Peter. ‘Don’t talk about escape,’ she said agitatedly. ‘Why can’t you just accept things? Why can’t you just be my friend here, in Grange Hall?’
‘Because we don’t have much time,’ Peter said, his voice beginning to fade. ‘We don’t have for ever, Anna. Not like the rest of them. We need to get out, before it’s too late.’
Anna stared at the cold, metal door separating her and Peter, and shook her head silently. ‘Too late for what?’ she wanted to ask. ‘What does time matter when every moment is stolen anyway?’
But instead, she stood up and briefly pressed her hand against the door, before forcing her frozen legs to carry her silently back up to her stark, grey dormitory.
The next day, when Anna woke up, her night-time visit felt rather like a dream, like an unreal vision that might even have happened to someone else. There was nothing like the chill of the morning air on your body and the knowledge that you had five minutes to get to breakfast fully dressed to put a bit of perspective on things, she thought to herself, as she pulled on her overalls and regulation knee-length socks. Nothing like the threat of a beating to get rid of dangerous thoughts and expose them for the deceptions they were. She felt guilty now, embarrassed and fearful that someone might have seen her creeping down to Solitary in the middle of the night. She couldn’t believe how reckless she’d been, couldn’t believe she’d actually told Peter she’d do it again that evening too.
Silently, she led the other Pending girls out of the dormitory and down towards Central Feeding for breakfast, single file as always. As they approached the hall, she stopped them, and inspected their appearance quickly, telling one to pull up her socks properly and another to straighten her hair. Then her eyes were drawn to Sheila’s overalls, and she frowned.
Sheila had never really fitted in at Grange Hall, had never really been able to adjust to institutional living. And she wasn’t any good at anything either – everything she touched, whether cooking or cleaning or mending, seemed to go wrong and she would look at it helplessly, as if she couldn’t understand how she’d ended up with a lopsided pie or the wrong stitch or a floor that was still covered in grease marks. Anna had tried to teach her at first, making her do her work over and over until it was right, but lately she’d begun to cover up for her instead, unable to bear Sheila’s haunted expression and ever-present bruises.
Right now, however, Anna wasn’t in the mood for Sheila’s inadequacies. This was just the excuse she needed to reaffirm her authority – over the Surpluses in her charge, over herself. There was a button hanging off Sheila’s overalls, and everyone knew that overalls had to be kept in good repair at all times.
‘You’ve got a loose button,’ she said sharply. ‘Go and fix it. You can’t go into Central Feeding looking like that.’
‘I’m sorry Anna, I didn’t notice,’ Sheila said quietly. The bruises on her face were now a deep purple colour, and Anna could hardly bear to look at them. ‘Can I eat first and sew it on later?’
Anna met her eyes and for a brief second, she considered agreeing to Sheila’s request; breakfast was the biggest meal of the day where big vats of porridge sat at the top of the hall so that everyone could have at least two helpings. Sheila was thin enough already; a missed meal would make her hollow cheeks positively skeletal.
But then she shook herself. Narrowing her eyes, she looked down at Sheila.
‘Do it now,’ she snapped. ‘If you miss breakfast, that’s your own fault. I will not have you let down my dormitory.’
Sheila stared at her silently, then turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Anna feeling a welcome sense of control. Order was good, she told herself firmly as she approached the vats of porridge. Rules were there to be followed.
But whilst Anna told herself she was
‘Because we don’t have much time,’ Peter said, his voice beginning to fade. ‘We don’t have for ever, Anna. Not like the rest of them. We need to get out, before it’s too late.’
Anna stared at the cold, metal door separating her and Peter, and shook her head silently. ‘Too late for what?’ she wanted to ask. ‘What does time matter when every moment is stolen anyway?’
But instead, she stood up and briefly pressed her hand against the door, before forcing her frozen legs to carry her silently back up to her stark, grey dormitory.
The next day, when Anna woke up, her night-time visit felt rather like a dream, like an unreal vision that might even have happened to someone else. There was nothing like the chill of the morning air on your body and the knowledge that you had five minutes to get to breakfast fully dressed to put a bit of perspective on things, she thought to herself, as she pulled on her overalls and regulation knee-length socks. Nothing like the threat of a beating to get rid of dangerous thoughts and expose them for the deceptions they were. She felt guilty now, embarrassed and fearful that someone might have seen her creeping down to Solitary in the middle of the night. She couldn’t believe how reckless she’d been, couldn’t believe she’d actually told Peter she’d do it again that evening too.
Silently, she led the other Pending girls out of the dormitory and down towards Central Feeding for breakfast, single file as always. As they approached the hall, she stopped them, and inspected their appearance quickly, telling one to pull up her socks properly and another to straighten her hair. Then her eyes were drawn to Sheila’s overalls, and she frowned.
Sheila had never really fitted in at Grange Hall, had never really been able to adjust to institutional living. And she wasn’t any good at anything either – everything she touched, whether cooking or cleaning or mending, seemed to go wrong and she would look at it helplessly, as if she couldn’t understand how she’d ended up with a lopsided pie or the wrong stitch or a floor that was still covered in grease marks. Anna had tried to teach her at first, making her do her work over and over until it was right, but lately she’d begun to cover up for her instead, unable to bear Sheila’s haunted expression and ever-present bruises.
Right now, however, Anna wasn’t in the mood for Sheila’s inadequacies. This was just the excuse she needed to reaffirm her authority – over the Surpluses in her charge, over herself. There was a button hanging off Sheila’s overalls, and everyone knew that overalls had to be kept in good repair at all times.
‘You’ve got a loose button,’ she said sharply. ‘Go and fix it. You can’t go into Central Feeding looking like that.’
‘I’m sorry Anna, I didn’t notice,’ Sheila said quietly. The bruises on her face were now a deep purple colour, and Anna could hardly bear to look at them. ‘Can I eat first and sew it on later?’
Anna met her eyes and for a brief second, she considered agreeing to Sheila’s request; breakfast was the biggest meal of the day where big vats of porridge sat at the top of the hall so that everyone could have at least two helpings. Sheila was thin enough already; a missed meal would make her hollow cheeks positively skeletal.
But then she shook herself. Narrowing her eyes, she looked down at Sheila.
‘Do it now,’ she snapped. ‘If you miss breakfast, that’s your own fault. I will not have you let down my dormitory.’
Sheila stared at her silently, then turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Anna feeling a welcome sense of control. Order was good, she told herself firmly as she approached the vats of porridge. Rules were there to be followed.
But whilst Anna told herself she was
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