Margaret Atwood - The Testaments

“Pardon?”

“Push our boat away from the Nellie . Not with your hands! Here—use an oar.”

I did manage to push, but not very well. I’d never held an oar. I felt very clumsy. “Goodbye, Nellie J. Banks ,” I said. “God bless!”

“Don’t bother waving, they can’t see you,” said Nicole. “They must be glad to be rid of us, we’re toxic cargo.”

“They were nice,” I said.

“You think they’re not making big piles of money?”

The Nellie J. Banks was moving away from us. I hoped they’d have good luck.

I could feel the tide gripping the inflatable. Head in at an angle, Captain Mishimengo had said: cutting straight across the tide was dangerous, the inflatable could flip.

“Hold my flashlight,” Nicole said. She was fiddling with the buttons on the motor, using her right hand. The motor started. “This tide’s like a river.” We were indeed moving quickly. There were some lights on the shore to our left, very far away. It was cold, the kind of cold that goes right through all your clothing.

“Are we getting there?” I said after a while. “To the shore?”

“I hope so,” said Nicole. “Because if not, we’ll soon be back in Gilead.”

“We could jump overboard,” I said. We could not go back to Gilead, no matter what: they must have discovered by now that Nicole was missing, and had not gone with an Economan. We couldn’t betray Becka and all she had done for us. It would be better to die.

“Fucking hell,” said Nicole. “The motor just kakked.”

“Oh no,” I said. “Can you…”

“I’m trying. Shit and fuck!”

“What? What is it?” I had to raise my voice: the fog was all around us, and the sound of the water.

“Electrical short, I think,” said Nicole. “Or low battery.”

“Did they do that on purpose?” I said. “Maybe they want us to die.”

“No way!” said Nicole. “Why would they kill the customers? Now we have to row.”

“Row?” I said.

“Yeah, with the oars,” said Nicole. “I can only use my good arm, the other one’s like a puffball, and don’t fucking ask me what a puffball is!”

“It’s not my fault I don’t know such things,” I said.

“You want to have this conversation right now? I am fucking sorry, but we are in a hot mess emergency here! Now, grab the oar!”

“All right,” I said. “There. I have hold of it.”

“Put it in the oarlock. The oarlock! This thing! Now, use both hands. Okay, now watch me! When I say go, put the oar in the water and pull,” said Nicole. She was shouting.

“I don’t know how. I feel so useless.”

“Stop crying,” said Nicole. “I don’t care how you feel! Just do it! Now! When I say go, pull the oar towards you! See the light? It’s nearer!”

“I don’t think it is,” I said. “We’re so far out. We’ll be swept away.”

“No we won’t,” said Nicole. “Not if you try. Now, go! And, go! That’s it! Go! Go! Go!”

XXV

Wakeup

The Ardua Hall Holograph

68

Aunt Vidala has opened her eyes. She has not yet said anything. Does she have a mind in there? Does she remember seeing the girl Jade wearing a silver Pearl Girls dress? Does she remember the blow that must have knocked her out? Will she say so? If yes to the first, then yes to the second. She’ll put two and two together—who but I could have facilitated this scenario? Any denunciation she makes of me to a nurse will go straight to the Eyes; and then the clock will stop. I must take precautions. But what and how?

Rumour at Ardua Hall has it that her stroke was not spontaneous but was the result of some shock, or even of some attack. From the heel marks in the soil, it would appear that she was dragged around to the back of my statue. She has been removed from the Intensive Care Unit to a recovery ward, and Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Helena are taking turns sitting beside her bed, waiting for her first words, each suspicious of the other; so it is not possible for me to be with her alone.

The elopement note has been the subject of much speculation. The plumber was an excellent touch: such a convincing detail. I am proud of Nicole’s ingenuity, and trust it will stand her in good stead in the immediate future. The ability to concoct plausible lies is a talent not to be underestimated.

Naturally my opinion was sought as to the proper procedure. Should there not be a search? The girl’s present location did not matter much, I said, so long as marriage and progeny were the goals; but Aunt Elizabeth said that the man may have been a lecherous imposter, or even a Mayday agent who’d infiltrated the Ardua Hall grounds in disguise; in either case, he would take advantage of the girl Jade and then abandon her, after which she would be fit for nothing more than the life of a Handmaid; so we should find her at once and arrest the man for interrogation.

Had there been an actual man, this would have been a favoured course of action: sensible girls do not elope in Gilead and well-meaning men do not elope with them. So I had to acquiesce, and a search team of Angels was sent out to sift through the houses and streets in the vicinity. They were less than enthusiastic: chasing after deluded young girls was not their idea of heroism. Needless to say, the girl Jade was not found; nor was any Mayday false plumber unearthed.

Aunt Elizabeth gave it as her opinion that there was something very suspicious about the whole affair. I agreed with her, and said I was as puzzled as she was. But what—I asked her—could be done? A cold trail was a cold trail. We must await developments.

—

Commander Judd was not so easily deflected. He called me into his office for an emergency meeting. “You’ve lost Baby Nicole.” He was trembling with suppressed rage, and also fear: to have had Baby Nicole within his grasp, and to have let her slip—this would not be forgiven by the Council. “Who else knows her identity?”

“No one else,” I said. “You. Me. And Nicole herself, of course—I did see fit to share that information with her, in order to convince her of her high destiny. No one else.”

“They mustn’t find out! How could you let this happen? To bring her in to Gilead, then allow her to be whisked away….The reputation of the Eyes will suffer, not to mention that of the Aunts.”

It was more enjoyable than I can well express to watch Judd writhe, but I put on a dismal face. “We were taking every precaution,” I said. “Either she really has absconded, or she’s been abducted. If the latter, those responsible must be working with Mayday.”

I was buying time. One is always buying something.

—

I counted the hours as they passed. The hours, the minutes, the seconds. I had good reason to hope that my messengers were well on their way, carrying with them the seeds of Gilead’s collapse. Not for nothing had I been photographing the Ardua Hall top-classification crime files over so many years.

Two Pearl Girls backpacks were discovered beside the entrance to a disused hiking trail in Vermont. Inside them were two Pearl Girls dresses, some orange peels, and one string of pearls. A search of the area was instituted, with sniffer dogs. No result.

Red herrings, so distracting.

—

The Works Department has investigated the shortage of water complained of by the Aunts living in Doorways A and B and has discovered poor Aunt Immortelle in the cistern, blocking the outlet. The frugal child had removed her outer clothing so as to save it for someone else’s future use; it was found, neatly folded, on the top rung of the ladder. She’d retained her undergarments for purposes of modesty. It’s how I would have expected her to behave. Don’t think I am not saddened by her loss; but I remind myself that it was a willing sacrifice.