‘But, Father, I can see you —’ Her voice trailed off. Suddenly she shoved Mrs Who’s glasses down her nose and peered over them, and immediately she was in complete and utter darkness. She snatched them off her face and thrust them at her father. ‘Here.’
His fingers closed about the spectacles. ‘Darling,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid your glasses won’t help.’
‘But they’re Mrs Who’s, they aren’t mine,’ she explained, not realizing that her words would sound like gibberish to him. ‘Please try them, Father. Please!’ She waited while she felt him fumbling in the dark. ‘Can you see now?’ she asked. ‘Can you see now, Father?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. The wall is transparent, now. How extraordinary! I could almost see the atoms rearranging!’ His voice had its old familiar sound of excitement and discovery. It was the way he sounded sometimes when he came home from his laboratory after a good day and began to tell his wife about his work.Then he cried out, ‘Charles! Charles Wallace!’And then, ‘Meg, what’s happened to him? What’s wrong? That is Charles, isn’t it?’
‘IT has him, Father,’ she explained tensely.’He’s gone into IT. Father, we have to help him.’
For a long moment Mr Murry was silent. The silence was filled with the words he was thinking and would not speak out loud to his daughter. Then he said, ‘Meg, I’m in prison here. I have been for —’
‘Father, these walls. You can go through them. I came through the column to get in to you. It was Mrs Who’s glasses.’
Mr Murry did not stop to ask who Mrs Who was. He slapped his hand against the translucent column. ‘It seems solid enough.’
‘But I got in,’Meg repeated. ‘I’m here. Maybe the glasses help the atoms rearrange. Try it, Father.’
She waited, breathlessly, and after a moment she realized that she was alone in the column. She put out her hands in the darkness and felt its smooth surface curving about her on all sides. She seemed utterly alone, the silence and darkness impenetrable for ever. She fought down panic until she heard her fathers voice coming to her very faintly.
‘I’m coming back in for you, Meg.’
It was almost a tangible feeling as the atoms of the strange material seemed to part to let him through to her. In their beach house at Cape Canaveral there had been a curtain between dining and living room made of long strands of rice. It looked like a solid curtain, but you could walk right through it. At first Meg had flinched each time she came up to the curtain; but gradually she got used to it and would go running right through, leaving the long strands of rice swinging behind her. Perhaps the atoms of these walls were arranged in somewhat the same fashion.
‘Put your arms around my neck, Meg,’ Mr Murry said. ‘Hold on to me tightly. Close your eyes and don’t be afraid.’ He picked her up and she wrapped her long legs round his waist and clung to his neck. With Mrs Who’s spectacles on she had felt only a faint darkness and coldness as she moved through the column. Without the glasses she felt the same awful clamminess she had felt when they tessered through the outer darkness of Camazotz. Whatever the Black Thing was to which Camazotz had submitted, it was within as well as without the planet. For a moment it seemed that the chill darkness would tear her from her father’s arms but they tightened about her, and she was no longer lost in panic. She knew that if her father could not get her through the wall he would stay with her rather than leave her; she knew that she was safe as long as she was in his arms.
Then they were outside. The column rose up in the middle of the room, crystal clear and empty.
Meg blinked at the blurred figures of Charles and her father, and wondered why they did not clear. Then she grabbed her own glasses out of her pocket and put them on, and her myopic eyes were able to focus.
Charles Wallace was tapping one foot impatiently against the floor, ‘IT is not pleased,’ he said, ‘IT is not pleased at all.’
Mr Murry released Meg and knelt in front of the little boy. ‘Charles,’ his voice was tender. ‘Charles Wallace.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I’m your father, Charles. Look at me.’
The pale blue eyes seemed to focus on Mr Murry’s face. ‘Hi, Pop,’ came an insolent voice.
‘That isn’t Charles!’ Meg cried. ‘Oh, Father, Charles isn’t like that, IT has him.’
‘Yes.’ Mr Murry sounded tired. ‘I see.’ He held his arms out. ‘Charles. Come here.’
Father will make it all right, Meg thought. Everything will be all right now.
Charles did not move towards the outstretched arms. He stood a few feet away from his father, and he did not look at him.
‘Look at me,’ Mr Murry commanded.
‘No.’
Mr Murry’s voice became harsh. ‘When you speak to me you will say “No, Father,” or “No, sir. ”’
‘Come off it, Pop,’ came the cold voice from Charles Wallace — Charles Wallace who, outside Camazotz, had been strange, had been different, but never rude. ‘You’re not the boss around here.’
Meg could see Calvin pounding again on the glass wall. ‘Calvin!’ she called.
‘He can’t hear you,’ Charles said. He made a horrible face at Calvin, and then he thumbed his nose.
‘Who’s Calvin?’ Mr Murry asked.
‘He’s —’ Meg started, but Charles Wallace cut her short.
‘You’ll have to defer your explanations. Let’s go.’
‘Go where?’
‘To IT.’
‘No,’ Mr Murry said. ‘You can’t take Meg there.’
‘Oh, can’t I!’
‘No, you cannot. You’re my son, Charles, and I’m afraid you will have to do as I say.’
‘But he
‘He was only a baby when I left,’ Mr Murry said heavily.
‘Father, it’s IT talking through Charles, IT isn’t Charles. He’s — he’s bewitched.’
‘Fairy tales again,’ Charles said.
‘You know IT, Father?’ Meg asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you seen IT?’
‘Yes, Meg.’ Again his voice sounded exhausted. ‘Yes. I have.’ He turned to Charles. ‘You know she wouldn’t be able to hold out.’
‘Exactly,’ Charles said.
‘Father, you can’t talk to him as though he were Charles! Ask Calvin! Calvin will tell you.’
‘Come along,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘We must go.’ He held up his hand carelessly and walked out of the cell, and there was nothing for Meg and Mr Murry to do but to follow.
As they stepped into the corridor Meg caught at her father’s sleeve.’Calvin, here’s father!’
Calvin turned anxiously towards them. His freckles and his hair stood out brilliantly against his white face.
‘Make your introductions later,’ Charles Wallace said, ‘IT does not like to be kept waiting.’ He walked down the corridor, his gait seeming to get more jerky with each step. The others followed, walking rapidly to keep up.
‘Does your father know about the Mrs Ws?’ Calvin asked Meg.
‘There hasn’t been time for anything. Everything’s awful.’ Despair settled like a stone in the pit of Meg’s stomach. She had been so certain that the moment she found her father everything would be all right. Everything would be settled. All the problems would be taken out of her hands. She would no longer be responsible for anything.
And instead of this happy and expected outcome, they seemed to be encountering all kinds of new troubles.
‘He doesn’t understand about Charles,’ she whispered to Calvin, looking unhappily at her father’s back as he walked behind the little boy.
‘Where are we going?’ Calvin asked.
