by Helen Brain
Sarie looks happy at last. The sunken face has relaxed.
“It’s late,” I say when we have finished laying her out and she is wrapped in a sheet. “Why don’t you go to bed until dawn? We can’t bury her in the dark.”
“Just for a while.” Aunty Figgy’s eyes are sunken with tiredness. She goes to her room and I sit on the window seat, watching over the still form lying on the bed. Isi lies next to me, her nose resting on my leg.
The house is still. Death hangs over the house, like a hovering bird with open wings.
I imagine what will happen if Aunty Figgy’s story is true … If I don’t obey the prophecy. If I don’t unite the amulets, and everything dies. I imagine how the world will disintegrate. In my mind I see myself spinning through the dark universe forever, alone in the silence.
WE BURY SARIE at first light, between two milkwoods on the edge of the forest. The grey sky is streaked with pink as Micah and Leonid lower her into the grave they have dug.
Aunty Figgy prays.
Great Theia, welcome your daughter back into the earth, the nurturing womb from which we all are born.
And she scatters fragrant buchu and koeigoed over the white-wrapped body.
I stand a moment on the edge of the grave. “I’m sorry I failed you,” I whisper. “You shouldn’t have died. Forgive me.” I drop a small bunch of wildflowers onto her chest.
Leonid and Micah pick up the spades and begin to shovel the pile of dirt. I start to sob.
“Come, Ebba,” Aunty Figgy says, pulling me away. “We need to get back to the house. Shorty and Victor will be in soon for breakfast.”
I follow her up to the house wiping my eyes. Jasmine walks beside me, but her face is grim and she turns it away from me.
AT BREAKFAST WE’RE exhausted, but we have to act like nothing’s wrong. Micah keeps the conversation flowing. He talks about life on the mainland, about his family in the Paarl settlement, about his uncle who breeds goats and his cousins who are wheelwrights.
I wonder how he manages to make up so many details. I’m pretty certain he spent his childhood in the colony with me but to hear him talk you’d think he’d spent it playing with his cousins in the farm dam. His leg is resting against mine under the table. Is it on purpose? Whatever it is, I feel grateful to him. He’s keeping Shorty and Victor occupied so they don’t ask any awkward questions.
At last the meal is over. Shorty has shovelled the last of his mountain of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“Really tasty as always, Aunty Figgy,” he beams. “Nobody cooks like you. Well, thank you very much. I’ll be getting back to the books, if you don’t mind, Miss Ebba. Such a lot to do. Such a lot.”
“Fine,” I say, getting up from the table. I’m so tired I couldn’t care what any of them do today. I just want to be with Micah, to persuade him to talk to me, to tell me where he’s been all these years, but I can’t. He’s got work to do with Leonid in the new lands.
It’s still early, not eight o’clock yet. I don’t want to think about Sarie anymore – that caved-in stomach, the exposed ribs, the knobbly old knees. I want to be in the forest, where it’s cool and calm. I want to hear the water rippling over the stones and the frogs croaking in the rushes.
I call Isi and set off through the forest to the kloof where Hal and I went the day we met. I stumble down the rocky slope, thinking about how different Hal is from Micah. What would Hal have done if we’d found Sarie when we were out driving? Would he have told me not to pick her up? Would he have reported me to his father? I’d like to think that he would have stopped and helped her too, but I know in my heart that he would have left her to die on the side of the road. Because that is Prospiroh’s way. He selects a few and showers them with blessings. And the rest must starve.
I FOLLOW THE water downstream, past the pool, and onwards through the thick bush.
The river makes another big turn, and there, looming up, is the wall that encircles the island. It’s as tall as the highest tree in the forest. It continues right over the river – the base has been arched into a low culvert so the water can pass through, and steel bars reach down like teeth, anchored in the river bed.
I wade into the shallows, bend down and peer through the bars. Outside there’s a dirty beach, boulders, a ruined building … and the sea, pounding listlessly against the rocks.
There’s a bad smell. A seagull lies rotting on the sand.
