Impulse by Vanessa Garden Page A

bright, blood-red jam.
    Jilly shrugged. ‘Six months ago she started to crawl inside herself and become shyer than she used to be. It’sto do with the—’ Jilly cleared her throat, ‘man she’s been meeting.’
    A blob of jam fell from my spoon onto my lap.
    â€˜Which man?’ I asked, as I scraped the jam off my lap and onto a slice of bread.
    â€˜It’s not for me to say.’ Jilly stared at me long and hard before a tremor of a smile formed on her lips. ‘I want to keep my job, Miranda, and my life.’
    I nodded, wondering if Sylvia had threatened her.
    The bread in my hand, and the blood-red jam spread across it, was suddenly unappetising. I set it down on my plate and ran through the conversations I’d just had with Anne and Jilly.
    My stomach turned. I wasn’t sure yet what I suspected was going on with Anne; but I knew it was wrong, whatever it was.
    I dressed hurriedly in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, and set off to see Robbie, a guard tailing me as discreetly as she could manage.
    The air outside the castle was as fresh and as crisp as if it were truly an autumn morning on land. Only the lighting was strange, coming up centrally, above the city, like a midday sun instead of the gradual rising sun of the land above us.
    I decided to bring lunch to Robbie, and the guard led me through the main street, where we crossed over several small bridges above the water channels, until we came upon a large, open quadrangle filled with the sort of market I had pictured when imagining medieval times. There were hagglers and rosy-cheeked, robust women beckoning me towards their stalls; a busker played a cheery tune on his flute that somehow summed up the fresh energy of the morning. Though it didn’t make me feel any better about the Anne situation, it distracted me for a few minutes.
    I worked my way through the stalls until I had a basket filled to the brim with what would be my and Robbie’s lunch. The guard narrowed her eyes at my basket, but said not a word until we reached the greenhouses, where she said, ‘I’ll be out here— right here .’ It sounded almost like a threat. I’d have to watch myself. Not just for my sake, but for Robbie’s as well. The last thing I wanted was to endanger him. We’d have to keep our discussion regarding Sylvia close to our chests. Perhaps today, because this guard was behaving like a hawk, I wouldn’t even bring Sylvia up. Weirdly enough, I realised, this guard wasn’t even Sylvia’s but Marko’s. I was starting to wonder if any of the guards could be trusted.
    In the greenhouse, the soft hushing of the sprinklers was like a whisper of assurance to my ears. This was Robbie’s place, and I felt instantly safe.
    Robbie turned around as soon as I entered. He was wearing a red-and-white chequered flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off.
    â€˜Miranda?’
    â€˜Yes. How did you know right away?’
    â€˜You’re wearing the same shoes,’ he said, smiling, but looking at my forehead instead of my eyes, in a way that caused my throat to constrict.
    â€˜Oh, you’re right, I am.’
    He sighed. ‘Don’t be scared to say the wrong thing, Miranda. I can almost smell your fear. I’m still the same Robbie, remember?’
    I cleared my throat. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, that’s all.’
    He half smiled, sadly. ‘You and everybody else in this city.’ He put a hand beneath one of the sprays and let the water trickle from his fingertips to the ground.
    It was sad to imagine Robbie alone in the greenhouses, with only butterflies for company. One landed on his bareshoulder, glistening with moisture. He lifted it onto his finger and held it out to me. Using my index finger, I transferred the butterfly onto the palm of my other hand and giggled as it tickled my skin.
    â€˜It’s got green and blue on it, and a yellow eye-shaped circle on each