Sophie’s main problem at this moment was which t-shirt to
wear. She didn’t like wearing the school uniform but at least
it avoided the minefield of non-uniform day, picking the thing
that looked right, the thing that no one else would be wearing,
the thing that gave a message: for all those reasons, it had to
be her NASA t-shirt.
It would make the point that the trip the school had organised
for the afternoon was a feeble effort compared to the trip to
Jodrell Bank that she’d campaigned for. In the end, she
decided that Mr Butler had chosen John Rylands Library to
spite her personally. She didn’t have anything against
libraries, she just thought that once you’d seen one you’d
seen them all, and it seemed to be just a way to avoid having
to book a coach.
Her Mum wasn’t being terribly helpful either. Mum said it
shouldn’t matter what she wore, except there was a definite
sense of disapproval about some of her outfits, and going to
the supermarket in a dressing-gown had been ruled out so
there was a double standard there. She heard her Mum call
out ‘bathroom’s free’. There was a strange sense of anxiety
in Sophie’s mind as she put the t-shirt on, which she didn’t
think was connected to the choice. She hoped not to get any
hassle today, either from the teachers or from Mo and his
little posse of pricks. She even hoped Tom wouldn’t be
having one of his weird days, fun as they could be at times.
She could hear her sister in the bathroom as she went down
to breakfast.
“You still meeting Dad in town later?” Mum stood at the sink
as Sophie entered the kitchen.
“Yeah, suppose so.”
“Make sure he isn’t getting up to any mischief.”
Sophie’s Mum was always teasing Dad about mischief,
maybe today she would ask him if she could tag along one
day. Her usual slice of toast for breakfast. Mum made her
usual comment about making sure she ate enough. Sophie
gave her usual non-committal response.
Mum looked over with a wry smile. Theirs was not a
particularly unique family. A conventional background, stable
and unmoved by great trauma or tragedy, and Mum
sometimes wondered if that was altogether a good thing.
Sophie was not one to stand out from the crowd and there
were times when perhaps she wanted to make out she had a
more exciting life, to make her feel special and have other
people curious. It was just a phase, all kids wanted some
way of forging their own identity and having a life story that
was their own and exciting to tell was all a part of that.
Eventually she’d realise that wasn’t all that important. In the
meantime, there was shopping, washing and paperwork to
sort out.
Sophie made her way to school from her standard suburban
terrace down the long streets, occasional hints of the city on
the horizon, the tall towers and lights on cranes. She cut
across a small patch of grass to a cutting in a hedge which
took her through in to the school grounds. It was a trip she
took every day and it was starting to frustrate her. She didn’t
feel she was achieving anything, and the only reason she
was still at school was because she really couldn’t think of
what else to do. Sixteen seemed too young to be committing
to anything serious while at least being at school didn’t feel
like a complete waste of time. She knew people, she had
friends, she actually enjoyed some of the things they did in
classes.
She was waiting for an opportunity. She knew as soon as
one came along she would take it, and one was bound to
come along sooner or later as long as she’d recognise it.
Then things would be different. In the meantime, she just had
to get through another day, get it ticked off the calendar. As
she walked in, there was the head talking to a visitor who
was ushered into her office in a way Sophie found unusual,
suspicious even, as if Mrs Doust didn’t want her mysterious
visitor to be seen.
“They’re talking about closing the library.”
Tom was suddenly beside her, and Sophie wasn’t going to
give him any indication what he’d startled her so she
remained nonchalant as he continued.
“I mean, about how to do it, not whether to do it.”
“They can’t close the library; we need the books.”
“It’s all on line now, that’s what they’re saying. We’re all on
our computers all the time anyway, might as well do it that
way. Makes sense. All those books take up a lot of space.
Some of them haven’t been looked at in years.”
“What about Mr Arthurs?”
“I don’t know, I only just overheard-“
“They can’t get rid of the library.”
“When was the last time you used the library, Sophie?”
“That’s not the point. It’s like radio, or the government, no
one actually needs it or uses it but it’s good to know it’s
there.”
“Your Dad works for the government.”
“You point is?”
“No, just saying, it’s useful, in that way.”
“And Mr Arthurs is one of the best teachers. I’m sure they
won’t get rid of him.”
“I’m only telling you what I heard. There’s something going
on.”
“And you’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
Sophie was afraid of where this could end up. Tom had a
habit of inventing little scenarios and then using it as a
pretext for causing trouble. He’d managed to have Primark
evacuated when he noticed an abandoned suitcase which he
claimed had been there for half-an-hour after being left by
someone suspicious, and had the train to Stockport delayed
by conscientiously reporting that he thought someone was
going to jump on to the line.
But Sophie also knew that there was no way to stop him once
he got an idea in his head, and as long as he didn’t get her
expelled there was very little serious trouble he could get in
to around the school. Maybe even being expelled wouldn’t
be too big a deal. It could well be the opportunity she’d been
waiting for.
She would have to be careful not to encourage him too much.
Tom was very sensitive to outside influence, which could
either send him off into the stratosphere of conspiracy or
perhaps even turn him off completely, and there was no
telling which way he’d go. Sophie would have to tread
carefully around this new adventure, to nurture it in to full life.
“Have you seen Mo?”
Sophie came back to the moment, away from the distraction
of Tom’s flights of fancy. “No, I’ve literally just arrived.”
“Okay. I should go and get out of the way.”
“Will I see you later?”
“On the trip? I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Tom headed off down the corridor leaving Sophie both
curious and nervous about what he had in mind. It was
probably just her imagination that made her think they were
being watched from the head’s office, and as she made her
way off in the opposite direction she had to swerve to avoid
the ladder that a contractor was using to fix up a new CCTV
camera.
*
As he woke up, all he could see in the distance somewhere
was a red light flashing every few seconds. At first, he
couldn’t move, only very slowly did his muscles start to work.
He could tell he was laid on a floor, through a blanket was
laid under him.
He reached out a hand into the darkness and could make out
a wall beside him, smooth like bathroom tiles. There was
another wall just behind his head. He stretched his feet, and
it wasn’t long before he felt the wall on that side. That just
left the side that the light seemed to be coming from.
As he got his energy back, he rolled onto his side and sat up
on his blanket. He had no idea how high the space was he
was in, and there was so little light there was nothing for his
eyes to adjust to. But it was at least high enough to sit in.
Nervously, he reached his hands forward, rolling on to his
knees and shuffling, one arm stretched out. Finally, his
fingertips touched a surface. Also smooth but without the tile
shapes of the other walls. Completely smooth. And with a
sense that there was something beyond it, the tantalising
flashing red light.
Finally, he slowly got to his feet, an arm above his head. It
turned out that the ceiling was just high enough for him to
stand. The room he was in seemed pretty much a perfect
square.
He totally lost track of time, quite apart from the fact he had
no idea how long he’d been asleep. He felt over every inch
of the walls and floor and ceiling and it could have been
hours and equally it could have been minutes.
But he carried on testing the space, because there was only
one other thing he could do otherwise; wait.