I turn back, feeling my way along the wall to the river bank. My robe clings wetly to my thighs. I feel gritty and dirty after a night sleeping in my clothes. I need to wash. I’ll go back to the pool where it doesn’t stink of dead bird.
At the pool I strip and hang my robe and underclothes over a rock to dry. I step into the water. It’s cold, but I force myself to go deeper until I’m up to my waist. I squat down until the water covers my shoulders, then dip my head underwater and come up gasping for air. The shock of the cold water against my skin hurts, but the pain is good. At least I’m alive.
Alive, like Micah. Like Micah who kissed me.
One Friday night during recreation everyone was watching a boring kinetika. Micah started a game of hide-and-seek. We were all too old, of course, but it felt like fun to play a kids’ game again. Jasmine was It, and when she had closed her eyes and was counting to a hundred we all ran away to hide. We had the whole of the living level to hide in, but Micah and I found ourselves running down the same passage, and we reached a dead end. In the distance Jasmine called, “Coming, ready or not,” and I grabbed him. “What shall we do?” I whispered.
Then Micah opened a small door in the wall, and said, “Get in.”
I peered inside. It was the laundry chute. We dropped our dirty clothes in there, and they landed up in the laundry room one level down.
“You’re not serious,” I whispered.
“Go on,” he grinned.
Letti was shrieking nearby. Jasmine had already found her. So I climbed into the chute and next thing I was sliding down a tube, ending up on a huge pile of dirty sheets and empty sacks from the storage chamber. I turned over just in time because Micah came shooting down and landed next to me.
We rolled around in the sheets, laughing. He caught me in a linen sack, leaned over and kissed me. A long, lingering kiss that spread like a root in my heart. I wanted to lie in his arms forever. His skin smelt of sandalwood and soap.
But then the door opened and a soldier stood there scowling. He sent us back to the recreation room, and we both got shouted at by our house parents. It was worth it for that kiss.
I shake my hair, and stick my face underwater again, trying to wash away my tiredness and headache. It’s then that I feel the necklace slip off my neck. I try to grab it, but I’m too slow. It sinks to the bottom of the pond. I can see it shining among the rocks, but I can’t reach it. I can’t swim. I wade in deeper, trying to reach it with my toes, but I’m frightened. It’s fallen in a hollow and I’ll drown if I go down after it.
What if it washes away? The culvert is just around the bend in the river. If the current washes it through the culvert, it will flow into the sea and be lost forever.
“Please, Prospiroh,” I whisper. “Please help me.” But it feels wrong. Something, someone else is prompting me. I hear Clementine’s voice in my head: “Ask the Goddess, Ebba. Theia will help you.”
I’m so desperate that I’ll try anything. “Goddess, help me,” I pray.
A miracle happens.
I hear whistling, and Micah comes into view. He’s carrying an axe, come to chop wood for the stove. He doesn’t follow the path as I did, jumping instead from rock to rock down the river bed.
“Ebba,” he says, stopping abruptly as he sees me in the pond. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”
My eyes flicker to my robe and underwear, neatly folded and out of reach. I’m waist-deep in water. I cross my arms over my breasts, and try to hold onto my dignity. “Micah,” I say, “I’ve dropped my necklace and I can’t reach it.
Can you swim?”
“Like a fish. All those years in the farm dam.” He pulls off his clothes and wades into the water.
I point to the place where my necklace lies. “It’s between those rocks there.”
I won’t look at him. As much as I want to, I won’t look at that brown body that I shared a shower with when we were little kids. The same body, except now we’re both adults, and instead of splashing him and hiding the soap, I want to grab him and kiss him again and again.
He dives under the water. I catch a glimpse of a strong back crisscrossed by scars. A moment later he surfaces, with the necklace in his hand. “Here you are,” he says. “Shall I put it on for you?”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” My voice is squeaky.
