‘So has this place always been
here?’ I ask. I admire the high stone walls and windows that let light stream
in diagonally. It’s like walking between two great galleons with the oars
deployed. On the floor are chairs and benches hewn from stone.
‘As far as we know,’ Tarquin
says. ‘We’re simple people. We’re glad of the life we have here.’
‘Haven’t you ever wanted to go
back?’
Tarquin bows his head. For a
second there’s a flicker behind his eyes and I wonder if he’s considered it. ‘We’re
simple people here,’ he repeats. ‘A lot of us find it preferable to life in the
modern world.’
I look at Elle, searching for
some support. Her reply is something different though, more one of warning. I
decide to hold my tongue.
‘We have a rule here that if you’re
part of the community, you take some part in it.’ He smiles and I know there’s
no way of arguing.
All I want to do is find Yates and go home. I don’t even know what to
do about Thacker. Will the woman hound us until we or someone stops her? I
couldn’t care less about what happened to Teague. I feel a small hole inside me
as I realise my favourite author has lost touch with the very subject of her
book. I read about Cecily and Roger over and over again and it made me
appreciate the small slice of life I had been given. Now I reach death I find
that most people have an opposite opinion.
More people file into the hall
and get on with their daily business. The place is empty. I wonder does anyone
have a possession here. How very human to turn a place that would be a hell to
most and turn it into something worth staying for. I try to imagine Graham in a
world without material. Nothing to show off with or flaunt his loves in front
of everyone who’ll listen.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘But we want
to find our friend too.’
‘Elle has been asking the same
since she arrived,’ smiles Sandra. ‘We’ll find him, don’t worry.’
‘What do we have to do with the
community?’ I ask.
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