Something’s wrong and Gerard knows it.
In all fairness, it’s pretty obvious. Martin’s name wasn’t even on the program, let alone him not being at the concert, and the place they’ve lived since the wedding is currently occupied by two yuppies and a Doberman. But even beyond that, Gerard just has a…sense that something is off.
The trouble is that he doesn’t know what he can do about it. Or how to fix it.
He’s tried everything he can think of…well, almost everything. He’s checked the phone book, but it still lists their old address; he’s tried asking at a few places, but none of the people there have seen Liliana or Roger; he’s wandered aimlessly around London, but that was always going to be a shot in the dark. He’s even taken his life into his hands and gone to the Magnus Institute to see about trading a statement for an address, but the Archivist and two of her assistants were out, leaving only a too-eager young man who, somehow, doesn’t seem to have the faintest idea of what he’s in the middle of. Gerard doesn’t have the heart to clue him in, despite his personal feelings on people being involved in this shit without their knowledge or consent, so he writes out a “statement” he’s pretty sure he cribbed from a pub song and pretends not to understand when the guy turns fuchsia after an awkward, fumbling attempt at flirting.
He’s cute, actually, and doesn’t look like he’s much older than Gerard, but since he doesn’t intend to stay in London longer than it takes to collect his brother and sister, he won’t be using the number scrawled on the back of the business card.
There is one other option, Gerard supposes, but he doesn’t want to do it. At all. If he walks back into his mother’s shop, she’ll have him again. And he’s got away. He doesn’t have to be in London anymore. Yes, the world is full of ignorance and stupidity and fear and people doing awful and terrible and thoughtless things in the face of it, but it is also full of fresh bread and comfortable armchairs and art museums and brightly-colored poisonous frogs. And he can see it, he can experience it all for himself, and maybe he can finally get a job he wants instead of running errands for his mother. He can be an artist, or a photographer, or a journalist. He can become a train porter or a flight attendant or a steward on a cruise ship. He can be a homeless drifter and get by on the kindness of others. He can fuck off to the Eurasian Steppes and live in a yurt. Anything is possible, as long as he stays away from Pinhole Books.
He sighs and looks at the business card again. Gods above, the guy drew a winking face in the tail of the Y in his last name, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. Gerard should just throw it away, but instead, he tucks it into the back of his pack of Woodbines, shakes one out, and cups a hand around the end to light it.
“Those things’ll kill you, you know.”
Gerard almost swallows the cigarette. He whirls around to see Melanie standing a couple feet away, hands on her hips, denim jacket open enough to expose the college logo on her sweatshirt and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Neens!” Gerard drops the cigarette and barely remembers to grind it out with a heel before he steps forward, arms outspread for a hug. Melanie practically leaps at him, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly pulling him over. “What are you doing here?”
“Could ask you the same thing. I thought you were gone for good.” Melanie drops to the ground and looks up at him accusingly. “Aunt Mary said you’d said you weren’t coming back.”
“I’m not staying. I just came to visit.” Gerard looks Melanie up and down. “Came to see you and Martin. I figured you’d be home for the holidays.”
A strange look comes over Melanie’s eyes. “Yeah. Home for the holidays.”
Anxiety tugs at Gerard. That sense of wrong flares up again, and he studies Melanie again. “What’s wrong? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”
“No, but—” Melanie breaks off and lifts a hand. “Hey. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Gerard turns around and grins. “Hey, Martin.”
“Gerry?” Martin looks dumbfounded. He’s wearing a jumper Gerard can tell he knitted himself—mostly because he bought him the wool last Christmas—over a button-up and a pair of khakis, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s made a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair that doesn’t suit him. “I—y-you were supposed to be gone, I thought you finally got away!”
“You didn’t think I was going to miss spending Christmas with you two, did you?” Gerard steps forward and hugs Martin tightly; Martin hugs him back, maybe a little desperately.
“If you go back to that shop, she won’t let you leave,” Martin mumbles in his ear.
“Yeah, that wasn’t my plan.” Gerard releases Martin and steps back.
Melanie comes forward to give Martin a hug, too. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. How are…things?”
“Okay. Dad’s having a better day. I fixed dinner for him and Lily and said we were going to go skating at the National History Museum.” Melanie shrugs. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but at least it means they aren’t expecting us home for a bit.”
Gerard grins and waggles his eyebrows at them. “Great! If they’re not expecting you for a while, c’mon. We can be halfway to the Continent before they miss you.”
Martin laughs, but it sounds tired. “Skating sounds fun, but I need something to eat first, I think. I didn’t get a chance to grab lunch today.” He reaches under the collar of his jumper and tugs—is that a necktie? “There’s, um, everything around here is kind of expensive, actually, but—”
“No, wait, hang on,” Gerard interrupts. “What are you even doing up this way? Where is ‘home’ anyway? I went by your place and someone else was living there…”
“Yeah, we had to move over the summer. I didn’t quite meet the income requirements for the rent.” Martin sighs and rolls up the tie before stuffing it in his bag.
