Fonding and Permission Finale

"Yes, father."

Felix looked at the girl. There was a trace of Julia in her cousin's features, but an intimidating piousness overrode the resemblance. He pitied her from a safe distance. Julia herself was nowhere to be seen.

He turned to Carol on his left. They argued energetically about most things, but knew his sister to be firmly with him here. She seemed to have expected his grimace. She returned it and mimed shooting herself in the head.

"And your Joanna, Matthew," Mark shouted across the table.

"Julia," inerjected Sibyl sharply.

"Your Julia, then," Mark amended, waving his hand. "What's in a mortal's name? Haven't you found a suitable convent for her?"

"No," said Sibyl with a finality that seemed to answer several more unasked questions.

"Maybe Julia isn't conventional," said Felix, trying to lighten the mood. He looked at Matthew, who appeared exceedingly discomfited between wife and brother.

"Marriage is honourable, of course," Mark went on, unfazed. "But all Earthly love pales beside the love of the Lord. St. Anna's is a marvellous institution, isn't it, Ruth?"

"Yes, father."

"I highly recommend it to you, Matthew."

Carol had had enough. "Maybe she doesn't want to go," she said in taut, musical tones, clearly striving to be at her most diplomatic.

Mark didn't seem to hear her. "Joanna will find peace of mind and pleasure at St. Anna's," he went on, never looking at Carol. "And respite from Earthly temptations." He reached for a drumstick.

"Where is Julia anyway?" said Felix, deciding to steer the conversation towards safer ground.

"Still out, dear," said Sibyl. "We expected her back a while ago, but says she'll be late."

Felix nodded, thinking he saw the makings of an explanation.

The evening wore on. Felix began to find the volume unbearable, irrespective of its contents. He slipped away, found his way to the sitting room and settled down at the piano, relishing the relative quiet. Beethoven turned into Bartók, then into the Tetris theme and finally into Billy Talent, at which point he became aware of the sound of notes he wasn't playing. He broke off in puzzlement and realised the doorbell was ringing.

For a moment he hesitated, reluctant to interrupt his music to act the host in someone else's house. But it seemed that everyone else was busy or deaf, most likely both. The doorbell rang again. He got up, walked through the hall and opened. It was pouring outside and large drops gusted in at once. The figure in the raincoat stepped inside with a muffled greeting, hardly looking at him. He took a step out of the way to avoid its wetness.

"Can I help?"

It stopped, considering. Felix saw that the coat rose to a tall spike behind its head. It seemed to be wearing some threatening, long implement on its back.

"You could take the bag to my room."

The figure's arms were drawn in through the raincoat's sleeves and after a moment's fumbling underneath, a bag flumped to the ground behind its back. A tennis racquet was sticking out of the top.

"Right." Felix picked it up and mounted the spiral staircase that led to her bedroom. He stepped through the door and into a forgotten but familiar scent. Rooms often had their own smell and he recalled this one's, though he hadn't been inside it for years. He turned on the light.

He had an immediate impression of lassitude and negligence. The desk and floor were a mess. Clothes of all kinds were strewn across the unmade bed and the chair was foot-deep in them. He felt that she could not fault him for sitting down after doing the toil assigned to him, so he settled among her clothes on her bed and waited. The party was almost directly below, but its din was almost inaudible through four doors and a stairwell. What sound reached him seemed to come mainly through the walls: the deep grunts of shifting chairs and the thump of feet as someone walked about.

He looked about. Places long unvisited always reminded him just how full of trivial information his head was. He recognised the pictures on the wall. Why had his head bothered to preserve the memory of them, given the number of things he had seen? ... He was suddenly transported back to a day when the two of them had sat here, playing Scrabble. He noticed that his mind, always busy, had gone into a canter, jumping from thought to thought with extra speed, a little like a trapped animal running to and fro in its cage as attack approached.

He felt sure she would come. It was normal to go to your room first when you returned to your parents' house, wasn't it? And she knew him still to be up here, where she had sent him.

He was less sure why he was waiting for her. He got up and peered out of the window. Carol and Ruth were standing on the terrace under the marquee and seemed to be in conversation. Good.

