by Fleur Beale
The people spoke quiet words to us as they turned to walk back down the stairs.
‘She is gone,’ Mother said once the last of them had disappeared through the doorway. The sobs she had held back all day broke through her control. ‘I didn’t get to say goodbye.’
A gust of wind cut through our clothing. Hera and I guided Mother to the door. Sina stood waiting on the other side. She didn’t speak, just put an arm around Mother and led her to the lift. Hera and I trailed after them.
In our rooms, Sina sat us down and made us hot drinks. She put Mother’s in front of her. ‘Sheen, would you rather I didn’t stay now? I don’t want to intrude on your grief.’
Grief. Grif. My grandmother had chosen her name deliberately.
Sina’s question seemed to pull Mother back from the far place into which she had retreated. ‘No, Sina dear, I definitely do not want that.’ She sat straight, wiping her eyes. ‘Having you here, being in some small way responsible for seeing that this baby gets born safely – it’s the best thing for us all. Please stay.’
‘Thank you,’ Sina whispered. ‘I felt so alone. Thank you.’ She fetched the mini-comp. ‘Would you like to turn it on? Others will probably have heard by now and want to speak to you of their love for her.’
She was right. All through the afternoon we took calls from our friends. They spoke of the loss they felt; they told stories of Grif’s life; they let us know they held us in their thoughts. Not one of them spoke of their own weariness, their own despair, although we could see it in their faces, hear it in their voices. Vima called while she was feeding Wilfred. She spoke of her love for Grif who had lived next door all the days of Vima’s Taris life. Her words warmed our hearts even while we wept.
Halfway through the afternoon, Biddo came in and quietly connected the mini-comp to the television. It helped to be able to see our friends and family on the bigger screen.
‘Thank you, Biddo,’ Mother said. ‘Our people don’t feel so far away now.’
I wanted to ask him if he’d thought of the idea to help us, or had just stumbled on how it could be done. But what did it matter – it did help. ‘Thanks,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘S’okay.’
Dad called as darkness fell. ‘Sheen, my love – I wish I could be with you.’ Tears tracked down his face.
Jov called. He cried when he saw that Sina was with us. ‘I’ve been so worried. Thank you, he said.’
But it was we who were thankful to Sina. She was calm and loving. She made us eat when we would have forgotten, took us down to the evening meeting when we would have stayed where we were. She made us keep going.
More and more over the course of that day I was forced to admire her, however much it felt disloyal to Vima to do so. She kept an unobtrusive watch on Mother. When Mother bowed under her grief, Sina would come to her with a question about birthing or a worry she said she had about caring for a new baby.
Vima called early the next morning before any of the others were awake. I crept out to the living area to talk to her.
‘I’m only awake because I left the mini-comp switched on all night,’ I said, trying to stifle a yawn.
‘Dumb,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad you did. Tell me everything.’ She was lying back in a chair feeding Wilfred. She looked exhausted.
I told her how Hera had said Grif was dying, how we had farewelled her. I told her of Sina and of Sina’s thoughtfulness.
Vima sighed. ‘I’m glad she’s there with your mum. And you.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I’m sorry about Jov too. Sorry he can’t be there when his son is born.’
‘Are you all right?’ I asked. ‘Tell me truly, Vima. You look awful.’
She slumped in the chair, eyes closed. ‘No. Not really. It’s the isolation. I have to stay apart from everyone else as much as I can to keep Wilfred safe. I didn’t know how hard it would be.’ She opened her eyes. ‘They talk to me, but there’s no time to chat. It’s a bit like when everyone withdrew from me on Taris.’ She pushed a hand through her hair. ‘Sometimes I think I’m losing it.’
I leaned forward, wanting to reach through the screen to drag her into the room. ‘It’s not going to make much difference if you’re not there. Bring Wilfred back. You come back.’
She shook her head, as I’d known she would. ‘I’m processing the results for three people. There’s nobody else, Juno. Everything’s stretched to the limits now. We can’t afford for three of the researchers to stop working.’ She pushed herself to her feet, holding Wilfred against her shoulder. ‘Gotta go or the others will be after my blood.’
