by Helen Brain
They crowd around her, desperate, pulling her tunic, begging to be chosen. The guards raise their sjamboks and I want to intervene, but Alexia taps the list. “Come on, Ebba, we’ve still got to pick girls to work with the horses, goats, pigs and rabbits.”
We leave them and work carefully through the rest of the farm level, then move down to the food-growing level. I go straight to the section where my squad used to work.
“This is where you spent twelve hours a day?” Alexia asks, aghast.
I look at it through her eyes: at the tired girls turning handles so that huge planters can revolve, giving each layer access to light that is transmitted via the system of mirrors and tunnels. I see what remains of my squad – there are only fifteen of them now, having to do the work of twenty. Their skinny shoulder blades stick out as they lift the heavy buckets of feeding solution for the plants.
Bonita sees us first and comes over with a big fake smile. “Ebba, it’s fabulous to see you again. You’re looking gorgeous – we’ve missed you so much, haven’t we, Vanessa? They said you were coming to pick fifty girls, and we’re so excited, aren’t we, Van?”
Her friend Vanessa gives me a hug. “I love your new haircut,” she says. “And your robe is stunning. I can’t wait to see the outside world. Can we tell you who we want to bring with us?”
Apparently they assume I’ll pick them because they were in my squad. For a minute I’m tempted: finally, they like me. But then I remember the years of bullying.
“Let’s start at the far end,” I say to Alexia, ignoring them.
Their smiles grow more brittle as Alexia and I walk through the chamber, selecting the girls I know are hard workers. By the time we come back to them their smiles are cold and their eyes hard.
“That’s it.” Alexia says, ticking off the list. “We don’t have room for more.”
“You’re not taking us?” Bonita can’t believe it.
“That’s the quota. We’ve got everyone we need.”
Bonita raises one eyebrow and looks Alexia up and down like she’s pig dung. “And who might you be?”
“She’s my sister,” I say, moving closer to Alexia. “And no, I’m not picking you.”
Her face blanches. “Wait,” she shrieks, but we move off, down to the workshop areas. She’s the one person I don’t feel bad about leaving behind.
We choose stonemasons, carpenters, weavers and seamstresses. When we reach the engineering workshop, I stop in the doorway and watch the engineers at work. Jaline is on her haunches with a spanner, adjusting something inside one of the treadmills. She’s fit and muscular, and looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s a pity I can’t pick her, but we took a vote. Instead I take the next three girls who look strong and competent. Jaline’s as prickly as a porcupine as she watches me from under her fringe.
“That’s fifty girls,” Major Zungu says firmly. “It is time to go.”
“I’m going to greet Ma Goodson,” I tell him, expecting him to refuse, but he nods sourly.
“Five minutes.”
Alexia and I set off down the corridor to the sleeping cells.
“It’s so gloomy on this level,” she says. “Was it always so dark?”
“They’re running out of electricity,” I tell her. “The treadmills are wearing out, and there’s no way to replace them. Did you see the plants in the nursery? So weedy and pale, like they could fall over any moment? There’s not enough fertiliser, and the plants aren’t getting enough light.”
“And nobody’s getting enough to eat, by the looks of it,” she says. “Everyone’s so thin and sad.”
Even though I’ve left the colony, these are still my people, my tribe. And seeing them hungry and exhausted is heartbreaking. I will have to keep nagging the general to let them all out.
We walk along the murky corridor past the sleeping cells, four on each side, and then we reach my old cell. I stop just inside the door, looking around. It’s so squashed – the bunks are almost up against each other and the ceiling is so low you can reach it from the top bunk. It felt normal when it was the only thing I knew, but now I wonder how I survived for so long.
“That was my bunk in the corner,” I tell Alexia, pointing to a stripped bunk at the far end of the cell. “I shared it with Jasmine. The twins were next to us.”
Ma Goodson must hear us talking, because she comes running out of the storeroom.
“Ebba,” she cries, grabbing me. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you were alive.”
