A Small Free Kiss in the Dark by Glenda Millard Page B

caught the train, except we didn’t have to pay. There wasn’t much to choose from because the store had been looted, like any others that weren’t flattened or burnt out. You could tell which people were already scared of running out of food. They were the ones who took as much as they could carry, instead of only what they needed. Most of the things we got were in cans with the labels burnt off. We knew sardines because they were in flat tins, and we got muesli bars that were only a bit melted because they were in foil packs.
    We put our shopping in Billy’s backpack, crossed the road and walked downstairs to Platform One. It was dark and cold underground, but there were fires burning and people cooking on them. It was ages since we’d had anything hot to eat, and whatever was cooking smelt delicious. I didn’t know I’d started walking slow until Billy called out. ‘It’s rats,’ he said, then he laughed.
    The subway people had lived underground for a long time, not just since the war came. They lived in tunnels where the trains didn’t go any more. There were old people and young ones and even little children. Some were musicians and others were dancers, jugglers or fire-eaters. I saw the guy with the barbed-wire tattoo, who drew pictures in the mall, and Billy spoke to some of the others as we walked by.
    We decided not to go in a VFT, which stands for Very Fast Train, because we wanted to enjoy the scenery, and everything goes past in a blur when you’re on a VFT. There were people already in some of the carriages. We walked to the locomotive, where the engine-driver sits, and Billy slid his pocketknife in a crack and made the door come open. We let Max drive. I looked out the windows and saw white cows with black spots. When we got to the tunnel, Billy lifted Max up so he could pull the lever that sounded the whistle. We got out at the station near Gulliver’s Meadows. Billy opened all the tins and we found we had yellow peaches set in jelly, dog food, beetroot and some sweet, sticky stuff called condensed milk. I thought about Pablo Picasso’s dog, when we opened the dog food, and wished I could have saved it until I got a dog of my own. We sat in a paddock full of green grass and ate the peaches and the beautiful silver sardines, and dipped our fingers in the condensed milk and licked them, and then I drew some cows on the platform for Max and a sausage dog for me, before we caught the train home again.
    I never had anyone to pretend with before. My dad never pretended. Even though I only did it for Max, our make-believe train ride had been fun. It stopped me wondering about things like weapons of max destruction and where we were going to sleep and why Max’s mother hadn’t come and what would happen to us all next.
    We followed Billy down to the guard’s van. ‘We’ll sleep in here tonight,’ he said.
    Max looked up at him. ‘Aren’t we going to the library?’
    ‘It’s too dark to go back now,’ Billy said.
    Max looked at me and I felt bad. I’d told him we were only coming for a visit, but deep down I’d guessed that this was what Billy would do. I got myself ready for Max to throw another tantrum, but he looked at his mittens for a while and nothing happened. I guessed he was thinking about what Cecily said. I took the books out of my suitcase and Billy and me made a bed in it for Max, and zipped the cover up halfway so he could breathe and keep warm at the same time. I lay down on the bench beside him and Billy sat in a corner with his back against the wall. I closed my eyes and thought about the four storeys of books that we’d left behind, and wondered how many pages that would be and how many paragraphs and sentences and words and letters.
    It was quiet in the guard’s van except for the faraway stutter of machine-gun fire, but after a while something made me think Max was crying. I reached out in the dark and took the handle of my suitcase on wheels and I rocked it backwards and