Cecelia Ahern: Perfect

Granddad takes the flame to the moss and I’m afraid that he won’t do it, that he’ll give the game away, that they’ll find me. Have faith in me, Granddad. I’m your flesh and blood; have faith that I got away.

“What are you hiding, old man? Celestine? Is she under there? If she is, don’t you worry, we’ll smoke her out,” Mary May says.

“I told you she’s not here,” Granddad says suddenly, and he throws the flame into the pit. The moss lights quickly and fire spreads to the twigs and logs. Dahy looks at Granddad, head hanging weakly; Granddad and the Whistleblowers watch the fire spread, waiting for the sounds of my screams. I watch them thinking that I’m under there, the smugness and satisfaction on the Whistleblowers’ faces. This fills me with so much anger and hatred for them that any thoughts I had of turning myself in, of giving up on my freedom, dissolve immediately. I will not give up; I can’t let them win.

“So what now?” a male Whistleblower asks, disappointed that the show hasn’t delivered.

“Well.” Granddad clears his throat, trying to keep his cool, but I know that he’s rattled. He has either set fire to his granddaughter, or he hasn’t. I could have passed out from lack of air, I could still be under there. The fire is spreading.

“We let it burn until it smolders, then we pile the food in and cover it with soil.”

“Do it.”

Granddad looks at Mary May, lost, old, hope seeming to be gone. But the hate in him is clearly greater than ever. “Waiting for it to burn to a smolder will take hours.”

“We have time,” she says.

EIGHT

THEY STAY THERE for three hours.

My muscles burn, my feet ache, but I’m afraid to move.

When the fire has reduced to a smolder, Granddad and Dahy are ordered to place the bundles of food onto the coals. The farmworkers watch from their orderly line, their F brand armbands all visible on their right arms, just above their elbows.

This was supposed to be a celebration, a coming together to show that the Guild couldn’t beat them down. Now the Whistleblowers themselves are here. Hiding behind the tree, huddled on the ground, hugging my legs, shivering from the damp forest, I can’t say that I feel empowered. This feels like a defeat.

Granddad and Dahy cover the food with the soil so it will cook under the ground in the heat. Granddad looks at the ground, his work finished, as though he’s buried me alive. Again I want to call out to him that I’m okay, I made it out, but I can’t.

A phone rings and the female Whistleblower takes it. She steps aside, walks away from the others, so she can talk in private. She moves closer to me in the woods. I tense up again.

“Judge Crevan, hello. It’s Kate. No, Judge, Celestine isn’t here. We’ve checked everywhere.”

Silence as she listens and I hear Crevan’s voice from where I stand. Kate walks farther and stops by my tree.

I press my back to the tree, squeeze my eyes shut, and hold my breath.

“With all due respect, Judge, this is the Guild’s sixth visit to the property and I believe Mary May was meticulous in her search. We’ve checked everywhere you can imagine. I don’t believe she’s here. I think the grandfather is telling the truth.”

I can hear the frustration in her voice. They’re all under pressure to find me, pressure placed on them by Judge Crevan. Kate takes a few more steps, right into my eyeline.

She slowly scans the forest, her eyes searching the distance.

Then she looks right at me.

NINE

I EXPECT HER to tell Crevan that she’s found me, hang up, call to the others, blow the large red whistle that hangs on a gold chain around her neck, but she stays calm, her voice not changing. She is looking right through me, as though she can’t see me at all. Has it come to this? Have I been hiding so long that I’m no longer visible? I actually look down at my hands to make sure I can see myself.

“You’d like us to take the grandfather to Highland Castle,” Kate says, looking me up and down, continuing the conversation as if I’m not there.

Why isn’t she telling him I’m here?

The news that they’re going to take Granddad to Highland Castle, to Judge Crevan, the man who personally branded me and destroyed my life, causes panic to well in my chest. It’s quickly followed by a large wave of anger. They can’t take my granddad.

“We’ll bring him in now,” she says, eyes still on me, and I’m waiting for the bombshell, for the moment she tells Mary May and Judge Crevan that I’m right here, beside her. “We’ll be with you in two hours.”

I’m about to scream at her, punch her, kick her, yell that she cannot take me and my granddad, but I stop myself. There is something peculiar about the way she is looking at me.

She puts the phone in her pocket, fixes me with a long stare as if she’s trying to think of something to say, then decides against it, and turns and leaves.

“Right, old man,” she calls to Granddad. “We’re taking you in. Judge Crevan needs words with you.”

Even after I hear the vehicles drive away, I stay where I am. I sit in the cramped and damp conditions of a hollowed-out tree, trying to understand what exactly has happened.

Why didn’t she take me?

TEN

IT’S BEEN ONE hour since Mary May left with my beloved granddad in tow, carting him off as if he’s some kind of criminal. I’m still huddling behind the tree, exhausted, hungry, cold, and very afraid. I can smell the smoke from the pit, smoldering under the earth, cooking the food that probably no one will eat now that Granddad is gone. I feel an overwhelming guilt at his being in this position, and I’m scared of what they’ll do to him in Highland Castle.

I’m scared, too, of what he might be thinking. Does he fear he burned me alive? I wish there was a way to tell him I wasn’t there, in the pit.

When all the vehicles left, initially I was afraid to move, thinking it was a test or a tease, that as soon as I came out of the woodwork they’d grab me. Then I waited, thinking perhaps the farmworkers would come for me, but they didn’t, in lockdown at this hour by their Whistleblower, Dan.

It’s after the 11:00 PM curfew, the time when checkpoints and searches on individuals increase. It’s not a good time to be roaming alone, though at least I can move around under the cover of darkness. I’ve decided that going back to the farmhouse is out of the question, despite its warmth and the welcoming light on the porch.

Perhaps I can make it to Granddad’s nearest neighbor. Can I trust them for help?

But then what did Granddad tell me? Rule number one: Don’t trust anybody .

Suddenly I hear a vehicle return. A door slams. Followed by two more. They’re back. I feel so stupid now. Why didn’t I run? Why did I allow them to return to get me?

I hear footsteps nearby. Male voices I don’t recognize, and then one that I do, clear as anything.

“Here’s the pit,” Dahy says. “She was in here.”

Can I trust Dahy? Or is he the one who called the Whistleblowers in the first place? Has he sold me out, or has he been forced to help another Whistleblower team find me? I don’t know who to believe. I’m cold; I’m scared; I can either jump up and yell “Save me!” and ruin everything I’ve done to get to this point, or I can sit tight. Sit tight. Sit tight.

“She must have gone into the forest,” another man says.

I see the light from a flashlight stretch in front of me, illuminating the black forest for what seems like hundreds of miles. Tall, thick tree trunks for as far as the eye can see. Even if I run that way and the Whistleblowers don’t see me, I’ll be lost in no time.

It’s over, Celestine; it’s over.