Freax and Rejex

Spencer adjusted his spectacles and twitched his shoulders.

“The Lockpick said there’s eighteen girls and thirteen boys,” he began. “But there aren’t. Count them – there’s only seventeen girls.”

“So? The old git can’t add up.”

“Or one girl still hasn’t arrived yet.”

Marcus immediately became intensely interested. “Herr Spenzer!” he exclaimed, punching him on the arm. “If you’re right and if she’s a babe, I’ll buy you some spot cream!”

Lee Charles ate in silence. He watched everyone: the little groups who were tentatively getting along, the young kids slowly opening up to their neighbours, testing those strangers with small questions and giving timid answers. He saw the Indian boy, Rupesh, staring unhappily at the food before him. He didn’t touch any of the meat and pushed the watered-down ale away. Lee wondered what his home life was like now. All religions in the UK had been affected by Dancing Jax. Worshippers still attended the churches, mosques, temples and synagogues, but it was only through habit and the perceived need to continue acting out what they believed were their pretend lives here. How long would that continue, he wondered?

Lee’s own grandmother had been a devout Christian her whole life. Her immaculate front room, which he had been forbidden to enter unaccompanied until the age of ten, was filled with her treasures such as the old radiogram as big as a sideboard, glass swans, photographs of the family and a framed print of a painting called Christ at Heart’s Door. Every Palm Sunday she would bring home the small cross she had been given at the service and tuck it behind the print where it would remain for twelve months. This year she hadn’t and the once beloved picture had been replaced with one of the many views of Mooncaster that were now in the shops. The last time Lee visited his grandmother he had discovered the print hidden down the side of the china cabinet.

He looked over to where the Ismus was sitting with the Jacks and Jills. Nothing about Lee’s face betrayed the anger and hatred he felt towards the Holy Enchanter. Under the table his fist closed slowly and he imagined the weight of a gun in his hand. In his mind’s eye he saw himself holding it sideways, like in the movies and music vids, and busting caps into that scrawny poser. That would be so sweet. He turned his head before the grin became too large and watched the wenches passing in and out of the kitchen. From the glimpses afforded through the swinging door, he saw that no alterations had been made in there. It was electric lights, brushed steel surfaces and magnolia paintwork.

He placed a piece of pie on his trencher, smashed it flat with the heel of his hand then slapped it on to a slice of bread, folded it over and ate it. His mind ticked steadily.

Along the next table, Charm was making cooing noises as she drank in the castle model.

“I’m gonna hang pink curtains in one of them windows when it’s my turn,” she promised, with a big smile to the cameras she had gathered about her. “Whoever I turn out to be, I just know I’ll be painting everyfink pink. I loves it I do.”

She posed and performed for the lenses then carved a slice of pheasant for herself, declaring it to be “a ropy-looking chicken” but everything else was “carb city”.

“Bread, pies, beer and pasties!” she exclaimed, raising her hands in mock horror. “All the bad stuff! Go straight to my bum that would. Good job there’s no spuds or I’d make a pig of myself. I love spuds. There ain’t any in Mooncaster though, is there? Not invented yet or summink my ma says. God knows what I’ll do without my bit of mash and gravy on a Sunday when I’m there. Have you tried them purple spuds? They is gorge –and proper purple all the way through like beetroot, no word of a lie! I tried mashing them with ordinary to make pink, but they just went an ’orrible grey. It were revoltin’!”

Scrupulously removing the “killer fattening skin” from the meat, she put a morsel of pheasant into her mouth and chewed. The instant she tasted the gamey flavour her expression changed and her eyes popped wide. A moment later, she was spitting it out and retching. Seizing the ale, she downed 300 calories in one swig.

The feast continued until nine o’clock when there was one final reading for the night. Jody rested her forehead on the table. What was the point of going on with this charade? It wasn’t going to work on them now.

The other children watched in stony silence as the adults around them shivered with pleasure to be back in their other lives. Marcus folded his arms and stared fixedly at the castle model, refusing to take any notice of their slack-jawed faces. He was sick to the back teeth of it. Charm clasped her hands in front of her as though in prayer and tried to imagine roaming around those battlements or gazing up at one of the towers, willing herself there. Under one table the youngest feet nudged and scuffled one another. The playful kicks travelled back and forth in a kinetic pulse. Christina was at one end and Alasdair formed the cut-off point at the other, until he started joining in as well. The adults were too absorbed in the world of Mooncaster to notice and the mind of the Ismus was on other matters.

