She rang Kate, counted twenty rings, another twenty, and another. Then Daniel’s home number. Again it rang out.
Her mobile rang. Sean. “I can’t hear Stuart’s phone, but if the door’s blown shut…”
“What if the phones are working but there’s no one to answer?”
“Take a breath,” he said. “More likely it’s the phone network.”
“If it’s the whole city, people will be blogging about it. Look what you can find on the net.” Her turn to forget. “The TV’s still working.” She looked at the clock. “The news will be on in half an hour.” There was an uneasy silence from the other end. “We’re safe inside for now. There’s nothing we can do and no hurry to do it.”
“Text if you need me for anything.”
“I miss you.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“I know.”
Zac was standing in front of her, speaking before she’d even hung up. “So, Mum, if you’re not using your computer, can Daniel and I have a go?”
“All the games are in the office and you’re not going out to get them.”
“We’ll surf the net. Come on, there’s nothing else to do.”
“The net’s out.”
“Aw, what?” He was indignant. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s not a punishment. It’s just life.”
“And Dad gets the computer and all the software,” Zac muttered loudly as he moved off.
“Live with it, Zac. He didn’t cut you off from the computer on purpose. We didn’t disconnect the Internet to spoil your day. You know what’s going on out there, don’t you? You’ve noticed what’s happening outside our front door? People are dying, Zac.” She tried to stop herself, but her voice kept saying the things that were crowding her head. “People are dying. There are people starving to death in the same house as their family because the people who love them are too scared to bring them food. You know what’s crappy about losing the Internet, Zac?” He looked defiantly at her, raising his eyes, though his face was turned down. Stop, she told herself. “It’s not that you can’t flush away the next two hours of your life playing a game. That’s not what’s crappy. What’s really crappy, what’s terrifyingly crappy, if you stopped to think about it, is that now we have no way of knowing what’s going on out there. And when we run out of food, we’ll have no way of knowing what’s waiting outside.”
He raised his head and looked her full in the face. “Gwen and Dad and Ella are out there. You’re scared of them.” He sneered the word “scared” but his tone became offhand, as if he didn’t care what she thought anymore. “You could ring someone on your mobile.”
“No one is answering.”
“You were talking to Dad. Dad answered. On his mobile. I bet you didn’t ring another mobile. You can’t get to the Internet because your computer uses the phone lines to get to it. You want to check the Internet? It’s on your mobile.” As he stalked away, she noticed how his feet fell more firmly.
She could ring someone—there just wasn’t anyone she wanted to ring. She stared at the contact list on her mobile. Each of them was someone she knew, someone she was connected to. Sophie, who she went to school with. They still grabbed a coffee when their paths crossed and they had time. Damien and Yvonne, friends she could rely on, but since they lived on the other side of the harbor, their problems were just as big as hers and too far away. She hadn’t spoken to Deb, just around the corner, since this had all started. Too busy, she told herself. The list scrolled on. Kate would talk, if that’s all she wanted. But no conversation could change what was happening in her house right now. There were no words that someone could speak down the phone that would make Sean safe.
Her head ached—from the tension, from the pain of the bruise, from clenching her muscles to stay warm. Even if she sat with them almost on the heater, her feet were still cold. Every part of her was still cold. And when she wrapped one hand around the other and blew into them, the warmth stopped the minute she did.
The only thing she needed to say was I feel alone, but if she rang someone to tell them her problems, she owed them, she had to listen to theirs. And if they didn’t have food or masks or water, what would she say then? “Come over, we’ve got plenty”? Everything she needed to survive was in the house, and her plans depended on all of it. She felt the urge to throw the mobile to the ground and stomp on it. Better to be unable to ring anyone than to have to admit she didn’t want to ring anyone.
Her mobile rang and she snatched it up. Sean would tell her she wasn’t such a bad person, that it was okay to have such a strong desire not to share. “Sean.”