I hug her back, remembering her comforting smell and her softness. She is the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever known.
“You’re quite the fancy lady in your pretty robe, very grown up,” she exclaims, standing back to examine me. “Not so pale anymore. And who’s this?”
“My sister, Alexia. Fez and Letti are safe too, and Jasmine. They’re all citizens now. They’re living on my farm.”
“Oh, thank Prospiroh!” she exclaims. “I thought the twins were dead. I heard they’d been caught. So you’ve got a farm now, and you’re very rich? I always knew there was a reason you’d been saved. Everyone always said you were just a little scrap of nothing, but I knew there was something about you. Even when you were a little girl …”
She chatters on, but I’m distracted by Major Zungu. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, his face inscrutable, but I know he’s listening to everything she says.
“Ma Goodson,” I have to interrupt, “are the memory boxes still here? Letti, Fez’s and …” I pause. It’s been years since he was taken away – they might have thrown it out. But if I can bring it home I’m sure he’ll forgive me for questioning his relationship with Samantha-Lee. “And Micah’s.”
“Micah?” Her face softens. “He was a good boy. A born leader. But he didn’t take easily to authority, and they don’t like that down here.”
I can’t help grinning like an idiot. “Ma, Micah’s with me on the farm.”
“Ah,” she says, and she pinches my cheek. “I see. You always did admire him. And now he’s your boyfriend?”
Alexia grins and pokes me in the ribs.
“He always was one for the girls. I remember when he was just eleven or twelve –” she begins, but Major Zungu clears his throat and glares at me. I have to stop her mid-sentence.
“Sorry, Ma. We need to go. Do you have the boxes?”
“Come.” We follow her into the storeroom, where she climbs onto a chair and feels around at the back of the top shelf. “Here’s Micah’s. I couldn’t bear to throw it out when they took him. I missed his cheeky grin. And here are Letti and Fez’s.” She passes me the three boxes and a pillowcase to pack them into. “Give them my love, and Jasmine, and tell them I miss you all every day of my life. And here’s your box, Ebba, although there’s not much in it. Just your baby clothes and your blanket. Funny little scrap you were, bawling your eyes out, with your red hair and big feet.”
For a moment I get a glimpse of what it must have been like for adults like Ma Goodson to leave their families and friends and come to the colony to be parents to two thousand children. She gave up having children of her own to care for us. “Thank you for everything you did for me,” I say. “I’ll never forget you. And if you ever leave here and need somewhere to stay, come to the farm. There’ll always be a place for you.”
“We need to go,” Major Zungu says before Ma Goodson can begin talking again.
“Go, go,” she smiles, chasing us out of the storeroom like she used to when we were toddlers up to mischief. “Come back soon. Next time, stay longer so we can have a proper chat. I want to hear all about you and Micah, and everything about your new life. Everything, everything.”
On the way out, we pass the sleeping cell where Micah slept with the rest of the Year Threes. I missed him so much that, after he left, I used to close my eyes every time I walked past this doorway.
A memory hits me as we go through the entrance to the dining room: Jared, the Year One w
ho was bigger than anyone else in the colony, and the biggest bully too. Everyone was scared of him. One day when he was about thirteen and I was about eight, Letti and I were playing quietly when he cornered me and told me that my family dumped me because I was an ugly runt.
His friends laughed and started chanting, “Runt, runt, runt!”
Letti whispered to me, “Just ignore them. You’re pretty, you’re really pretty.”
But I was stung. Micah saw me crying and came over.
“You know what?” he said loudly so everyone in the room could hear. “When they circumcised Jared, they threw away the wrong bit.”
All the older kids doubled up laughing – everyone except Jared. I didn’t know what Micah was talking about, but Letti and I joined in. We laughed even more when Jared stormed off to lie on his bunk.
Micah has been my protector as long as I’ve known him, and now I’m doubting him because a girl kissed him on the lips? I’ve been unfair, and I need to make it up to him. I need to do something that’ll make him happy.