When the reading was over, the children were allowed to return to their cabins with promises of an even better day tomorrow.

“Lucky us,” Jody mumbled to herself. “Can hardly wait.”

Alasdair rounded up his group. Most of them were half asleep. It had been one long, exhausting day for everyone and their feet were dragging. He led them out and was pleased to see Tommy Williams smiling at last.

Marcus made his way over to Charm, who was put out to have lost the interest of the cameras.

“How did you like the scoff then, gorgeous?” he asked.

“It were mingin’,” she answered, striding past him.

“So,” he called after her. “What you up to now? It’s still early! We should hang out and chillax.”

“Do you ever hear yourself?” Lee asked with a shake of his head as he left.

Marcus made a gesture behind him.

When the refectory was empty of children, the Ismus thanked the minstrels and the news teams. They bowed and followed the Jacks and Jills outside. Kate Kryzewski lingered and approached.

“I trust you now have enough for your report?” he asked.

The woman looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” she said. “It is strange for me to be out here in the Great Hall, when I know I should be in the kitchen. What will Mistress Slab say? She will cuff my head with the big spoon, I know it!”

“Peace,” he told her. “Remember that in this dream you are Miss Kryzewski; you have a report to make and send to America. You are only Columbine when you awaken back in the castle. Here, you must be the best Miss Kryzewski you can be, so that you are stronger in your real life – or else how will you ward off the Jockey’s advances?”

“Yes,” she said, collecting herself and working with the traces of Kate that remained. “The report, what I need – what it needs – is to see some ‘afters’. These dumb kids are the ‘befores’. This piece won’t pack any punch unless we get to see them after the sacred text has opened their eyes. That’s the pay-off, that’s what’ll resonate and make Americans sit up and realise the awesome benefits of your great work. They’re suckers for happy endings. If they can see these kids get turned around from surly aberrants to overjoyed at discovering who they really are, that’d clinch it.”

The Ismus listened attentively. She was right and he needed to stall the US, to keep them from taking action for a little while longer.

“I agree,” he said. “I promise you shall have your ‘afters’. But not tomorrow. Spend that day up in London. Film in the hospitals, nursing homes, the day centres with the disabled. I can arrange for you to visit a prison to see how reformed the inmates have become. Return here on Sunday and you shall have a whole merry bunch of children anxious to tell the world of their newfound joy.”

She thanked him profusely and hurried out to join Sam in the car. Jangler came over to join his master.

“Can you really turn those children?” he asked. “I thought it was impossible. That was never the reason they were gathered here – or why the other centres around the world will be needed.”

“Oh, yes,” the Ismus said. “It’s possible. But it isn’t a simple matter. I shall have to call on aid, as I did back in 1936. The night I ‘disappeared’.”

“That is most dangerous!” the old man cried.

“As I said, I do not baulk at risks. It will be uncomfortable certainly, but necessary. We are so close to achieving our goal. I cannot turn back now. Whatever Miss Kryzewski asks for, she gets. That is why I invited her. She is the key to America. Her report will unlock it for me.”

“How many children will you give?”

“That is impossible to answer. The power I call upon is… very difficult to control. It will be like using a battering ram to gain entry to their minds. I must be careful not to cause too much damage within. Their young heads exploding would not make good footage, especially in high definition.”

Jangler chuckled at the prospect then became serious.

“As long as you do not place yourself in danger, my Lord,” he said.

“If I had never placed myself in danger, I would never have heard the voice of the Dawn Prince Himself, uttering my name.”

“I cannot even dare hope I shall one day hear Him – or look upon His great Majesty.”

The Ismus smiled. “What we do here, Jangler,” he said, “will bring that glorious day ever closer.”

The old man puffed out his chest proudly. “And the Lady Labella?” he asked. “Might I enquire after her health?”

“She is blooming, Jangler, blooming!”

“Most highly favoured Lady! That is gratifying news, my Lord.”

The Ismus held up his hand. “But we run ahead of ourselves!” he told him. “Tonight our little aberrant rabbits must earn their carrots. That is the primary reason they are here.”

Outside in the compound, a chorus of car doors and engines started. The Jacks and Jills each had a black or red BMW waiting and were driven off to the nearest five-star country hotel. The vehicles outside the camp followed them up the forest road.

Jody sat on the step outside her chalet and watched the headlights sweep over the trees and disappear in the distance. The kids inside were waiting to brush their teeth before bed, but Charm was hogging the bathroom. Most of them, including Christina, were fast asleep long before she emerged. It had been a long, exhausting and stressful day.