“Oh, hi.” The voice on the other end sounded disconcerted, and she was taken by surprise, as if strangers no longer existed. In the moment of silence, she could hear the speaker’s doubt. “Um, is this Hannah?”
“Oh,” she tried to sound businesslike. “Yes.”
“It’s Danny’s dad.”
Beep. The line died. She looked at her phone, a blank screen. She couldn’t remember when she had last charged it. Through the house, through the living room, startling the boys, to the kitchen, to the charger next to the kitchen window. She was leashed to an area three paces along the counter, a tether to the outside world. Hannah fumbled the phone, trying to find Daniel’s dad’s number. The phone rang again.
“Hi, yes, sorry. My phone ran out of charge.”
“We’re nearly there. Could you ask Danny to get his stuff together?”
“You’re taking him home?”
“The doctor’s just left. She says it’s safe. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“But isn’t that a risk? If you’ve just had a doctor in the house?” He’d hung up.
She was standing in the living room, saying the words, “Daniel, your dad is coming to get you.”
Daniel said nothing. He stood, as if empty of intent, in the center of the room.
Zac gave him a subdued dig in the side. “Hey, that’s great.”
Daniel blinked.
“You need to pack your stuff.” Daniel still didn’t move. “Zac, can you give him a hand?” Was she doing this because it was the right thing to do, to let him go? “He’ll be here any minute.” And who was it right for?
Daniel followed Zac passively, Oscar buzzing around them. She could hear Zac in the bedroom, bossing Daniel into organization.
The doorbell rang and Daniel was past her like a streak. It rang again. “Don’t open the door!” She yelled after him. His mother, the doctor…she had a responsibility to keep him safe. Although with one less mouth to feed…She was appalled that the thought was hers. “Don’t. Don’t open it!” She ran, her muscles cold and stiff and refusing to recognize the urgency. Daniel was on the balls of his feet, a few steps back from the door, looking to her for permission. Someone was knocking. She jogged up behind Daniel.
The door had to be opened, Daniel had to go. This was his dad’s decision. She wasn’t his parent. “Don’t open the door, I’ll do it.”
Daniel stood like a taut spring, still not quite sure this was happening. She wasn’t prepared.
“Hi, who is it?”
“Danny, are you there?” At the sound of his dad’s voice, Daniel’s eyes lit up.
Zac came trotting up the hall with Daniel’s bag. He looked sheepish, shy, as he held it out. “I might have missed some things.”
Daniel took it from him firmly. “It doesn’t matter.” He looked down at the bag in his hand and then back at Zac. “Thanks.” The word fell between them, inadequate. “Thanks, man.”
She grabbed the handle firmly and opened the door. A sharp, damp breeze blew through the grate and down the hall. “Hi.” She sized up the stranger on the other side of the grille, unsure if he was responsible enough to be handed the care of Daniel.
“Come on, Danny, we’ve got to get you back to your mum. Quick as you can.”
He wasn’t even talking to her. She had a responsibility to, to, to…Daniel’
s parents, to the man on the other side of the grate, to keep Daniel safe. “Are you sure that’s it’s a good idea?”
Daniel’s dad was shaking his head as if he hadn’t allowed himself to believe what he was saying. “Susan’s desperate to see him. When she woke up this morning, she couldn’t think of anything else. She’s been counting down the days.” He looked back to his son. “The sight of you is going to do your mum a world of good.”
Daniel already had the grille unlocked. Zac took a step towards him. “Hey, bye.” Hannah pulled Zac back, a meter back.
“Yeah, bye. Thanks for having me, Hannah.” Daniel was already on the other side of the screen door, his dad’s arm around him.
“Thanks, we owe you. I don’t know what we would have done without you looking after him.” Daniel’s dad looked at his son, almost the same height as him, and Hannah could see the sheen of tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what we would have done.”
They walked to their car, got in, and drove away. Just like that. While Hannah and Zac watched. Oscar trotted up the hall full of naive curiosity. “Where’s Daniel gone?”
