by Nik Abnett
Verity got up from the sofa for the first time that day, and she and her mother were soon upstairs, unwrapping the old wedding dress and taking stock.
“So,” said Pax, “do you have a preferred date, Sage?”
“Whenever suits you.”
“Talking of suits, you could wear one of mine. You’ll have to have a chat with Faith about alterations, but I’m sure we can sort you out.”
“Thank you. If Verity’s in a dress, it’d be nice to look a bit smart.”
“We’ll all dress up,” said Pax. “But, about that date?”
“The sooner the better,” said Sage.
“I’ll get right on it, then.”
“I’ll finish that bit of gardening.”
“Good lad.” Pax, rested his hand on Sage’s shoulder. “Good lad.”
They both knew that Pax wasn’t talking about the gardening.
Twenty-five
+That was…+
+I know… I don’t know what I expected, but we should definitely do that again+
+I love you, Charity, and we can do that any time you want+
There was a short pause.
+Are you okay, Abe?+
+I’m better than okay. I’m happy, and tired+
+Why are you tired?+
+You take a lot out of a man+
+So… You’re a man now, are you?+
+I’m pretty sure you just made a man out of me, Chaz+
+Seriously, though, are you okay? I’m still worried about you+
+I’m fine. The rash is the same. I haven’t got any other symptoms. My appetite’s fine… In fact, I could eat, right now+
+Good. Go eat something when we’ve finished talking+
+Yeah+
There was another short pause.
+What is it, Abe?+
+I’m really worried about Dad… He’s not getting any better, and he still won’t eat. I keep trying to feed him something, but he just doesn’t want it. I’m afraid if he doesn’t eat he’ll only get worse. The medication doesn’t seem to be working at all any more+
+When do you get the next test?+
+Every forty-eight hours now… Both of us+
+Okay… And you’re doing everything you’re supposed to?+
+When the last test came back there was a note on it about an anti-viral drug that they’re testing on some patients. They might give it to Dad+
+Well, that’s good, isn’t it?+
+It’s a test drug. They don’t know if it works, and I’m worried about Dad being a guinea pig… What if it makes him worse?+
+It’s got to be better than the stuff he’s taking now… Who knows? It could be the miracle drug they’re looking for+
+They’re testing Dad’s viral load to see if he qualifies+
+I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed. Honestly, Abe, it’s got to be better than doing nothing+
+I hope so+
+I promise I’m here, whatever happens. Love you, Abe+
+I love you too+
+Go and eat something, and text me in the morning+
+Normal time?+
+Any time. Look after your dad first. I’ll be here+
+Thanks, Charity. Love you. Sleep tight+
+Don’t let the bed bugs bite+
Twenty-six
Dharma jogged to her mother’s old address. An apartment complex, low and sprawling over two floors, it was a lovely place, set in a large garden with lots of companion planting: flowers, vegetables, fruit trees. It looked glorious.
Dharma held her id card up to the scanner at the gate. She wasn’t sure it was still valid, but the gate opened and she walked through. If she could get around the side of the building she’d be able to look up at her mother’s apartment.
The air was full of the scent of growing things, green and sappy, but also sweet from the abundance of spring flowers and fragrant with the smell of herbs.
Dharma walked through the grass, never mown shorter than ten cm, and around to the rear of the building. Someone, ten or twelve metres away, covered from head to foot in protective clothing, was tending to a beehive. No one was at any risk.
Dharma sat in the grass and looked up. Her mother’s apartment had been third from the left on the upper floor. The window box was still there, and somebody was obviously tending to it. The curtains were new. The two neat rooms and the little wet room that her mother had occupied were being lived in by someone else.
It was inevitable; time had passed. It would soon be two years since Dharma had last seen her mother. She was happy, though. The place looked good. Someone new was looking after it, and enjoying it. Everything was okay.
Dharma walked a little further around the building, stepping away so that she could see it as a whole. She brushed against something growing close-by, and was suddenly back at her own flat. What was that smell?
Dharma bent down, and brushed her hands through a patch of purple-blue flowers, they were simple blooms; each had five petals with veins a deeper shade of purple-blue, and pale centres. The leaves were fragile, frilly things. The smell, though… The smell was like the smell of the wipe in her apartment building.
Dharma picked a few of the flowers, plucking them off with long stems, so that she had some of the leaves, too. She walked back to where the beekeeper was finishing up her work for the day, her headgear under her arm. She was a young woman, with warm brown skin, and dark brown eyes.
“Excuse me,” said Dharma, keeping a few metres distance from the stranger. “Do you know what these flowers are called?”
“They’re geraniums,” said the woman. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No. I’m Dharma Tuke. My mother, Constance, used to live here.”
“Up there,” pointed the woman, “at the back. She had one of the prettiest window boxes.”
“That’s right,” said Dharma.
“I’m Patience Opie,” said the woman. “I’m the gardener, here. I knew your mother quite well. She liked it out here.”
“I didn’t know,” said Dharma. “She didn’t say.”
“She talked about you. How clever you were, how solitary… She worried about you, I think.”
