though it seemed foolish to give them hard evidence for so little gain, and he was not a foolish man. But that wasn’t the revenge, was it... He sent you his security manual. That’s why you were able to go through all those Facilities like a knife through butter. You had every scrap of information, the works. He sent it. Chairman’s innards, I sent it to you. If they’d found it...”

He looked a bit green at the mere thought. “Well,” he went on, after a moment of silence. “I’m not sorry you ended up with it, but I’m none too sure I’d have dared do it if he’d told me. Though I remember what he said when he gave it to me. He said, ‘If anyone asks, I ordered you.’ So I did know there could be trouble. I just didn’t realize I was...bringing down the EGD!”

“They’re not totally brought down yet,” I said. “Still all sorts of awful breeding regulations in place. Uh...you won’t mention your...speculations...to anyone else, will you?”

Watkins snorted. “Are you mad? I’ve no wish to share the Major’s fate. I’ll take it to my grave, lass, never fear.”

He seemed to mean it, thank goodness. But perhaps it would be kindest not to mention this to Eduardo. At least, not unless we actually needed to use the manual again...

The first clock began to strike the hour and I checked my watch. Two o’clock. I needed to get home. Luc would be getting hungry and the food would be done.

“I suppose I’d better be going,” said Watkins.

“Would you like to stay for lunch? Bane should have taken it out of the oven by now, it’s all ready.”

Pleasure warred with uncertainty on Watkins’ face. “Well...if you’d really like to have me.”

It was strange to be around Watkins again, here, on my own turf, as it were. It brought the Facility back to me, yet...whenever the dorm door had opened, and Watkins’ face had appeared, we’d all felt safe. He wasn’t unwelcome. “This way, then.”

There was a slight delay at the entrance to my apartment block, while the guard on duty got clearance for Watkins to enter, but soon enough I was unlocking the door I still had to keep locked, Eduardo’s orders.

Bane lay on the floor, apparently demonstrating to Luc just how easy crawling was really. Luc lay on his tummy, gurgling with laughter. I watched, amused, until Bane noticed I had a guest with me and scrambled hastily to his feet, scooping our darling little boy up and settling him carefully in his arms. “Another guest, Margo?”

Another...ah. Hadn’t thought of that. Oh well. “This is Watkins, Bane.” I took a quick peep at the visitor’s pass. “William Watkins.”

“Huh.” Bane stepped forward, freeing one hand from his precious burden and offering it. “Margo had a guard in the Facility called Watkins...” He trailed off as his eyes fell on the twisted fingers of Watkins’ left hand. “Aww...” he glanced at Luc and substituted what he’d been going to say for a plaintive, “Margo!” his hand retreating...

“Shake, Bane,” I said sternly. “Watkins is staying for lunch.”

Bane sighed, shook, then suddenly froze, an expression of horror creeping onto his face. “Lunch...” he muttered.

I sniffed, suddenly noticing the slight burnt smell in the air. “Bane! How is it you can time a mission down to the millisecond but you can’t pull food out of the oven after half an hour!” I stormed into the kitchen to inspect the damage. [B: Fair point, Margo. I really will try to do better!]

I’m sorry, Margo,” Bane followed me penitently. “I got distracted. I’m sure Luc was trying to crawl...”

“He’s only just started holding his head up, Bane.” But I was somewhat mollified, all the same. I also found our son very distracting.

Pulling a pan out of the oven, I took the lid off. The shepherd’s pie was blackened around the edges, but... “Well, you’re lucky, Bane, I think most of the central part will be fine. Good job I made a big one.”

Luc began to whimper, either wanting my attention, or hungry, perhaps both. I took him from Bane and carried him back to where Watkins stood, pretending, in proper British fashion, not to have noticed the minor culinary crisis.

“Watkins, this is Luc. Lucas Mark Verrall. Luc, this nice gentleman is Watkins. He helped look after your mummy for a while, once.”

“That’s a generous way of putting it,” sighed Watkins, looking at Luc, who stopped fretting for a moment to peer back. “Lovely little lad.”

“Well, I think so,” I agreed, as Luc began threatening to cry again.

“Margo, you feed Luc, I’ll finish off the meal,” said Bane, still in apologetic mode.

I gestured Watkins to the sofa and settled myself in the armchair with Luc, unbuttoning my dress, at which Watkins looked greatly alarmed. But the dress’s cape-thingy saved him from any serious embarrassment.

“Oh, I should mention,” I said, once Luc was sucking happily, “we’ve a couple of other people coming to lunch. I didn’t think about it before, but...”

A knock at the door cut me off. Bane went to get it. “Hi, U; hi, Jane.”

About a month ago we—or at any rate, I—had been stunned when fellow former Salperton reAssignee Jane had showed up with Eduardo’s latest bunch of VSS recruits. She was a pretty committed Believer now, wonder of wonders—though some cynical part of me couldn’t help wondering if it didn’t have a lot to do with it being the way of life most detested by the EuroGov—and policing a small, peaceful Free Town in Africa for the rest of her life did not appeal to her. She wanted to fight for the cause, she wanted to be where the action was and she wanted it badly enough to have passed VSS selection.

The laypeople in the State were fairly equally balanced when it came to the sexes, and the priests and sisters balanced each other out pretty well, but the various guard units were heavily skewed to men. Mostly young men. Especially with the vote won, the arrival of any pretty young woman caused tremendous interest in these quarters, especially among those actually senior enough to marry. Most of our guard friends had been finding excuses to drop around and casually pump me for information concerning how Jane felt about them.

Jane was no better. Committed to her new faith she might now be, but she clearly didn’t plan on remaining celibate longer than it took to find the right marriage partner.

Right now she was with Unicorn, though, the chastest and most confirmed bachelor in the state, so they’d probably both come from being on duty. U had actually kind of invited himself to dinner today, or as close as his exquisite manners would allow, but he was always welcome.

Hi, Margo,” Jane came straight over, unfastening her glossy mane of black hair and tossing it back. “How’s the cutie pie...” She saw Watkins and started. “Holy...” she finished it off with something that made U wince and me frown. Luc wasn’t talking yet, and I certainly didn’t want that to be his first word.

