The Future King: Logres (40 page)

‘Are you sure it’s not too harsh?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, tilting her face
to observe it from each angle.

‘No.’ Eve caught her head with her hands, and turned it face-on to
the mirror. ‘It’s perfect.’

Gwenhwyfar smiled. She was right, it was. Eve went to pick up her
next outfit, and held it out in extended arms as Gwenhwyfar peeled away the
chiffon dress and dropped it to the floor.

The club hosting the modelling party was one of those exclusive
venues that housed celebrities and sold bottles of champagne for thousands, not
hundreds. Models, however, got to drink for free, and though the priciest
vintages were off limits, Viola supplied Gwenhwyfar well. She felt like a dwarf
amongst all these giants, despite the five-inch heels adding to her height.
Though Viola gushed about a certain model being the face of Kolburn or the fittest
guy to walk the earth, Gwenhwyfar found most to be too perfect, like mannequins,
and in comparing them to Arthur, pitched Arthur, and even Lancelot, higher.

It turned out that other than her booker Viola knew no one, and so
for most of the evening they were pulled to and fro and introduced to various
clients. Later, when it was the next New Faces’ turn to be presented, Viola and
Gwenhwyfar sought refuge in a corner to forage through their freebies.

‘I’ve never tried this stuff before,’ Viola said, as she unscrewed
one of the mascaras. ‘It’s so expensive.’

‘My mam always wears it. I remember stealing it from her dresser when
I was five. She was furious.’ Gwenhwyfar giggled, and Viola did too. She sipped
at her fruit punch through a thin straw, high on the sugar. ‘How long have we
got?’

‘About an hour,’ Viola responded, glancing at her phone. ‘We won’t
miss much. All the important people leave before then, anyway,’ she shouted.
For a meet and greet, the noise was insufferable.

‘So how are things with you and Tom?’

‘Good,’ Viola said, after some consideration. ‘How about with you and
Arthur?’

‘They’re OK.’ Gwenhwyfar’s mind drifted to the issue with Lancelot,
and she wondered why it still plagued her. ‘Better, now we’re official.’

‘Have you stayed over at his yet?’ Viola probed. When Gwenhwyfar
shook her head, she frowned.

‘It’s not like we’ve been going out long,’ Gwenhwyfar reasoned.
‘Besides, he lives with his
grandmother
.
It’d be a bit weird if I did stay the night.’

‘I suppose. But you want to, right?’

She nodded. Viola seemed to find this fascinating.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?’ She stirred the ice around in her
drink. ‘I like him. And he’s nice. He hasn’t pressured me into anything yet;
he’s not that sort of guy. He’s really mature, you know? Unlike most boys his
age.’

For a moment Viola seemed to think this was a dig at her boyfriend.

‘You know, like Hector?’ Gwenhwyfar corrected herself, and Viola’s frown
faded.

They soon took to the dance floor and spent the rest of their hour
doing their best to attract attention from the too-perfect males milling
arrogantly around the club. Once they’d given an exaggerated goodbye to Viola’s
booker, they left the venue, the cold night air pressing on their alcohol-numbed
skin. The streets were not quiet. Gwenhwyfar leant into Viola as they walked
together, each one grasping the other for support.

‘God, we’re going to miss our train, aren’t we?’ Gwenhwyfar said as
their heels beat along the tarmac. They crossed to the opposite pavement,
hurrying past the parked cars.

‘I wish we could have stayed for longer,’ Viola lamented. ‘The face
of Kolburn was definitely checking me out.’

‘It was a pretty cool party. Thanks for letting me tag along. I know
you could have taken Tom.’

‘Are you kidding? He’d have spent the whole night keeping me in a
corner, glaring at the guys while he drooled over the girls.’ She laughed.
‘Besides, he hates dancing. I always have to bully him into it and then he
throws me around as if I’m some rag doll. Does Arthur dance?’

‘You know, I have no idea.’ They shouldered past a group of women and
hurried on round a corner. ‘It’s not like I’ve ever had the chance to find out.’