The screen went dead, but for a few minutes I stayed where I was, my mind busy. For Vima to have told me even as little as she had meant she was probably holding onto her sanity by her fingernails. It frightened me. It was a shock to see her struggling – she was the one who was always strong, the one who’d kept me from going crazy when the Taris rules seemed unbearable.
By the time Mother, Sina and Hera had woken up I’d come to a decision – although the minute I saw Mother’s face I hesitated. Her eyes were swollen and she seemed to have grown older overnight.
But I took a deep breath and told them of Vima’s call. I spoke quickly before Mother’s pain made me change my mind. Sina winced at the sound of Vima’s name, but she sat quietly to listen. I glanced at Mother and rushed the last few words.
‘I’m going to ask Willem if I can go to look after her. She needs somebody to talk to.’
Mother dropped her head in her hands. Hera picked up my book. ‘Read to Vima.’
At last Mother said, ‘Very well, my daughter. You have my permission.’ She put her hands on my shoulders. ‘I have no tears left for you, so make sure you stay well.’ She smiled at me, then leaned her forehead against mine. It was all I could do to stop myself from telling her I’d stay.
I pulled away and looked at Sina. ‘Thank you for being here.’
We ate breakfast in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It was a relief, at last, to leave the apartment to wait for Willem. True to form, Hera insisted on coming with me, but I was glad of the company, and aware too of making the most of precious time to spend with her.
Willem listened intently when I told him about my conversation with Vima. ‘You think she’s near breaking point?’ he asked.
I nodded.
He glanced in Hera’s direction, his eyebrows raised in a question.
I shook my head. ‘She just tells me to read my book of fairy tales to her. But she did know that my grandmother Grif was dying. She told me several hours before we got the news from Levin.’
His attention sharpened. ‘What did she say? Tell me the exact words. If you can remember.’
If I could remember? I would never forget.
But all he said when I finished was, ‘Interesting. Now go and pack. We’ll leave in half an hour.’
So quickly. The reality of parting from Mother and Hera crashed in on me. Could I do it? Could I really leave them? What if …
Sina put her hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s the right thing to do, Juno. Try not to worry.’
I sucked in a breath. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She was generous – and she still couldn’t say Vima’s name.
Word of my departure sped through the building. Hera was still helping me pack, jamming clothes into my linen bag so that I had to take them out and fold them again, when my stratum arrived to say their goodbyes. I begged them to keep in touch. ‘I’m not going to have a lot to do. I’ll be shut in a small room with a sleeping baby.’
‘Not the sort of heroic work we’d envisaged doing,’ Silvern said as she hugged me. ‘Makes me think that we need to hassle Willem. There must be stuff the rest of us can do.’
Paz and Marba hugged me too, but the rest of the boys stood about looking awkward.
Brex said, ‘Juno, I’ll take care of Hera while Sheen is with Sina for the birthing.’
I was ashamed I hadn’t even thought about that. And Sina’s baby was due in two days�
� time.
Mother, Hera and Sina waited with me in the foyer. I wished Willem would hurry: this leave-taking was harder than I’d imagined. I nearly lost it completely when Hera pushed the book of fairy tales into my hands. ‘Read to Vee,’ she insisted.
But when Willem arrived, events moved swiftly. He nodded to Mother, cast a quick glance over Sina and smiled at Hera, then we were out the door and into a small vehicle. I had no clear memory of how I’d got there or even managed to put on the mask, gloves and shoe coverings he handed me.
He drove us through an abandoned city. We saw a dog, two cats and one old man dressed in a collection of ragged garments. There seemed to be no other living being about.
‘Who’s he?’ I asked. ‘Why is he out?’
‘Raggedy Jason,’ Willem said. ‘Lives on the street. Refuses all help. Does his own thing and to hell with the rest of us.’ He whipped the car into the next corner, powered out of it and zapped along the straight.
Wow! I’d take care never to make him so angry. Except I’d already done that on the boat.