Her colleague’s wince had more effect than my frown. Jane’s coffee and cream cheeks darkened slightly. “Uh, sorry. Watkins, what the h...um, what on earth are you doing here?”

Watkins had gone very red too, clearly not so sure of his welcome with Jane. “Uh... Well, I ran into Margaret whilst sightseeing in St Peters, and she invited me to lunch.”

“Oh.” Jane frowned for another moment, as though surprised it could be explained so simply, then seemed to conclude that yes, it really could. U had come over to stand beside her, so she said, “Well, anyway, hello Watkins. Never thought I’d see you again. This is Jack. Jack, this is Watkins. He used to help keep us locked in the Facility.”

U’s head rose slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“He used to keep the Finchleys in line, as well,” I said quietly.

Jane pulled a face. “Well, that too.”

Another knock at the door. Bane let Jon in and dived back into the kitchen.

“You’ll never guess who Margo invited to lunch,” said Jane, before I could say anything.

“Who?” asked Jon, transferring his white cane to his left hand and rather self-consciously smoothing down his black clerical attire. He’d only been in the seminary for a month.

Jane jerked her head meaningfully at Watkins, who spoke rather uncertainly. “Uh, hello Jonathan.”

Jon started to frown in puzzlement, then a look of astonishment covered his face. “Watkins.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind. Margaret very kindly invited me to lunch.”

Jon was already dismissing his surprise. “Fine by me. The more the merrier. How are you?”

Watkins began to repeat what he’d already told me, so I yielded Luc to U, who was hovering hopefully, and went to see what Bane was doing to the food.

Soon enough we were all settled at the table and our Vatican guests were looking expectantly from me to Bane. Watkins reached for a serving spoon, then looked uncertain and drew his hand back when he noticed no one else had moved.

It was Bane’s turn, and he didn’t go in for long graces, so Watkins wouldn’t have to wait long.

“Dear Lord,” said Bane, clasping his hands in that rather earnest way I found so endearing. “Thank you for food, family, friends, eyes...and...and for kindness and care even in the darkest of places. Amen.”

My heart leapt in delight, whilst Watkins looked so taken aback I thought he might have to wipe his eyes. Bane was trying, and he’d clearly remembered that all I’d ever said about Watkins had been positive. Well, except for my grumbling about his sharp wits, which had nearly scuppered our escape before I’d got the drop on him...

 

So I’m telling poor Sally, ‘It’s all right, Margaret’s a nice girl, isn’t she?’ and all the time my heart’s pounding like billy-ho and I’m thinking, ‘I hope to goodness these girls are as nice as they’ve always seemed or we’re dead as doornails!”

Now that our plates were empty, Watkins had been talked into telling his side of the escape. “But Margaret waited until Sally wasn’t looking to put her out with the nonLee, which made me feel a bit better, then the moment I was busy laying Sally down on the floor, she plugged me too. I woke up with a splitting headache, a distinct lack of clothing, and a specialCorps medic slapping my face. SpecialCorps crawling all over the Facility, in fact; I knew at once you’d all got away.

“Major Everington was prowling around driving them mad with his sardonic replies to their stupid questions and looking—to me, anyway—like he’d have been whistling jauntily if it weren’t for the fact he knew he was going to get it in the neck. He caught me in an empty corridor that evening, when the bigwigs had all gone, and gave me the parcel. And the next morning they came for him. Evil blighters.” Watkins paused to drink from his wine glass. “The only person to blame was Wallis,” he said bitterly. “And what did they do? Promote her. Pah.” He sipped more wine, shaking his head in disgust.

Jon and Jane were shaking their heads as well, and so was I. Captain Gladys Wallis, the girls’ warden, had been cruel and abusive. There’d been nothing in the news, but hopefully whatever she was doing now, she’d no power over anyone.

Bane went and made coffees for us all, and we moved to the sofas, U taking the place beside Jane on the two-seater, leaving Bane and me on the three-seater with Watkins. Jon stole Luc and sat on the floor with him in his lap, which solved the problem of another seat. As Watkins began to tell me more about Sally’s so far depressingly futile job hunt, Jon was clearly too wrapped up with Luc to listen very closely.

“Uh, Jane,” U was saying in a low voice, “I, um, wanted a word, actually...”

“Well, go on, then, it’s just us,” said Jane. Well, on that sofa, anyway...

U shot Watkins a look, then took a deep breath, as though dismissing the unexpected guest, and focused his vivid blue eyes on Jane again. “Well... I was actually wondering if there was any chance you might like to...that you might consider...taking a turn around the Vatican wall with me?” he finished very fast.

Jane had been here long enough to know she was being asked out. I lost track of what I was saying in reply to Watkins, my ears straining, attention completely grabbed by the other conversation. Jon had fallen silent, mid-coo, and Luc gurgled an objection. Bane’s head swiveled sharply towards U, then abruptly back again as he tried to pretend it hadn’t. I fought not to allow my own head to turn, not to stare, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the deep crimson that was creeping up U’s tense face as the silence lengthened.

Jane was clearly taken aback. U had been one of the first guys she’d grilled me about, but of course I’d had to break it to her that...

“I thought you didn’t like girls,” she retorted, blunt as ever.

U’s face went entirely brick red, but he kept his cool. “I like you,” he said simply.

Jane’s turn to blush, the warm brown of her cheeks darkening. “Well,” she...stuttered. “In that case, I’d love to. I mean...” She began to recover herself. “Why not. Yeah, why not. Let’s.”

Well, that was a first. Another first. Jane had turned everyone down so far, on the grounds they hadn’t got to know her so must be going entirely on looks. I’d been expecting those with a more serious interest to start making a move soon, so I wasn’t surprised that someone had seized on the comparative privacy of a Sunday lunch, but... U? [B: I was gob smacked. In a really happy way!]

Jane and U. My mind boggled. The silence in the room was far too obvious. I struggled to remember what I’d been saying...

