yesterday.”
“She can come over anytime she wants. You don’t need an invitation, Cathy.”
He noticed then that Cathy’s feet were bare, her legs were bare, her skirt short even though the house was cold, conserving energy. Her top was thin, you could see the outline of her bra through it. When she felt Alec’s glance on her, she moved her shoulders back, making the most of what little she had as if it was automatic, sensing that a guy sat at her parents’ table, whatever the outward appearance. “I can help babysit.” She flicked her hair, head slightly tilted. “Or whatever.”
“There’s always place for you at our house, kiddo. No payback.”
Cathy didn’t answer; she was looking at her dad stir his tea. Forming words had become too hard for both of them.
After a pause, her mother said, “Thank you. As long as she keeps up with her school work.”
“I guess the kids can study together,” Alec said. “Josh is a good kid. He’s doing all right.”
“One can’t let grades slip. People who do well do well.”
Cathy nodded, the familiar phrase a steel rod along her spine, allowing her to shift away from the wall as though she could now stay vertical without it holding her up, moving to stand beside her father’s chair.
“Thank God I still have you.” Rick looked up at his daughter.
“You always have me, Daddy.” She leaned toward him and his arm went around her waist. He put his cup to his lips, took a swallow, then grimaced. “Too sweet.”
“I’ll be heading out unless there’s something else I can do here,” Alec said. It had been a long day and even he was tired, the headache getting worse. As soon as he got the car back to Eleanor’s, someone else would have to come forward.
“We’re fine. Thank you for everything,” Debra said.
Cathy was washing the cup in the sink as Alec said goodbye, her hair twisted up and out of the way, held in a knot with a wooden chopstick. Her back was straight, her feet turned out, her elbows oddly bruised.
INSIDE
It was dark and the inside children cried from the cold, but the Overseer was deaf to their whining and indifferent to the chill. The sub-basement was big enough to contain them and the basement just as big, though it felt too small for him as he paced in the darkness. He wasn’t afraid. Only someone weak would be afraid of his enemy or his last resort. Peopleaverted their eyes from death, believing they knew how it had come when they had barely perceived its outline. How could they appreciate its power, its drive and its cunning? The girl who died had stolen herself from her parents. She could not endure; that showed weakness. She had used a weapon, which took strength. But if she was strong, why did she desert her family? Family is all, it is everything, the one place where you have a place.
He paced and he asked himself these things. It was all he could do because the Housekeeper had blocked his way. He was confined and his nostrils narrowed at the stink of it. This was his: a floor of cold earth and walls of stone, which were wet from the sewage that seeped in. And the darkness, it was his, too. From here he sent out his punishers; he made sure that crying children stayed below. He had his means and ways, his keys and his locks. Order had to be maintained. The rules were simple:
1. Obey.
Do what you were taught. Do it right. Do it quick
.
2. Do not speak to strangers.
They are not your family, not your father, mother, brothers, and not your uncles who were given the title because they are as good as family
.
3. There are no second chances.
Do what you were taught. Do it right. Do it quick
.
Of course children would be tested. How else could anyone discover their strength? The harder the test, thegreater the honour to be won. He understood that, unlike those inside children with their whining and crying over every little thing. He pictured them coming forward—running madly, switching uncontrollably, endlessly weeping loud and
“She can come over anytime she wants. You don’t need an invitation, Cathy.”
He noticed then that Cathy’s feet were bare, her legs were bare, her skirt short even though the house was cold, conserving energy. Her top was thin, you could see the outline of her bra through it. When she felt Alec’s glance on her, she moved her shoulders back, making the most of what little she had as if it was automatic, sensing that a guy sat at her parents’ table, whatever the outward appearance. “I can help babysit.” She flicked her hair, head slightly tilted. “Or whatever.”
“There’s always place for you at our house, kiddo. No payback.”
Cathy didn’t answer; she was looking at her dad stir his tea. Forming words had become too hard for both of them.
After a pause, her mother said, “Thank you. As long as she keeps up with her school work.”
“I guess the kids can study together,” Alec said. “Josh is a good kid. He’s doing all right.”
“One can’t let grades slip. People who do well do well.”
Cathy nodded, the familiar phrase a steel rod along her spine, allowing her to shift away from the wall as though she could now stay vertical without it holding her up, moving to stand beside her father’s chair.
“Thank God I still have you.” Rick looked up at his daughter.
“You always have me, Daddy.” She leaned toward him and his arm went around her waist. He put his cup to his lips, took a swallow, then grimaced. “Too sweet.”
“I’ll be heading out unless there’s something else I can do here,” Alec said. It had been a long day and even he was tired, the headache getting worse. As soon as he got the car back to Eleanor’s, someone else would have to come forward.
“We’re fine. Thank you for everything,” Debra said.
Cathy was washing the cup in the sink as Alec said goodbye, her hair twisted up and out of the way, held in a knot with a wooden chopstick. Her back was straight, her feet turned out, her elbows oddly bruised.
INSIDE
It was dark and the inside children cried from the cold, but the Overseer was deaf to their whining and indifferent to the chill. The sub-basement was big enough to contain them and the basement just as big, though it felt too small for him as he paced in the darkness. He wasn’t afraid. Only someone weak would be afraid of his enemy or his last resort. Peopleaverted their eyes from death, believing they knew how it had come when they had barely perceived its outline. How could they appreciate its power, its drive and its cunning? The girl who died had stolen herself from her parents. She could not endure; that showed weakness. She had used a weapon, which took strength. But if she was strong, why did she desert her family? Family is all, it is everything, the one place where you have a place.
He paced and he asked himself these things. It was all he could do because the Housekeeper had blocked his way. He was confined and his nostrils narrowed at the stink of it. This was his: a floor of cold earth and walls of stone, which were wet from the sewage that seeped in. And the darkness, it was his, too. From here he sent out his punishers; he made sure that crying children stayed below. He had his means and ways, his keys and his locks. Order had to be maintained. The rules were simple:
1. Obey.
Do what you were taught. Do it right. Do it quick
.
2. Do not speak to strangers.
They are not your family, not your father, mother, brothers, and not your uncles who were given the title because they are as good as family
.
3. There are no second chances.
Do what you were taught. Do it right. Do it quick
.
Of course children would be tested. How else could anyone discover their strength? The harder the test, thegreater the honour to be won. He understood that, unlike those inside children with their whining and crying over every little thing. He pictured them coming forward—running madly, switching uncontrollably, endlessly weeping loud and
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