chamber to lie on the floor and examine the majestic architecture of the sweeping ceiling.
'Even in the middle of all this you've got to seek out anything that might give you a laugh, make you feel as if you're alive,' he said one warm day on the edge of summer. 'Otherwise, what's the point?'
That night, Thackeray laid out a dinner for the three of them with a white cotton tablecloth on the floor, silver cutlery and crystal glasses for one of their very rare bottles of wine. As they sat around, with the candlelight flickering, he thought Caitlin looked more beautiful than ever and told Harvey so.
'You know, matey, I have to say this, but all this is a bit, you know… sick,' Harvey replied uneasily 'She's, like, disabled or something. Or, you know…' He tapped his temple.
'I'm not going to take advantage of her,' Thackeray replied. 'But I can still see the person she was, or is — maybe will be again. It's there in her face, just beneath the surface. A good person…'
'You think she's going to get better?'
Thackeray shrugged. 'I can't help myself.'
'I think you should get over her, mate, for your own good.'
Thackeray raised his glass to both of them and took a sip of the Zinfandel. 'Let me tell you something, Harvey. You're going to say I'm a complete wanker, but like I care what you think, right? Loving, and having someone who loves you, is addictive. Your whole being comes alive and suddenly it feels as if the life you had before was just floating in treacle. And the cliches, they're all true, like you're living some Woman's Weekly life. You can't eat, you can't sleep, you can't get her face out of your head, or the moments you spent together, and the things you did, and the words you said, and some stupid song that fixes it in melody and moment, constantly replaying, turning over, as if you were hoping you'd be able to step back into them and live them all again, just like the first time.'
Harvey smiled, but in a nice way, sipping his own wine with one self-mocking little finger extended.
'And all these other cliches,' Thackeray continued. 'Connections… gut instincts that transcend rational thought. Love at first sight, if you will. How stupid is that? You think to yourself, stay away from this person, they're bad for me, I'm settled, survival routines in place, my life would be a real mess if I threw in with them, and your subconscious, or your heart, says do it, this is right. The person in the back of your head just knows. And you can't help yourself. You're lost to it. That person — the real you in your deep, deep subconscious — he always knows what's right for you, at that particular time, what you need. And he or she recognises links that transcend physical space. You see a face, he sees a soul mate, something so deep it's rooted in both your genes. And when that connection happens, you know it's going to be high passion, that you're going to blaze like a star, and that you'll probably crash and burn soon after. And you don't care, you don't care.' He stared into the deep red depths of his wine with a faint, troubled smile.
'It's going to end in tears, Thackeray,' Harvey said softly.
'Yeah. 'Course it is.' They ate a long, varied meal, determined to enjoy themselves in spite of everything. Thackeray fed Caitlin the first mouthful of every dish so she could acquire the taste before continuing herself. After they had finished, Harvey strummed them romantic songs on his acoustic guitar, tongue in cheek at first, but by the end they were all lost in a haze of plangent emotions.
Finally they sat in silence, thoughtful, enjoying a faint alcohol mood. And that was when they heard a tremendous crash.
Thackeray and Harvey instantly scrambled to the front of the shop to peer out into the concourse. The strengthened-glass security doors had been smashed off their hinges by a flat-bed truck that had reversed into them at speed. There was movement all over the shadowy first floor of the mall. Eventually torches burst into light and the burly leather-clad forms of the plague wardens fell into relief.
Thackeray glanced at Harvey, who was shaking and looked as if he were going to be sick. 'We can't pull down the security shutters — it'll make too much noise,' Thackeray hissed. 'We'll have to hide in the back and hope it's just coincidence they're here and that they're not looking for us.'
Harvey was rigid and fixated on the swarming figures until Thackeray gave his shoulder a squeeze. Then they both slipped back to the living area.
'Oh, God, they know we're here!' Harvey whined, scrubbing a hand through his greasy hair. 'Someone must have seen us on the roof. I knew it was a mistake to go near the edge!'
'No point moaning about it now — it's done.' Thackeray took Caitlin's hand and pulled her to her feet.
'Aren't you scared?' Harvey asked.
'Yes,' Thackeray replied tersely.
'You know what Buckland will do to us if he gets us.'
'Maybe he'll just be happy with our supplies to add to his vast warehouse of looted consumer goods.'
'Right. After he's hung us out to dry.' Harvey hugged his arms around himself; tears of fear sprang to the corners of his eyes.
Thackeray gave him a rough shove and followed it up with a smile. 'Come on — into the hiding places. And good luck.'
Harvey forced a smile. 'You're a bastard, Thackeray, but we've had some good times.'
He made to go towards a packing crate, but Thackeray caught his arm and said, 'No, the good one. And take her with you.'
Harvey searched his friend's face for a moment and could see no point in arguing. Reluctantly, he went to a wall panel like any other and slipped a penknife into the join to prise it open. Behind was a dusty, claustrophobic space in the dry wall. Briefly, Thackeray hugged Caitlin to him, smelling her hair, wishing things were different. Then he hurriedly pressed her into the hidey-hole first, motioned her to remain silent with a finger to his lips, then let Harvey slip in after her before replacing the wall panel.
The sound of the plague wardens violently searching the concourse drew rapidly closer. Thackeray threw himself behind a packing crate and burrowed under a pile of filthy, mildewed rags. They fell in just such a way that he had a very limited view into the room.
The plague wardens entered seconds later, whooping the minute they saw the remnants of the meal. 'Here it is! Bastards have been having a party!' someone exclaimed.
'Search the place — they're here somewhere,' a gruff, authoritative voice ordered.
Thackeray remained tense, his breath a lead weight in his throat. He watched as the tablecloth was ripped up, the crystal smashed, the sleeping quarters torn and stamped. He knew they'd get him sooner or later; Harvey had known it, too, but one being caught might allow the other to escape, and they both accepted Thackeray was the least likely to fold under pressure. At least until the torture started.
Seconds later they approached the crate. Thackeray steeled himself. The rags were torn off and the room filled with jeers and abuse. Threatening hands yanked him to his feet before a fist smashed forcefully into his face. Blood splattered from a burst lip and he saw stars for a second.
'Where are the others?' The authoritative voice came from the plague warden who had shot the woman in the face on the night he had met Caitlin.
'Fuck off.'
Someone hit him again and this time he did black out for a while. When he came to, he was supported between two thugs and the leader hovered inches from his face. 'I'll ask you again,' the leader said. 'And this time we'll cut off your ear if you get smart.'
'All right,' Thackeray said with mock-weakness. 'They got out… across the roof and down the back. We had an escape route planned. I was supposed to lock up the base, but there wasn't time…'
He let his head droop. The leader grabbed him by the hair and yanked it back up. 'How many?'
'Two others.' The leader nodded, satisfied. Thackeray knew he would have seen the places set on the tablecloth.
'So, you thought you'd disobey all Mr Buckland's rules, hoarding your own stuff while the community starves. You selfish bastard.'
Thackeray wanted to laugh at the idea of Buckland being a provider for the poor and oppressed, but he managed to control himself by feigning almost losing consciousness again.
The leader backed off and waved his hand in a circle in the air. 'Clean this place out. Make sure you get all their stores. The bulk's probably in some other place. And get this bastard out of here.' Thackeray knew his fate, but he was surprised that his first thought was not regret or fear, but of a woman he hadn't even heard speak, who had given him no sign of who she was. Harvey and Caitlin emerged from their hiding place into darkness an hour