“Great,” U was saying, looking equal parts thrilled and terrified. “That’s smashing. What about...tomorrow night? We...don’t actually have to walk around the wall, you know, that’s just how one asks... ”

“Yeah, yeah, Vatican slang, I know,” said Jane, but she was smiling, and looked very pleased with herself, in a startled sort of way.

What had I been saying to Watkins? Think, Margo! Or say something else, come on, come on...

Jon managed to mumble something that made very little sense to Luc, but my mind remained blank.

Watkins, sensing the awkward moment, and no doubt having garnered some notion of the cause, rescued the situation. “Glad I was able to retire, myself,” he said heartily, as though there’d been no pause in the conversation.

“Yes, very good,” I said stupidly. “I mean... That must have been much nicer for you.”

“Than looking for a job. Much nicer,” added Bane, sounding just as stupid as me. But this was such a shock. U had seemed as irrecoverably fixed on celibate bachelorhood as anyone could be. And even if he hadn’t been... U and Jane? It just wasn’t a combination I’d have thought of.

Jane was so loud and rebellious and, well, prickly. U was the perfect gentleman, so honorable: kind and polite and conscientious. But they were also both keenly intelligent, brave... Jane seemed to be taking to VSS duties like a fish to water... And honorable wasn’t the word most people used when describing how Agent Jack Willmott had won the Battle for the Vatican over a pile of unconscious—and in some cases lifeless—civilians. Clever, cunning, and ruthless, were words more commonly used. Perhaps they had more in common than it seemed on the surface. Perhaps...

Maybe U was—understandably—embarrassed by the obvious distraction of everyone in the room, because it wasn’t long before he thanked me and Bane for the hospitality and made his escape with the excuse of going to the range for shooting practice. Jane went with him, but since Watkins was still there, Bane and Jon and I could hardly discuss the startling turn of events and Watkins was too polite to inquire. I topped up Watkins’ wine glass and tried to put it out of my head.

Watkins, why did you join EGD security?” I asked. As sincerely well-meaning as anyone in EGD security gets had been Lucas’s assessment of Watkins.

Watkins’s attention shifted abruptly from a framed photo of Lucas on the wall and back to me. He took a rather immoderate swig from his glass. “It’s not a cheerful story, lassie.” His tone was grim.

“I would really like to know.”

He sighed, long and from the heart. “Well...” He hesitated, drank more wine, and finally began. “When I was at school, long time ago indeed, now, I fell in love. Bit like you and your young man, really, only...well, unfortunately for Cathie I was no Bane Verrall. She failed her Sorting, you see. Unexpected, like. I was heart-broken, of course.

“And I was a good boyfriend to her, or so I thought for fifty years or more, until you two showed me right up. Because I wrote to her, you see. Twice a week, for eighteen months, two weeks and three days. Refused to forget her, the way they wanted me to.” He sighed again, even more heavily. “I think it was some comfort to her, though I can see now, decades too late, I should have done more. Dared more...”

And after that, you joined EGD security?” Bane burst out incredulously.

Watkins smiled, thin and sad. “Something happened to her, in there. Someone did something to her. She never told me exactly what—knew it would have been censored, no doubt, even if she didn’t want to spare me grief. But I could tell. So I swore then that I’d commit my life to making sure what happened to her never happened to any other reAssignee.” He laughed bleakly, drained his glass and held it out with something so akin to desperation that I refilled it, though he’d had several glasses already.

It seemed like a good idea when I was eighteen,” he said, after another long drink. “Felt like I was doing something. I slowly figured out, of course, that I’d simply made myself part of the problem. Too late by then. Still, I didn’t realize quite how ridiculous my youthful choices were until Bane here demonstrated how a devoted boyfriend ought to behave in such a situation. Makes me feel like there must’ve been a real shortage of devoted boyfriends for a very long time.”

Bane shifted, embarrassed. “A shortage of dodgy Resistance contacts, more like,” he said bluntly. “Which is hardly a bad thing.”

“No?” said Watkins. “The results were pretty stunning.”

“Not entirely,” I said. “Not at the Facility. The helicopter pilot was killed, and it was only by God’s good grace none of you guards shared his fate. And then there were the soldiers on the Channel Bridge...”

“Can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs,” said Watkins. “What we were doing was wrong, and any of us with an ounce of conscience knew it, however deeply buried the knowledge might be.”

But you were there because you wanted to help reAssignees,” I objected. “And Sally, and some of the others...”

“At the beginning, yes. But once I’d figured out that what I was doing was just keeping the whole thing going, I probably should have left. But I didn’t, because I needed a pay check. I was glad you didn’t kill me, lassie, but I couldn’t have said you were wrong if you had.”

Well, I would’ve,” I said fiercely. “There was no need to kill you!”

Watkins shrugged. “Well, no need, no,” he conceded, his attention straying back to the baby gurgling in Jon’s lap.

Perhaps time to change the subject anyway. “Would you like to hold Luc?”

“Uh...” Warring emotions flitted across Watkins’ face: disbelief, eagerness...closely followed by that familiar oh-no-what-if-I-drop-it expression...

“Here we go.” I scooped Luc up and deposited him on Watkins’ knees. “Just hold onto him so he doesn’t fall off, but he can hold his head up fine so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Watkins’ look of panic eased as Luc peered and cooed up at him, unphased. “Well, you’re a dear little lad, aren’t you?” he cooed back. “Goodness, this brings it back. My two were about this age when I first held them. Both born just when I’d gone back on shift, as my ill luck would have it...”

My two... But of course Watkins had children. EGD Security officers were exempt from the Stable Population Act since their higher pay and greater perks did not extend to much in the way of leave and even the EGD recognized that no one in their right mind would want to raise a family in a Facility—but EGD Security rankers, with their six months on, six months off shift patterns, were still expected to produce the regulation two children. So of course Watkins had children.

“Was it difficult, being away so much of the time?” I couldn’t help asking.

Watkins grimaced and freed one hand from Luc, perfectly secure on his lap, to pick up his glass again. “They lived with their mother,” he said bluntly. “It was a Stable Population match when I was thirty. We, er, did what was necessary, but we didn’t take to each other. She allowed me access to begin with, then when the eldest was about five, she finally found out what I did for a living. I’d just said I was a security guard, you see, but it was too hard to hide the shift pattern and she figured it out.

