by Helen Brain
Then they’re all talking at once in their booming voices, bearing down on me with their smart robes and their barrel chests.
“It’s now or never. You’ll understand, of course, that we need to make our plans and –”
“Of course, we can only offer to take on Fezile if –”
“And the time really is ripe now, before the harvest. A most excellent opportunity –”
I can’t get Pamza’s tragic face out of my mind. I take a deep breath, bite my lip and say, ‘“Fine, I’ll do it.”
Without hesitation Mr Mavimbela pushes some pages across the table to me. “If you’ll just sign at the bottom of each page.”
My hand is shaking as I write my name carefully on each of the sheets. This is probably the worst decision of my life.
I’M REALLY ANXIOUS when we get home later. Leonid hasn’t said a word since I got back into the carriage, and I’m worried what the others will say when they hear I chose Jaline. I want to wait until I have Micah alone to tell him about the contract but, at supper, Fezile asks how my day went and it’s the first thing on my mind, so I blurt it out.
“I had a meeting with the Syndicate and they’re taking over the distribution of all our produce.”
Silence.
“I thought organising stuff like that was Shorty’s job,” Letti says. “His and Fez’s.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Fez says. “What exactly does it entail?”
“I don’t know the details. I just signed the papers they gave me.”
I look from face to face, trying to gauge what they’re feeling.
Fez shakes his head as he says. “Ebba, that wasn’t smart.”
“But, Fez, they offered to teach you everything they know. They’ll give you business training one day a week – they promise that you’ll be an expert in a year.”
I THOUGHT FEZ at least would be happy. I did it so he could develop his gift for business, but now he’s disappointed, and Micah’s jaw is clamped shut like he’s trying to keep the words in his mouth.
Isi comes over and rests her head on my knee, and I play with her ears, wishing this meal was finished
After supper, when everyone else is cleaning up, Micah calls me outside. We cross the yard to the duck pond, and he points wordlessly to the wall. The ducks are asleep, curled up with their bills tucked under their wings. The mountain looms up against the darkening sky. I sit down, waiting for the storm. I wish I could tuck my head away like a duck so I don’t have to hear him when he starts scolding me, his voice low and hard.
“How could you make that kind of decision without consulting anyone? You’re sixteen years old, Ebba. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
I gnaw at my thumb-nail. It’s true. I’ve only been out the bunker a few months. I know nothing about business, and even less about politics.
“I’m sorry, Micah. It’s just that Pamza was upset about Hal and Cassie, and she blamed me for not saving them … so I was preoccupied and …” My voice fades away.
“You didn’t think that maybe her father arranged it like that to manipulate you?” He leans forward and points his finger into my face. “Why didn’t he order her to stay out of the way? Why didn’t the Syndicate come and see you here?”
Is it true? Did her father manipulate me? And I didn’t suspect a thing? I’ve been so stupid.
“Listen, Ebba, you have to learn to make decisions with your head, not your heart. You’ve got to see the bigger picture. This isn’t just about who delivers baskets of vegetables. This is war.”
He turns on his heel and stalks off, and I’m left staring at my feet, kicking the dust with my toe.
Back in the kitchen, Alexia’s kneading bread for breakfast. “What happened? What did he want?” she asks when I walk in.
I shake my head, trying to stop the tears. “Nothing. He’s just cross with me, that’s all.”
“Ag, Micah,” she says. “He thinks he’s a god.”
I’m surprised at the animosity in her voice – I haven’t heard it before.
“Just ignore him,” she says. “He’ll get over it.”
“I’m sorry about today. I feel so terrible about how badly you were treated at that house. I didn’t know –” I can’t seem to find the right words.
“I’m used to it,” she says, breaking the dough into sections and thumping them on the table. “They’re bastards, the citizens, the lot of them. But not you,” she adds quickly. “You’re like us.”
I sigh, wishing everyone thought so. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. I don’t feel like a citizen, I’m not from Boat Bay, and I certainly wasn’t at home in the colony.
