CHAPTER 5

I wake up next morning with my stomach in a knot. What if Lucas has reported me to the High Priest? It’s not my fault my ancestors worshipped a goddess who the High Priest thinks is evil. He might ban Hal and his friends from seeing me. Then I’ll be all alone here, with nobody but Leonid and Aunty Figgy. Maybe I should ask to go back into the colony. Back to the safe world with the people I love. But I look at the trees outside my window, at the sky, the fluffy clouds. I feel Isi’s soft fur under my hands. How can I go back?

I wish my mom was here to tell me what to do.

There’s a knock at my door. It’s Aunty Figgy, with a cup of rooibos tea. She smiles as she puts the cup on the bedside table. “I remember your mom lying in this exact same bed,” she says, stroking my hair. “You look so like her, now that your hair is brown.”

“Isn’t there a picture of her?” I ask.

“By the time of the Calamity everything was digital,” she says. “There weren’t paper copies of anything. And when the technology went, so did all our photos. It’s all gone.”

She picks up my robe from the floor and opens the door of the cupboard. “I remember Ali in this dress,” she smiles, taking out a red dress with a short flippy skirt. “She looked so pretty. Those were the days when we could wear what we liked. Before they took over and made all these terrible laws …”

She hangs the dress back and closes the door, her face grim for a moment. Then she brightens. “There might be some pictures of her in your great-aunt’s sketchbooks. She was always drawing her.”

I sit up in bed. “Really? Can I see them?”

She laughs. “Of course. They’re in the library. Shall I bring them to you?”

I’ve avoided the library. It makes me feel stupid, my bad reading. I’m practising every day, but it’s taking forever to learn.

Aunty Figgy comes back with a pile of soft-covered notebooks, each tied with a ribbon. “I’ll leave you to look at these,” she says, putting them on the end of my bed.

“Aunty Figgy,” I say as she is leaving. “Who was my father? Did you know him? Could I find him maybe?”

Her back is to me, and it seems to stiffen. She pauses, then turns around. “No idea,” she says, shrugging. “Your mother never told us who he was.” And off she goes to the kitchen.

I open the first book. There are sketches of trees, flowers, people working in the fields. There are drawings of cars parked in front of the house and page after page of watercolour paintings of the round pond in the forest. I sound out the label at the bottom. Holy Well, Greenhaven, 2022. There’s someone sitting at a table, shelling peas. It’s a young Aunty Figgy. There’s a sweet-faced pregnant woman looking out of one of the long windows in the sitting room. There’s a series of sketches of the same woman and a little girl playing on the beach. The mountain is in the background, and I realise with a shock that it was drawn before the waters rose, when Table Island was still joined to the mainland.

I spell out the name written on the front of the second book: A–li. That’s my mother’s name. Here she is as a toddler, running through trees, riding a tricycle, laughing at a dog – it looks like Isi; those three big black spots are distinctive, but Isi can’t be that old, surely? She’s asleep at my feet, but now she opens her amber eyes and thumps her tail. In another book I find drawings of my mom sitting on the stoep. She’s asleep, and heavily pregnant. The last picture is of my mom cradling a newborn baby. My mom cradling me. The spotted dog lies at her feet.

I feel how much she loved me. And I feel distraught that she is gone. The house, everything I own, they feel like a dried-out husk. A house that should be bustling with family. But instead it’s just me, trying to survive when it all feels too hard for one person.

In the middle of the morning, Hal comes back in the buggy. He jumps out, smiling, and I run down the front stairs to greet him. I’m so glad that he’s here, I forget to feel awkward and give him a hug.

“I’ve got a gift for you,” he says. “My mother sent it to you.”

I rip open the package. Inside is a pair of gorgeous turquoise sandals. I take off my ugly serviceable colony shoes and slide my feet into the sandals. They’re so soft and comfortable. And even my oversized feet look elegant in them.

“I love them!”

“Get in,” he says. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I shout goodbye to Aunty Figgy and get into the buggy after him. He calls to the coachman and we set off. At the end of the farm road, we don’t take the right-hand road towards the shrine and the colony. Instead we go left, along a road that climbs slowly through the hills to a nek in the mountain range.

