Lullaby Read Free Page B

trolley.
    ‘Tea, coffee, biscuit?’
    ‘I’d like a water,’ Maggie said.
    ‘Same, please.’
    The man poured two glasses of water. We both got a biscuit we hadn’t asked for. The
man moved slowly, like he had a pain in his shoulder. He smiled at us, longer at
me than at her. Maybe because I was the patient, or because he knew the whole story:
identical twins, orphans, one of them in a coma, an experiment. It’s the sort of
thing people talk about.
    ‘This biscuit is awful,’ Maggie said, when the door had closed again.
    ‘I like it.’
    ‘Excellent.’ She passed me hers.
    I put it in my mouth and explored the bite mark with my tongue.
    ‘What happened to you, once your parents had gone?’
    ‘There was money. And the house was paid for. We own it, really. Once we’re twenty,
it’ll…’
    I hope it never happens to you. I hope death never comes so unannounced. But if it
does, this is how it will be. Without warning, the smallest thought, the least consequential
sentence, will take your feet from under you, and you will fall, and keep on falling.
Your head will hurt, the world will go small and dark, and your eyes will fill with
water. Sometimes, you will vomit.
    Next thing, you’ll be on your knees, wiping dribble and bits of somebody else’s biscuit
from your chin, apologising for being disgusting, even though you both know you can’t
be held responsible.
    ‘No, please, it’s absolutely fine.’
    There was a spot, about as big as a thumbnail, on her skirt, and I was trying to
wipe it away with my sleeve. She was pulling back, but politely, careful not to push
me away. The pool on the floor between us spread. I remember it was mostly clear.
I hadn’t had much to eat, since I heard. Maggie stood.
    ‘I, I’ll get somebody. I won’t be a moment.’
    She hurried out and I finished her water. I considered leaving, but couldn’t think
of anywhere to go.
    The first few passes of the cleaner’s mop drew up most of the vomit: viscous, helpful
stuff. I watched her swirl it into the bucket, then pull the mop back through the
ringer. I remember thinking it was like a mathematics problem from school. The next
splash of the cleaning water must have been part vomit. There’s no escaping that
without a second bucket. And cleaners never have a second bucket. Slowly, one cycle
at a time, the floor and bucket vomit ratios were equalising. If the bucket contains
fifteen litres, and the vomit has a volume of 1200mL, and the mop on average transfers
400mL of liquid, write a differential equation to describe… I didn’t go that far,
but I was aware that part of the cleaner’s task was to spread my vomit over a wider
area.
    ‘But you weren’t left to live alone in your house,’ Maggie said, when the cleaning
was finished. ‘You were only twelve.’
    ‘Our auntie was in charge. Our uncle wanted to move in with us but there was a line
she wouldn’t live beyond, so many thousand kilometres from the equator. I can’t remember
the exact number, but we were on the wrong side of it. It was to do with mosquitoes.
She had a map, showing the progress of tropical diseases as the climate warmed. I
don’t know if it’s true, I don’t know that much about diseases. But we never saw
any mosquitoes near our house, and the people we knew died of normal stuff, and lightning.’
    Maggie didn’t smile. ‘So you think your auntie was using the mosquitoes as an excuse?’
    ‘No, I think she really believed it. She was that age, the generation that grew up
online and lost their perspective. I think she thought if she came to look after
us, ultimately a mosquito would kill her, and it would be her own fault for having
been so careless. So she hired a—we never knew what term to use—a nanny, an auntie
substitute, a Mrs Struthers. I guess my auntie didn’t worry quite as much about the
mosquito getting Mrs Struthers.’
    ‘Or you.’
    ‘We didn’t take it personally.’
    ‘What was Mrs Struthers like?’ Maggie asked.
    It