“After a year and a bit, I managed to get access granted me by a court order. Once a month. Which in practice meant just six times a year. Judge was as prejudiced as the rest of the population. And Carol and David stopped wanting to see me once they got to be teenagers and realized all the stuff their mum had been saying about me was true. So my contact after that...was sporadic. I never quite lost touch, but...”

He drained his glass—then brightened. “They’ve been in contact, you know, since those posts you wrote. So I really meant it, when I thanked you, y’know. And you making me look so nice in your book... I’ve seen more of them in the last year than in the last decade! Met my grandkids for the first time, as well.” He broke off and pulled some faces at Luc, who was beginning to look disgruntled at the lack of attention, and Luc gurgled gleefully.

Bane reached over and tickled one tiny foot, making Luc giggle even harder. Our son was a happy baby.

“I don’t know why they don’t just give up on the whole Stable Population thing,” said Bane. “All they’d have to do is lower the price of a third Child Permittance, and they’d have the same number of children without having to...you know, force people.”

“They won’t do it,” said Jon, shaking his head. “The whole reason they came up with the Stable Population law was because they just weren’t prepared to admit that the declining population the EGD had worked so hard to bring about was simply making the economic problems worse. So they came up with the excuse that everyone needed to have two children in order to maintain genetic diversity, but anyone with a brain knows the real reason.”

Well, they called it the Stable Population Act,” snorted Watkins, slurring his words a little.

Er, actually, it’s called the Critical Genetic Diversity Act,” I said, apologetically. “Everyone just calls it the Stable Population Act because...well, because that’s what it really is: their desperate attempt to put a brake on the population decline and at least keep it steady. Though they even now aren’t prepared to go against their own ideology and let it increase again.”

Watkins looked like he’d quite like to spit, only there wasn’t anywhere to do it. “It’s hard for me to say I wish the Act didn’t exist,” he said, quite heatedly, “because I wouldn’t ever want to rub out Carol and David, however difficult things have been. But if it wasn’t for them... Well, if it weren’t for that entire stupid pack of breeding laws, Sorting, the whole blinking lot...” he was very red in the face now... “maybe Carol and David would have been Cathie and my kids. Suppose they wouldn’t have been quite who they are but all the same...maybe...maybe we’d have had more than two...maybe Cathie and I would be retiring together... Seeing our kids regularly...”

His voice went thinner, almost...lonely. “Going to sleep at night with a clear conscience... We can’t all wipe out our sins by firing squad...almost envy him in a way, you know...” He drank the last of his wine, though I was quite sure by now he’d had more than enough, and slammed the glass down rather hard on the floor. “Confounded EGD! Blasted EuroGov! You keep hammering them, lassie! You just keep hammering the whole pack of filthy toads! Kick ’em where it hurts! Yeah. Yeah...” he trailed off, staring at Lucas’s picture again.

Bane eased Luc from Watkins’s lap as he started fretting. “I think this little one is hungry again, Margo,” he said...then pulled a face. “Ah, no, I think he needs changing. Oh well, my turn, I suppose.”

He bore Luc off to the bathroom. Watkins was still staring at the photo.

“Did you like Lucas, Watkins?” I asked, remembering something Lucas had said. “Or just... you know, think he was a good superior to have around?”

Watkins’ expression grew thoughtful. “Well now...when he first arrived, he was as nice a young man as you could hope to meet. As nice a young gentleman, I’d even say. Certainly I liked him. He kept order, but by the book. But then, after some years...something happened. I never did know what. One day he was normal, the next...walking around like a zombie. Like someone had ripped his heart right out of him. He recovered a bit, to a degree...but it was like all that was left was bitterness and cynicism and...well, he got more imaginative with the punishments after that. I must say, they were more effective than the official versions.”

“So...he never told you what happened?”

“No.” Watkins shook his head. “He just changed overnight. To begin with...well, quite frankly I was afraid we’d have to break his door down one morning. Instead, a couple of weeks later he just jumped in the car and drove off, in the middle of the day, without saying anything to anyone. When he hadn’t come back by the following morning, I suggested to Captain Wallis that she try the hospital first of all. Which she did. And he was there.”

My eyes widened. “He’d tried to...” Surely not, Lucas had told me...

No. It’s what I expected, but no. But he was there. He’d been found lying on a garden path in the early hours of the morning, beaten half to death; two broken arms and a lot more. Well, if you do go out in your uniform without even taking a driver along... Officers are supposed to be driven around, you see,” he informed me solemnly. “Supposed to make them look important, but it’s for security too. It’s a firm rule. He’d even take a driver when he took his plants into the forest. I often did it.

“Did you know that?” Watkins digressed, still slurring the words. “He used to take all the plants he didn’t want to keep and plant them in the forest? Always a different spot. I asked him, why, once, and he said most of the plants wouldn’t survive out there, and that’s why he didn’t want to go back. But he still planted them all, ever so carefully. Wanted to give them a chance.

Anyway,” he dragged his mind back to what he’d been saying with obvious effort. “After about a week someone called from the hospital and said we should now go and collect him and look after him at the Facility. But when we got there they didn’t seem to know anything about the call. They were all too happy to let us take him, though. They weren’t taking that good care of him, by the look of it. Hypocrites,” he said loudly, beginning to get heated again. “Vile hypocrisy! Vile...”

Yeah, where did the organs the hospitals had been using come from, after all?

But seeing another rant forthcoming, I said hastily, “Did they catch the people who attacked him, or did the police not care either?”

“Well,” Watkins blinked and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Oh, well, that was odd. By all accounts the police interviewed him as they ought to. But he wouldn’t tell them a thing. Just said over and over that he had no wish to press charges, thank you kindly. They gave up soon enough and cleared off. So no, I never found out who did it.”

“How strange,” remarked Jon.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Watkins shrugged. “Mysterious fellow, he was. I dare say you probably know more about it than me.”

I shrugged as well. If Lucas hadn’t told him, I didn’t feel I could.

