Seed

by Lisa Heathfield

  “Yes,” I reply. Then I busy myself with putting the remaining carrots into rows.

  He is still here. “How is she?”

  My face is not friendly, and I hope that if I answer him he will go away. “She’s fine,” I say.

  He smiles, relieved, as he pushes back his blond hair from his forehead. “Will she be here next week?” the boy asks gently. And suddenly I realize why Kate spoke to him. Why she told him her name. Because there is something about him that feels safe.

  “No,” I reply.

  The boy looks disappointed and for some reason I want to bring his smile back. “Will you tell her Simon was asking for her?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say quickly and I turn my back on him. Deep down, I know that trusting him is wrong. Simon must have walked away, because when I turn around, he’s gone.

  Ellis picks up a greengage that has fallen on the floor. He puts it in my hand.

  “Don’t you ever wish you were free?” he asks me.

  It’s such a strange question that I laugh. “I am free,” I remind him.

  “But really free. To walk out of Seed. To live on the Outside.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  Does he not see what I see out here? How can there be any comparison to our home?

  “Are you happy, though?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I answer. How could I not be? I have everything. “Are you not?” I ask Ellis. “Happy?”

  He looks at me. “Maybe,” he says.

  Kindred Smith is back. I didn’t see him cross the road, but now he is standing by the van, watching us. How long has he been here? I don’t know if he saw Simon, if he heard Ellis. But there is a look in his eyes that tells me that he is not pleased with me. I have done something wrong.

  This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed at home. This little piggy went squeal, squeal, squeal. And this little piggy had none.

  I have none.

  None.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Elizabeth is ill. Her breathing is staggered and her face is flushed red with sweat.

  “You must sit down,” I say to her. “I can do the porridge.” But she shakes her head and continues to stir that big wooden spoon through the oats and our cows’ milk. Her stomach is so swelled with the baby that it pushes against the cooker.

  Linda gently takes the spoon from Elizabeth. “I’ll tell Papa S. He’ll make you rest,” she says. I can see the roots of their friendship as I watch them. Elizabeth tries to smile but I can tell she’s in pain. It’s difficult seeing her like this and I wish I could make her feel better.

  “I’m fine. It’s just uncomfortable, that’s all,” she says. But she’s wrong. She needs to rest.

  We eat morning meal inside, with the rain spattering on the windows. I’m thinking about how the days are changing when Elizabeth’s face turns white. Her eyes are shut tight and her fingers grip her spoon.

  Linda whispers something to her, but Elizabeth shakes her head. A silence spreads up the table and it reaches Papa S., but he carries on eating, spooning his food into his mouth. Has he not noticed Elizabeth? The pain she is struggling with? I want to tell him, but I’ve never spoken to Papa S. in such a way. I look to Jack. He has stopped eating and I know he wants to do something. But it’s Linda who stands up.

  “I’m taking Elizabeth upstairs. She is unwell,” she says. We can all see that there is food in both their bowls. They cannot leave it.

  Papa S. puts down his spoon. He is staring at Linda, as though he’s about to speak. But his lips stay shut tight. It’s the coldness in his eyes that stop me moving. Linda doesn’t seem to notice as she helps Elizabeth to her feet.

  Kate rushes to her other side. She puts Elizabeth’s arm over her shoulder and helps her from the room. They don’t close the door and we can hear them, moving slowly and awkwardly across the hall and up the stairs.

  There are three bowls on the table, the porridge still warm.

  I dare not look at Papa S. But I don’t understand his anger. They did not want to leave their food, but Elizabeth is ill.

  I don’t like the way that her face turned white. I want to run from the room to be with her, but Papa S.’s displeasure has tiptoed down the table and holds me back.

  We eat the rest of morning meal in silence. Papa S. finishes his food and drinks the last drops of his water. When he stands up, I know his anger has not left him. It’s caught in the lines on his face.