The explosion was deafening. Punched in the back, Gwenhwyfar hit the
ground and lay there in shock. Red cinders rained down on the street like
confetti. Thick dust came aglow with a strange, orange light. One scream
sounded, and then another. Soon a chorus of terror erupted in the streets.

As she tried to move she became aware of the blood on her arms, but a
testing shift revealed the grazes to be superficial. Viola lay motionless, her head
oozing a ruby stripe from beneath her hair. Gwenhwyfar hacked a cough as a
sharp breath drew in brick dust. She gagged, and spat out the irritant.

‘Vi—!’ She tried to rouse her. Nothing. Looking around in
panic, Gwenhwyfar forced herself to her feet. Squinting through the fog, she
coughed again. A shrill noise was ringing in her ears.

A man rushed past her, sprinting away from the disaster zone. Car alarms
squealed. Gwenhwyfar hobbled to the street corner to find her path blocked by
rubble. Suddenly the air was hot. Flames belched out of an angry hole in the
terraced buildings opposite. Sirens wailed closer. Trembling, she returned to
Viola and checked for her pulse. She panicked when she felt nothing, but
quickly realised she had been looking in the wrong place.

Paramedics found them. They were hurried to the back of an ambulance.
Given a blanket and oxygen for shock, she watched as someone roused Viola,
checked her for signs of concussion and then cleaned and inspected the wound on
her head. Many people tried to leave the scene, but movement was restricted. It
was in the nearest Accident and Emergency when Gwenhwyfar finally checked her
mobile. She had thirty-seven missed calls.

It was well past one. With Viola lying on a cot in silence beside
her, Gwenhwyfar scrolled through her phone. Two thirds of the missed calls were
from home and the rest were all from Arthur. She settled on relieving the panic
of her parents first.

It was her mother who
answered, her distress level palpable. ‘Gwen! Oh God, Gwen, where are you? Are
you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ She glanced sideways to Viola, who was also checking her phone.

‘We saw there was an explosion on the news. You weren’t near it, were
you? Why aren’t you home?’

‘We missed our train. We’re in Accident and Emergency. We’re OK, but
Viola hit her head and I scraped my knees.’

‘You’re hurt?’ Eve said, her voice flooding with panic. Her father
was shouting something in the background.

‘Just my knees and my arms—I’m fine, really. I don’t want you
to freak or anything, but the explosion was on the street of the party. It
knocked us over.’

There was a long interlude where a number of questions and sounds of
horror muffled the receiver. Frowning, Gwenhwyfar struggled to make sense of her
parents’ demands. Her father commandeered the phone, and she heard a relieved
sob from her mother in the background.

‘Gwen, listen to me. Where are you? The trains are all down: there
have been a number of explosions and they’ve shut the Tube. I’m going to drive
up and get you—you’ll need me there to sort out the insurance. Have you
been seen yet?’

‘They took a quick look at the blast. There’s a nurse going round tending
to minor injuries.’ She couldn’t quite stand the sight of the more serious cases
being wheeled through. Many had limbs missing, or horrible angular shapes
protruding from their chest cavities. ‘How many explosions…?’ The strength she
had shown for her mother wavered with her father. His voice always unravelled
her.

‘Three,’ he stated. ‘They think it was deliberate. They got a tip off
and managed to stop the fourth. It was going to be on the Thames Water
Barrier.’

‘Do they know who did it?’

‘Not yet. To be honest, I’m not entirely happy about you being
there.’

‘We should be fine now, though?’ she asked, her voice cracking.

‘Yes, of course. They’ve got it under control, cariad. Where are
you?’

‘Mayfair, at the Royal Mary…?’

‘I know it,’ confirmed Garan. ‘I’m on my way now. Is Viola alright?’

‘They’ve got her lying down in a neck brace, but they seem to think
she’ll be OK.’

‘Has she called her parents?’

Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘She’s calling them now.’

‘Good. I’ll see you soon. Be careful.’

There was a click. Gwenhwyfar pressed down on Arthur’s name. The
number dialled and he answered immediately.

‘Gwen? Is that you? Are you all right?’

She explained everything, stressing the fact she was unharmed. He
didn’t seem convinced, and when she told him that her father was coming to get
her, he wanted to come too.

