Tomorrow - Chapter Twelve

When I burst into his office, Charles gives me a smile which is just a little bit too knowing for my liking. As far as I can tell, he’s been awake all night. There’s a large pot of coffee next to his right elbow and, before I burst in, he was reading through a large sheaf of paper.

“Good morning to you too.” He says, smiling slightly as I flop into the large leather chair in front of his desk. “How can I help you?”

“I need help.”

“Yes, we all know that.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “No, I need help with a …with a problem.”

“Incidentally, I know of your predicament and am willing to offer you advice.”

“Are you now?”

“Yes and I know that you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like anything you say.”

“You know, you might want to try being polite to people who are trying to give you advice.”

“Fine,” I snap, “I am eternally sorry for being rude and accept your supreme intelligence.” I say sarcastically. He raises his eyebrows but, for once, doesn’t say anything.

“You should do it.” He says bluntly, looking at me, waiting for me to sob. He’ll be waiting an extremely long time.

“Kill him?”

“It’s either you or him.”

“But what about Scarlett?” I ask, waiting for him to tell me that Scarlett will surely slit my throat whilst I sleep.

“Oh, she’ll be suitably distraught but, she won’t think it’s you.” He tells me confidently.

“Why not?”

“Because, Scarlett is too stupid to see what’s staring her in the face.” He says, “She’ll assume that he killed himself. Stage it that way.”

“What, write a note and everything?”

“Yes, in my experience, suicides attract far less attention than unexplained deaths.” He says, turning back to the papers on his desk and picking up a pen. As I turn to leave, he looks up and smiles. “I think I can smell bacon.”

I sniff the ear, taking in the delectable scent of bacon but, suddenly, I’m not hungry.

“Where can I find out what I’m doing today?” I ask, curious to know the answer.

“The noticeboard in the entrance hall.” Charles says absently. Taking this as my cue to leave, I walk out, shutting the door softly behind me.

I locate the noticeboard which hangs next to the door to the dining hall. I can’t believe that I never noticed it before but, I suppose that, I never really looked. On the noticeboard is a large amount of paper. I find the paper which says ‘Dormitory One’ and hunt for my name. It says that, I’m due at the stables after breakfast before rowing then lunch and finally something which is ominously titled ‘training’.

I decide to head down to the stables whilst everyone else is having breakfast. I’m not hungry and, well, I need to clear my head anyway. My dad always used to say that, whenever I had a problem in life, I should tell it to a horse. “Because, Becky, horses won’t tell a living soul. Horses are the only trustworthy thing in the world.” He would say before mother told him to stop being melodramatic and to help her make dinner.

I walk through the deserted grounds, trying to find another way out of this mess. I suppose that, I could run away but, they’d just get someone else to kill Matt and I’d be a coward. No, I think, squaring my shoulders and setting my jaw into a firmer line, coward is not a word which will ever be associated with me. I may become a killer but a coward? No, I will never be a coward. I won’t turn and flee; I’ll do what Charles said and stage it like a suicide. I’ll act suitably distraught like everyone else. No one, apart from Charles and the people in charge here will ever know any different.

Once I reach the stables, I locate Mark and find out that I’m riding a horse called Amore. He doesn’t question me when I turn up about an hour early. Horsy people aren’t really the questioning type to be honest.

It takes me several minutes to locate Amore but, when I do I find him very well, pleasing. He’s a large, chestnut horse with a wide blaze running down his strong face. He looks honest and intelligent. A good, solid horse. As soon as I open the door, he practically strip-searches me in a bid to find treats. Once he realises that I don’t have any food, he starts trying to eat my hair. I laugh and flop down in the corner of his straw bed. I stands over me with his large head in my lap, begging me to stroke him. Yes, I like this horse a lot already.

Horses seem to have a calming effect on almost anyone and I’m no exception. I sit in the deep straw bed for several minutes, stroking Amore who, if he could, would be purring like a cat. In my experience, the bigger the horse, the bigger and softer the heart. It isn’t until Mark pops his head around the door that I start trying to locate the tack.

Several minutes later, I lead Amore out into the courtyard and ask Mark what I’m supposed to be doing today.

“I’ve got nothing to teach you so you out riding.” He says shortly, turning back to the horse whose leg he’s bandaging.

I shrug my shoulders and spring into the saddle. I guess I’ll go to the woods and see where this land ends. I walk out of the archway. The second I’m released from the stony confines of the stables, I head straight for the woods at a fast trot. I’m still getting used to Amore but, from what I know of him already, he’s going to be my partner in crime rather than my minion.

Once we reach the cool shadiness of the woods, I sigh in relief. I feel as though, whilst people could be watching me whilst I’m in The Cottage, they can’t watch me here. Some people might be afraid of the woods, especially when they’re alone but me? Well, I feel free; as though Big Brother has finally stopped looking over my shoulder.