  “The wasteful shall be punished,” he says, his voice cracking into the air. I wait for him to say more. To say that he’s made a mistake and it’s all right for them to leave their food. Because Elizabeth is ill and we must all help her to feel better. But instead, he storms from the room. Heather, his Companion once again, follows behind him. There is no longer happiness on her face, only fragments of fear.

  “Hold the flannel to her forehead,” Linda tells me. “When it gets warm, rinse it again in the cold water.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes are closed, but I know she’s not sleeping. Within a minute, the heat from her skin has already soaked through the flannel and is warming my palm. But I must stay calm. I must not show that I’m afraid.

  I take the flannel, float it in the ice-cold water in the bowl at my feet, then squeeze it through before putting it on Elizabeth’s forehead again. She moves slightly, which I think is a good sign. Linda takes a small packet from her pocket. Inside, there is a strip of silver with little white circles. She pushes one of the circles and it pops out onto her hand.

  “What’s that?” I ask her.

  “I have to bring her temperature down.” She puts the white circle in a small glass of water and it starts to fizz and shrink and disappear. I grab the glass before Linda has time to pick it up.

  “You can’t do this,” I whisper. The smell from the glass slips onto my tongue.

  “It’s fine, Pearl. It will help Elizabeth.”

  “No, it won’t. This isn’t from the earth. You will destroy her.”

  “No, Pearl. I’ve had these many times. So have Ellis and Sophie. They’re good for you. They help get rid of pain.”

  “Pain is good for you,” I say. “Elizabeth needs her pain.”

  “Right now, Elizabeth needs to get her temperature down. She is too hot. And if we can’t cool her down, then she and her baby will be in danger.”

  “The flannel will cool her. You told me it would.” But I can feel Elizabeth’s illness seeping through the cloth.

  “It’s not enough, Pearl.” Linda is reaching for the glass, but I won’t give it to her.

  “It’s not what Elizabeth wants,” I say.

  “Do you want her to die?” Linda says. “Or her baby?”

  Her words stop me. Does she really mean Elizabeth could die? Is it her time? Sylvie died having her baby. Sylvie died giving birth to one of us.

  Linda’s voice is calm. “If she drinks this, we can help her.”

  I look toward the door. It’s closed, but is there someone listening on the other side? It’s a risk I will take. I pass Linda the glass with the misty liquid. She nods at me and we lift Elizabeth’s head.

  “Drink this,” Linda whispers in her ear. I am torn between pushing it away and letting her drink it. But I watch Elizabeth’s lips open, the drink disappearing from the glass and into her body. I don’t know what I have allowed to happen, but I know it is too late to change it.

  Kate has disappeared. She helped clear away morning meal, but then she wasn’t working in the fields and I can’t find her in the house. I thought maybe she was helping Kindred John, but Jack says he hasn’t left the barn.

  She wasn’t back for middle meal, or evening meal. Rachel doesn’t know where she is. Jack and I have looked in the barn, the forest, the bee shed. Maybe she’s with Papa S.? But Heather is still his Companion.

  “What’s he done with her?” Ellis asks. We’re gathering in the chickens for the night.

  “What do you mean?” I
try to laugh, but I know that I’m worried.

  “Papa S. said she would be punished and now she’s disappeared.”

  “He meant punished by Nature.”

  “She left a few spoonfuls of porridge, so she could help Elizabeth,” he shouts, slamming down the empty metal bowl. “She didn’t deserve a punishment.”

  “It’s not like that. Papa S. hasn’t done anything wrong. He is nothing but good to us.”

  But he didn’t help Elizabeth. She was too ill to eat and although he loves her, he called on Nature to punish her.

  “She’s disappeared, Pearl.” Ellis is right up close to me.

  “She could be anywhere, helping one of the Kindreds, anything.”

  Yet I know I’ve looked everywhere. Jack has looked everywhere.

  “Ask them where she is, then.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Because I know she’s fine.”

  “What if she’s not?” Ellis shuts the mesh fence harshly. Pulls over the lock.

  “You have to trust them, Ellis.” I know I’m trying to convince myself, but Ellis won’t take my words. They fall from him as he turns from me and stamps back to the house.

