‘Ok,’ says Riley. Then, in a rush, ‘I feel like that about Oliver. He has to be happy. It has to be better for him.’
Noon takes her hand and even though Riley isn’t so good with touch, she holds Noon’s hand hard for a moment.
‘When did you come here?’ Riley asks. ‘Where were you before Nowhere?’ She wants to say,what were you running from?But she’s not sure she wants to know. And there’s no need. She can see in Noon’s long look that she understands what Riley means.
Noon looks back out at the lake where somewhere beneath the surface the crocodile is swimming with its prize in its jaws.
‘I didn’t think he’d live long,’ Noon says. ‘He’s so far from home, in a strange place, his owner gone. I could tell he was scared. Sometimes things can get too scared to stay alive. But he found a way. He was cold and hurt and he got burnt in the fire, but he lived. It’s harder than it looks, living.’ She looks at Riley closely. ‘You don’t like him,’ she says. ‘I thought you might like him.’ Noon looks suddenly sad and also a little sulky. Riley can’t help but laugh.
‘I might grow to like him,’ she offers.
Noon takes Riley’s hand. ‘You’re safe here, Riley. I want you to know that. You and your brother. Nothing bad will happen to you here.’
Noon throws the rope ladder back down the tree trunk. ‘Tonight you’ll see worship.’
‘Worship?’ Riley asks. Misery and cold rush back in. Thoughts of Cousin. It seemed for a moment or two she could be free here at Nowhere.But all places and people are the same in the end, aren’t they, she thinks. And everywhere, in the end, there’s the old man in the sky.
‘No,’ Riley says.
Noon turns at the top of the ladder and stares. ‘What did you say to me?’ she asks softly.
‘I won’t worship,’ Riley says. ‘There’s no god. No one is helping us. No one cares. I won’t pretend. You can’t make me.’
Noon smiles a little. ‘It’s not like that,’ she says. ‘You’ll see.’
Oliver is just stirring as Riley closes the stall door behind her. ‘Hey, Oliver Olive. Breakfast.’
He looks at her with mistrust, remembering the pain of yesterday. But the sight of food wins out like it almost always does with hungry people.
Riley changes the dressing. The wound looks pale and dry. She thinks that’s a good thing. She smudges butter over the bread, squashing the little square into softness through the foil then spreading it gently.
‘Don’t let it …’
‘Don’t worry,’ she soothes. ‘I’ll be careful.’ Oliver doesn’t like it when the soft bread tears. You’d think being half starved for months on end would make him less fussy. But when everything else has been taken away only the small things are left. Riley watches him eat a handful of tiny strawberries. He likes those – forgets to be mad at her for a moment, because they’re little toy strawberries. Kids like small things because so much of the world is too big for them. It’s nice for Oliver to feel like the giant for once.
She wonders if there are too many kids here at Nowhere. Kids aren’t that useful, they don’t work but still have to be fed. If there are too many kids maybe there won’t be room at Nowhere for Riley and Oliver.
What they need is for a space to open up. Riley cuts that thought off, stops it dead.
Midnight leans over the stall door. ‘Time to work.’ Her baby peeks out of the swaddle at her chest.
Riley gets up quickly. ‘Ready.’Prove your worth.
The baby smiles at Riley as she opens the stall door and she nods at it in surprise. It is cute, she supposes. She’s not really into babies or children. She loves Oliver but that’s because he’s Oliver.
Midnight takes a step back. ‘Don’t touch any of the kids here, ok? Keep your distance.’
‘I wasn’t going to,’ Riley says.
‘It’s just they’ve grown up here, their immune systems aren’t prepared for all the stuff you guys probably brought in.’ Midnight turns away, shielding the baby from Riley.
‘Whatever,’ Riley says, stung. She doesn’t want to touch the gross baby anyway.
There are two smaller barns behind Home. Both are full of activity. One seems to be for vegetables – preparing them, preserving them. At each table someone is doing something useful. Riley takes Oliver’s arm to help him across the grass. Midnight takes his other arm gently and Riley reluctantly likes her for that. It’s weird how the bodies of the people you love can feel like your own, if they’re hurt. Riley feels a slice of pain every time Oliver winces.
Outside the low barn she puts him in front of a big basket of potatoes. ‘Can you peel?’ Oliver nods and Midnight gives him a potato peeler. ‘Not going to cut your hand off or anything like that?’
‘No,’ Oliver says. ‘I know how to peel a potato. Riley taught me.’