“Home, sweetie.”
“Is he coming back?”
“No, he’s gone back to his mum and dad.” She was relieved and ashamed.
“I bet they were sad without him.”
“I bet they were.”
Zac was still standing, staring at the empty place on the concrete in front of the house where Daniel’s car had been. His arms wrapped tight around himself.
“Are you okay?”
His body turned to her, but his eyes stayed glued. “It’s a bit cold.”
As they walked down the hall, she was shivering.
She asked Zac to keep Oscar in the front of the house. He flicked his eyes in contempt, but they were deep in a board game when she let herself into the kitchen. She pulled a chair up to the counter next to the window that was her portal to Sean, next to the charger that kept her phone going. She texted, I need to see you. Her phone trilled at her instantly. Coming out for playtime.
Ella kicked the ball around the yard. When it came too close to the house, Sean kicked it back. He leaned against the outer wall of the kitchen, two layers of brick separating them. Through the window, open a crack, Hannah told Sean calmly, matter-of-factly, about Daniel leaving. She promised herself she wasn’t going to wallow in how badly she’d behaved to Zac about the phone, but her head hurt and air blew through the open window, encasing her in a blanket of cold. As much as she tried to hold them back, the words fell out. And the tears. She couldn’t stop the tears although there was nothing to cry about. She cried for everything, the whole horrible mess. The fight, letting Daniel leave, her cold feet and hands, Ella playing alone in the yard, the window between her and Sean. She shifted in her seat, bumping her bruise against the edge of the kitchen counter. She cried for the pain.
The ball strayed off the grass and Hannah was bereft for the seconds it took Sean to retrieve it. Her nose was streaming, mixing with her tears. Her face was flushed, her eyes were swollen, hot, red. She swallowed down phlegm, snorted as she tried to breathe. The hotter her face got, the colder her body became. She gulped, tried to stop crying, but choked as another sob came. She was gross and pathetic.
On the other side of the glass, Sean watched her as he listened, shifting from foot to foot, and when he couldn’t look at her anymore, they both watched Ella.
Hannah calmed her breathing long enough to say, “She looks healthy.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
Hannah wiped her face with her hands and her sticky hands on her jeans.
“Now you have one less to look after. That has to be good.”
“Daniel and Zac looked after each other. Zac will miss him.”
“Yes.” They fell into silence again. Sean sighed heavily. “At least the rain filled the tank.”
“Yes.”
Hannah splashed a little of the water from the bucket in the kitchen on her face to try to make herself look normal. It sent a shaft of cold through her. Her reflection in the window was still red and swollen, but she couldn’t waste any more water.
She would stay in the kitchen forever if it weren’t for Ella’s stripy socks and pink shorts, soaked through from the damp grass. The fairy skirt did nothing to keep her warm. Hannah rifled through Oscar’s wardrobe, hoping to find some old clothes small enough not to fall off Ella. He had socks, at least, and one pair of his pants with a belt could be cinched tight. Oscar watched from the doorway. Her face still felt hot but she hoped it didn’t show.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting some clothes for Ella.”
“I don’t have girls’ clothes.”
“She can wear boys’ clothes. She won’t mind.” He eyed her disapprovingly. “Why don’t you play with Zac?”
“He’s in his room. He told me to go away.” Oscar wandered over to his bookshelf and started pulling things off. “Does Ella like coloring?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t think she would like this book—it has trucks. Girls don’t like trucks, they like fairies. The other book has fairies but that’s my favorite.”
“Girls like all different things. If you want to give her the one with trucks, give her that one.”
“It’s a really good one. I’ll give her that.” He looked at Hannah seriously for a few seconds. “Does she have her teddy? She might not be able to sleep if she doesn’t have a teddy, but I don’t need mine to sleep.”
“I’m pretty sure Daddy found her a teddy.”
