Fierce September (15 page)

I cried all of the afternoon. I tried now and again to believe that Hera was wrong. It didn’t work. I knew that Grif was dying. Or was already dead.

Late in the day somebody knocked on our door. Mother leapt to her feet. ‘Sina! I’d forgotten. I was going to get Grif and Danyat’s rooms ready for her.’ Her voice shook as she said her mother’s name, but she ran to the door to welcome Sina.

T
HE NEWS OF GRIF’S DEATH on the twenty-sixth day drew us all to the dining room. Camnoon, who on Taris had been a Governance Companion, walked to the front of the room. We had seen little of him since our arrival, although we knew he too had volunteered to help in any way he could. Willem had not called on him. Perhaps he thought Camnoon too frail, or maybe he wanted to leave one of our elders with us. Or it might have been that the strange orange robe Camnoon now wore set him somehow apart.

‘My people, let us speak of Grif, let us with love remember her and give thanks for her life. We cannot scatter her ashes, but we can honour her.’

His words steadied us. It would be good to use the familiar rituals, sing the familiar songs.

Mother spoke a few words but stopped when tears threatened. When it was my turn, I too found it difficult to speak of my grandmother. I finished, then added, ‘We are climbing to the roof after this. We can’t climb the mountain, so we will climb as high as we can instead and say a last farewell from there. Please come if you would like to.’

It was a strange farewell. We had no flowers and there were few of us left to speak of my grandmother, although each person, including some of the little children, stood to speak.

Mother and I walked to the stairs, Hera between us. We began to climb, our people following us. We gathered on the roof and the sound of our singing floated out across the rooftops. I hoped Grif knew we sent her on her journey with our love.

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.