“Everything behind that white wall is your land,” he says pointing to a shoulder-high wall that winds along the road. It’s very old, and tumbling down in places. “Everything here is part of Greenhaven.”

There’s so much land but the ground here is lying fallow, with just weeds and grass, and a few goats and cows wandering around.

“I’d love to plant those fields,” I say. “To grow more vegetables, and some medicinal plants. Maybe even corn, so we don’t have to rely on imports from the mainland. But I’ll need extra staff. Aunty Figgy and Leonid are already worked off their feet.”

“I worry about you, so far from everyone,” he says. His hand is lying on his thigh. Just millimetres from my leg. His little finger brushes my robe.

My heart starts to beat faster. “I’m fine here,” I say. “I’ve got Aunty Figgy and Leonid and Isi.”

“I was hoping . . .” he says, looking into my eyes. “I was hoping you would move to the compound. My mother wants you to be closer to the family. She wants to look after you.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Seriously? To move in with your family?”

“There’s lots of room. You could share with Cassie, or have your own bedroom. Then we can see each other every day.”

“But what about the farm?”

“My father can find someone to manage it. It won’t be a problem.”

His hand slips over to my leg. “Please say yes, Ebba,” he murmurs. I look at his hand, resting on my thigh. I want so much to say yes. To belong.

I want to wake up every morning and feel loved.

His hand is stroking my thigh. “Ebba,” he murmurs.

Is he going to kiss me?

He’s pulling at my heart – his long eyelashes, the plumpness of his bottom lip, the dimples when he smiles, the strong jaw. I can feel his desire flooding me, drawing me closer.

I get up and open the buggy window. “It’s so hot in here,” I say, sitting down on the seat opposite him. “Where are we going?”

“Up the Longkloof Pass,” he says, reaching for my hand. “On the other side of the pass is Longkloof harbour. It’s where they hold the markets once a week. The view from the top is spectacular. You’ll love it.”

He’s looking at me like I’m adorable. I want him to kiss me. I want to kiss him back, but I just can’t. Something is making my stomach knot up, something from long ago, that I’ve tried to blot out of my memory. I push it aside and try and focus on him, on how he makes me feel, right now, in this carriage.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, looking into my eyes. “Please come and live with us. I want to be with you every moment of every day.”

“I want to be with you too,” I say. And I mean it because he won’t leave me. He won’t kiss me and disappear. He wants me to be with him forever. I’ll be safe.

He leans across and puts his lips against mine. I slide off my seat and onto his knee, wrapping my arms around his neck. I close my eyes and snuggle against him. His hands run down my back, pulling me more firmly against his body.

When at last we break apart I slide back onto the seat next to him. Happiness is swirling inside me. I couldn’t ask for anyone better; he’s gorgeous.

One day he’ll take over from his father and rule Table Island. His family want me to live with them. I can’t believe it. No more Aunty Figgy talking crazy, no more Leonid sneering and despising me.

It sounds perfect. I’m so grateful to him – to them – for caring so much about me.

There’s just one thing. “If I come and live at the compound, can I bring my dog?” I ask.

“Dog?” He looks at me askance. “What do you want a dog for?”

“I love her. She sleeps on my bed. She follows me everywhere.”

“Ebba,” he laughs, “dogs are unclean. My father won’t have one in the house. Maybe he’ll let her come, but she’ll have to be chained up in the yard.”

Chained? My Isi? I swallow. “Oh.”

“Come here,” he says, pulling me towards him. “Leave her at Greenhaven. You’ll forget about her soon enough …” and he kisses me again. But this time I find it harder to get lost in the moment. Leave Isi behind?

THE HORSES ARE starting to take strain when finally we round a corner, and find ourselves almost at the top. I can see Greenhaven below us, a patch of green in a sea of khaki vegetation. It’s strange how it’s the only fertile part of the landscape. On one side, it’s nestled against the high grey wall that circles the whole island, keeping back the sea. A long white wall protects the other boundary.