“Come on,” Alexia says, plopping the dough into the bread pans and pushing them towards the heat of the oven to rise. “I’m finished here. Let’s go listen to some records.”
Even that is illegal in this crazy world: She’s not allowed to socialise with me, only work for me. But there’s nobody here to see us, so we take the candles into the sitting room and start choosing records and winding up the gramophone.
Minutes later she’s lying on the sofa swaying her foot in time to the music. She’s so forgiving. Not like Micah. Even though I know he’s mad at me, I feel my body ache for him. I wish he would just come back and fold his arms around me and forget about everybody else.
MICAH DOESN’T COME in for breakfast the next day. We eat in silence, nobody daring to ask about him, or to mention our fight. I toy with my toast, pushing it around my plate, cutting it into smaller and smaller squares.
Outside, it’s started to rain, and soon it’s pelting down. I want to go back to bed and stay there until everything’s better. But the fifty new girls are arriving soon, along with their guards.
I sit there as the others finish eating and go off to work, but still Micah doesn’t arrive. Finally I shrug on a raincoat and run after Leonid, catching him on the path to the stables. The raindrops glisten on Isi’s long fur as she pads beside me.
“Leonid, is Micah still in bed? Have you seen him this morning?” I ask as I reach him,.
“Left last night.” He gestures towards the forest.
“He’s gone? Where?”
“Boat Bay.” Stony-faced, he brushes the rain out of his eyes. “That all?”
“Sorry, Leonid. Yes. Get out of the wet.”
He jogs off and I turn towards the forest, my heart aching. Isi runs in front of me, her nose close to the ground, stopping suddenly to shake herself so hard the water sprays everywhere. Not even that can make me smile.
Micah has left me, just like I knew he would. Right this minute he’s probably having a secret meeting with Samantha-Lee, and she’s tossing her hair back all sparkly eyed and he’s . . .
Stop it, I tell myself. He’s not like that. Don’t torture yourself.
Once I’m in the forest, the soft greenness soothes me, as it always does. I take the path to the river, listening to the gentle patter of the rain on the trees, the drip-drip as it filters through to the forest floor. I reach the clearing and run across the grass to the holy well. Isi runs up to it, sniffing all around as if she’s sensing somebody there.
Someone’s been repairing it, fitting the stones that form the wall around it back together. For a moment I think it must have been Micah, doing it as a surprise for me, but I know he’s only interested in the resistance. Could it be Leonid and Jasmine?
But when I see the footprints in the mud – long, narrow feet with dropped arches – I know who it is. Lucas.
Thank the Goddess he’s alive and safe. On the far side of the well I find a clean saucepan with a lid and a familiar blue-and-white striped dinner plate – so Aunty Figgy must have been bringing him food. I look around, but he could be anywhere in this huge forest. Where is he sleeping? Is he warm enough, and dry?
I know there are the ruins of old houses scattered here and there in the forest – remains of the abandoned properties my great-aunt bought cheaply to create the forest before
the Calamity. I hope he’s found one to shelter in. It can’t be easy after the life of luxury he enjoyed in the High Priest’s house.
I follow the river downstream for a while, turning over stones and pulling aside the bushes that grow along the bank in search of my lost amulet. Isi snuffles in the undergrowth, looking for creatures to hunt. The further towards the sea I get, the greater the destruction from the earthquake. There’s a swathe of fallen trees. They’ll be good for firewood – I must remember to send Leonid to cut them into logs. I pass the pond where Micah and I swam, where I lost my necklace and he found it for me …
Micah. I stop and lean against a tree, trying to push away terrifying thoughts of losing him again. I try to focus on something else … something like … Aunty Figgy’s statue of the Goddess that she keeps in the kitchen window.