I find a path which runs through the forest and I gallop Amore along it, winding our way through the trees, crouching close to his neck when low branches almost sweep me off of his back. After we’ve been galloping for several minutes, we reach a fork in the path and I slow Amore to a trot. I have no idea which way to go so I tear a branch of a nearby tree and throw it onto the floor. It points left. Left it is then.

We trot down the path for a short amount of time whilst Amore gets his breath back. Then, I nudge him back into a gallop, enjoying the feeling of having the wind whip through my hair. It’s then that I realise that I’m not wearing a hat. If I fall off now, I’ll probably die. Adrenalin runs through my veins, compelling me to ask Amore to gallop faster.

Suddenly, the forest ebbs away and I find myself in a large field. I gallop around it several times, urging Amore on until he can’t gallop any faster. When Amore’s body starts to heave with the effort of sustaining the pace, I slow him to a trot and halt in the middle of the field.

It’s slightly muddy and on one side there are several holly bushes which form a line which eventually disappears into the forest. In one corner of the field, there’s a large mound of earth over which grass and weeds are slowly starting to grow, obscuring whatever lies beneath. It’s a beautiful place and, it’s only when I see the remains of a settlement on the far side of the field that I realise that I’ve been here before.

I walk Amore over to the mound and dismount, kneeling in front of it as though, if my family knew that I was here, they would spring up from the dirt and stand by my side once more. I find some wildflowers and place them on the side of the mound, thinking of all of the lives which were lost in this beautiful field all those years ago.

I gaze around it and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so beautiful. I let Amore graze whilst I walk over to the spot where they died. It feels as though, if I stand where they died, the path of history will be altered and I’d be lying under the mound of earth with them. I feel as though, if I stand here for long enough, a line of men in black will raise their guns at me and fill my body with cruel bullets until I fall to the floor and my heart ceases to beat. Sadly, that doesn’t happen.

Suddenly, I don’t feel sad and reflective in this place. I feel as though every blade of grass is my enemy. It feels like the trees of the forest are closing in on me, jeering at me, waving their hard branches above their heads like knives. The flowers on the town’s grave don’t look beautiful anymore; they look ugly, poisonous. The remains of the village are springing up and then, suddenly, bodies burst from the mound of earth, advancing on me, asking me why I don’t lie entombed with them. I know that it’s all in my head but, it seems so frighteningly real that I shove my foot in Amore’s stirrup and, once I’m mounted, kick him into a gallop and flee back to The Cottage.

I don’t allow Amore to stop galloping until we’re five metres away from the stables archway. Only them do I know that my head is sufficiently clear for the hallucinations or whatever they are, to stop. I stand in front of the archway for a moment, recovering my senses and allowing Amore to slow his breathing. Then, I dismount and lead Amore into his stable, washing him off before putting his tack away.

As I leave the yard, I see Mark look at me concernedly like how he looked when I saw him dressing a horses wound. Wonderful, he considers me to be a horse. How flattering.

I make it to the lake (where, I assume, rowing will take place) without anyone meeting me to tell me I have to kill someone. When I get there, I find that I’m late and that they’ve started. I glance around for whoever’s supposed to be in charge of the lesson and locate a tall, tanned man with extremely muscular arms standing on the jetty waiting for me. I decide that, arriving breathless will create the impression that I’ve rushed to get to the lesson so I sprint, hoping that he didn’t see me progress through the grass.

“Sorry I’m late, I was out riding.” I explain slightly breathlessly.

He smiles, revealing very even white teeth. “It’s ok, just don’t let it happen again.” He says, “Well, I’m Nicolaus Artem, your instructor. Have you rowed before?”

“No.”I say, shaking my head.

“Well, hop into this boat then and we’ll go through the basics.” He tells me, pointing to a relatively small, un-intimidating boat.

Nicolaus spends the next couple of hours teaching me how to row in a rhythm whilst all the others race each other backwards and forwards across the lake, whooping and splashing each other. I gather that, Nicolaus is a considerably more easy-going instructor than Charles. Then again, that’s not exactly hard.

By the end of the session, I’ve managed to row to the other side of the lake (admittedly with Nicolaus giving me instructions from the back of the boat all the way) and back without drowning. Therefore, by the time I stumble, exhausted, into lunch, I feel as though I’ve well and truly earnt the enormous portion of chicken pie which I ravenously help myself to, almost eating more than the boys.

“So,” Scarlett says once I’ve finished, “Where were you at breakfast?”

All heads turn towards me, eagerly anticipating my answer.

“Oh,” I say vaguely, “I picked up a piece of toast and headed down to the stables. It was such a beautiful morning and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity for a good ride.”

They all seem satisfied with my lie apart from Scarlett who narrows her green eyes slightly but mercifully doesn’t say anything.