“Look at that!” I exclaim as we reach the top and the other side of the mountain comes into view. Below us is the wall and then a long narrow fjord. There’s a big island in the middle, joined to the shore by walkways. Shacks have been built into the mountainside and there’s washing flapping on lines and children running around.

“That’s Boat Bay, where the boat people squat,” Hal says. “I can’t stand them. They’re like vermin, breeding all the time. My father wants to move them away from the island altogether.”

“But where will they go?” I hope the coachman hasn’t heard Hal. He’s probably from Boat Bay too.

“Who cares? They have displeased Prospiroh and that’s why they’re poor.”

We pull off the road to let an army wagon past.

“I brought a picnic,” Hal says, opening a hamper. “Have a sandwich.”

But I’m distracted by the load of the huge wagon that’s being pulled by ten oxen. I recognise the sacks as the ones we used in the colony for the dehydrated vegetables to be sent to the storage gallery. What are they doing out here?

“What’s wrong?” Hal asks with his mouth full.

“Those sacks – they look like the ones from the colony.”

He’s rooting around in the basket for another sandwich. “Mmmm,” he says. “Yum, these are so good.”

“Hal,” I say, shaking his arm, “are they from the colony?”

“Of course,” he says. “What’s the big deal?”

“Where are they going to? Why is the army moving them up here?”

“They’re going to the sheds at the harbour.”

“Why? There’s a whole storage gallery in the colony.”

“Ebba,” he exclaims, brushing crumbs off his robe, “why are you so hung up on a boring old wagon? We’re supposed to be having a romantic picnic. I wanted to show you the island from up here, and you’re spoiling everything. And look – now the weather is changing.”

The wind is picking up and the top of the mountain is covered in grey cloud. The wagon passes, and Hal knocks on the window of our buggy. “It’s going to rain. We should go back.”

“Yes, sir,” the coachman says.

The mood has changed. Once we’re on our way, Hal sits staring out of the window, frowning.

I snuggle up to him. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to annoy you.”

“It’s not you,” he says. “It’s the stupid weather. I wanted to go all the way to the harbour to show you the sea.” He leans back and puts his arm around me. “I could never be cross with you,” he says. “Ever.” And he kisses me again.

The sacks. Something is still nudging at my memory. And then I know what it is. It’s Micah.

Micah, the boy who kissed me. The day after our kiss, we were having our normal Friday-evening meeting. The mentors and house parents had given us their usual lectures about not wasting water, and working hard for the good of the colony, and we’d sung Happy Birthday to those kids who were celebrating in the coming week. Then Mr Dermond, the head mentor, asked if there were any questions.

Micah was a few rows ahead of me. He put his hand up. “Is it true that you add chemicals to our food so we don’t get horny?” he asked. I could feel my face going red, and I hoped nobody would notice. If anyone knew about our kiss, I’d be teased for months.

There was dead silence, and then some of the girls giggled. Mr Dermond stared at him. “What do you mean?” he snapped.

Micah folded his arms behind his head and stared coolly at Mr Dermond from under his black fringe.

“It’s just, sir, that we’re teenagers. If you look at the kinetikas you can see that in the old world, teenagers had sex. But we all live here, boys and girls together, and we’re all celibate. We’re not even playing with ourselves.”

“Speak for yourself,” one of his friends quipped, and all the other guys roared with laughter.

Jasmine hushed them. “Shh. I want to hear the answer.”

“Prospiroh destroyed the old world in the Purification,” Mr Dermond said sternly. “What you see in the kinetikas is a depraved, wicked population. We are a new people, a people set apart. You have no desire for … er … carnality because you have been cleansed.”

“With respect, sir,” Micah said, in a tone that showed no respect at all. “We’re meant to be the future breeding stock for the world. But we don’t want to breed. How did you get that right? And don’t tell me it’s because of the Purification. That was thirteen years ago.”

Mr Dermond looked around the room like the answer was hidden somewhere – under one of the benches maybe, or in one of the cracks in the walls. At last he said, “Look, Micah, the authorities have determined that offspring will only be born in selected years. The numbers of the colony are carefully regulated.”