“Stop, Major,” I say as we reach the corridor leading to the lift. “I need to make a change. I need to go back to the engineering workshop.”
He sighs. “Miss den Eeden, is that necessary? A girl is a girl.”
I bite my lip. He’s glaring at me, but I think of how pleased Micah will be if I bring Jaline back with us. “It won’t take a minute. Please.”
He purses his lips and opens his mouth to argue, but I’ve already turned back and am running down the passage to the stairs. He follows, his boots clanging on the rock floor.
But when I find Jaline and tell her she’s coming with us, she doesn’t seem overly keen.
“Whatever,” she says. Her long fringe covers her eyes, and she can’t be bothered to toss it back. In the corner, the girl I had to turn down is crying.
“We took a vote,” Alexia whispers. “You can’t go against that.”
“I’m the boss,” I hiss. “I can do what I want.”
She shakes her head. “Come on, Ebba,” she says, tugging my arm. “Let’s get out of here. This place creeps me out.”
Jaline has already turned back to her work.
I dither for a minute. Maybe the others are right. Jaline is trouble, and I have enough troubles of my own without importing new ones, and the girl I turned down is crying so bitterly. I’ve screwed up again. “Wait,” I mutter. “I’m not sure –”
“No more changes, Miss den Eeden. This way,” snaps Major Zungu, his voice hard. And he marches us smartly along the passage to the elevator.
A few minutes later the elevator doors open into the glass room where I first saw the world. At the exit, Major Zungu salutes, and I step out into the autumn sunshine.
Closing my eyes, I feel the warm rays and the cool wind, and as I breathe the scent of khakibos deep into my lungs, my heart swoops like a flying bird.
“Theia, Goddess, thank you. Thank you for getting us out of there,” I whisper.
Alexia says nothing until we reach the bottom of the stairs. Then she turns to look back up the impenetrable grey rock face. “That is a terrible, terrible place,” she says. “We have to get those guys out of there.”
CHAPTER 7
We’re halfway home, just past the Newlands settlement, when a man in a servant’s uniform comes running out and waves to us to stop. Leonid reins in the horses and the man comes over to my window.
“My apologies, Miss den Eeden,” he says. “Mr Mavimbela would like a word.”
Pamza’s father? I haven’t seen her since the day in the shrine when Hal was supposed to marry me. Why is her dad asking to see me?
“You want me to come with you?” Alexia asks, and without hesitation I say, “Yes.”
We jump down from the carriage and I’m not thinking about this mixed-up society and it’s insane laws when another servant opens the front door, bows to me and says, “Inside here, please, miss.”
But when he waves Alexia away and says rudely, “You, go to the back door,” I go hot with rage and embarrassment. I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the back door too?
“I’ll wait in the carriage,” she says quietly.
“Ebba, dear Ebba.” It’s Mr Mavimbela, both arms open wide as he comes out the front door to greet me. He takes my hands in both of his. “Forgive this interruption in your busy day. Could I have a moment, please?”
He sweeps me inside and I haven’t time to think about Alexia and Leonid. I try to remember what I know about him. He’s really wealthy. He lives here, but he owns farms on the mainland. He’s the biggest ostrich farmer in the world and part of the Syndicate, which grows grains in the Boland. What does he want with me?
He takes me into the sitting room. It’s the centre of the house and the other rooms lead off it like spokes in a wheel. I catch a glimpse of Pamza in the kitchen. Her back is to us and she doesn’t turn around, even when her dad calls.
“Pamza, your friend is here.” He pauses. “Come through to the office, Miss den Eeden.”
Three men stand up as we enter.
“My colleagues, Mr Siningwa, Mr Adams whom you know, and Mr Joubert,” he says, pulling out a chair for me. “Please, please, sit down.”
The last time I saw these men was in the shrine when I was being forced to marry Hal and I stabbed his mother by mistake. Everyone wanted to punish me then, so why are they so friendly now?
