Red Queen by Honey Brown Page B

and switched the interior fluoros on; they flicked and zapped to life and Denny stepped inside.
    ‘My God,’ she said.
    We gave her a moment. Rohan was the first to go in and break her trance.
    ‘Give me the keys,’ he said.
    ‘Rohan,’ she said, as if he’d performed a miracle, ‘it’s full.’
    And it was. The only space was a tight strip down the centre, which you had to walk down sidewards; the sides were filled with deep shelves and the shelves were stacked and tightly packed with cans of food and large plastic boxes filled with freeze-dried packets and tetra packs, long-life cartons, first-aid kits and medicine, more clothes and boots and knives and ammunition. There were airtight containers full of blocks of chocolate, Nutella, honey, Vegemite, peanut butter, salt, tea and coffee, dried milk, herbs and spices. There were bags of flour, rice and sugar, dried yeast, blocks of lard, and big tins of oil. Up high were more blankets and behind them litre bottles of bourbon and whisky, and casks of wine. Most things were within other containers and couldn’t be seen; what was most visible were the cans of food, the rows and rows of soups, stews, desserts, beans, tuna, the stacks of sardines, oysters and mussels. Denny bent her head to read the different labels.
    I watched from the door and Rohan checked for signs of damp up the back of the shelves. Denny’s eyes roamed up to the roof, where there were new axes, crowbars and shovels attached to the beams.
    ‘This is amazing,’ she said. ‘Nothing like I thought. I was expecting a stockpile of baked beans and spaghetti – but this?’
    Rohan pointed behind her. ‘You might wanna give the back wall a shove then.’
    She looked past him at me; I hadn’t told her there were three containers, two making a big open room at the back, mainly because I wanted to see the look of surprise she gave me right now. Her excitement travelled to me; I walked in and craned over Rohan’s shoulder to try to see her face as she put both hands on the steel panel and pushed. It swung open.
    ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ she said, and Rohan and I both laughed.
    We ducked low and followed her in. Most of the floor space was taken up with supplies, so we stood close together. There was a potbelly stove and bags of coal in one corner, and in amongst the wooden boxes of food and equipment there were camp beds and swags and lamps. The food in here was more of the same, but in bigger quantities, and Denny was slowly turning, taking it in. We watched her face. She looked at us and grinned.
    ‘Clever boys,’ she said.
    ‘No,’ Rohan said, ‘this is all Dad.’
    Denny looked upwards. ‘Thank you, Robin Scott.’
    It was strange hearing her speak his name, and saying something I’d never uttered. I had the sudden belief that Dad would like Denny, like her very much; even if he knew what his two boys did with her at night. When I looked at Rohan his eyes were fixed on her face and his mouth twisted in an attempt to hide his pleasure.
    Denny shook her head. ‘This is too much. There’s so much here. Years worth, more. You can’t let people know it’s here – you’ve got to keep this a secret. It’s amazing to see, but at the same time, straight away, what’s clear is the importance of protecting it. This can’t be shared. The wrong people would go through it in no time. This can’t be shared.’
    ‘Yes, Denny,’ Rohan said. ‘Thanks for that.’
    She carried on, deep in thought, looking around as she spoke. ‘I had no idea there would be this much. You only get an idea of the importance of it once you see it. It changes everything – there’d be no need to risk going back until everything had settled. You’re right, both of you, to want to have kept this to yourselves – I absolutely agree. Too many and it’s nothing, but just a few …’ Her eyes lifted briefly to us.
    ‘What?’ Rohan said.
    ‘I can’t believe it, that’s all. And you do so well not to waste