‘Why …’ My voice dribbled away.
He heaved a sigh. ‘Apologies. Shouldn’t let old Jason get under my skin, not after all these years. But every other person is doing their damnedest to prevent disease spreading, and he goes against every protocol. Doesn’t care who it might hurt.’
It seemed wise to change the subject, so I asked him a question that had been puzzling me. ‘What’s your job? Your pandemic job, I mean.’ Although it would be nice to know what his real job was too.
‘Logistics. I help out with the organising of who goes where and what’s needed. Try to work out what to do with the problems that occur.’
Before I could ask him what his usual job was, he turned off the road into an underground parking area. ‘We’re here.’
We could easily have walked. Was it better to be so close to Mother and Hera, or would it just make it harder? No matter, I was here now with a job to do.
I hefted my bag and followed Willem. A lift took us to floor ten, the top of the building.
‘Does Vima know I’m coming?’
‘No.’ He opened a door and stood back for me to go in. ‘These are her quarters. It’s a two-bed unit, so you’ll have somewhere to sleep. There’s plenty of food for both of you for weeks yet.’
I stared at the room. It was a sitting room with an easy chair, a small sofa and a television screen set into the wall. Three strides would take me from one end to the other. A bench separated it from the tiny kitchen.
‘Where’s Wilfred? Where does Vima work? Shouldn’t you tell her I’m here?’
He shook his head. ‘No time. No need.’ He opened the door and pointed across the corridor. ‘She’s in Lab 104. Wilfred’s in this office.’ He pointed at another door. ‘He’s separated from the lab, but he’s close so she can hear when he cries.’
He told me that if I went into the lab I had to wear protective coveralls, mask and gloves. He opened a cupboard next to the door of the lab. ‘They’re kept in here. Put them on out here and take them off before you go into the living area or into the office where Wilfred is. The cupboard has a fumigation function which sterilises them.’ He shut the door. ‘I think that’s everything. All right?’
‘Yes. Thanks. I’ll be fine.’ I spoke more confidently than I felt.
I watched Willem walk away before I went back into Vima’s rooms. It suddenly hit me that I could be there for weeks. Silvern was right: it wasn’t heroic. I plonked down on the sofa and tried to ignore the feeling that the walls and ceiling were moving inwards.
After a bit, I got up. Okay, so this was hard. Other people were doing hard things too. Grif had given up her life.
Desolation swept through me. My grandmother was dead.
I went to the window. It wouldn’t open. For a moment I panicked – I hated the sense of being so shut in. I scrunched my eyes shut and breathed, striving for calm. I needed something to do; I needed activity.
I picked up my bag and went into the bedroom. Vima’s bed was a mess. I began to make it, then wondered if she’d bothered to change the sheets, but changed them anyway from a pile of clean linen in the cupboard. I made up the other bed for me. Unpacked my clothes. Put my book on the table between the beds.
There had to be somewhere to wash sheets and clothes. Towels too, and Wilfred’s nappies. I opened every door in the place before I found a panel in the kitchen that slid sideways. Behind it was a tub and the same type of small spinner we had in the Centre for drying. I washed the sheets and the tumble of towels and baby gear dumped in the tub, glad everything was made from the fabric that practically washed itself. By the look of the number of nappies, Wilfred would be running out of clean ones any moment now.
I was starving. It was well past midday. Perhaps Vima had eaten an early lunch – but Wilfred must surely be due to wake unless she’d fed him in the office and I hadn’t heard him. I decided to cook a meal anyway. As Willem had promised, there was plenty of food in the pantry. I chose pasta with a vitamin-enriched sauce of tomato and beef mince. It took ten minutes to prepare and cook.
Where was Vima? Would I have to drag her out of the lab by her hair?
Just then the door opened and she came in holding Wilfred, who was crying in great gasping sobs. I leapt for him before she could drop him as she gaped at me, open-mouthed.
‘Yes, I’m real. I’m here to look after you – and about time somebody did, I’d say.’ I bossed her around, making her sit in the easy chair, pulling over the stool for her feet before handing Wilfred back to her. Now it was she who sobbed, not her son.
