Play Dead Read Free

cradle children seem to be preparing the ground for later revenges. Deborah saw their approach and knew what it meant. The delayed scream erupted.
    She stood stock still, firmly in the centre of the imaginary limelight, clinging to the tortoise like a soprano to her lover who has been called to distant wars, letting the sound come. Nell and Nelson halted, but Toby rose and gazed at her in wonder. Slowly he lifted his hand, extended his forefinger and inserted it into Deborah’s mouth. The note modulated from C to D flat, then returned to C as he withdrew his finger. His movements were characteristically decisive but gentle and Deborah, rapt in the ecstasy of her scream, appeared not to notice. He repeated the experiment, this time as she drew breath. She found his finger in her mouth and pushed it away.
    â€˜More,’ he said.
    Her mouth was still open but no sound came. She actually seemed unsure of herself. Perhaps it was beyond her experience that anyone should ask her to scream.
    â€˜More,’ he said again, but she seemed to have forgotten the cause of her outrage. To show her what he wanted he let out a hoot and varied it by putting his open palm over his mouth and moving it away, a trick Hugo had taught him some months ago. She copied him, no longer screaming, nor hooting like him, but singing a definite note, something Poppy hadn’t heard other children at that age do. Nell took the chance to ease the tortoise from her grasp. Poppy made the introductions.
    Poppy both admired and liked Nell. She admired her for the way she faced the world, her courage in her principles, her sureness of purpose. She lived in a squat. Greenham had been a second home to her. At some point she’d spent a month in Holloway following a destructive break-in at another American base. She joined protests, stood on picket lines, and so on. From chat among the other girls Poppy had gathered that Nell had deliberately decided she needed a child to fulfil her femininity, and had equally deliberately chosen a black friend to be the father. Nothing else was known about him. He clearly didn’t live with her and she never mentioned him, or referred to Nelson even having a father. It all sounded egocentric, cold-blooded, almost ruthless, but despite those adverse aspects of the modern zodiac, the act of childbirth had triggered the primeval necessary responses. When she was with Nelson every line of her body expressed her love, her intelligent, aware absorption in her son and his needs and nature. That was why Poppy liked her.
    Nelson crooned to the tortoise. The three adults watched Deborah and Toby’s game.
    â€˜Ah, isn’t that lovely?’ said Peony. ‘She doesn’t get on with other children the way she should, always. Mrs Capstone said try here, ’stead of Holland Park where we used to go.’
    â€˜Mrs Capstone?’ said Nell, sharply.
    â€˜â€™Sright,’ said Peony, inexplicably defensive.
    The social temperature had plummeted. This was clearly not the time to ask either of them about Deborah’s mother. In a moment Nell would take Nelson back to the other side of the room, and Poppy couldn’t decently abandon Peony and go with her.
    â€˜How’s things at the commune?’ she said, trying to prolong the contact.
    â€˜They’re going to close it down.’
    â€˜Who are?
    â€˜The Council, looks like. You’ll read about it in the papers when it happens.’
    â€˜What’ll you do? Have you got anywhere else to live?’
    â€˜I’ll find something. It’s different from before I had Nelson. I lived under plastic bags sometimes then. Hi, Sue.’
    â€˜About dinner tomorrow,’ said Little Sue, who had appeared beside Poppy’s shoulder. ‘I’ve got Mrs Ogham-Ferrars staying—she’s Pete’s gran—and she’s having some friends in, so you best not come through the house. I’ll see the door’s open into the