Chasing Imagination

Amy

We reached Embankment and I practically fell off the train, inhaling a great, deep breath for what felt like the first time on the entire journey.

‘Are you alright?’ Casper asked, looking concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ I said.

He glanced around, to make sure that no prying ears were within hearing distance.

‘They’re not going to catch us; you realise that?’ he said.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘We’re careful, Amy. We’ve had practice,’ he explained gently. ‘We check around thoroughly when we leave, and they have no reason to suspect us of anything.’ His beautiful eyes found mine. ‘Don’t worry.’

I could never understand how he was always so tolerant of me. I’d been so horrible to him right from the start, and I’d made him feel pretty terrible about himself, yet he was always there for me whenever I needed him. He never let me down, and he never gave me anything nearly as bad as I deserved.

‘Come on,’ Matt said, his tone characteristically business-like, though not unfriendly. ‘The longer we stay here, the more reason they have to suspect us.’

I followed at a hurried pace through the gloriously crowded station—an abundance of people meant blending in and inconspicuousness was easier—as we walked through tunnels, dodging the masses, following signs I didn’t have time to try and decipher.

Eventually we arrived at the appropriate platform: Northern Line; Northbound; to Edgware.
We got on the train, and this journey was shorter still—just three stops left to endure before we arrived in Tottenham Court Road, and with any luck the rest would be easy, though of course it actually wouldn’t. The fact that we were close now lulled me into just a little more relaxation, though I still didn’t dare let my guard down. Thankfully, this train contained another group of young people—four of them, probably not more than eighteen years old, all chatting, allowing me a little more breathing space without feeling like all eyes were upon us Dreamers.

We finally reached Tottenham Court Road, and the sound of the cool, female announcer saying those fateful words was like music—real music; not the emotionless, processed crap—to my ears.

‘Come on,’ Felix said, leading the way this time. Tottenham Court Road was full, and we followed the crowds along a tunnel until the path divided—one going left to join the Central Line, and another passing through the ticket barriers and heading up an escalator further on. We chose this one, going up the escalator and outside into a now darkened street, the lamps glowing with orange hues. We continued away from the station until we reached an ‘appropriate’ place, moving inconspicuously over to the right hand side, pretending to be studying a map that was conveniently on the wall, and Casper very quietly whispered in my ear.

‘Don’t do anything until I tell you. Then follow me.’

I did as he said, the others disappearing from around me so that only Casper and I remained by the side. I continued to study the map as he asked me, his voice loud enough to sound genuine to passers-by, without sounding like he was trying to attract attention, ‘what’s the quickest way to the Phoenix House?’

‘Oh,’ I said, forcing myself to lie despite all the morals I lived by and things I was used to, making myself join in the act, ‘I’m afraid I don’t know this area very well.’

A slight smirk crossed Casper’s face as if he was sharing a private joke, before he lightly took my hand and led me left.

We walked towards Dominion House; formerly the Dominion Theatre before the Revolution. Apparently most of it was still done up like a theatre, with the main stage room, seating a couple of thousand people, now used commonly for business talks and large conferences and gatherings of important enterprising people. There were a few smaller rooms too, as there were when it was a theatre, used for smaller conferences and meetings.

But we didn’t need any of that. Even when we passed the entrance to Dominion House, we didn’t stop for even a moment. I glanced over to see some stylish, glass doors leading in through the low ceilinged foyer, into the large upper class office and business building that lay beyond.

‘Keep walking,’ Casper said, too quietly for anyone else to hear. The others were far enough ahead that they were completely out of sight, though the pavement was relatively busy anyway—something seemed to have just finished in Dominion House, because a steady line of people, most of them in suits and smart clothes, their hair immaculate, were moving out. ‘We don’t need the entrance.’

‘Where are we going?’ I murmured, more intrigued by his last statement. We needed to get underground, though through a lesser-known route—i.e. not through the train station or a subway. Perhaps there was a way in underneath the former theatre?

‘Come on,’ he said, holding my wrist and moving me quickly round the side of a building, into a smaller back street, away from most other people. We walked quickly, but no faster or we’d attract unwanted attention, and turned right into a smaller road again—this one was more like an alleyway leading round behind the theatre.

Down the far end, Felix, Matt and Imogen were standing, waiting for us. Now that the area was deserted; the alley between two multi-storey buildings was narrow and uncared for; we were able to run.

‘You made it alright then,’ Matt said, looking relieved as though we weren’t up to the task of walking down a street.

‘No, they were captured when we left them, and they’re now in prison,’ said Felix, in a really bad attempt at being funny.

‘Is that the best you got, Felix?’ Imogen jeered casually.

‘I thought it was pretty good,’ he said sarcastically with a casual, joking shrug.

‘Ok,’ said Casper, getting everyone back on track. I couldn’t help but notice the somewhat meaningful look he gave Matt, as though implying that he and no one else was in charge. ‘We go in the back entrance, past the changing rooms and down the stairs on the left into the basement storeroom. Understand? Amy?’ There was a general murmur of agreement.

‘Oh,’ Matt added, directing his speech again at me. ‘Keep silent. If they find us, we’re dead.’
This was without a doubt enough to scare me into total quiet. Any threat of bringing the police in, and I was happy to comply.

Casper reached for the door handle, and I asked one trivial question before we succumbed to the silence.

‘What do you do if it’s locked?’

‘We’re in shit,’ he replied in a straightforward way. ‘We’d have to go back to the station, but that’s not an easy access route in the first place. Now that the government are keeping an eye on some of the tunnels, it’s especially dangerous. That’s why we came early—you saw when we came past, they’ve only just finished a meeting or something inside.’

He turned the handle, and the door thankfully opened. I let out a breath that I’d unconsciously been holding; there must be some catch somewhere.

Inside, the lights were turned down low, and the corridors were narrow and painted black, making it even more confusing. It was obvious right from the start, especially as I’d studied history, that this was once a theatre.

The corridors were long and winding, and I hardly dared to breathe as we passed a dressing room—I was sure I could hear someone inside, and when we passed a short flight of steps up to the stage I could hear movement up there too. My feet felt like lead as I shuffled down the corridor, my hand tight on Casper’s shoulder in the darkness so I didn’t lose him. A conference or meeting had only just finished in here; the people running it would still be moving around and packing up, probably coming backstage any moment.

To the left, as promised, was a flight of stairs leading down into blackness. I saw a light switch, but Matt, at the front, seemed to favour a torch as this would be harder for the caretaker and security men to detect.

Downstairs, was the storeroom, which I assumed was once used to hold costumes, props and sets for the incredible West End performances they would show here—I’d heard of them; a notorious part of 21st century London culture.

Now, however, painted sets and coloured lights had been replaced by conventionally black and white decor, both onstage and off, and the only props to be seen were projectors and blank screens for presentations. Where the fancy, majestic costumes and theatrical makeup might have once been, now there were racks of plain business suits and shirts and ties. Once again, I couldn’t comprehend how people could be so heartless as to destroy something so fantastic, with such a brilliant reputation. It was like I was viewing the entire world again with brand new eyes.

We went through to the very back of the storeroom, which in turn had another door, leading into another tunnel. We went in and, despite the darkness and the claustrophobia, I was glad, because we were less likely to be discovered in here. Then we went into another room, looking similar to the Vaults—like the storeroom, but with many shelves full of useful things in it, and passed into another tunnel once again. It was made of rock and concrete and not a lot else, and looked absolutely ancient.

But merely passing into this tunnel felt different. Because we had obviously made it. We were now finally in the realm of the London Dreamers.