Dharma smiled.
“Yes,” she said. “She told me how much she worried about me.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m very okay. I just wanted to look at the place, one last time. I wonder why she didn’t talk about the garden.”
“Aren’t you the indoors type?” asked Patience, smiling.
“I suppose I am. These… I like these,” she said, holding out the geraniums again.
“Take them, and come back any time. It’s good to be outside.”
“Thank you, I will… You called them Geraniums?”
“That’s right. Do you have space for a window box?”
“I suppose so,” said Dharma.
“If you want to get one set up, I’ll give you some seeds, and you can grow some… Other things, too, if you like.”
“Thank you, Patience,” said Dharma. “I might just do that.”
Then she waved, and walked back to the gate for her jog home, still holding the flowers. She smelt them again. It was a safe smell, the smell of home. Maybe she would install a window box. She didn’t want to live in the past, but if her mother had liked plants perhaps she’d do it for her.
She thought about it as she jogged home. She hadn’t ever opened her windows, and she didn’t know whether she could, or should. Every building she ever entered she had done so through a wipe. She wasn’t sure it was safe to open a window.
She hadn’t thought about it before, she’d always glanced at her mother’s window box through the closed window while they sat and chatted in the living room. It had never crossed her mind that her mother must have opened her window to tend to the plants.
Her mother hadn’t died… At least, she had died, but not because of the fresh air. Maybe the wipe at the entrance to her building and the one attached to her bathroom were enough to
keep her safe. After all, Dharma had spent a couple of hours outside today, and she was fine.
Suddenly, she felt paranoid. What if she wasn’t fine?
When she got back to her apartment building, Dharma took a moment to relax in the wipe, still holding the geraniums. She stepped into the lobby, waited for a moment, and then stepped back into the wipe and outside again. She breathed the clean air for a minute and then walked through the wipe one last time before climbing the stairs to her apartment. She needed the bathroom, and was more than happy to stand in its tiny wipe. Then she showered, and when she finally felt clean she changed into pyjamas and went back to look again at Charity Mott’s marriage certificate.
There were ways to find out more, and on Monday that’s exactly what Dharma would do.
Twenty-seven
“Tuesday,” said Pax, marching into his bedroom, where Verity was standing on the ottoman, wearing his wife’s wedding dress, while Faith was fussing with pins.
“We’re going to get rid of the frilly shoulders and lose an underskirt,” said Faith, “but it’s quite a classic dress, so it’ll look modern enough by the time I’ve finished with it.”
“Honestly, Mum, it’s lovely,” said Verity. “I’m just glad it’s not too tight on the waist.”
“It’s an Empire line. Hides a multitude of sins.”
“Very appropriate,” said Verity, “since this baby is born of sin.”
“Not the time for sarcasm.”
“Sorry, Mum. I kinda meant it as a joke.”
“Nobody cares, these days, whether babies are born in or out of wedlock, or whether they have two parents and what gender those parents are. A family’s a family.”
“Easy for you to say when you have a conventional family.” “There’s nothing conventional about you lot,” said Pa.
Faith turned to her husband.
“Did you say something about Tuesday?” she asked.
“No, no… You carry on. I’m only sorting out a wedding, that’s all.”
“My sarcasm’s catching,” said Verity. “Not sure it suits you, though, Pa.”
“Tuesday?” asked Faith.
“The wedding is fixed for Tuesday. I finally got a date, and it’s perfect,” said Pax. “The rations come in on Sunday, so even if we starve for the rest of the week, I figure it’s worth it to have a decent wedding breakfast.”
“I saved the butter and sugar from the last couple of ration drops, so I’ve got enough to bake a nice cake,” said Faith.
“So what have you been putting in my tea?” asked Pax.
“I haven’t been putting sugar in your tea for weeks. I’ve weaned us all of it, a bit at a time.”
Pax patted his stomach. “I thought it was the rations making me thin. I didn’t know you were plotting against me.”
“Do you miss it?” asked Faith.
Pax thought for a moment.
“I can’t say I do.”
“Well, there you have it, then.”
“Tuesday, Pa?” said Verity, stepping off the ottoman. “The Tuesday that’s in five days’ time?”
“That would be Tuesday 24th of June. Yes.”
“Can you finish the alterations on the dress, and take in Pa’s suit for Sage, by then?” asked Verity.
“I’ve already done most of it,” said Faith. “I figured his size wasn’t going to change much in six weeks. As long as Sage takes care of the garden for me, there’s plenty of time. I can even alter one of my old posh frocks for a bridesmaid’s dress for Charity, if you want.”
“Do you think she’d like that?” asked Verity. “She’s been different lately, more worried, and she’s spending a lot of time in her room. I think she’s got a bit of cabin fever.”
“It’ll cheer her up,” said Pa. He stepped out onto the landing, and called Charity’s name.
“What is it, Pa?” Charity asked from behind her box room door.
“Can we borrow you for a minute?”
A few seconds later Charity came out of her room and closed the door.
