Dark Lullaby by Polly Ho-Yen (ready to read books .txt) 📕

stop again. I pass a sign for a town that has been decommissioned; the name has been spray-painted over. Roadblocks sealing off the exit squat on the tarmac. The redistribution of the population was met with some opposition but the custodians pushed it through with the simple fact that the country could not support so many areas of residence.

I can’t ignore any longer the dense weight of the milk building in my breasts and stop at the next charging station I come to. In the toilets, I knead them until the dripping milk turns to fine jets. I am bovine, I am plentiful. My breath steadies as the pressure releases and fades, releases and fades. It feels like a heartbeat. I only stop when there’s give in my breasts again, when I’ve turned them once more to jelly. I am empty again.

Then I stand in front of the Spheres as everyone else passes me by. They pay the orbs no attention; it’s as if they do not see them. There’re stories about the new, consolidated townships in the North, an interview with Theon Brand, the current leader of the custodians that has been edited heavily so he sounds like he could be talking about anything.

An older couple walking past me start to mutter something about what Brand is saying but then they notice me standing there and fall silent.

My head jerks when I see the faces of children fill the domed screen, but it’s just an OSIP film, another one about reformed outs and the children they now have living together in something resembling a commune.

I turn away.

THEN

The first time I found a list from Marie under my door, I had trouble reading it. I deciphered ‘nappies’, ‘detergent’ and what I decided in the end was ‘dinner’, but this was the start of only more questions. What size of nappies were needed and was a special detergent needed for baby clothes? I strained to remember Evie mentioning something about it. And dinner – I did not know if there was anything that they didn’t especially like, if they were vegetarian – but surely Marie would have mentioned it?

After taking too long at the shops deciding to buy a range of nappy sizes and reading the backs of detergent bottles, I had to rush to get back for midday. This time, I could hear Tia through the door, not crying but making babbling hums and the sound of Marie’s voice, coaxing and low.

I knocked and pushed the strands of hair from my sweaty face, trying to appear more presentable than I felt. Marie suddenly fell silent.

‘It’s me,’ I said. I corrected myself: ‘It’s Kit. I’ve brought the shopping.’

For a moment I wondered if Marie might tell me to leave it outside but then the lock scraped and she pulled the door open.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Here you go.’ I passed the bags over. Her eyes widened a little when she saw how many there were.

‘I wasn’t sure what to get exactly and so I brought you a few options,’ I said in way of explanation.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you the size of nappy… or anything, did I?’ she said, peering into one of the bags. ‘And, pizza? And chicken, salad? I don’t even remember writing any of this down. I’m so tired, but how could I forget that?’

‘For dinner?’ I ventured. ‘I had to take a bit of a punt on what you would like but most people like chicken. I got pizza as well in case you were vegetarian. Unless – well, you don’t – sorry, I can get something else. I had to guess…’

Marie took the crumpled list that I held out. She read it and then she began to laugh. The laughter rose up in her chest and she started to wheeze from the exertion, reminding me of an accordion being squeezed.

‘Olives!’ she managed to say at last, when she could speak again. ‘I meant to write olives. But you’re right, it does read like I was asking you to get dinner for us. I’m sorry. I must give you some money for all this.’

‘No, there’s no need – Leo gave me some to cover it already.’

‘Really? Well, thank you. This will keep us going.’

Just then, Tia gave a slightly louder gurgle, as though she were in agreement.

‘How is she?’ I asked.

Marie gave a tiny smile at her daughter.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked, but then her forehead furrowed a little. I wasn’t entirely sure if she regretted asking as soon as she had said it.

‘Um, well, maybe – just for a moment.’

We peered over at Tia on her playmat. She was kicking her legs now and again, concentration etched into her face.

‘We’re having a good day,’ Marie said quietly and then she leant into her daughter and brushed her fingers against the downy soft of her cheek. She said again, ‘We’re having a good day, aren’t we, my little love?’

Tia’s face relaxed at the sound of her mother’s voice and, as she felt her touch, she seemed to smile and look towards her.

‘She’s smiling!’ I said.

‘Oh no, I think that she’s too young to smile. It’s probably wind or something,’ Marie said quickly.

‘No, it was when you spoke to her and touched her face, just then, I’m sure of it.’

‘Do you think so?’

Marie spoke to Tia again: ‘Are you smiling, little one?’ she asked. ‘Have you learnt how to smile?’ She reached for her cheek again and this time there was no denying it – Tia’s face blossomed into a wonky little grin that lit up and was reflected back to her in Marie.

‘She did!’ Marie said. ‘She did smile, you’re right! Clever girl, aren’t you, you little smiler.’ She leant into Tia again until they were nose to nose. ‘She did it again!’ Marie looked up at me, any trace of worry and doubt she had before had gone.

I let myself out shortly after that and forced myself to continue working