‘I should be there; I want to be there,’ he argued. ‘I have to know
you’re all right.’

‘But I am all right,’ Gwenhwyfar insisted. ‘Besides, he’s already
left. I’m just a bit shaken. The blast was right behind us. Are you OK?’

He seemed surprised. ‘Of course I’m OK, why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I just wanted to make sure.’ She shifted in the uncomfortable
plastic seat. Her limbs were aching terribly. ‘My dad said there were three
explosions, one failed. Do they think it’s terrorists?’

‘I don’t know what they think,’ Arthur admitted, ‘I just heard
there’d been explosions on the news. My grandmother’s still up too, worried
about you.’

‘Tell her I’m fine,’ she pled. ‘Viola’s the one with the gash on her
head.’

His concern returned. ‘Is she all right?’

‘I think so.’ She glanced over. Viola was still on the phone. ‘They
saw to her briefly in the ambulance. They just want to double-check her head
injury now.’

‘Right. That doesn’t sound too bad. They’d be paying her more attention
if it was something serious.’ There was a short silence. ‘What about money? Are
you insured?’

‘That’s all fine—my dad’s going to sort it.’

‘What about your Biometric Identity Card? Have you got that?’

‘I’ve got it—it’s in my bag.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with him? I’d feel better if
I did.’

‘I’d rather you stayed out of London,’ Gwenhwyfar told him firmly. ‘It’s
not safe. My dad’s worried about the hospitals; that’s one of the reasons he’s
coming to get us.’

‘You should probably leave, yes,’ Arthur agreed. ‘I wish I could do
something. I hate not being able to help you.’

‘You are helping me,’ Gwenhwyfar countered. ‘You’re distracting me.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes.’ She averted her eyes from the waiting room, and smiled. ‘Keep
doing it, if you like.’

For the best part of an hour Arthur recounted what he had been up to
that day, including the homework he had done, an account of what he’d made for
supper and the film he’d watched afterwards. Whenever he faltered Gwenhwyfar
prompted him for more details, until at long last her father arrived, his face
pale, his brow folded.

‘My dad’s here,’ she murmured quickly into the receiver.

He sounded relieved. ‘Good. Let me know when you get home. Be
careful, Gwen.’

‘I will,’ she nodded.

‘You’d better.’

She hung up and sprang to her feet. Her father hugged her fiercely. He
held her by the shoulders and inspected her.

‘Where’s Viola?’ he asked.

‘Over there. Where’s Mam?’

‘I made her stay at home.’ His eyes trailed around the roomful of
casualties, observing the unpleasant scene with distaste. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Gwenhwyfar assured. ‘We’re still waiting to be seen. I’m
worried about Viola. She doesn’t look well.’

‘We’ll ask someone,’ he stated, hunting for a medic to snare. He
caught a nurse just as she left a patient. He was told to wait and take a seat.
Immediately Garan looked around for someone else. ‘Where’s the medical care I’m
paying for?’

‘Dad—’ Gwenhwyfar cautioned. ‘Let’s just sit down and do what
she says.’

‘Have you got your B.I.D?’ She nodded. ‘Good. Give it here.’

Gwenhwyfar felt her face burn. People were looking at them, and in the
muted atmosphere of the waiting room everyone could hear Garan’s angry
outbursts.

‘There’s got to be someone who knows what they’re doing,’ he growled.
‘Go and sit down. I’m going to find a doctor.’

Mortified, Gwenhwyfar gazed after him as he strode to the reception
desk. He exchanged strong words with the nurse there, and then with a doctor
who seemed to have been called out at his particular request. The two went off
to one side to talk. Her shame only increased when suddenly the young doctor
was next to her, asking her to sit.

It didn’t take long for him to deduce what she already knew, that her
wounds were superficial, and soon he was snapping his fingers at the closest
nurse. Despite the embarrassment of skipping the queue and the anger it caused
among the other patients, Gwenhwyfar couldn’t help but feel relieved as Viola
underwent another examination, the doctor decreeing that she should be x-rayed.
Her wounds now cleaned, Gwenhwyfar went to stand beside her.