“I know that,” Micah said. “But what are they doing to us to stop us wanting to have sex?”

“I know,” came a voice in the back row.

We all turned round to see Janine, one of the engineers in Year Five sitting forward on the bench, glowering at Mr Dermond from under her unibrow. “They’ve put something in the protein pellets, haven’t they? Or is it in the hydroponic water? What do you say, Ebba?” She pointed to me. “You’re the best gardener. What do you think? Are the vegetables contaminated?”

“I can’t see how they could be,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”

“Those people in the old world were having sex because they were depraved,” Shameema from Year Three said. “That’s why Prospiroh punished them and saved us.”

“Oh, puhleeze!” Micah exclaimed, and she blushed.

Mr Dermond came closer. “You lot,” he said, pointing his finger at Micah and his friends, “you’re on dangerous ground. Very dangerous ground. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop asking about things you know nothing about and trust that the authorities know best. When your time comes, the authorities will determine who presents the best genetic advantages for breeding. Until then your task is to keep working for the common good.”

“Yes, sir,” Micah said, giving a salute.

Mr Desmond’s face darkened. He dismissed the meeting, and that night Micah disappeared. I was looking forward to seeing him at supper, but suddenly he just wasn’t there. His sabenzis were frantic. I knocked on Mr Dermond’s office door, and begged him to tell me where he was, but he wouldn’t say a word. Nobody would say anything.

We talked about it after lights out.

“What do you think has happened to him?” Fez asked. He’d always admired Micah’s attitude. “He’s so smart. I reckon they’ve taken him up to the top levels, to work with the general, or the High Priest.”

Jasmine’s voice wafted down from the bunk above me.

“They won’t want him up there. He’ll cause trouble.”

It was Letti who said what I was thinking. “They’ve sacrificed him for asking the wrong questions.”

I cried myself to sleep that night and every night for weeks. We never saw him again.

“WHAT ARE YOU thinking about, looking so sad there?” Hal says.

I can’t tell him about Micah because he won’t understand. “My three friends,” I say. “My sabenzi group. I miss them so much. If I went and asked your father, do you think he’d elevate them? They could work on the farm. There’s lots of space there, and they’re all experienced at growing food.”

“Ebba,” he says smoothly, “you may be the richest person in the settlement, and my father would do almost anything you ask, but that’s one thing he definitely won’t do.”

“But he elevated me.”

“You’re different. You’ve been chosen by Prospiroh. We all have. That’s why we live in this settlement, and they live under the ground.”

“But it’s awful down there. It’s dark and depressing and they work all day, and they never see the sky and trees …”

“I love that about you,” he says, taking my hand. “You’re so thoughtful about other people.”

His fingers are entwined in mine, and his thumb is stroking the back of my hand.

“But I miss them,” I say, choking up.

He wipes my tears with his handkerchief. “Don’t cry, beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek. “One day you’ll understand the wisdom of Prospiroh’s ways. He is a wise and loving God, and you are his chosen daughter.”

His words make me want to squirm. They don’t sound real. They sound like some cliché he’s learnt off by heart.

HAL DROPS ME at home and I can’t stop thinking about Jasmine, Letti and Fez. Why are they still underground? It’s not right. I’m sure if Fez was out in the fresh air he wouldn’t cough so much.

The High Priest has been so kind to me. He even wants me to live with his family at the compound. Surely he’ll elevate the three people I love? I decide that I’ll go and ask him personally.

That evening as we’re having supper, I ask Leonid to drive me to the shrine offices first thing in the morning.

Aunty Figgy stops with the soup ladle in mid-air and glares at me. “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

I knew she’d say that, but I don’t care. She’s a superstitious old woman who has no idea what’s going on in the settlement. I haven’t told her yet that the High Priest has invited me to live with them. I can imagine how she’ll freak out.

“I’m sorry you don’t approve,” I say firmly, “but I’ve made up my mind. Leonid, please be ready by nine.”

Next morning, dead on time, he brings the buggy around.