“How’s things, Jon?” I said, since I’d not actually got around to asking yet. “How’s the seminary?”

His face brightened. “Oh, it’s great. Even just the things we’ve learned already...oh, it’s fantastic, Margo; I’m loving it.”

I smiled too. It was wonderful to see Jon looking so...happy. So content. If he didn’t become a priest I’d be extremely surprised. “The black suits you.”

Jon’s cheeks reddened slightly. “To be honest, I feel very self-conscious,” he confided. “At least, whenever I remember what I’ve got on. But that’s why they start us wearing it so soon, of course. So by the time we’re actually ordained—if we are—we’re comfortable and can concentrate on the job at hand, not what we’re wearing.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a good plan.”

Jon’s head turned slightly in a familiar listening pose, then he winked in my direction and jerked his head towards Watkins. Ah, Watkins’ head had tilted back against the sofa and he was breathing deeply and evenly, fast asleep.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” I said under my breath. “If he’d left in that condition, think what he might have said to the EuroSoldiers on the way out?” Visiting Vatican State, he could get away with, nowadays. But tipsy or not, slagging off the EuroGov too publicly might get him arrested.

Jon grinned. “Yeah. Would have been fun to listen, though.”

“Umm.” I was feeling quite drowsy myself, after that nice lunch. Luc was sleeping through the night most of the time now, but he still woke us often enough to feel it.

“What did we miss?” Bane came back in, Luc asleep in his arms. “Ah...” he noticed our slumbering guest and sat on the other sofa instead. “Siesta time,” he said more softly, arranging Luc in his lap. “Well, not for me, I’m holding the baby...”

Somehow, despite my determination to stay awake and talk to Jon some more, I woke up over an hour later to find Jon gone and Bane sitting with Luc still asleep on his lap, reading a book. Watkins was snoring slightly.

“Oh, Jon’s gone,” I said, disappointed.

“Well, this place being such a hive of activity,” said Bane dryly. “He was thinking of joining U and Jane at the range and having a crack at the audible targets, then realized that probably wasn’t such a good idea.” From his slight snigger, Bane had been the one to point that out.

“Can you believe it?” I said. “U asking Jane out! Perhaps it was...you know, just a phase for him, or...some issues that he’s now worked through... So now...”

Bane frowned, though. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Not for U. He told me once that his older brother figured it out way before him. He was fantastic about it, apparently, helped U so much. Kept him focused on how he was a child of God, how God loved him and wanted him, and he was no different in God’s eyes because he felt those things, they were just temptations to be dealt with, the way everyone has temptations. I still hope his brother shows up alive.”

“Not much chance of that by now, surely?” I said sadly. U’s older brother had been a missionary in the EuroGov: far more dangerous even than a parish priest. No official EuroGov record of his execution had yet come to light, but he’d not turned up either, so...

Bane sighed. “No. I know. But anyway, what I’m saying is, I think Jane must just be...you know, that one girl in a million.”

My turn to frown. “Then I really hope they’re right for each other! Because if you’re correct, U may not get another shot.”

“Well, she looked pretty interested to me,” smirked Bane.

Yes, she had, and small wonder. U was handsome, kind...and it couldn’t hurt that he was Eduardo’s unofficial heir, to boot.

Carefully, I eased off the sofa and went to join Bane—I really didn’t want to wake Watkins until he’d slept it off a bit. From his snores he was still well out of it, though, so I turned to Bane eagerly. “Watkins was telling us that Lucas got beaten up and admitted to hospital. And from what he said—and the timing—Lucas must have been that EGD Security officer Uncle Peter told us about!”

Bane frowned. “What, the one whose life he pretty much saved?”

“Yep.”

Uncle Peter had trotted out the story now and then, usually in the context of forgiving one’s enemies. It had always impressed me and drawn an ambiguous reaction from Bane. I could remember Uncle Peter telling it...

“I was visiting a dying parishioner every day in one particular ward,” he would begin, “and I became aware of this new patient that everyone hated; fellow patients, nurses, doctors, everyone. He’d two of his arms in plaster and other injuries hidden from view; he was a mess. Hard to believe anyone could feel too harshly towards him, in that condition, but they did.

“I soon found out why; even my parishioner had no compassion for him—at least, not until we’d talked about it a bit. But this guy was an EGD Security Officer, one of society’s ultimate scapegoats—you know they’re even more reviled than the rankers. Someone had certainly had a pretty good go at beating him to death, by the look of it.

“The arms were his problem. He couldn’t reach anything for himself. He was helpless. And the nurses who should have been feeding him kept leaving it for the next shift. Then the next shift would leave the job to the next shift. He literally was not getting any food or water.

In partial defense of the medical staff, I don’t think they were actually trying to kill him, but they were well on the way to doing so. To start with he had the bell button in his hand and he kept ringing it, but the way the nurses spoke to him! ‘We’ll get to you when we’ve time, stop bothering us,’ was about the nicest thing I heard them say.

Anyway, I had this feeling he didn’t really want the food or water that much, he was just ringing that button out of some... I don’t know, some sense of duty? Anyway, after a day or two of this, he’d had enough. I was there when it happened: a nurse came to tell him to stop ringing that damn bell! He asked for water—can’t have had any for almost two days, and he was a sick man—but she just gave a particularly cutting response.

“Anyway, this was clearly the last straw. I’ll never forget the look of total despair and exhaustion that settled on his face as the nurse left. He opened his hands and let the bell go. Flicked it right off the bed and closed his eyes, and I could tell he wasn’t going to say another word. He was just going to lie there and die a horrible death from thirst.

“Well, regardless of his profession, I couldn’t have that, so I went over and got the cup and put it to his lips. But he didn’t want it, by then—if he’d ever really wanted it. He turned his face away and wouldn’t drink.

So I said to him, “If you don’t drink this water, you’re killing yourself as surely as if you put a gun to your head.” I’d not much hope he’d listen, to be honest. He looked that past caring. But you know, it had a remarkable effect on him. He opened his eyes and looked at me—such a look of anguish—and then he just started sipping, meek as you please.

