the things that part of the ceiling watches, down here on the bed. My eyes feel comfortable there. I stare and stare and wait for a little tap, tap, tap at the windowpane. Come on, Cherry -hurry up! I'm so lonely.
Cherry comes at last as dusk is falling. I feed her and listen to her news of war, of people near and far. We talk and laugh and cry a little. She's tired, but I can't let her sleep. I think I shall die if she goes to sleep! Cherry doesn't mind. She loves me, what for I can't imagine. Perhaps her makers told her to.
Later, during the long night, I pull my withered legs in and curl up close to the radiator while Cherry tells me other tales. I sip hot wine, and I listen to her voice, stirring me and lulling me.
'Here is one who lives in a tank year on year. Her only sight of the open is over the trees behind her prison. Here is one whose only friend is a creature with no shape and no soul. Hers is a heart where love and hate live side by side until they merge and become one. Hers is a soul who will fall in love for the sake of revenge.'
The wind is up, beating the sides of the water tower. Inside it's snug and warm. Cherry sweetly tells me the story I like to hear the most – my own. She knows what I think and feel before I know myself.
'At first her heart was open and raw for anyone to see, but gradually she learned to keep her tears in. When the tyrant came to see her, she learned to smile and be pleased. Of course…' And Cherry leans forward closely to watch my face as she stirs spice into the tale. '…of course she knew by now that she had gone mad, and not in ignorance either. Yes, yes, Signy's plan was to pretend to be sane. This was her madness.'
'Perhaps the gods wanted it that way,' I suggest, and Cherry smiles as if she knows all the answers.
I wonder sometimes who else she tells the story to. Siggy? The old pig-woman my brother loves so much? She's a problem, not the kind of company I want for Siggy. And where does Cherry learn these tales, that know the inside of things as clearly as if you could pick them up and count them? From her father, Loki? Or from Odin himself, perhaps? I listen to everything she has to say, I don't want to miss a word.
'Which one did the Pig eat first, Cherry? Was it Had or Ben?'
'Had, it was Had. The monster opened his jaws and took a bite out of his side as if the bones were crisp, sweet carrots. The blood gushed, Siggy and Ben screamed. Already, they were thinking, it was their turn.'
Every story my Cherry tells is the purest truth. She tells me about the dog leader, Dag Aggerman, who is beginning to score successes against Conor, with our help. Cherry passes information along, from time to time. There will be more when Siggy joins him. She tells me all the intrigue within the Estate and among the generals. I know who is allied to whom who is plotting against whom, who is strong and who is weak. But I already know that one: Conor is strong. Everyone else is weak.
Sometimes she tells the story yet to be.
'… and when the child was born the tyrant was full of joy, not knowing that the boy was to be his own destruction.'
'Which boy? Which boy, Cherry?'
But Cherry frowns and shakes her head, as if the words were put into her mouth. Me and my cat, telling tall tales that will one day come true. All alone in the night as the wind beats down.
'The father is not the father, the father is the brother. The son is not the son. The mother is sister…'
'Wake up, Cherry, you're dreaming.' But I remember every word she says. I lean forward and touch her mouth.
'And when she came down out of her tower, what does she see?'
'She sees heads sitting on sticks to welcome her. There are yellow flowers among them.'
'And what does she hear?'
'She hears the troops shouting, 'Hail the Queen! Hail the Queen!''
'And what does she feel, Cherry?'
'She feels triumph. But she is so, so tired…'
'Enough of that. Tell me about Siggy. Tell me, tell me…'
'Each day Siggy gets up and washes his face by splashing water onto it, but he takes care not to touch the flesh. He lives in a house without mirrors. His face is the only thing on this earth that scares him, but he has forgotten how to love.'
'But what about his heart? What about his plans, Cherry!' 'He has no plans, only to be left alone and to let alone. He has no heart, it was torn out of him. All he wants to do is keep his pig-woman fed and fat, and he counts himself as lucky as it's possible for such a man to be when she pats her belly and grunts.'
My poor Sigs! What have they done to you? Conor made you weak and now this halfman is turning you into an animal. How can I turn you back into a man?
Every day that he spends in the Estate my beloved comes to visit me, sometimes two or three times a day. He brings presents to my prison. Carpets made of silk, curtains plundered from some big old house. Pieces of electronic gadgetry captured from the halfmen, who traded or perhaps captured them themselves from Ragnor. He brought me a kitten once – 'To keep your other puss company.' I accepted it. I accept all his presents. I gave it cream and fish, but within a day it disappeared. When I asked Cherry where it was she licked her hand and said she had no idea, but I suspect it didn't live long. My Cherry is a jealous puss.
Another time he brought me a canary in a cage made of spun silver. He said it had been taken from the house of a rich halfman merchant, and I kept an eye on it for a week to see if it had other shapes. But it stayed the same, singing so beautifully every morning. It reminded me of the outside, but Cherry put an armchair close up to it and sat and stared all morning. I could hang it up out of reach from her cat for safety, but of course she could reach it as a girl. It was just a matter of time. In the end I let it go before I caught her with feathers in her mouth.
Other presents: information. News of his latest success in war. This is supposed to fill me with joy.
'We took Ipswich, or what was left of it. Those animals had pulled down every house.'
A lie. Yes, he took Ipswich. No, the halfmen hadn't pulled down every house – he did. A fit of pique because they held out too long. But of course I have to behave as if I believe it all. Fortunately Conor is a busy man with many enemies. I, on the other hand, have only one enemy. In the matter of Conor I have become an expert.
He struck me the other day – the first time he has ever raised his hand against me. It pleased me, because hurting me makes him angry with himself. He thinks it is a sign of weakness. He came with flowers and chocolate, and a little metal spy device his men found in a halfman office, so that I could look in secret into empty rooms in my own prison. To see what? In secret from whom? The irony of it made me want to hurt him. And there was a dress, and a leaflet about the womb tanks. Oh, yes he has plans to get some tanks and a technician to run them. The halfmen have them, apparently, captured from Ragnor. Then I can go into the womb tank and grow back my crippled legs.
I read the leaflet, put on the dress – it was very long and flimsy and low cut, the kind of thing that makes him want me. I ate the chocolates. I let him kiss my neck and nuzzle my breasts. I let him slide his hand up my leg and touch me… just touch me…
'Not here.'
'What? What do you mean?' He was angry at that. He is used to having me on demand these days.
'Not here.'
'Where, then?'
I nodded at the window. 'Out there.'
He was furious. How dare I put conditions on him! How dare I tell him what he may and may not do! How dare I lead him on…
'You wear my clothes,' he hissed. 'So you do what I want.'
'Oh, if it's an order, I will,' I said. 'So long as I'm not expected to like it.'
And he struck me, hard, on the mouth.
'For your cheek,' he said, and he left me licking the blood from my mouth.
'Let me out,' I screamed. 'Let me out!' But he opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder alone without another word.
My teeth popped right through my lip. I take it as a good sign.
What does he think I'd do if he let me out? Kill him? I could do that just as well up here. Is he scared that I'll be assassinated? Has he come to believe his own lies?
'I want you to be my queen,' he says when I ask him. But why must his queen stay out of sight, hidden away? He wouldn't say, perhaps he doesn't even know. But Cherry knows. She knows even what he doesn't know himself.
'He wants your child,' she grinned. 'You are to mother his dynasty. You see, he doesn't trust you. He wants to
