Dream Paris (39 page)

“It’s me you can hear, Mr Twelvetrees. What are you doing here?”

“You’ve changed,” he said. He sniffed the air.

I felt myself blush. Was it that obvious? Then I remembered. He was a sadist.

“Oh, no, Mr Twelvetrees. You know the fortune, You’re just making a blind reading, like a psychic. I want to know. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to help. I’m here to demand the freedom of every British citizen held here in Dream Paris.”

He declaimed the words loudly, playing to the gallery. Jean-Michel Ponge shook his head, bulldog jowls wobbling slowly.

“I’ve told you many times, Mr Twelvetrees,” he said, “Dream Paris is not holding British citizens against their will.”

“Then what about my mother?” I asked.

“Your mother has been arrested for spying.”

“She wasn’t spying,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “Her Majesty’s Government has no spies in Dream Paris.”

“Margaret Sinfield’s citizenship is ’eld by the
Banca di Primavera
,” interrupted Kaolin, staking her claim.

“This revolution has nothing to do with me and my mother!” I shouted. “Why don’t you just release us both and let us go home? I promise you, I’ve had enough of Dream Paris.”

Mme Joubert interrupted, speaking in rapid French. An argument quickly arose in the room. I noted how Mr Twelvetrees joined in in fluent French.

Jean-Michel Ponge paid close attention, but all the time he was keeping to the edge of the Star Chamber, standing on the raised lip that ran around the outside. I did the same. I was pleased to note the Francis had the sense to join me.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I can hear the words
armée
and
soldat
. I don’t think Mr Twelvetrees came alone.”

“I certainly didn’t, Anna,” said Mr Twelvetrees, switching back to English. “There is a relief force waiting just outside the gates of Dream Paris.”

“A relief force?” scoffed Jean-Michel. “An army!”

“There are thousands of people who were marched here in captivity from Dream London,” said Mr Twelvetrees to Jean-Michel. “You’re surely not suggesting that Her Majesty’s Government ignore their plight?”

And yet Her Majesty’s Government allowed its own people to live in poverty, it allowed them to be imprisoned unfairly all over the world. Her Majesty’s Government would stand back and allow the most monstrous injustices to be perpetuated both at home and abroad.

Silly, naive little me. A seventeen-year-old cynic who thought she was wise to the ways of the world, finding out the bitter truth: that teenage cynicism was nowhere near as cynical as the real world.

Her Majesty’s Government only took an interest when it was to its own benefit. All governments were the same, and here they all were, moving in on Dream Paris, a city ripe with rebellion and ready for the taking.

“It’s not just opportunism, Anna,” said Mr Twelvetrees, reading my thoughts. “It’s us or them. The Dream World almost took London. Perhaps it will next time. We need to fight back.”

Why did we always have to fight? I never had a chance to ask. The argument in French had been continuing. I heard my name shouted out and I looked to see Mme Joubert and Jean-Michel, staring at me with contempt.

“Don’t speak about her like that,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “She came to rescue her mother, but she did so much more. She helped establish the path between the two cities!”

“That was never my intention!”

He waved a hand.

“Don’t be so modest. You’re a hero, Anna. You’ll probably get a medal for this.”

“I didn’t know!” I said, seeing the angry gazes of Mme Joubert and the rest.

Mr Twelvetrees just smiled, that smug, complacent smile. They must have been searching through the old documents of London for months, searching for anything useful. No wonder they’d moved so fast when they found my fortune. They knew this was their chance to lay down a path here. I looked at Francis.

“I didn’t know, Anna. Honestly, I didn’t.”

I believed him. He wasn’t bright enough to think of this. He was just a grunt, a squaddie. A follower. We were all followers, all of us just pawns to be used by the leaders who arose every twenty years, ready to fuck up the world once more to suit themselves. Why had we been brought here? I knew why the others were here: Jean-Michel was looking at the crowd before him with utter contempt. His hand was close to the switch…

“What about you, Mr Monagan?” I said. “What do you think of all this?”