  I wake in the night so violently that all I can hear is my heart smashing in my chest. I sit up, confused, unsure where I’ve been in my dream.

  Then I remember Kate. I slip from my bed and feel across the black air until I find her bed. It is empty.

  The dark of the room makes me realize. I know where she must be. There must be other stages of being a woman, and she is back in the hole. I know she will be frightened and I know what I must do. And I must do it before I wake properly and think.

  I find my sweater in the darkness. The noise I make seems loud, but no one wakes up. The children breathe in their sleep.

  I walk out of our room and down the silence of the corridor. I falter on the top step of the stairs, as it creaks into the night. But no one comes. My feet carry me down, across the hall, into the kitchen. I unlock the door quietly and step outside. The cold hits my bare legs, wakes me up more. But I won’t turn back.

  It’s so dark, so silent. The grass from the meadow brushes against me as I wade through it with my arms outstretched.

  I’m coming, Kate. I won’t leave you there. I hit the table with my palm, feel my way around it. Just keep going straight. Through the grass, until I reach the hedge. It is here, crackly against my hand. Find the place to walk through, Pearl. Keep your hands brushing on the hedge, until it falls into a gap of air.

  There. I walk through. The grass is shorter here, the field in harvest.

  Don’t think that you are alone. The night is a blanket to protect you. The hidden animals are your friends. Don’t look back at the shadow of the house.

  Is someone watching me? Keep walking. Don’t wake up.

  The air changes; I’m near the trees. I can sense their height. I am here, walking among them, feeling the jagged bark of their trunks. They show me the way until I know I’m in the clearing.

  I walk slowly forward.

  “Kate?” I whisper. But I know she won’t be able to hear me, as she is locked in the earth.

  I can feel Papa S.’s Worship Chair. As I touch it, I wake up more and suddenly I’m alone, in the dark of the woods. I want to run, but I can’t.

  “Forgive me,” I say as I pull the chair, hear it scraping through the earth. Quickly, Pearl. I kneel and push the wet leaves away until I feel the loop of metal. Pull it up, pull it up.

  The trapdoor opens.

  “Kate?” I whisper. But she doesn’t reply. “Kate?” I say again. I don’t want to go down. I can’t go down. But what if she’s hurt? What if she doesn’t answer because she can’t?

  I put my foot on the top step. And the next. And the next. I am going down into that circle of earth.

  “Kate?” I’m at the bottom and I kneel on the ground, feel everywhere with my hands.

  She’s not here. Kate is not here. I feel up the walls, in every crack of the earth and I have to get out because I can’t breathe and Kate isn’t with me and I’m alone in the dark. I feel up the steps, so quickly until I’m out in the air. I lower the trapdoor and push the leaves over. Have I covered it all?

  I pull the chair, the Worship Chair that must not be touched. Will he know? Will he be able to feel that my hands have been here?

  I run back through the trees, my hands feeling the way. Through the rough ground of the harvest field. I can’t find the hole in the hedge. Something grabs at my hand, cuts my skin, and then I’m free, in the meadow.

  I run toward the dark house, where every light is off. But someone is watching me. I know someone is watching me.

  I push open the kitchen door and lock it quietly behind me. I’m standing by the sink, trying to calm my breath, when there is a noise and the light turns on. It’s Kindred John and Kate. They look shocked to see me. Flecks of red flame on Kindred John’s cheeks.

  “Pearl, what are you doing here?” he asks.

  I look at Kate. She’s been crying. “I’m getting a glass of water,” I lie. “Where have you been?” I ask her, before I can stop myself.

  “Kate, too, is getting a glass of water,” Kindred John says. He walks to the cupboard as she stands in the doorway. There are marks on her arms. I look at them, but I don’t ask how she got them. Kindred John reaches for a glass, then goes to the sink. The tap wheezes as he turns it on.

  He goes to Kate, lifts the glass to her lips. She tries to take it from him but he holds her hand away.