“I came back after visiting some other patients and there was a stone-cold meal on his dresser, so I fed him that. And did the same whenever I was there for the next few days. He never said anything to me, so I didn’t say much to him either. It was a dangerous thing I was doing, after all; exactly the sort of thing that might draw suspicion. But I’d no choice; I’m quite sure it was the only food and drink he was getting.

Anyway, when he seemed, as far as my limited medical knowledge could judge, out of any serious danger from his injuries, I opened up his dresser drawer one day and found his wallet. He still didn’t say anything, just watched me that way he did. I was worried by then that he suspected, even if no one else was paying much attention, but what could I do?

“Well, they’d put his security card safe in his wallet and sure enough, it had his Facility’s phone number on it. So I phoned up the Facility and equivocated slightly by saying, ‘I’m calling from the hospital’ and that they should now come and collect him. Sure enough, they assumed it was an official call and along they came. Had to wheel him off in the bed, mind you, but no one cared. Suppose they thought it was worth losing a bed to be rid of him. Those ham-fisted but undoubtedly well-meaning guards were clearly going to look after him much better.”

“Did he never say anything to you at all?” I would always ask, at this point.

“Just one thing. As they were wheeling him out, they passed me, at the bedside of old Jimmy, and he met my eyes for a moment and said...”

“Thank you?” Bane would suggest.

“Nope,” Uncle Peter would say, grinning...then his face would sober. “No, not thank you. I think he’d rather I’d left him to die. No, he said, ‘Don’t worry.’ Just that.”

“What did he mean?” Bane would demand.

“I always took it to mean, ‘Don’t worry that I’m going to have you hauled before a judge to make a Divine Denial, Father Priest.’ Or something like that. Anyway, I never saw him again. And I was never hauled before a judge.”

Lucas had clearly kept his mouth as tightly shut about his unwanted savior as he had about the thugs who’d beaten him. I was glad in a way he’d never found out that Uncle Peter had died in his own Facility, albeit years later. Well, he’d know now, of course, but finding out in heaven was different. Impossible, surely to wring your hands and feel guilty when you’re both radiantly happy in God’s awesome presence?

“So who did it?” said Bane, much more interested in the old story than I’d ever seen him. “Who attacked him?”

I shrugged. “Could’ve been pretty much any thugs of any description. Practically everyone hates EGD Security, even racists.”

“But why protect them? Just let them get away with it!”

I shrugged again. “I imagine he felt so guilty about his job, he considered that he deserved it. I can just see it.”

Bane still looked doubtful. “You’d think he’d have wanted a gang that vicious taken off the street.”

“I doubt his sense of civic responsibility was functioning at its best just then, Bane,” I said dryly.

Bane’s turn to shrug. “Well, perhaps.”

Watkins’ snores tailed off with a bit of a grunt. He raised his head and looked around, blinking and rubbing his eyes, then checked his watch. “Ah, sorry, lassie, how rude of me. Cluttering up your sofa all afternoon like some drunken sailor!”

I hid a smile. “It’s no problem; I had rather a long nap myself. We’d hardly want to throw you out before you’d digested your dinner.”

“You’re very kind,” said Watkins dryly. “But I know I drank too much, and I apologize. I’d better be on my way.”

The worst effects of the wine did seem to have worn off, so after taking a group photo of the four of us for him to show his children and grandchildren, I took him back to St Peter’s. There, Snail inspected his photos, deferring the granting of permission to me for any that showed Luc, Bane or myself, and then returned Watkins’ EuroID card in exchange for the Vatican pass.

“Interesting company you’re keeping,” Snail remarked, once Watkins had headed off to finish his interrupted tour of the basilica.

“Watkins is a good guy,” I said. “It was kind of nice to see him, actually.”

“Kind of?” muttered Snail skeptically, settling himself in front of his screen again.

“Okay, so it’s hard not to have mixed feelings,” I admitted, then added firmly, “but I’m glad he came.”

Snail spread his hands in surrender, so I headed home.

 

21st May (20)

Haven’t written in this since last Sunday! Never mind. Had U and Jane to Sunday lunch again. No unexpected guests this time. They arrived looking decidedly pleased with each other. [B: Besotted, you mean!]

“We’ve told Eduardo,” U announced, quietly radiant.

Clearly this had some special significance if you spoke VSS-ese, but I had to ask, “Er, told him what?”

That we’re...” he shot Jane a wondering look. “That we’re...in a relationship.

“Oh. That’s his business, is it?”

“Eduardo thinks everything is his business,” snorted Bane.

U laughed at that. “This really is, actually. He doesn’t like people to be on duty together. To prevent the distraction, you know?”

“Oh, right.”

Jane caught my eye and beamed. Clearly things were going very well. Thank you, Lord, for that.

[B: Amen!]

 

18th August (20)

Oh dear, I’m not doing very well with this diary. Three months since I’ve written anything. I’m just so busy with Luc and the blog and everything. I simply must do the vacuuming this week. Bane keeps doing it, and he says he doesn’t mind but I know he does really—and it’s not like he hasn’t got plenty to do himself!

[B: You know if I get really fed up I’ll just stop doing it all, right?]

Jane’s just been here. Fretting whether U really likes her because they’ve been going out for three months and he’s only just held her hand for the first time. I explained to her that for U, holding hands is pretty much the equivalent of French kissing for a less uber-chaste guy, and she cheered up.

I didn’t actually say this to her, of course, but if U’s holding her hand, I reckon he’s made his mind up. Though he probably feels it’s too soon to...well, to actually propose! When she’d gone I did a happy dance all around the living room.

[B: I’m sorry I missed that!

M: I can do it again, but only if you join in.

B: I’ll think about it!]

I can’t believe how much Jane is changing, though. She’s so much less snappy and defensive nowadays. I kind of accidentally let slip something about that to U, and he just looked surprised. ‘Well, isn’t it obvious how starved she’s been of love?’ he said. I’ve been thinking about that quite a lot. And it’s true, isn’t it?