The moment he stands behind me and puts the chain around my neck I start to shiver. It’s not the cold. He’s not touching me, just his fingers sweeping my neck, but I’m aware of every inch of skin, every atom of space between us. He fastens the chain, then he slowly turns me around. I smell his skin. Sandalwood and soap. No matter what he says, he is Micah. My Micah, from the colony.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs. His fingers brush my shoulders. “It’s time to get out.”
His hands run up and down the side of my neck, his thumbs lingering over my collar bones.
“You go first.” I can’t take my eyes away from his. I can’t move.
“Okay,” he says, but he moves his hands down my back to the base of my spine, and presses me closer.
“I know you,” I murmur.
“Shh,” he whispers, pushing my body against his. I can’t help it – my arms open and wrap themselves around his waist. I gaze into the deep brown eyes I have loved since I was a child. I feel his body warming mine.
My hands pick out his scars. “You were injured.”
“Shhhhhhh,” he murmurs. “I have been waiting for years to do this again.” He takes my face in his hands and lifts my mouth to his. His kiss is long and slow, like the kiss we shared long ago, except this time my body isn’t filled with a chemical to control my desire, and every part of me is alive with longing for him.
Above our head the birds sing. My heart sings.
I never want to let him go.
But there’s a voice in my head. Ebba, get out of the pool. I open my eyes and see Clementine. She’s standing on the rock above us. Isi is there too, and the little boy is scratching her behind her ears. Something’s different. Usually Clementine is placid and smiling. But now she’s not calm. She’s not smiling. Come away, Ebba.
“What is it?” Micah asks, turning around to see what I’m staring at.
She waves frantically. The little boy picks up a handful of pebbles. He throws them into the water. They make ripples but Micah doesn’t see them.
He can’t see the child or his mother.
“It’s nothing,” I say, turning around so I won’t have to look at her. She’s a spoilsport. A puritan. She probably thinks that I’m being immoral, standing naked in a rock pool, kissing the most gorgeous guy in the world. And I don’t care what she thinks. She’s not my mother.
Micah kisses my eyelids, my lips, my neck. He cups his hands around my breasts and …
Stop it, Ebba. Her voice in my head is more urgent. You need to go home.
I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here like this forever. So I wind my arms around his neck and kiss him again.
Suddenly Isi begins to bark. Micah lets go of me and ducks down behind the big boulder. “Get dressed,” he hisses.
Hal is coming down the path.
“Hal!” I exclaim, trying to hide my breasts. “I’m just bathing in the pool.”
“So I see,” he says. His voice is strangled. I want to know what he’s feeling, but I can’t read his face. Is he embarrassed at seeing me bare? Or is that rage?
By the time I’ve gotten out of the pool and pulled on my clothes, he’s long gone. I run up the path to the house, but I’m too late. He’s already back in his saddle and cantering away.
CHAPTER 7
I pace up and down the kitchen garden, trying to undo the knot I’ve tied myself into. Why didn’t I listen to Clementine? If Hal finds out about Micah, he’ll have him thrown out of the settlement. What exactly did Hal see? Right now he could be reporting me to his father for kissing one of the labourers. If Micah gets arrested for breaking the law, who knows what will happen to him.
My head is thudding with pain, and I’m exhausted after a sleepless night. Aunty Figgy comes to find me in the garden. “I’m going to brew you some tea,” she says, picking camomile and fennel. “Go and lie down and I’ll bring it to you. You’re overtired.”
I’m pathetically grateful. She brings me my tea and closes the shutters so my room is dark and cool. “Have a little sleep,” she says, planting a kiss on my forehead.
A COUPLE OF hours later the clatter of hooves wakes me from a deep sleep.
I sit up, wondering why Leonid is taking the wagon out, but then there’s thundering on the front door and a man’s voice shouts, “Open up. High Priest’s orders.”
I jump out of bed, my heart in my throat. They’ve come for Micah. I’ve got to warn him. I’ve got to send them away. I’ve got to think up something to say …
I hear Aunty Figgy open the door. “What do you want?” she demands.
“Ebba den Eeden.”
What a relief. It’s me they want, not Micah. I open my bedroom door. Captain Atherton is standing in the hallway. “Good afternoon, Captain,” I say, trying to keep my voice cool. “How can I help you?”
