'How do you turn them off?'
'Turn them off?' Cal looked at Will quizzically, the illumination bathing his pale face. 'Why in the world would you want to do that?'
He started down the landing, but Will stayed put. 'So are you going to tell me about this Martineau?' he demanded.
'Sir Gabriel Martineau,' Cal said carefully, as if Will was showing a distinct lack of respect. 'He's the Founding Father — our savior — he built the Colony.'
'But I read he died in a fire in… um… well, several centuries ago.'
'That's what they'd have you Topsoilers believe. There was a fire, but he didn’t die in it,' Cal replied with a scornful curl of his lip.
'So what happened, then?' Will shot back.
'He came down here with the Founding Fathers to live, of course.'
'The Founding Fathers?'
'Yes, the Founding Fathers, OK?' Cal said in exasperation. 'I'm not going into all that now. You can read about it in the Book of Catastrophes, if you're so interested.'
'The Book…?'
'Oh, just come on already,' Cal snapped. He stared at Will and ground his teeth with such irritation that Will refrained from asking any further questions. They continued down the landing and went through a door.
'This is my room. Father arranged another bed when he was told you had to stay with us.'
'Told? Who by?' Will asked in a flash.
Cal raised his eyebrows as if he ought to know better, so Will just looked around the simple bedroom, not much larger than his own back home. Two narrow beds and a wardrobe almost filled it, with very little space in between. He perched on the end of one of the beds and, noticing a set of clothes left on the pillow, glanced up at Cal.
'Yes, they're yours,' Cal confirmed.
'I suppose I could do with a change,' Will muttered, looking down at the filthy jeans he was wearing. He opened the bundle of new clothes and felt the fabric of the waxy trousers. The material was rough, almost scaly to the touch — he guessed it was a coating to keep out the damp.
While Cal lay back on his bed, Will began to get changed. The clothes felt strange and cold next to his skin. The pants were stiff and scratchy, and they fastened with metal buttons and a belt tie. He wrestled into the shirt without bothering to undo it, and then slowly wriggled his shoulders and arms as if trying to get a new skin to fit. Last of all, he shrugged on the long jacket with the familiar shoulder mantle that they all wore. Although glad to be out of his filthy clothes, the replacements felt stiff and restrictive.
'Don't worry, they loosen up once they're warm,' Cal said, noticing his discomfort. Then Cal got up and clambered across Will's bed to get to the wardrobe, where he knelt down and slid out an old Peek Freans cookie tin from beneath it.
'Have a look at these.' He put the tin on Will's bed and pried off the lid.
'This is my collection,' he announced proudly. He fished around in the tin, taking out a battered cell phone, which he handed to Will, who immediately tried to turn it on. It was dead.
'And this.' Cal produced a small blue radio and, holding it up to show Will, he clicked on the switch. It crackled with tinny static as he swiveled one of the dials.
'You won't pick up anything down here,' Will said, but Cal was already taking something else out of the tin.
'Look at these, they're fantastic.'
He straightened out some curling car brochures, mottled with chalky spots of mildew, and passed them to Will as if they were priceless parchments. Will frowned as he surveyed them.
'These are very old models, you know,' Will said as he browsed through the pages of sports cars and family sedans. 'The new Capri,' he read aloud and smiled to himself.
He glanced at Cal and noticed the look of total absorption on the boy's face as he lovingly arranged a selection of chocolate bars and a bag of cellophane-wrapped candies in the bottom of the tin. It was as if he was trying to find the perfect composition.
'What's all the chocolate for?' Will asked, actually hoping that Cal might offer him some.
'I'm saving it for a very special occasion,' Cal said as he lovingly handled a bar of Mars Bar. 'I just love the way it smells.' He drew the bar under his nose and sniffed extravagantly. 'That's enough for me… I don't need to open it.' He rolled his eyes in ecstasy.
'So where did you get all this stuff?' Will asked, putting down the car brochures, which curled slowly back into a disheveled tube. Cal glanced warily at the bedroom door and moved a little closer to Will.
'Uncle Tam,' he said in a low voice. 'He often goes beyond the Colony — but you mustn't tell anyone. It would mean Banishment.' He hesitated and glanced at the door again. 'He even goes Topsoil.'
'Does he now?' Will said, scrutinizing Cal 's face intently. 'And when does he do that?'
'Every so often.' Cal was speaking so softly that Will had difficulty hearing him. 'He trades things that…' He faltered, realizing that he was overstepping the mark. '…that he finds.'
'Where?' Will asked.
'On his trips,' Cal said obliquely as he packed the items back into the tin, replaced the lid, and pushed it once again under the wardrobe. Still kneeling, he turned to Will.
'You're going to get out, aren't you?' he asked with a sly grin.
'Huh?' Will said, taken aback by the abruptness of the question.
'Come on, you can tell me. You're going to escape, aren't you? I just know it!' Cal was literally vibrating with excitement as he waited for Will's response.
'You mean back to Highfield?'
Cal nodded energetically.
'Maybe, maybe not. I don't know yet,' Will said guardedly. Despite his emotions and everything he felt for his newfound family, he was going to play it safe for now; a small voice in his head was still warning him that this could be part of an elaborate plan to ensnare him and keep him here forever, and that even this boy who claimed to be his brother could be working for the Styx. He wasn't quite ready to trust him yet, not completely.
Cal looked directly at Will.
'Well, when you do, I'm coming with you.' He was smiling, but his eyes were deadly serious. Will was taken completely unawares by this suggestion and didn’t know how he was going to answer, but at that point was saved by a gong sounding insistently from somewhere in the house.
'That's dinner, Father must be home. Come on.' Cal leaped up and ran out the door and down the stairs to the dining room, Will following closely behind. Mr. Jerome was already seated at the head of a deep-grained wooden table. As they entered, he didn't look up, his eyes remaining fixed on the table in front of him.
The room couldn't have been more different from the sumptuous drawing room Will had seen earlier. It was spartan and the furniture basic, appearing to be constructed from wood that had endured centuries of wear. On closer inspection, he could see that the table and chairs had been fabricated from a mishmash of different woods of conflicting shades and with grains at odds to each other; some parts were waxed or varnished, while others were tough with splintery surfaces. The high-backed dining chairs looked particularly rickety and archaic, with spindly legs that creaked and complained when the boys took their places on either side of the sullen-faced Mr. Jerome, who barely gave Will a glance. Will shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable and wondering idly how the chairs could accommodate someone of Mr. Jerome's impressive bulk without giving up the ghost.
Mr. Jerome cleared his throat loudly and without any warning he and Cal leaned forward, their eyes closed and their hands folded on the table in front of them. A little self-consciously, Will did likewise.
'The sun shall no longer set, nor shall the moon withdraw itself, for the Lord will be your everlasting light and the dark days of your mourning will be ended,' Mr. Jerome droned.
Will couldn't stop himself from peeping at the man through his half-closed eyes. He found all this a little odd — no one would have