“Your mother wants you,” said Pax, heading downstairs.
“Mum?” said Charity, putting her head around the bedroom door.
“Come and have a look through my posh frocks, and choose something to wear for the wedding.”
“You can be my bridesmaid,” said Verity.
“Can I wear the green one with the halter?” asked Charity.
“I–” Faith started to say something, but Verity cut her off.
“You’d look great in that. And Mum can alter it, if it’s too big.”
Charity went to rummage in the wardrobe.
“You know green’s unlucky at weddings?” Faith whispered to Verity.
“Only if you’re superstitious,” Verity whispered back, “which I definitely am not.”
“Have you found it?” Faith asked Charity. “Pop it on, and let’s have a look at you.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered to Verity.
“It turns out my sister isn’t a brat, and life isn’t going to be easy for her with a baby in this house. If it cheers her up, it’ll be lucky for all of us.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Charity, walking up to them in a dark green, silk dress, cut on the bias.
“We were just saying how good you’d look in that dress,” said Faith. “We were right. It’s perfect. That bias cut skims your body beautifully.”
“It’s too long, though,” said Charity.
“That’s because you’re thinner than I was when I bought it. I’ll take it up for you.”
“Won’t that mean you can’t wear it again?” asked Charity.
“It’s yours, now. You look better in it than I ever did.”
“Thanks, Mum,” said Charity, grinning. She lifted the skirt, so she didn’t trip over it, and twirled in the dress.
“Prettiest bridesmaid, ever,” said Verity.
“You just can’t help being sarcastic, can you, V?” said Charity.
“No,” said Verity. “I mean it… Not as pretty as the bride, but very pretty for a bridesmaid.”
“The pregnant bride,” said Charity.
There was more banter as Verity slipped carefully out of the wedding dress, so she wouldn’t catch herself on any of the pins. Charity stepped up onto the ottoman, and Faith went back to work.
“You might want to tell your husband-to-be that you have a wedding date,” said Faith. “And tell him he can come up in ten minutes so that I can have a look at him in that jacket.”
“Thanks, Mum,” said Verity, kissing her mother on the cheek as she left the bedroom.
“Looks like she’s over the sarky phase,” said Charity.
“We live in hope,” said Faith.
Verity went out into the garden, where Sage was busy tending the veg patch.
“You’re going to marry me on Tuesday,” she said.
“Am I?” said Sage. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
“Me, too,” said Verity, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. “Mum wants you to go up in ten minutes so you can try on that jacket. I think she’s already made some alterations, and taken the trousers in. You’re going to look gorgeous.”
“No,” said Sage, “you’re going to look gorgeous.”
“I suspect the truth is that Charity’s going to look better than either of us.”
“Not possible,” said Sage. “You’re radiant.”
Verity swatted him on the chest.
“What was that for? Can’t a man pay his bride a compliment?”
“That’s what you say to pregnant women,” said Verity. “Radiant.”
Sage touched Verity’s belly, which had grown over the past couple of months.
“Well begging your swollen belly’s pardon, but you really are pregnant now.”
“If it hadn’t taken the registry office so long to sort itself, I wouldn’t look like this. They said six weeks, and it’s been a lot longer than that. Besides, pregnancy is a b
inary state. I’m just as pregnant as I ever was. There’s no such thing as a little bit pregnant.”
“Well, now you’ve got the bump to prove it,” said Sage.
“Ugh!” said Verity.
“And the tits.”
“Better. Except not better, because now you’re objectifying me.”
“You say that as if you’ve never objectified me.”
“That’s different.”
“Okay,” said Sage. “I’ll stop objectifying you.”
“Don’t you dare. My emotional state’s fragile right now, so all positive reinforcement is good positive reinforcement.”
“You just let me know when you’ve decided on the rules,” said Sage, kissing her.
“And you just go upstairs and get that jacket fitted. See if Mum can do something about the lapels… They’re very 2020.”
“I’m not taking on Faith,” said Sage as he walked away. “If you want the lapels altered, you’re going to have to talk to her yourself.”
“Are you afraid of my mother?” asked Verity, laughing.
“I’m afraid of all the Mott women, and with good reason.”
“Then it’s a good job I’m going to be a Tuke, as of next Tuesday,” said Verity.
Sage turned back to his fiancée. “You’re going to take my name? I wasn’t expecting that.” He started to walk back towards her, and Verity met him halfway.
“I want us all to have the same name,” said Verity. “You, me, and baby… All Tukes.”
“Thank you. I love that. I love you.” He kissed her again.
“Love you back, oh wise one,” said Verity. “Now, go and get that bloody jacket sorted out before Mum starts shouting out of the window and getting all the neighbours het-up.”
“Absolutely,” said Sage, turning away, and walking back into the house, only stopping to take off Pax’s wellies.
Verity watched him open the back door into the house, his jeans tucked into his over-socks, and smiled.
Twenty-eight
+The wedding’s finally happening next Tuesday+
+That’s great+
+Mum’s given me her green silk dress. It’s gorgeous. I wish you could see me in it+