“You are ordered to attend the council meeting.”
I bite my lip. Me versus the whole council? They’ll eat me alive.
“You can’t go to the shrine like that,” Aunty Figgy says sternly. “It would be disrespectful to the High Priest. You need clean clothes.”
Captain Atherton nods curtly. “Five minutes only.”
Aunty Figgy comes into my bedroom and shuts the door behind her. “I knew it, I just knew it,” she mutters as she opens my wardrobe and chooses a clean robe. “Good Theia, protect her.”
I’m in so much trouble. I can’t tell her that Hal almost caught me kissing Micah. And I especially can’t tell her we were both naked.
She fondles the amulet, frowning. “You need this for protection, but they’re going to try to get it away from you. Where can we hide it?” She thinks for a moment.
“Ah. I know,” she says, opening a drawer. She finds a box with hair clips and bobby pins. “It’s a good thing your hair is so thick and curly.” She pulls my hair back into a bun, and secures it with an elastic band. “Thank the Goddess that ugly dye is coming out,” she says. Then she takes the amulet, wraps the chain around it, and shoves it deep into the bun. She pins it into place. “Now be careful with your hair. Don’t let it come loose.”
Captain Atherton bangs on the bedroom door. “Hurry up, please. The High Priest does not like to be kept waiting.”
“I’m coming,” I call. I clutch Aunty Figgy’s arm. “I’m scared.”
“Wait,” she says. “We need a decoy.” She searches through my dressing-table drawer. “This is all cheap costume jewellery,” she says. “Nothing too valuable here. Now where is it … ah, here.”
She takes out the dove pendant and slips it around my neck. “Keep this under your robe. It might fool them.” Then she hugs me. “I’m going to light a candle for you, and pray. Now go.”
THE JOURNEY TAKES forever. I’m shut in the buggy with Captain Atherton watching my every move. I have to think up something to say, but my mind’s a blank. The only thing that comforts me is the memory of Micah’s kiss. Those soft lips. The brown eyes. The firm, strong body.
The netting of scars that threads across his back.
What’s going to happen to him? I can’t lose him again. Is history repeating itself? We kiss, he gets punished and we’re separated?
I can’t bear it.
We arrive at the shrine office
s. I climb the long flight of stairs with my heart in my throat. The stone lions look as though they’re going to pounce and tear me to shreds. I think of Hal at home in the compound, just around the bend in the road. Does he hate me? Is he plotting revenge against me and Micah?
Captain Atherton takes me into the meeting room, deep inside the mountain. It’s lined with white marble; the walls, the floor, even the ceiling have a clinical feel that makes me shiver. At the far end is a large rectangular table. The High Priest and General de Groot are sitting at the centre. Next to them are Mr Frye and Major Zungu. Righteous Lucas sits there too, quill in hand, with a thick leather-bound book open in front of him, and lastly there are three men I don’t know, though I’ve seen them at the shrine. They must represent the citizens. Captain Atherton takes the last remaining chair, and I’m standing alone in the cavernous space, while nine pairs of accusatory eyes glare at me.
“Ah, Miss den Eeden,” the High Priest says, from under his bushy eyebrows. “What is this we hear about you breaking the city’s law?”
I don’t know how to answer. I’ve broken so many laws in the last twenty-four hours. I’ve lied about Sarie having a passbook. I’ve brought her into the settlement illegally. I’ve let her sleep in my house, and although I’m not sure what the laws are, you’re probably not allowed to just bury people in your garden.
And then there’s Micah. Kissing a farm labourer is definitely an infringement. I don’t want to confess to something he doesn’t know about yet, so I stare at the hem of my robe, and I don’t say anything.
“Has Prospiroh not been good to you, Ebba?” he asks, spreading his hands wide to show Prospiroh’s abundance. “Hasn’t Prospiroh blessed you, more than you could even have dreamed?”
“He has, Your Righteousness,” I mumble.
“And this, this is how you thank Him? You should be ashamed.”