I always tried to make allowance for Jane’s prickliness because I could tell how stressful her life must have been as an unRegistered child, always waiting for that knock on the door. But I hadn’t really thought about how she must have felt about her parents. That they’d failed her before she was even born—and that they’d never made any plans to save her. She definitely loved them, because she didn’t try to escape until after Sorting Day, when they could no longer be punished for it. But did she ever believe they really, truly loved her? Okay, most parents never made a run for it with their unRegistered child, but some did. And all...should’ve. Shouldn’t they?

I suppose I just feel bad that I was in the Facility with Jane for almost four months and I never saw what U saw almost straight away: that Jane is a much warmer, nicer person than I ever gave her credit for, if you can just peel away all those defensive layers. Clearly, as a judge of character, I suck. :(

[B: Jane’s an onion person—they’re always hard to read.

M: What are you, a carrot? Totally straightforward?

B: Well, you’re an open book! Again! :-D]

 

25th October (20)

Luc walked for the first time today! On his own. Just a few steps, then Bane had to catch him!

[B: So proud!]

Eduardo came to lunch. He suggested Bane might like to do VSS basic training at last—Bane’s been officially ‘attached’ to the VSS for ages—but Bane wasn’t too keen. It’s a one-year course and he can’t see how he’ll be able to keep the rescue missions going at the same pace if he’s doing training all day and night. Especially with a toddler as well! As I pointed out. Eduardo didn’t seem too bothered, just said true enough, we’ll wait for a better time then.

[B: God’s the only one who knows when that will be!]

Bane was a bit at a loose end after the vote, having his eyes back, and everything, but it didn’t take him long (precisely three weeks, actually!) to hit on the idea of helping star-crossed mixed race couples (like Juwan and Doms) to get out of the EuroBloc. Loads of them want to leave, so they can get married properly, and avoid the Stable Population Act forcing them to have kids with someone of their own race when they reach thirty unRegistered.

Strictly speaking, people can leave, of course, once they’re Adults, but the EuroGov make it so complicated to actually get the necessary permits and visas and so on, that loads of people would rather just drop everything and do a runner, if they’re sure they’ll never want to go back. Bane calls it the ‘Matrimonial Express’ service, though of course no one is obliged to marry once they’re safe in Africa. But most of them do.

[B: I get sent so much wedding cake!]

Bane doesn’t usually go on the missions himself, thank goodness. Even he can see that it’s an unnecessary risk. Practically anyone else stands a good chance of getting away with it if caught, but Bane’s still wanted on a few capital charges that the Vote didn’t render void. He hates not going, of course.

[B: Ain’t that the truth!]

He does go out to the ship quite often, mind you.

[B: It’s not the same.]

He’s actually really good at playing the media angle. He documents the missions and releases photos and non-classified info to the press. The public love the whole thing! It’s really been fuelling support for the campaign against the Breeding Laws—and a lot of the campaign is grass roots, as well, not just me!

The EuroGov can’t lock you up for using the religious term ‘marriage’ anymore, of course, but they still don’t legally recognize religious marriages. People have to have a civil registration too. It’s a minor point, but hopefully we might get to it one day.

[B: Yeah, according to the EuroGov, we’re not really ‘married’! Idiots!]

 

26th December (21)

U and Jane are engaged! [B: About time!]

U popped the question at this oh-so-romantic dinner on Christmas Eve. He took her along to the greenhouses, and he’d put candles and fairy lights everywhere in one of them, and a little table and two chairs, and they had a really private dinner, which is actually rather hard to achieve here! Jane was thrilled. She said yes, of course, so U is thrilled too.

[B: Almost levitating, in fact!]

The only drawback of this long-awaited event is that Jane clearly won’t be able to talk about anything other than wedding plans for the next year—or six months if she has her way. Don’t get me wrong, I am really interested, but Jane is way more interested!

Oh, Bane and I are moving to a larger apartment soon, so Luc can have his own room. We’ll still be in the same block, though.

[B: I have this feeling we’re going to be in this block for a long, long time—unless you can remove the target tattooed next to the scar on your forehead, anyway...

Bother, didn’t realize it was that visible!]

 

17th June (21)

I am such a useless diarist! [B: Yep.]

I put bits and pieces from daily life into my blog, but never get around to opening this thing! However, I had to make an entry today. After a year’s hard campaigning—and lots of ‘Matrimonial Express’ missions!—the EuroGov have just announced that, ‘having become aware of serious concerns among the population’ and ‘as listening to such concerns is always our priority’ they are instigating a ‘temporary suspension of the Critical Genetic Diversity Act! So in future people like Watkins, or Juwan and Doms—or Unicorn, if he’d stayed in the EuroBloc—won’t be forced to pair off with random strangers when they hit thirty! The main Breeding Laws are still in force, though, so Bane isn’t out of a job yet.

[B: Am I allowed to write ‘oh good’, next to this?]

Oh, the other big thing I wanted to record! Bane and I are hoping to have another baby soon. Luc is 17 months and needs a little brother or sister, don’t you think?

[B: Definitely!]

 

14th September (21)

U and Jane got married today! [B: Liar! ;-)]

What a wonderful day. I’ve never seen U happier and Jane was practically floating. She found a sort of deep cream and gold ball gown and she looked stunning. U had Bane, Snail and Bee for groomsmen. Jon and Kyle served at the altar. I was a bridesmaid, along with Jane’s newest friends, Galena, Calla, and Kibuuka, a few of those rather rare things—female VSS agents! Plus Caroline and Harriet and Sarah. So loads of bridesmaids! And lots of the others from the Free Town of Kanju came as guests. It was brilliant seeing them all. I’m actually writing this the following day because the party went on rather a long time! [B: As I said.]

It was nice to catch up with Bee a bit, as well. They let him stay in the apartment with U, Jon and Snail to begin with, for familiarity, but after he’d been in his new job a while, he preferred to move to the Vatican Police Barracks. Easier being with his new comrades. Snail was a bit downcast about that, but he understood it was better for Bee.

They’ve remained best friends, mind you, despite Bee still not remembering more than a handful of things from before the nonLethal grenade. One memory he got back is of Snail, though, from their basic VSS training, and one is of his parents, which is really good since they’re dead. But basically, Snail and Bee just carried right on being friends regardless of Bee’s memories, or lack of, which just shows that some things go deeper than rational thought.