“Inc—you’re a student!” Gerard throws his hands up. “What income requirements can they expect out of you? And why you?”
Melanie folds her arms over her chest. “Told you he’d throw a fit.”
“Yeah, imagine how he’d react if I let you have your way,” Martin shoots back.
“You shouldn’t have to make all the sacrifices!”
“And what would be the point of you giving it all up if—”
“What. Is. Going. On,” Gerard says emphatically.
Melanie’s scowl deepens. “Dad got fired.”
A chill runs through Gerard’s body. He looks over at Martin, who nods silently. “So…what, you had to get a seasonal job to help out? Surely Mum’s not so stingy she wouldn’t pay Aunt Lily more. She needs her, after all.”
“Apparently not. Mum’s not doing well either, Ger. She…I don’t know. I think she’s been Touched, but I’m honestly afraid to Look.” Martin looks away from Gerard, out over the river. “Anyway, she can’t work any more. And Aunt Mary said she didn’t need my help when I offered to take over.”
“She probably just meant she didn’t need you part time,” Gerard says. “What with you being away at school and all.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Martin says quietly. “I’m not going to school anymore. I dropped out. Someone has to support the family, and if it had to be one of us, it had to be me.”
“It should be both of us,” Melanie says pointedly. “I could’ve—”
“Look, as hard as it was for me to find anything without a degree, it would’ve been harder for you and you know it,” Martin cuts her off, with the tone of someone retreading a well-worn argument. “This is the best option. Trust me.”
Gerard stares at them both, feeling the bottom drop out of his world. He left home—he thought for good—ten months ago, secure in the knowledge that Martin and Melanie were free. They’d both done well for themselves in school, both achieving places in colleges outside of London. They had futures, they had their whole lives ahead of them, and Gerard knew that for the first time, all of them were away from his mother and Martin’s and the lives they’d tried to trap them in.
But if Martin dropped out…
“Hang on,” he says slowly, dread creeping up his spine. “Where are you working around here? One of the shops or—?” He freezes, looking across the street at the looming, imposing building he was just in a few minutes ago. “No. Don’t tell me—”
“Just the library,” Martin says, but the defeat in his voice is obvious.
“Martin Blackwood.”
“Look, it’s not like I had a choice. Nobody was hiring, and I mean nobody. I’d picked up a bit of change working at the tea shop again, but that wasn’t…we didn’t have much of a grace period on rent, you know?” Martin sighs heavily. “Everybody wanted degrees, o-or experience or…I had to do something.”
“You lied on your CV,” Gerard guesses.
“And the Magnus Institute was the only place I could successfully fake the credentials they were looking for,” Martin agrees. “Or, well…I mean, I’m pretty sure Mr. Bouchard knows the truth, but he hired me anyway.”
Gerard swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “So…you’re working for them after all.”
“Yeah.” Martin lowers his eyes and turns away. “Guess so.”
The glare Melanie shoots Gerard is almost enough to burn holes in his leather duster, but he doesn’t need her to do that to know he’s fucked up. A sickly spiral of guilt swirls in his gut, and he steps forward and takes Martin’s arm, not really turning him to face him, but just kind of maintaining contact. Letting him know he’s there.
“Hey,” he says softly. “No, I—I didn’t mean it like that, Martin, I just—God, l thought you two were safe. I would never have left if I’d…i-if I’d known you were in trouble, I’d have come back in a heartbeat. I hate that you’re stuck. And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not. It just…it just happened.” Martin wipes his eyes and looks at Gerard. “Knowing you and Neens made it out…that’s enough for me.”
Melanie’s snort echoes off the surrounding buildings. “You don’t think we’re going to leave you to this, do you? I told you before, when you were worrying about whether you’d even get into that program, that I wasn’t going to go off and get away from this if you couldn’t. I’m not dropping out because you’ll kick my ass—”
“Damn right—”
“—but I’m not going to stop helping, either,” Melanie concludes. “Fuck it. If you’re in it, I’m in it. Not like they’ll let me stay away forever anyway. Might as well make them regret it, right?”
Martin gives her a small, watery, but genuine smile. Gerard takes a deep breath and squeezes Martin’s arm. “She’s right. One for all and all for one, yeah? I told you last time I wouldn’t leave without you, so if you can’t leave…I won’t, either.”
“You’re not going back to your mum, though, right?” Melanie’s voice is sharp, but her eyes are worried.
Gerard smiles, and doesn’t answer. His mother isn’t gifted with prophecy or anything, but she knows him, and his brother and sister to a certain extent, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out this is why she refused to hire Martin full-time. She knows how he feels about them, and knowing Martin is trapped at the Institute is going to be the perfect cat’s-paw to get him back under her thumb for good.
“Come on,” he says, looping his arm through Melanie’s and pulling both of them closer. “Let’s go get something to eat. My treat. And then I think you mentioned ice-skating.”
One last moment, he thinks. One last taste of freedom before he puts his neck back in the yoke to be worked to death. He can do this. It’s fine.
It’s worth it. It has to be.