Stealing Time by Rebecca Bowyer (acx book reading .txt) 📕

had stopped, hiswarmth starting to fade in the cold, cold room. And still they senther a bill for the ambulance.

Marisa knew what life was like for the womenin this apartment block. After working twelve-hour days, five daysa week, they would come home to feed and care for theirchild—bathing them, putting them to bed, washing their clothes andpreparing for the next day. It was hard to find any time to spendwith them that wasn’t overshadowed by complete exhaustion.

The time tabs helped a little. For some itmeant being able to have a four-hour nap as soon as they got homeand waking up more refreshed and able to actually enjoy spendingtime with their child. For others it meant four hours of time onthe weekend to spend studying for a new qualification, one thatwould lead to a higher-paying job and allow them to leave theshelter and rent a better home, one far away from the perpetratorwho sent them running for shelter in the first place. A homewithout bars on the windows.

Tina peered over her glasses at the numberson the screen and picked up a screen from behind the desk to holdit up in front of Marisa’s. It buzzed: transaction completed. Tinanodded towards an empty space over Marisa’s shoulder.

“Rec room’s cleared if you want to use thattoday. They know you’re coming.”

Marisa put her screen away and headed intothe room behind her. The bare walls and bright orange plasticmoulded chairs made a stark contrast to her sales platform the dayprior. In one corner sat smaller chairs and tables, faded reds andblues with assorted cups full of pencils, worn down inconsistently.Someone had tried to cheer up the room by tacking children’sdrawings to the wall. Sunshine and aliens seemed to be the mainthemes. Marisa smiled and sat down in one of the less cracked adultchairs. They were clean, at least. Shelters like this used toreceive government funding, before, when gender equality was afocus. Now everybody assumed gender inequity was a thing of thepast. The flavour of the month had moved on. Age equality was thenew focus. And yet still it was often the women who kept theirchild close when relationships broke down, even when violenceplayed no part.

Her customers drifted in one by one. Somebrought their son or daughter with them; some left them under theerratically watchful eye of older children upstairs. Marisa musedthat ‘customers’ wasn’t quite the right word. No payment was made,though goods were passed over.

Rosa used her time tabs to get some extrasleep after working four extra hours online while her child slept.The money paid for hearing aids for her daughter.

Maggie came with a gurgling baby on her hip.She used her tabs to get a solid four hours of sleep in betweennight feeds.

Lenny used hers to simply get some time toherself after putting her twins to bed. She told Marisa she’dstarted reading her way through a full set of Georgette Heyer’sclassic romance novels that she’d found at a second-hand shop.

Marisa snorted.

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” laughedLenny.

“You’ve not been a girl for a good couple ofdecades, Lenny,” Marisa observed as she handed over the plainmatchbox of tabs. “Just as long as you know they’re fiction.”

Lenny took the matchbox and opened itimmediately to stare greedily at the smooth, transparent slips. “Nochance of me looking for my own real-life version, love. I’vealready got two kids sleeping in bunks in the room next door. I’vegot no desire to share my own room with any breathing body, whetherit’s man-shaped or baby-shaped.”

Lenny closed the box and tapped it againsther palm twice before she stood up.

“Thank you. Hope to see you again nextmonth. May your time be plentiful.”

A grin creased the corners of Marisa’smouth. It was her own brand of social sabotage to implant the samephrase here, at the other end of town, when the idle socialitestwenty blocks away thought it was their own specially codedgreeting.

She smiled warmly at her. “You’re welcome.May your time be plentiful too.”

Her screen buzzed on the table next to her.A message from Varya: “Daniel safely returned and enclosed. Foodpackage for three tonight, please.”

“Oh, good. Wonderful.” Marisa pushed abreath out of her lungs that she seemed to have been holding sinceDaniel was taken. She peered into her tin box. Only two matchboxesleft.

“Nearly done here. Let me know what youneed next,” she tapped back.

“Meet me at apartment,” came theswift reply.

Marisa held up her palm in farewell to Tinain reception as she walked the same path she had an hourearlier.

“Hey, before you go, love…” Tina started,leaning forward onto the counter, and looking down the hallway andback to Marisa.

Marisa stopped and lowered her hand.

“I was just wondering whether you knewanything about these time thieves.” The last two words were spokenin a stage whisper.

“Only as much as anyone who watches thenews.”

Tina rubbed her thumbnail against the penshe held, making grating noises as she passed the raised brandletters each time.

“It’s just that, I mean, I don’t know if itmeans anything, but I was thinking.” She stopped and slotted thepen back in its stand so hard that the little strand of silverballs connecting the two rattled against the desk. “Nah, don’tworry. I’m wasting your time on gossip.”

Marisa inched closer to the desk and put herpalm down, a single finger reaching out to hold the strandstill.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, these past few weeks we’ve had twokids go missing, about four days apart. Violent dads, drug-addictedmothers. A six-year-old girl and an eight-year-old boy. Figuredthey’d done a runner, or the dad took ‘em. But now, I wonder if itisn’t tied up with this other stuff that’s been going on.”

Marisa frowned. “You reported it to thepolice?”

“’Course I did. They didn’t do much, took astatement from me, couldn’t rouse the mums. Not much to go on.Can’t blame them really.”

“And they never came back?”

“Nup. Haven’t seen nor heard from neither ofthem since.” She paused, expectantly. “So? What do you think?”

Marisa shook her head. “Sounds like what yousaid—runaways or fathers.”

Tina shrugged and sighed. “Ah well. I hopethey’re okay.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Chapter twenty-eight

“Why Ben?” Marisa stepped into the apartment pastVarya and turned to face her.

“Hello to you, too,” said Varya, closing