Luc is walking so well now! No baby news yet.

[B: Good excuse to try even harder?

M: Why do we need an excuse?

B: Good point!]

 

21st January (22)

Big news! The campaign has been growing, and Bane and I have certainly been doing all we can to help it. And now...the Race Breeding Laws are suspended! ‘Pending further examination of new scientific discoveries that have recently come to light’ is how the EuroGov are putting it. Trying to make out that some new research is suggesting Genetic Mixes may not be the disasters for the human race that they’ve been claiming for so long.

Eduardo says if we keep this up the EuroGov may just wake up one day and find they’ve accidentally turned into a real democratic government! And that it’s really not so bad? I suggested, but Eduardo snorted and said maybe. Or they’ll panic, lose their heads entirely and start throwing their weight around, turn the place into a police state, people disappearing in the night, summary executions...like those dim-witted and therefore usually, in the scheme of things, fairly short-lived authoritarian states in the twenty-first century where they messed around with normal people’s lives rather than letting them live quietly and making sure they had no motive to rebel, EuroGov-style.

Jon said surely not, that’s never been the EuroGov’s policy, they’ve always gone for clever and subtle with the main population, and they got their fingers singed badly enough when they resorted to force with the Vatican and with Malta that they’re hardly likely to repeat the experiment any time soon. To say nothing of executing Lucas. I mean, yes, Lucas had been tried and sentenced to death already, and everything, but to do it in public like that. It was such a PR disaster, Reginald Hill got demoted over it, though sadly he regained his old position as Minister for Internal Affairs earlier this year. [B: Boo! Hiss!]

Well, you can’t win them all, as they say.

Anyway, to this Eduardo said okay, so they probably wouldn’t go down that route, but we should avoid making them feel they’re right up against a wall, because frightened people do stupid things, and very frightened people do very stupid things. He was looking at me at the time, so apparently it’s my responsibility to pull the EuroGov’s teeth so gently they don’t freak out about it. [B: Yes, it is.]

No pressure or anything. Thanks Eduardo. This latest victory can barely be attributed to me, you know! [B: Yes, it can!]

Bane said when everyone had gone, Yes! Now he can focus on helping families expecting a third child—yep, the non-racial parts of the Breeding Laws are still in force. The EuroGov levy such a large fine for the birth of a third child—several times the annual combined income of the couple—that most families feel they have to accept the free abortion. Especially since, with a baby on the way, even people who’d rather leave instead don’t always have time to get the official travel papers through.

Bane was wanting to turn his attention to this before, but he held off because the Race campaign was gathering so much force. One thing at a time, don’t split your energies, and all that.

[B: Because no one with a small child ever has enough energy. Fact.]

Anyway, the more we think about it, the more thrilled we are that Bane can help these families at last. Especially because—it’s big news all round!—I took a pregnancy test and—finally!—it’s positive! Luc’s little baby brother or sister is on the way!

[B: So we’ve got about 8 months to pray for more energy!]

 

2nd March (22)

Kyle was ordained as deacon today! What a lovely Mass.

[B: All very nice.]

When Kyle started seminary, of course they were still doing the highly pressurized four-year course, because of the desperate need for priests, what with them constantly getting executed. As soon as we won the Religious Freedom vote, they went back to a six-year course, because the four-year course was just insanely hard on the young men. They had about zero free time whatsoever, for four years.

Of course, six years is still pretty intense when most of them haven’t been to university to get a head start, like they often had before the religious suppression began, but it’s not quite so mad.

Anyway, Jon is doing the six-year course, but since Kyle and his year group had already done two years of hyper-pressurized study, they only had to do three more. So a lot of them were ordained deacon today. I felt so proud of him! Of all of them.

[B: Felt like you were having a weeping competition with all those proud mothers, especially yours!]

 

22nd March—Good Friday (22) [B: It really wasn’t good this year.]

I can hardly write this, my hands keep shaking, and I just keep bursting into tears—I suppose that’s mostly the baby’s fault. But something terrible has happened. We were in St Peter’s for the Good Friday service, and when I came out of my pew to go up to receive Communion this old man in the front seat of the public area stood up and started screaming at me.

“She’s dead,” he was screaming. “She died, and it would have been such a simple cure, all she needed was one organ but you put a stop to that, didn’t you, you selfish irrational bitch, and now my Hilda’s dead! She’s dead and it’s your fault, do you hear me!” And so on.

I didn’t know what to do, whether I should try to speak to him, what on earth I could say... A couple of Swiss Guards were heading for the guy, they were keeping their voices down, of course, but I could just hear them trying to calm him, trying to get him to go somewhere quiet and talk to someone.

Then...everything happened so fast. I think one of the guards yelled, then U, who was bodyguarding me, dived into me, there was a shot, everyone started screaming and U was on top of me but his breathing had gone all gurgly and wrong but a load of other people jumped on top of us, including Bane, and wouldn’t move until Eduardo gave the all clear and I kept yelling, “U’s hurt, get a doctor!” but it seemed forever before they’d get off and let Doctor Frederick through.

Anyway, Doctor Frederick is still operating on U so we don’t know much yet, other than that the bullet went into his chest, and he’s still alive. I’ve never seen Jane cry before. I kept apologizing, I just couldn’t stop, until finally she screamed that U was doing his job and she was proud of him and it was that stupid old man’s fault, so shut up Margo or I’m going to slap your face! And I burst into tears yet again.

At which point Bane insisted [B: Quite rightly.] that I come home to rest for a while, for Baby’s sake, so I made him stay with Jane. Sister Mari took Luc home for the night. And I am lying down on the bed but there’s no way I can possibly sleep until I know if U’s going to be okay, so I started writing this just for something to do.

Oh no, I’m crying again. But this is like Snakey all over again! Lord, please don’t let U die! He put himself between me and that bullet just like Lucas once did! He was so brave, please don’t let him die! Please don’t let Jane be a widow! They’re so happy!

What if I just keep

 

23rd March—Easter Saturday (22)

I can’t believe I fell asleep yesterday!

 

 

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