He looked at me with big innocent eyes.

“I don’t know, Miss Anna! I don’t know what to make of this!”

“Really? Tell me, whose side are you on, Mr Monagan?”

“Yours, Miss Anna.”

Mme Joubert shot him an angry look.

“I thought you were part of the Revolution?” I said.

“All I want is for people to be free to follow their dream, Miss Anna.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Yes.”

“
I’m
here to help you, Anna,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “I’ve come to take you home, you and all the other British Citizens.”

“What about my mother?” I looked at Kaolin.

“Your mother is the property of the
Banca di Primavera
,”she said, coolly.

“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,” said Mr Twelvetrees, smoothly. “The British Government and the
Banca di Primavera
are hoping to continue a mutually beneficial relationship.” He looked at Kaolin as he spoke.

“What relationship?”

“Property acquisition,” said Kaolin. “The British Government ’as been buying land in Dream Paris through us.”

I thought of the tower painted in the colours of the Union Jack and I felt sick inside. Sick at how I had been used, sick at the sheer cynicism of what was going on here. Sick at the thought of what Mr Twelvetrees and the rest were to unleash upon London. I looked at Jean-Michel Ponge.

“Pull the lever,” I said.

“It will do no good,” said Mme Joubert. “Citizen Ponge, I relieve you of your duty. The Revolution is taking control.”

Jean-Michel pulled the lever. Nothing happened. He pulled it again. And again.

“Stop that, M Ponge. The
Grande Tour
is now the property of the
Banca di Primavera
,” said Kaolin.

“Since when?”

“Since last night, when the latest Revolution began.”

Jean-Michel held his hands wide in despair.

“What are the people rebelling against? Themselves? They already own the city!”

“Not so much as they once did. They have been selling it to us.”

We hadn’t been paying too much attention to the city itself. Seen from this height, the scene was almost peaceful. Almost. You could see more and more wrappings burning on the towers, their true colours shining through. And it wasn’t just the Union Jack painted on the towers. Flags of the Dream Nations were sprouting throughout the city.

Kaolin spoke. “The Committee for Public Safety may stand for
Liberté, Egalité
and
Fraternité
, but as you can see, the people prefer to take the opportunities offered by the free market.”

Jean-Michel surveyed the scene impassively.

Mr Twelvetrees was getting restless.

“And now, Anna, I think it’s time to move. The people of Dream Paris have spoken. They are to be aided in their quest for a new way of life by Her Majesty’s Government and the
Banca di Primavera
. Mme Joubert, I think that you should take over here. Perhaps you can arrange for Jean-Michel Ponge to be reassigned to other duties?”

Mme Joubert nodded in acknowledgement.

“Anna,” continued Mr Twelvetrees, “why not accept a lift to the Bastille? I intend to begin negotiations for the release of your mother.”

I looked at him, fly eyes glowing, and I felt a shiver of revulsion. I didn’t care that he was offering to help me, I wanted nothing to do with him. I looked across the room.

“Mr Monagan?”

“Yes, Miss Anna?”

“You promised to help me.”

“Whatever I can do, Miss Anna.”

“Will you stop Mr Twelvetrees from following us when we leave here?”

“Of course.”

Francis had been following the conversation with an increasingly unhappy expression. He perked up at that.

“Are we going now, Anna?”

“We are.”

“Now hold on, Anna,” began Mr Twelvetrees. Mr Monagan stepped forward and took hold of his arm, orange froggy fingers sinking into the fine weave of his jacket.

“Take your hand off me, you filthy frog! How dare you touch me?”

“I’m sorry, sir! Miss Anna requested that I hold you.”

“I thought you couldn’t see,” said Francis.

“I can’t.” Mr Twelvetrees frowned. “Why do you think otherwise?”

“How did you know Mr Monagan was a frog?”

“I’m not a frog!”

