George slammed the front door and charged down the hall.
‘You!’ he growled. There was no fear now, just anger. ‘How did you get in again?’
The girl was sitting at the kitchen servery. She didn’t look at George. Or at Beeper, who followed closely behind. She took a slow sip of water from one of their jars, then scooped a mouthful of food from one of their tins. A red, blue and green tin. The Special Tin.
There was something else wrong. The girl was wearing a different dress. A much cleaner dress.
‘Those clothes …’ George spluttered. ‘Where did they come from?’
She glanced up at him. ‘I’m still not the type to be answering questions, kiddo. But I have something to talk to you about.’
‘They’re Mum’s clothes! You took them.’
‘No-one was using them.’ She took another mouthful of salmon. ‘When times are tough, you can’t be too sentimental.’
Beeper held up his fists and rushed at the girl. She slid from the chair, and was somehow in the kitchen before he could make contact.
‘Where is your mum?’ the girl asked.
‘None of your business!’ George put his arm around Beeper’s shoulders.
‘Is she living somewhere else?’
‘What?’ George followed the girl into the kitchen, with Beeper in tow. His tiredness had been replaced by anger. He tore open the cupboard doors to check if she’d taken anything else.
The girl sashayed past them and sat back at the servery. She began eating the salmon again. ‘Just asking if she ran away when everything got too hard … that’s what people do these days.’
‘Not in this family they don’t,’ George said.
Beeper leaned over the servery and shouted in her face. ‘My mum disappeared in a blaster.’
The girl didn’t flinch. ‘Maybe, littl’un. But, truth is, most people look out for number one. Those who don’t are fools.’
‘You’re certainly taking care of yourself,’ said George.
‘And you’re not, kiddo?’ She smiled and scooped up more salmon.
‘I’m not the one who’s stealing things.’
‘I’ll be replacing stuff. Maybe. But I can’t go anywhere tonight. Won’t make it to where I’m heading, before dark.’
‘It’s mid-afternoon!’ George stomped around the servery and stood beside her.
‘The curfew’s been extended. Haven’t you heard? I’ve got a long way to go and nobody’s meant to be walking out on the street from dusk. Our beloved General says it’s for our own good.’
George wanted to hit her, to drag her outside. ‘You should have thought about that earlier.’
The girl leaned towards Beeper. ‘So,’ she said in a softer tone, ‘you didn’t find your father.’
‘Like we’d tell you,’ said George.
‘We didn’t go to the new hospital,’ whimpered Beeper. ‘George said we couldn’t.’
‘Ssh!’
‘But he said he’d worked out a better way to find him.’
‘Ssh!’
‘Maybe your dad’s done a bolt too, kiddo.’
‘Our parents aren’t like that,’ George yelled. His face was right next to hers. ‘They’d never leave us behind.’
‘Parents are a thing of the past, boys. Like rain. It’s everyone for themselves.’ The girl scraped the last morsel of salmon from the tin, put down the spoon and looked at George. ‘Anyway, I’ve been admiring the nice room at the front of the house. No-one’s using it. So I’ll just stop there for the night and be going in the morning. When I’ve beaten the dust out of my own clothes.’
George thrust out his right hand so quickly she didn’t have time to move. He grabbed a fistful of her hair.
Keeping one hand tightly clenched against her scalp, he seized a fistful of her sleeve with the other. He twisted her head sideways and pulled it down against her shoulder. She winced with pain but didn’t make a sound. George yanked her head down even further, putting the weight of his body into it. He dragged the girl off the stool and marched her down the hall. ‘Open the front door, Beeper,’ he yelled.
‘George!’ Beeper shrieked. But he did what he was told.
George shoved the girl through the open door and swung it shut behind her. For once he’d taken control. Something had at last gone his way.
‘This is our house, and our food,’ George shouted, as he jammed the security bar into its brackets. ‘You’re not welcome.’
‘Who you going to complain to?’ the girl yelled through the door. ‘Hey … George? Beeper’s a little boy with no parents. I could get a reward for reporting him. Big reward. But I’d rather we were friends.’
George rested his forehead against the back of the door. His temples were burning.
‘That’s not all, kiddo,’ the girl added. ‘I could be coming back any time I feel like it. They haven’t made a door yet that I can’t get through.’
George slid to the floor and leaned against the wall. It was all true. Somehow, she knew how to open their door. And she could report them whenever she wanted.
George was beaten. Again. He climbed back to his feet. His shoulders, his arms, his whole body seemed to weigh a hundred tonnes as he opened the door.