Presently, a clearer sound rose from the distant rumble: the judder of the spiral staircase as it shook its metal frame. He counted fifteen such thuds, then felt the wooden floor vibrate gently as quiet steps in the corridor drew nearer. The door opened.

"Hi." Julia glanced at him as she swept in. Her hair was plastered across her forehead, wet despite the raincoat. Her voice and expression were flat, unreadable. They hadn't met since the encounter at the tennis club.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. "How's it going?"

"Fine." She looked at him and he thought she was about to ask why he was here. But perhaps she had read his guilty expression. She said nothing. The silence seemed to swell.

"Your uncle wants to make you a nun," said Felix, finding nothing better to puncture it.

"He won't," said Julia.

"Your mum wouldn't hear of it either."

"She wants me to marry you to shut him up."

"Whereas you just want your socks." Straight to the matter, then ...

She nodded sagely, and gave the floor a grin. "You never wrote back," she said after a moment.

"I know," he said feebly. "Sorry."

She hung the raincoat over the chair and kicked off her shoes.

"Still got nothing to change into?"

Felix looked at her. She was smirking. He opened his mouth, froze and found it beginning to smile, almost against his will. "Er ..."

"Well, too bad," she said. The smirk persisted. Was she mocking him? "You can help me out of this crap, since you're here." She drew a dismissive hand across the tennis gear she was wearing.

He longed, more than ever, to be kind to Julia, to give her a little of the warmth and fun she was starving for ... and to feel hers in return ... But he still vividly saw Theresa's quiet amazement at the revelation of what had nearly happened between them. She had done her best to accept it, but something convinced him that she was less relaxed about his freedom than he about the hers. Her permission came to nothing unless he knew it was heartfelt.

"I'm not sure I should," he said, hating himself for it. He felt wretched, unable to leave, half hoping she would chuck him out of her room and at the same time ashamed of his indecision.

She gave a short laugh. "I am," she said. Her face confused him completely. She seemed about to burst with both tension and laughter, but her jaws were resolutely set. She walked up to him. "See this?" Her bare waist was a foot from his face.

Felix felt more torn than ever. The closeness of her body was not a valid argument, so how could it be overwhelming him? He told himself not to look, but found it unbearable and gave in. Then he saw what her hand was pointing at.

For a moment he thought she had had her stomach tattoed. Two words were written on the skin below her navel, just above the hem of her shorts. He leant closer to read the small letters.

Lovewende Dulcineus,

"Never heard of him," he said. "What kind of name is that anyway?" Was she trying to make him jealous? If so, he had better refuse.

Julia simply laughed.

"You can write upside down?" he asked, clinging firmly to reason.

"No."

"But how did you write this then?"

"I didn't."

He gaped at her, comprehension dawning. "But ... what's it supposed to mean?"

"Just read, Felix," she said. That she had for once spoken his name, focussed him entirely. He had never realised she held that unwielded power over him.

The written word was a call to duty. If you began reading a message, you had to finish it. The fact that said message began at navel height and descended from there was merely a circumstance to be overcome. And with that patch for his conscience Felix began to read, virtuously following Julia's instruction to lower the concealing fabric a little further for each new row, while she attended to zip and button whenever the need arose ...

Lovewende Dulcineus,

(aka Felix M. Dwight)

This body is the exclusive property of

Julia E. (...) Pewcheer. We hereby approve

that you delight in it freely and fully, solely and

strictly within the limits of her own pleasure.

Our approval does not expire with this ink.

Hie, fervid swain, to damsel in dys-dress.

An inch of little, red hairs had come into view. He brushed through them gently with quivering fingers to lay bare the last of what had been written, marvelling at her cool patience while heat rose both in his face and below his belt.

Signed,

Theresa Virginia Liegestütz (aka H.M.P.)

and

Julia Esther Delilah Salome Zuleika Haggith Pewcheer

A sports top casually fell past his nose. He looked up to find her face a calm question mark.

"Good enough?" she asked. "She said you'd want that alias to know it's her."

Theresa must be sniggering to herself somewhere. He could almost see her. And they were here now.

