little call to Energy Watch, shall I? Maybe then you won’t find it so funny.’
‘I was just saying . . .’ the elderly woman started to say, but the auburn-haired woman wasn’t looking at her any more. Instead, she was looking directly at Anna, who blanched slightly.
‘And what have we got here?’ Everyone turned and stared at Anna, who now blushed deeply at the attention. ‘Only it’s not exactly what we need, is it? Here we are struggling to get by, hardworking people just trying to keep warm at night, and we get criminals bringing Surpluses into the world.’ She turned back to face Anna. ‘Proud of yourself, are you? Oh, I know you got your Legal status, didn’t you? Read about it in the papers like everyone else. Bet you know all about playing the system, young lady, don’t you? Probably think you’re terribly clever. But it’s we who suffer. I don’t suppose you worry about that, do you?’
‘No,’ Anna said carefully. ‘I don’t think I’m clever. But . . .’
‘That’s probably why I can’t get a Surplus housekeeper,’ another woman interrupted, ignoring her. ‘Making them all Legal, I expect. Four months I’ve been waiting. Four months and not a word from anyone.’
Anna shook her head. Was that what people really thought? ‘No, you’re wrong,’ she said anxiously. ‘They’re not making them Legal. They’re in Surplus Halls, working day and night to repay their parents’ sins. Even though their parents didn’t sin. Having children isn’t a sin. It isn’t . . .’
Her voice trailed off – she knew she’d gone too far, knew that what she’d just said could attract the attention of the police, the Authorities. But then she looked down at Ben who was beginning to stir and felt the familiar feeling of love, of tiger-like protectiveness. How could his existence ever be a sin?
‘Isn’t a sin?’ the auburn-haired woman shrieked, manoeuvring herself so that she blocked Anna’s path. ‘How dare you? You come here, flaunting that disgusting creature in public; you eat our food, use our energy, and you tell me that you think it’s perfectly OK?’
Anna stared at the woman in shock, then she felt her jaw set angrily. ‘He isn’t disgusting. He’s a baby. Surpluses didn’t ask to be born. And anyway, I’m Legal now. So’s Ben. Our parents died.’
She gripped the pram; her anger made her feel strong, stronger than she’d felt for months.
‘Oh, well that’s all right then,’ the woman said, her voice shaking with emotion. ‘Surpluses didn’t ask to be born, so it’s not their fault. Just like all those immigrants who didn’t ask to be smuggled in, I suppose.’
Anna shook her head; the woman’s face had gone pink, clashing horribly with her hair.
‘They think it’s a game, that all they have to do is get to this country and then they can eat our food, live in our houses, use our energy. And where does that leave us? Where does that leave our energy tariffs?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Anna said evenly. ‘You should ask the Authorities.’
‘Like they’d do anything,’ the woman snorted. ‘More border police, that’s what they’d say. But it isn’t working, is it? They still keep coming, every single day. It’s not our fault there are floods. It’s not our fault rivers are drying up. I’m sorry, but this is our country and they have to keep these people out.’
‘Absolutely,’ another voice suddenly said, a soothing, sensible voice. ‘I do hope that you get somewhere. You mustn’t stop fighting.’
The auburn-haired woman frowned. ‘No, I won’t,’ she said forcefully. ‘I’ve got my rights. We’ve all got rights and we need to stand up for them, not let these people get away with it. I got a leaflet the other day, pushed through my door, saying we’re stealing energy from countries in Africa . . .’
Anna felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘Perhaps now might be a good time to go?’ the soothing voice said, and Anna looked up to
‘I was just saying . . .’ the elderly woman started to say, but the auburn-haired woman wasn’t looking at her any more. Instead, she was looking directly at Anna, who blanched slightly.
‘And what have we got here?’ Everyone turned and stared at Anna, who now blushed deeply at the attention. ‘Only it’s not exactly what we need, is it? Here we are struggling to get by, hardworking people just trying to keep warm at night, and we get criminals bringing Surpluses into the world.’ She turned back to face Anna. ‘Proud of yourself, are you? Oh, I know you got your Legal status, didn’t you? Read about it in the papers like everyone else. Bet you know all about playing the system, young lady, don’t you? Probably think you’re terribly clever. But it’s we who suffer. I don’t suppose you worry about that, do you?’
‘No,’ Anna said carefully. ‘I don’t think I’m clever. But . . .’
‘That’s probably why I can’t get a Surplus housekeeper,’ another woman interrupted, ignoring her. ‘Making them all Legal, I expect. Four months I’ve been waiting. Four months and not a word from anyone.’
Anna shook her head. Was that what people really thought? ‘No, you’re wrong,’ she said anxiously. ‘They’re not making them Legal. They’re in Surplus Halls, working day and night to repay their parents’ sins. Even though their parents didn’t sin. Having children isn’t a sin. It isn’t . . .’
Her voice trailed off – she knew she’d gone too far, knew that what she’d just said could attract the attention of the police, the Authorities. But then she looked down at Ben who was beginning to stir and felt the familiar feeling of love, of tiger-like protectiveness. How could his existence ever be a sin?
‘Isn’t a sin?’ the auburn-haired woman shrieked, manoeuvring herself so that she blocked Anna’s path. ‘How dare you? You come here, flaunting that disgusting creature in public; you eat our food, use our energy, and you tell me that you think it’s perfectly OK?’
Anna stared at the woman in shock, then she felt her jaw set angrily. ‘He isn’t disgusting. He’s a baby. Surpluses didn’t ask to be born. And anyway, I’m Legal now. So’s Ben. Our parents died.’
She gripped the pram; her anger made her feel strong, stronger than she’d felt for months.
‘Oh, well that’s all right then,’ the woman said, her voice shaking with emotion. ‘Surpluses didn’t ask to be born, so it’s not their fault. Just like all those immigrants who didn’t ask to be smuggled in, I suppose.’
Anna shook her head; the woman’s face had gone pink, clashing horribly with her hair.
‘They think it’s a game, that all they have to do is get to this country and then they can eat our food, live in our houses, use our energy. And where does that leave us? Where does that leave our energy tariffs?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Anna said evenly. ‘You should ask the Authorities.’
‘Like they’d do anything,’ the woman snorted. ‘More border police, that’s what they’d say. But it isn’t working, is it? They still keep coming, every single day. It’s not our fault there are floods. It’s not our fault rivers are drying up. I’m sorry, but this is our country and they have to keep these people out.’
‘Absolutely,’ another voice suddenly said, a soothing, sensible voice. ‘I do hope that you get somewhere. You mustn’t stop fighting.’
The auburn-haired woman frowned. ‘No, I won’t,’ she said forcefully. ‘I’ve got my rights. We’ve all got rights and we need to stand up for them, not let these people get away with it. I got a leaflet the other day, pushed through my door, saying we’re stealing energy from countries in Africa . . .’
Anna felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘Perhaps now might be a good time to go?’ the soothing voice said, and Anna looked up to
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