  “I will help you,” he says, his voice kind. He has saved her. Wherever she has been, he has saved her. Hasn’t he?

  When she has finished the water, he kisses her on the forehead.

  “Go with Pearl. You need to sleep,” he says. His voice soothes away the last fragments of my fear.

  I take Kate’s hand, but she won’t look at me as I lead her up to our room, up to the safety of our beds.

  Ring-a-ring of roses, a pocket full of posies. A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Where had she been, though?”

  Ellis and I are balanced in an apple tree, hidden from the house.

  “She was fine.”

  “But where was she?”

  When I had asked Kate the same question, she had snapped at me. Told me not to ask again. She dressed quickly this morning, hid her arms from me, and now I don’t know whether I imagined the bruises. But I did not imagine that she disappeared for a whole day, and that Kindred John must have known where she had been.

  “Mom had to go into a room,” Ellis says. “She won’t tell me more.” I pretend I don’t notice him rip the leaf from its branch and screw it up in his palm. “She said it was the right thing and she didn’t mind. But I don’t believe her.”

  “Papa S. has forgiven her,” I assure him. But did she really need forgiveness? Ellis throws the leaf down to the ground below us.

  The apple that I choose to pick is half-red, half-green. I pass it to Ellis. “Elizabeth says your music takes her pain away,” I tell him.

  He holds my gaze as he bites into the apple. “Is she any better?”

  “Not yet,” I say. “Soon though.” Because she will be fine. Nature won’t take her away from us.

  The hills in the distance are silent. I breathe in Seed’s air and try to let it calm me.

  “How can anyone want to live on the Outside, when you can have this?” I say.

  “There’s beauty on the Outside too, Pearl,” Ellis says, tracing the musty bark with his finger.

  “There’s murder and dishonesty and laziness and liars.” I look right at him, because I know he can’t deny it. He’s been there. I know he’s seen it all.

  “It’s not all like that. Only bits of it.”

  “You know they poison the water, don’t you?” I ask. I don’t want to scare him, but if he doesn’t know then I must warn him. “Papa S. has been to meetings with people
in the government. They put viruses into the water, to make people sick.”

  “Why would they do that?” Ellis laughs, but he’s not happy.

  “They’re bad people, Ellis, the ones who run the country. They think they can take Nature into their own hands.”

  “Right,” Ellis says. “And I suppose you believe in the bogeyman?”

  “Who’s he?” Why is he being like this? I’m only trying to help him.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “But what does matter is that you shouldn’t believe everything you’re told.”

  “What about the floods?” I say.

  “What floods?” Ellis asks.

  “The floods that are taking over miles of land. They’re Nature’s revenge.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. Nature will destroy everything, apart from Seed,” I say.

  Ellis is smiling at me. Is he happy that he will be safe, or is he mocking me? “And Papa S. told you all of this?”

  “He knows it all.”

  “Bit of luck I’m here, then,” Ellis says.

  “Yes,” I say and I smile at him. He isn’t laughing at me now. He understands.

  “Will you kiss me, Pearl?” he asks.

  The question stops my breath.

  “No,” I say. But I know it’s not really what I want to say. I look over to the house, behind the trees in the orchard.

  “Ever?” Ellis asks. He’s looking at me so intently that I feel I might fall.

  “No,” I say. But inside, my stomach shoots through with a feeling so strong that I don’t move, in case I never have it again.

  “You will,” he says. Then he grabs a branch and swings himself down, landing on the grass below.

  As he walks away, he looks back at me, just once.

  And me? I sit in the apple tree, his words and my thoughts taking me to a red place I know I shouldn’t go. But I do go there. Step by step, with my eyes closed and with burning feet, I go there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I’m in the greenhouse, hidden in the corner. I’m sure Jack won’t find me here. I smell the cooped-up air, with its memory of tomato leaves. It’s mostly cucumbers in here now, and I crouch among the plants. I can no longer hear Jack counting in the distance. We’ve scattered far and it will take him ages to find us.