“Theia,” I say out loud, seeing the tall green-robed figure, the necklace complete with all four amulets around her regal neck in my mind. “Goddess of all that grows, Goddess of the planet, please listen to me. Please, please send Micah back to me. And send me the amulets.”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t send me a sign, an amulet blinking in the mud, or Micah’s cheerful whistle coming through the trees. Nothing.
This is what the dark forces have done, I think, breaking off a twig and snapping it into tiny pieces. They’ve rolled over the earth like an incoming tide, blocking the Goddess from the planet she created.
That’s why everything keeps going wrong.
AROUND ONE MORE bend I reach the huge grey wall that separates Greenhaven and the rest of Table Island from the outside world. Keeping us in, with all our wealth; keeping out those who need it most.
The wall is still standing, but I notice that the earthquake has shifted the iron grille over the culvert that allows the stream to pass through to the sea. There’s now a gap, big enough to crawl through. The wall has been breached and the island is open to the outside world. If the general finds out, he’ll send his guards to seal it up, I’m sure. I must remember to tell Leonid we should keep the guards out of the forest in case they report it.
There are footprints in the mud. They’re Micah’s. I recognise the markings of his shoes. Isi sniffs at them, then wades into the water, peering through the grille.
Leonid is right. He’s gone through the culvert.
I pause a moment, listening to the waves washing onto the shore on the other side of the wall. Rain is dripping down the stone so it glistens. Weaver birds are chattering in their nests in the willow trees. I wish I could break down this wall and see the sea. See the outside world.
One day, maybe, when the resistance has done its work and the island is free. One day when Micah and I are together, and I’m his first and only love, not someone taking second place to his politics.
One day.
CHAPTER 8
When I return to the house the fifty girls have arrived, and they’re standing in rows in the driveway, wide-eyed and dripping wet from the rain. Isi rushes up, barking at the strangers filling the grounds, and I grab her collar to hold her back. Ten surly-faced guards are pacing up and down, making sure nobody moves or talks. They’re treating the girls like criminals.
“You can’t stand out here getting wet!” I exclaim, running over. “Come inside where it’s warm.” I’m about to take them into the house when I remember it’s illegal for non-citizens to enter a citizen’s house, except to work there. With all these guards around, I’ll be arrested.
Instead, I go to the front and call to them, “Welcome to Greenhaven Farm. Please follow me to the barn.”
The guards shout their orders to the girls, who turn and march after me in their rows. I lead them across the yard to the big barn where we store the farm equipment and where Leonid has his workbench. There’s some confusion at the door as they try to enter the barn in their formations. They look scared out of their wits and my heart aches for them. These are my people, my tribe.
“At ease,” barks a voice.
The girls relax slightly and crowd inside, shivering.
“Leonid, can you light a fire?” I call. He’s at the back of the barn, working on the big wagon we take to market.
“In here, miss? With the thatch roof and no chimney?” His tone is scathing and Jaline picks up on it immediately. A slow smile crosses her face. Damnit. I’d forgotten about the thatch. The girls are huddled together, trying to get warm in their soaked clothes. They’re wearing the tunics and pants that were perfect in the colony, where the temperature stayed constant and it never rained.
I turn and run up to the house. Aunt Figgy is sweeping out Letti’s room, and I throw open the wardrobe and start pulling out my great-aunt’s clothes, throwing them into a pile on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Aunt Figgy drops the broom and picks up a cream-coloured jersey with a fancy pattern around the neck, holding it to her chest like it’s her most precious possession. “Where are you taking Miss den Eden’s clothes?”
“Those girls are freezing cold and wet through. If I don’t get them warm, they’ll catch pneumonia.”
“But –”
“Aunt Figgy, it’s hardly like she needs them anymore. And anyway, they’re mine now, and I can give them away if I want to.”
She tightens her lips, picks up the broom and starts sweeping the carpet like it has wronged her and she’s going to punish it.
I search the wardrobes in each bedroom and pull out any articles of clothing that I hope will fit. Letti comes to help me, and soon we have a random collection of fifty dresses, jerseys and jackets, enough for every girl to get at least one item.