“You could get her teddy from next door. And some clothes.”
“I bet Stuart locked the house when he went out.” She hoped. Oscar was making a small pile of toys in the middle of the floor. “That’s plenty, Mouse. She’s got the computer and I think Daddy got some toys from the garage.”
Oscar unstacked and restacked the pile, turning the toys over and examining them. “Can I take these things out to Ella?”
“I think it’s best not to. You can play with her tomorrow.” Oscar shrugged and wandered off.
The house was so much quieter with one less, or two if she counted Sean. Daniel had barely said a word, but now Zac had no one to talk to. Except Oscar and Hannah. And today talking was only a snarl. When he eventually came out of his room, he lay on the sofa, his eyes sad and vacant.
“Justin says the phones are out all over.”
“Who’s Justin?”
“A kid from school.”
“You’ve never mentioned him before.”
Zac looked blank. “There are a lot of kids at school.”
“How did you talk to Justin?”
“He texted me.” Zac was being patient with his slow mother. “Everybody else has a smartphone and I don’t even have Internet.” The whole thing was clearly her fault.
“Zac, do me a favor—make sure you keep your phone charged.”
“Sure.” She could see the cogs turning over as he tried to process something. He stared at the turned-off television and, as she was about to get up, he blurted out, “Daniel must be really happy to be home. It must be really great to be with his mum and dad.”
She waited but he said nothing. “Yes.” It was the most she could bring herself to say.
Hannah opened her bedroom curtains to give herself a view of the street and a little weak sunlight, too insignificant to add more than psychological warmth to the room. Clouds built high into the sky above the houses on the other side of the road. Everything felt damp, everything felt cold—it had worked its way into the whole house. Down the intersection next to Mr. Henderson’s, she could see blue sky breaking through. The clouds were struck by the last of the day’s light. She crawled into bed. In the peace of her bedroom, enveloped tightly in the bedclothes, she watched the clouds turn from orange to pink to deep purple to steel blue. Gaudy, artificial colors. Nature had no restraint.
The street might be full of people silently watching the sunset, or it m
ight be unobserved except by her. There was no way to know how many silent inhabitants filled the houses in the street, how many Gwens. Not everyone could be lucky, but she had done everything she could to make sure they made it through. She had to have blind faith that doing everything was enough, had to believe it was just endurance now. Eventually she would reach something that could not be endured, but she told herself not this time, not for them. The moment was ephemeral—she couldn’t even lock it in her memory. At best she could hope Sean was watching too.
Her feet were cold, her face hot. She shucked off the duvet and the icy air hit the light sweat on her skin, sending a chill through her.
Dinnertime soon. Lentils and rice. She used to enjoy food, the cooking and the eating, before it became an endless drudge of meal making. Dried beans were almost all that was left. And rice. A couple more cups of lentils and then they were down to the black beans and kidney beans that needed to be soaked but hadn’t been. She tried to remember how much rice, exactly, they still had to bulk out the beans.
The sky had faded to shades of purple-gray. The light was almost gone. From florid to sepia had taken no more than twenty minutes. Out of the wardrobe, she pulled big thick mountain socks and a fleece jacket to put over the jumper she was already wearing.
She dragged herself to Zac’s door. He was swathed in his headphones.
“Could you give me a hand with dinner?”
He looked around, surprised. “Sure.”
Oscar was right behind her. “I can help too.”
“You can’t help, Mouse.” Zac used his older-brother tone. “Cooking is too dangerous for a little kid.”
Oscar’s shoulders slumped and he dragged his feet away.
“Zac, I know you can find something for Oscar to do.”
She sat at the table and watched as Zac followed her instructions. Oscar snuggled up to her, leaning his head on her shoulder. He wriggled, his arms bumping and digging into her. Her stomach started to cramp, her mouth filled with saliva. The act of trying to swallow made her gag. She tried to stand but Oscar put his arms around her. She shoved him away.
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