“I didn’t know he was a frog!”

Ah! It was casual racism. There you go.

“Mr Twelvetrees, I’m leaving here. I’m playing no further part in your games.”

Mr Twelvetrees pulled out his big silver watch and felt the face.

“You’re free to do what you wish, Anna.
Everyone
is. This city is no longer ruled by the Committee for Public Safety. But you should trust me. Who else can have your mother freed…?”

He heard it first. Maybe his hearing was more sensitive than ours, given his blindness, but now we heard it too. The faint whistling, followed by the
crump, crump, crump
of yet more bombs falling.

“They’re getting closer,” said Francis.

We rushed to the windows to look out over the city, and I felt my heart judder at the suddenness of the sight, the imminence of the Zeppelin that hung just before the window, almost as if it were looking at us.

“Where did it come from?”

“What are they bombing?”

Down below, the river had burst its banks. I saw the black and white shapes of mosasaurs being swept through the streets.

“Biological warfare,” said Jean-Michel Ponge, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice. “The Prussians are attacking your men, Mr Twelvetrees.”

THE BASTILLE FRIENDS

I
WAS THERE
at the end of Dream London. I was there at the end of Dream Paris.

If you were to ask me what both events had in common, I’d say it was this: no one really knew what was going on.

I’m sure that it’s always been like that. I knew they say that history is written by the victors, but I think there’s so much more to it than that. The whole idea that
anyone
really plans the eventual outcomes, or that events can be reduced to a story, is an illusion people give themselves. You could see it in the face of Mr Twelvetrees, that brief flicker of betrayal; you could see it in Mme Joubert’s haughty disdain. You could see it in the world-weariness of Jean-Michel Ponge. All three had sought to control events. All three had been betrayed.

Only Kaolin’s china face remained impassive, as it must.

The shuddering of the bombs grew louder.

“I can’t see,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “Tell me, why are they attacking?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The Prussians don’t want the British taking Dream Paris,” said Kaolin.

“And what about you?” asked Francis.

“The
Banca di Primavera
treats all its clients impartially.”

“Miss Anna? Mr Francis? May I suggest we leave the tower? We may be a target.”

“Where shall we go?”

The situation was changing by the moment, there were no friends or enemies here, I realised. Only opportunities. I looked at Mr Twelvetrees.

“You said you could have my mother released.”

“I can.”

“If you’re lying to me… “

If he was lying I’d what? I don’t know.

“I’m not lying.”

I looked at Francis.

“Let’s go to the Bastille.”

W
E SQUEEZED INTO
the lift. Me, Francis, Mr Monagan, Kaolin, Mr Twelvetrees, Mme Joubert, Jean-Michel Ponge. The sudden appearance of the Zeppelin had changed the group dynamic. No one knew who was in charge any more.

“We can take my carriage,” said Kaolin.

There it was, waiting in the unnatural calm outside the pylons of the
Grande Tour
.

“It’s a prison van,” said Francis.

It looked like a castle on wheels, from the crenellations around the top to the thick portcullis of the radiator grille. The words
Banca di Primavera
and
Bastille
were painted in big gold letters on the side. The rear door had been lowered on chains like a drawbridge.

“Were you expecting trouble today?” I asked Kaolin.

We took our places on the velvet chairs, and we were off. Mr Monagan pressed his face to the little grille at the back, looking out.

“What can you see?” asked Jean-Michel.

“Nothing. The streets are empty.”

We swayed back and forth with the movement of the carriage.

“You don’t see very happy, Anna.”

Mr Twelvetrees sat back in his seat, perfectly at ease. If he was still upset at the actions of the Dream Prussians, he was concealing it.

“You used me,” I said. “You all used me.”

“You’re getting what you want. Your mother freed and both of you returned home to London. Play this right, Anna, and you’ll be very well rewarded. You’re an intelligent young woman, you’ve been to Dream Paris. Her Majesty’s Government could make use of you.”