“But first, some refreshments,” Mr Mavimbela says, going to the door. “Pamza, some drinks for our guests, please.” He takes a comfortable chair opposite mine. “Now, Ebba, your farming production is increasing rapidly, I understand. The extra crops you planted when you arrived at Greenhaven must be coming up for harvesting, and soon your production will increase enormously. You’re going to need some help getting your vegetables to market. You’re going to need a middleman.” He’s looking at me intently as I try to make sense of everything he has said.
“General de Groot is taking care of all of that,” I say, wondering where this is going. To be honest, I haven’t even thought about it.
“And he’ll take a hefty cut, no doubt.” Mr Mavimbela sits forward on his chair and speaks to me like we’re old friends. “Now, Ebba, do you want to give the general more power than he’s already seized for himself?”
If only Fez were here. He’s brilliant with business.
“I don’t want to annoy the general,” I say, twisting my fingers in my lap. “I think we should stick with the arrangement he’s –”
Mr Mavimbela sighs. “Don’t be short-sighted now, Ebba.”
Then Pamza comes in with a jug of lemon cordial on a tray. She stops in front of the four men, and they each take a glass. She approaches me. I’m about to take a glass too, to tell her that I like her home, that it’s nice to see her again, when she dumps the tray on the table, just out of my reach, and walks out. Her father jumps up.
“Pamza!” he roars.
She comes back, and stands in the doorway glowering.
“Don’t be rude, my girl,” he snaps. “Give Ebba her drink.”
Dragging her feet, Pamza picks up my glass and passes it to me. The hatred in her swollen red eyes makes me flinch.
Her father starts talking again, and is occasionally interrupted by Mr Joubert, a short man with a heavy five o’clock shadow, who speaks so fast it’s hard to keep up. He’s discussing access and profit sharing and setting up a company together, but I can’t concentrate. I’m trying to work out what I’ve done to upset Pamza, and wondering how to make it up to Leonid and Alexia.
Mr Siningwa is watching the proceedings quietly. When he speaks at last, it’s in a calm, low voice. “One additional benefit, if I may,” he says. “I’ve heard from Fergus Frye that your business manager, young Fezile, is brilliant. I’d be happy to take him under my wing. Teach him everything I know.”
“Absolutely!” shouts Adams. “Me too. One hundred per cent correct. Everything we know. He’ll be an expert in under a year.”
Mr
Mavimbela taps his index finger on the table. “Let’s say that is part of the deal. Young Fezile will get training one day a week from one of us on a rotational basis until he has a solid working knowledge of everything there is to know about running a successful business.”
This would be so good for Greenhaven – and for Fez. And after all those years in the colony slaving away so citizens could get rich, this is Fez’s chance to develop his talent. But what will the general say if I renege on our original deal? He’s the only one with the power to release the two thousand workers still trapped in the colony. He might refuse to release any more.
I don’t know what to do, but I can’t make any decisions while I’m worrying about Pamza. I get up.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I need to clear my head.”
I walk out, across the sitting room to the kitchen, where Pamza is slumped at the table, with her head in her arms.
“Pam, what is it?” I say, sitting opposite her. “Please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. We used to be friends.”
“You know what you did,” she snaps, lifting her head slightly and glaring at me from under her eyebrows.
“I don’t, Pammie. Please tell me. I want to make things right between us.”
“I can’t believe anyone could be so stupid.” Her eyes narrow. “You could have saved any one of the Poladion family. Any one. You could have chosen Cassie or …” She pauses, and when she speaks again her voice cracks. “Or … Hal. Why did you have to choose that useless weakling Lucas? Why? Why?” She bursts into tears again and my stomach drops as I realise how much she’s lost – her best friend, and the boy she was in love with.
And I could have saved one of them.
No wonder she hates me. No wonder her father and his colleagues hate the general. They’ve all lost friends, as well as their spiritual leader.
I have to make it up to her.
I go back to the office, and her father stands as I enter. He looks at me expectantly.
“We were just outlining the profit projections,” he says. “It’s a good opportunity, Ebba. It really is. But unfortunately we can’t keep this offer open to you, Ebba.”