"Let's lock the door," he managed, shaking with laughter himself. And a little later they lay curled up among the clothes, animal pressed against warm animal.

***

Night had fallen. Theresa stood in the deserted campus, waiting. Cars hummed by beyond the walls. Someone was slowly walking a dog across the college green some way off. Insignificant noises and movements, devoid of Felix.

He had asked her to wait for him there. It mildly surprised her, given that the term was over and the building itself had closed for the semester break. Like Felix, she had been quite glad to see the back of it for a few weeks once the exams were over. Only the dormitory outhouse was still in use. Its distant windows were lit up. The main building lay before her, a forbidding, black silhouette, its crenelations teeth. Whether there was light in its distant reaches was impossible to tell from here, but the front it showed her was lifeless.

There was a buzz in her pocket. That didn't bode well. The traffic had been bad and there was every reason to expect he had been held up, even on his bike. She had nearly fallen herself when someone had unexpectedly overtaken her, forcing her against the kerb. Well, she thought patiently, opening the message folder, she would simply wait for how ever long he took to come.

One unread message

Yes, that was his number.

Look in your back, left trouser pocket.

She froze, then turned swiftly, half expecting to see him standing behind her, smirking, his hands folded innocently behind his back after a done deed. But there was no-one there. Slowly, doubtfully, she reached into the pocket and ... Yes, there was something there. A piece of paper.

Theresa frowned. How had he known which trousers she would wear? Had he quietly studied her habits? Or had he gone to the trouble of spiking them all with a piece of paper? She pulled it out and read the handwritten words.

You were ten and I was ten.

We played inside the Ursine Den.

S/he who finds the other wins.

I would always choose the bins.

Your turn.

Meaning emerged piecemeal: the Bear's Cave ... Hide and seek ... But this wasn't Felix's hand. It was familiar, but not his ... Tanja's! He must have co-opted her to write this and slip it into her pocket before she left. A risky plan to rely on ... unless he had a backup.

She unfolded the paper completely. There were four more words written beneath the others.

I can see you.

She stood quite still. He must mean he could he see her right now. But how had he known that beforehand? Well, he had told her to wait at his spot, hadn't he. But it was unusual for him to take that kind of risk. She smiled uncertainly ... Where was he? She looked around in all directions like a sentinel. The nocturnal grounds lay vastly about her, shadows everywhere to hide him ...

For a moment impatience made her consider calling him back, but she stopped herself. She had given him puzzles aplenty. Now the roles had been reversed. She had her clues. It was her turn. Slowly, smiling cautiously, she set off on her search, peering this way and that, calling his name quietly, coaxingly.

There was another buzz.

But I can't hear what you're saying.

Ha!

Felix didn't lie if he could ever help it. But he seemed to know she had just called out ... Had he seen her cup her hands around her mouth? In the dark? How far away could he be? Surely not at the far end of the wide green. That was hundreds of yards off ...

Theresa turned towards the building and crept under its shadow, thinking to peer into the obvious niches. There were rubbish bins here, too. Feeling that it would be disappointing of him to be inside one but outright stupid of her not to check, she opened the lids one by one, half expecting another reaction from him. But none came. Surely, he would be tempted to comment on her low opinion of his hiding skill ... unless he could no longer see her ...

Yes, what if she had just vanished from his sight? What did that mean? She had done nothing more than walk a few dozen paces to the foot of the college building's wall. Where was she invisible from now that she had been visible from to start with?

She gazed around at the multitude of shapes surrounding her, doing slapdash geometry, and found a conclusion forming in her mind. But no, he couldn't be there ... A wonderful idea, trebling the mystery and the silence, but surely he couldn't get there ... Had he somehow found a way?

She began circling the building, hugging the wall, her focus heightened, peering up at the windows and under the low vegetation for any sign of where and how he might have done it ... But the walls and windows formed a perfect surface. The normal way had to be tried too, just like the bins, but proved equally futile. She found no sign of life except for a single parked car saying 'Hutter Cleaners', which looked so uncared-for that she thought it might have been forgotten there months ago. She returned to her starting place, making quite sure that he sat under none of the bushes, up none of the trees, on none of the roofs. She should have brought her binoculars ...