I made her a drink of hot chocolate and brought tissues to mop her face. When Wilfred finished feeding, I took him, changed him and walked with him on my shoulder until he burped.
‘Will he be okay on the sofa while we have our lunch?’
She nodded, watching while I settled him.
‘He smiled! Vima – that was a real smile!’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I saw it.’ She rubbed her hands over her face. ‘I don’t know why you’re here. Or how. Or anything. But I think you’ve just saved my life.’
She frightened me when she talked like that. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but if I don’t eat soon I’ll be dying of starvation. Stay there. I’ll bring food!’
But it looked as if she couldn’t have moved if she tried.
I put the plate of food on her lap. ‘Eat. Go on, it’s easy – just pick up the fork.’
She complied, but I kept watching her, nagging at her when she looked to be falling asleep.
‘Good,’ she muttered when she’d finished.
‘What have you been living on?’ I could see that she hadn’t had the time or energy to prepare even these quick meals.
‘Snack bars. Sick of them. Only got a few left.’ Her head dropped forward. She was asleep.
I picked Wilfred up. He grinned at me again. ‘Gorgeous kid, aren’t you?’ His skin had darkened now to the colour of the latte Magda had made for us in our first Outside cafe. ‘Come on, I’m thinking you could do with a bath.’
He liked the water. And I got wet. The only clean clothes I could find for him were those I’d washed earlier. How dumb of Willem to dump Vima here with a tiny baby. If he ever got mad at me again, I’d let fly at him over this. He could well have killed them both.
Wilfred fell asleep almost as soon as he was dried and dressed. I put him down in the cot jammed in the corner of the bedroom. He deserved better than this, I thought.
Vima hadn’t stirred. I knew I should wake her, send her back to work. But to heck with that. She wasn’t going to be much use, tired as she was.
I did the dishes as quietly as I could. The floor needed sweeping, but I would do that later. I wouldn’t do anything which might disturb her – though it looked as if it would take a trumpet to wake her. I picked up my book and settled on the sofa to read Cinderella.
Were the ugly sisters like Marba? Were they like him
in that they just didn’t understand how other people felt? I started the story again. No, they were nasty. Marba was never nasty.
In my mind, the fairy godmother became Grif, and she had just turned the rats into coachmen when there was a violent hammering on the door.
‘Vima! Where the hell are you?’ a man’s voice bellowed.
She muttered but didn’t wake. I rushed to the door and wrenched it open. ‘How dare you!’ I shrieked, all the fury I felt at Willem going into that yell. ‘You lot have just about killed her. You get the blazes out of here and let her sleep!’
The man rubbed his eyes. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Your worst nightmare,’ I shot back. ‘Now beat it!’
Behind me, Vima staggered to her feet. ‘Must’ve fallen asleep. Sorry. Won’t happen again.’ She touched my arm. ‘It’s all right, Juno. I’m okay.’
Like the world outside was okay, for example?
The man was still shaking his head, as if I was something magicked up by the fairy godmother, when he and Vima left. He was an idiot. He and the other two she worked for. Why couldn’t they see she was a wreck? They were meant to be smart – couldn’t they see that if she collapsed in a screaming heap she wouldn’t be able to help them at all?
‘Idiots!’ I grabbed a cushion and booted it across the room. It only just missed Vima’s untouched cup of chocolate. I’d make her another drink, and I would stay there while she got it down her dumb throat.
I boiled the kettle, took a pot of tea into the office then yelled at her through the glass window. ‘Tea! Come and get it!’
Vima, now wearing the full protective livery, was sitting in front of a series of screens. She held up a hand. ‘Hang on a minute. Won’t take a sec.’ She got up, picked up a small dish with a wide lip that had something written on it. She slotted the dish into the machine at the back of one of the screens. Repeated the operation with five more dishes.
I poured the tea, not wanting to believe what I was seeing.
At last Vima got up, went out into the corridor to shed the suit and came into the office. She took the cup and sat down where she could still see the screens.
