1
A DEATH IN THE FAMILY
Somebody was breathing in Zane Mahuta’s ear and stroking his face. That was nice. He was with a woman, apparently, in this dream. He rolled to his side and reached out a hand for her. Just in case she was real.
And got a hard poke in the shoulder. “Dad,” a trembling, anxious voice said.“Dad.”
He sat up with a start. “What? What’s happened?” Groping for the T-shirt he’d pulled off in the night, because he always slept extra-hot after a match. “Georgia?” He was coming out of it now, and looked at his watch. “It’s six in the morning. Is it an emergency?”
“Yes.”Her lower lip was trembling, her chin wobbling. “Gladys won’t wake up.”
He blinked. “Gladys? Who’s Gladys? Do you have a … a friend over?” When had he got in this morning? After two? It felt like he’d barely dropped off to sleep.
Wait. The friend was unconscious?Dead?He was out of bed fast.
“Daddy.”The chin-trembling had been replaced by outrage. “Itoldyou. Gladys is one of the rats!”
“One of the …” He sank back onto the bed again. “Oh. Did you tell Nan?”
“She isn’t awake yet.”
He looked at her sternly, or he tried to. Of all his kids, Georgia was the one he had the hardest time saying no to, possibly because she was the youngest and also the sweetest. Yes, he was a cliché. “What day is today?”
“Sunday.” Her eyes lowered, abashed, but she was still peeking at him through her lashes. He wished she wouldn’t do that.
“And what’s the rule on Sunday?”
“Not to disturb you, because you need to sleep after the match. Unless it’s an emergency, but itisan emergency.” She blinked her enormous brown eyes at him and wormed her hand into his. “And I got scared about the emergency, and you say that you will always help if something is too scary or if we’re in trouble.”
His body ached in a way that said, “Massage and the pool.” It also said, “Sleep.”
He ignored his body. Not the best decision for a rugby forward in his too-close-to-mid-thirties, but a man had to do what a man had to do. He threw the duvet back and surrendered to fate. “OK. Let’s go take a look.”
Well, yes. That was a very dead rat. A dead almost-white rat, to be precise, its body stretched rigid.A dead beige rat.
Well, notquitea beige rat, because the other rats were …
Georgia gasped. “They’re biting her! Daddy! They’rebitingher! Make them stop! They’re hurting her!Daddyyyyy!!!!” All of it wailed at the top of her lungs.
Running feet, and two figures in PJs burst into the room. Scarlett said, “What’s wrong? Georgia? What’s happened?”Taking charge, as Scarlett generally did, while eight-year-old Duncan took one look and grabbed Georgia, blocking her view.
Zane said, going for “calm-but-still-loud,” “Everything’s fine. Duncan, get Georgia out of here. I’ll take care of this.”
Scarlett said, “Holy Christ, Dad. Cannibalism. Gross.”
Zane said, “Yeh, thanks for that. And don’t swear. Duncan.Out.”
“It’s not—” Scarlett started to say, but Zane wasn’t listening.
Duncan aimed for the door, but the way was blocked by a silver-haired figure, looking regal as always in her red dressing gown. “Zane? What’s happening?”Nowshe woke up.
“I’m handling it,” he said. “Shut the door when you leave, would you? I’ll come talk to you in a minute, Georgia. Scarlett, go get a plastic bag.”
“There aren’t any plastic bags,” Scarlett said. “They don’t give them to you anymore at the supermarket. Didn’t you read about it? It’s because of the earth.”
“Fine,” Zane said. “Bring me some paper towels, then.”
“You’re also not supposed to use those,” Scarlett said. “They’re not recyclable. You’re meant to use cloths and tea towels instead. I told Nan, and she didn’t buy them last time. We’re trying it for an experiment. It’s more sustainable.”