Theresa began to circle the building a second time, losing faith. Eventually, she sat down on a broad, warm pipe sticking out of the college building between two rhododendrons, quite at a loss. She half hoped for another hint but felt too proud to ask for it. Was her guess wrong after all? It made sense to assume so, lovely though it would be ... But then, where on Earth could he be? She had checked everything else.

The pipe's warmth was pleasant but distracting. She felt she couldn't think straight. In fact, the entire air seemed surprisingly warm, almost stiflingly so, even for a summer night. She decided to sit somwhere else.

She had walked twenty paces when it hit her. Fool, fool, fool ... She turned back, her pulse rising as she crouched down among the rhododendrons, right by the building's wall. Yes, there it was. A grille, carefully set aside onto the gravel strip to open up the black hole from which the hot air was rising.

And upon the grille sat a pair of shoes. Not tossed there carelessly but placed tidily side by side as by a diligent guest about to enter the house of a dirt-fearing host. She picked one of them up. She knew them well. She had seen them on the ground from her bed, though they were not hers.

On an impulse, Theresa sat down, undid her own shoes and placed them either side of his, facing the other way. She laughed at the symbol, wondering how much it told of tonight, then lowered herself noiselessly through the cellar window.

She found herself in a boiler room. A quiet, drowsy hum filled the warm silence. Sounds of the outside world still reached her, but they were submerged in it now, as subtle and easy to miss as the faraway bird calls she had taken years to sharpen her ears to. She shone her phone into the darkness, taking in the complex cable and pipe systems that lined the walls, making sure she was out of their way.

"Felix?"

But he had seen her before. He could not have seen her from here, so he could not be here. Or had he moved since the last message? She pictured him sitting motionlessly somewhere in this great dark building, unknown to all the world but her, awaiting her. She must find him ... rescue him ... So where next?

She found her way to a thick door. Quietly, she stepped into the corridor. The door closed behind her and she found herself in a silence complete but for the tiny needle sound in her ear, never normally audible, that might one day grow into a true tinnitus. Green fire exit signs at either end of the corridor, two lonely candles in a long tunnel, gave off a feeble, sleepy light.

Theresa took a step forward and stopped. Her foot had brushed against something soft and light. She took out her phone and shone it at the ground, at a couple of socks, arranged into the unmistakeable shape of an arrow, pointing right.

She thought back to the shoes left at the window. An idea occurred to her, fanciful perhaps, given the scant data, but worth keeping at the back of her mind. If she was right, she was not close to him yet. She was about to walk on, when she remembered what she had done at the window. She paused, thinking ahead, weighing her mood. Did she want to continue? ... But she could postpone the decision. It was only a pair of socks for now. She could deviate at any point, couldn't she? ...

With a sense of signing a contratct, she slipped off first one sock, then the other. There was no chance, surely, of anyone finding them down here while she was gone. They were as safe as socks left in her room when she headed for a shower ...

She turned right and walked on without a backward glance, her bare feet patting the cold tiles. She reached the passage's end and found herself at a glass door. She could dimly make out the shape of a stairwell beyond it. If her orientation was true, it would lead her to the end of some of the building's main hallways.

Theresa became aware that she hadn't spoken a word in minutes. For a moment, she wanted to break the silence, then decided to let it grow further and sharpen her senses. She began to want to see how far she could stretch it, always speculating about how it would end.

She started at the sight of a burglar alarm on the wall, then realised that it would already have sounded if it had been functional. Her heart settled again. It beat in deep peace as she mounted the stairs to the ground-floor. Yes, this was the place she had expected to arrive at.

She realised that she had a choice. She could either go through another door and down the long hallway or climb the stairwell further. She shone her phone about in the dark but saw no clue as to what to do next. Deciding to continue on her course, she ascended to the first floor. She felt the stairwell brighten ever so slightly as it approached the landing and knew that some distant light, multiply reflected, must be reaching her. A whisper of caution. Still, there was no sign what to do next.