Letti helps me to carry them across to the barn. I drop them in a pile in front of the girls.
“Here, everyone. Put these on.”
There’s a rush of pushing and shouting and grabbing.
“One at a time!” I yell. “One at a time.”
Prava, one of the seamstresses, is knocked over. I help her up and somebody elbows me in the eye. Jaline and Kirsten from the plant nursery are fighting over the cream jersey. Kirsten is clutching it at one end, and Jaline is pulling at the other.
“Give it here, bitch,” Jaline spits, and slaps Kirsten across the face.
“That’s enough!” I yell. “Jaline, give that jersey to Kirsten!”
“What are you going to do?” Jaline sneers. “You’re just a Year Five.”
She’s forgotten where she is and that the guards have guns. Next thing, shots ring out and there’s instant silence.
The girls fall back into their lines. Most have their clothing – everyone has something, except Jaline, who has lost the battle for the jersey. Kirsten is pulling it over her wet tunic with a triumphant grin.
A guard picks up the last remaining garment – a yellow dress with big purple flowers on it. He hands it to Jaline. “Put this on.”
She looks around, daring anyone to laugh. Nobody says anything, but from the front I can see the sneers as she pulls it over her head. It’s way too big, coming down to her ankles, and is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.
Kirsten giggles. Jaline whips around, eyes blazing. She’s about to attack her when a guard digs her in the ribs with his rifle.
The rest of the girls are standing in their rows looking at each other, fascinated by the garments. For the first time in their lives, they’re seeing each other not in identical uniforms, but in clothing from the old world.
Jaline notices Letti, and she glares at her like a scorpion about to sting.
“What are you doing here?” she snarls.
Then a guard brings in a crate filled with army-issue enamel plates and mugs, and I realise it will soon be time for lunch. I try to remember who I picked to help out in the kitchen. Ah, yes – Frieda, the Year Three. I gesture to her, and she walks up to the house with me, followed by the guard with the crate.
Letti runs after us. “I can’t believe you brought Jaline,” she says, her voice hard. “We voted no. Why did you do it? That gir
l is trouble.”
I shake my head and sigh. “Because I’m an idiot.”
I did it to please Micah, and now he’s gone, leaving me with a broken heart and a major headache.
I LEAVE THE CATERING to Aunt Figgy, Alexia and Frieda, and go across to the farm office. I have to get organised. The girls will be finished eating soon, and the rain looks like it’s clearing. They can’t sit in the barn all day. They’re used to being busy, and there’s plenty of work to be done.
I stand in front of the big map stuck on the wall. Someone has drawn a red line around the original site of the farm. My finger traces a line from the homestead to the jonkershuis, where I’m now standing. In the 1700s, it was the building where the young den Eeden men lived – now it’s our office and storerooms. On the map I track the barn, the shed, the coach house, the old slave cottages where Aunty Figgy lives, and way beyond that, the wine cellar. Once this farm was famous for its wine, but the cellar now stands unused. Maybe we can turn it into an extra packing shed? A second red line is marked on the map. This shows how the farm expanded westward up towards the mountain in the years before the Calamity. Across the bottom third of the map, a solid black line marks the wall. Below it, over the original green, someone has used a crayon to colour everything blue. The sea.
I try to work out which fields to develop. But how will we do it? We don’t have enough spades for forty people to dig with. There’s an old car standing behind the stables – maybe the engineering crew can melt it down and make some spades and hoes.
Seems like a good idea to me, but I’ll need Jaline to actually take orders from me, and Aunty Figgy will probably complain that it belonged to my great-aunt Suzan or someone.
Out the window I can see Alexia, Frieda and Aunty Figgy coming down the path with heavily laden trays. A few minutes later, there’s shouting from the barn.
I hurry across and find Jaline arguing with the guard.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, my heart sinking. So much trouble already, and it’s only the first morning.