Aunty Figgy comes to say goodbye. She nods as she looks at my turquoise silk robe. “It suits you.” She touches the amulet and whispers some words.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m asking the Goddess to protect you. And Clementine will be there if you call on her. Remember that.”

An hour later we’ve passed the shrine and are driving along a road that clings to the mountain. It ends at the bottom of a long flight of stone stairs guarded by eight marble lions. A statue of the High Priest astride a horse stands on a column. He’s gazing over the sea towards the mainland, lording over everything he rules.

What am I doing? This is all too scary. I should just go home and forget about my sabenzis. But it’s too late.

A soldier approaches the buggy and Leonid jumps down and takes off his cap. “Miss Ebba den Eeden to see His Righteousness, the High Priest.”

The soldier disappears into the guardhouse. I can see him in discussion with someone. A moment later, a soldier I recognise as Captain Atherton from the colony comes over and salutes. “Follow me, Miss den Eeden.”

It’s a long way up the steps, and the stone lions stare down at me like they want to eat me. At last I reach the top, and pass through the rows of columns. Captain Atherton knocks with his rifle on the arched door, and it swings open.

Like the colony, the palace has been dug out of the mountain. But where we had bare stone walls and a hard floor, everything here is luxurious. The walls are hung with tapestries and cloths. Rich carpets cover the floor. Instead of stale air and sweat, these rooms are filled with the sweet smell of incense. Light shines in through domed skylights.

I follow the soldier past an office where important looking men sit hunched over registers, writing down numbers or in earnest discussion. At last we reach a door inlaid with gold discs. The soldier knocks again.

“Come,” says a voice.

The door swings open and Lucas stands there.

“Miss den Eeden!” he says, wringing his hands. “Please, er, come inside.”

He takes me to a sofa covered in a deep-red rug. “Wait here.”

We may be in a cave but there’s a huge window looking out over the sea. Below us, the waves crash against the wall, battering the rocks, throwing foam into the air. I think of the broken bodies I glimpsed from the ventilation shaft, and immediately shut the image out of my mind. I’m here for a purpose. I mustn’t get distracted.

I perch on the edge of the sofa, practising what I’m going to say to the most important man in the federation. How can I persuade him to give me what I want? I don’t want to anger him. I decide I should start with the smallest request and see how he takes it.

A door opens, and the High Priest comes sweeping in, in a voluminous white robe with gold rings embroidered around the neck. I jump up. He glides across the room, holding out both arms.

“My dear Ebba! How wonderful of you to come and visit me. Is this a social call?” He claps his hands. “Lucas, bring refreshments.”

Lucas bows and hurries out of the room. The High Priest gestures towards two armchairs set right in the window. “Have a seat, my dear. Now how are you getting on? It must be an enormous adjustment. It’s such a lot for a girl your age to handle.”

He looks at me as though I’m the only person in the federation who really matters.

“I’m doing well, Your Righteousness,” I say. “Thank you for asking. You’re right, it’s been a huge change, but Hal is helping me so much. He visits nearly every day, and he’s teaching me to read and write so I can keep proper records. We’ve planted the seeds for the winter crop and hopefully Leonid will transplant them next week …”

Everything seems of utmost importance to him. Nobody has ever listened to me like this before. His hands play with a string of dark-red beads, running them through his strong fingers one by one. It’s oddly soothing, and I think how much I’d like a set to play with.

As though he’s reading my mind, he gets up and goes over to Lucas’s desk. He hands me a string of jet-black beads on a tasselled cord. “For you,” he says. “A gift from me, and my family. They are called worry beads.”

He’s so kind. If he can give me a beautiful set of worry beads like this, he’ll look kindly on my request, I’m sure. I begin to relax.

Lucas comes in with a tea tray. His hands shake as he pours for us and then creeps back to his desk, trying to be invisible. I can’t work out why he’s so nervous. Is it because of his father? Or because I’m here and I’m supposedly “evil”?

I take the plunge. “Your Righteousness …” My mouth dries up, so I take a sip of tea, and burn my tongue. “I have so much empty land. I need to develop it, but I don’t have enough labour.”

“Yes?” he says. “My dear, you don’t need to come to me for something like that. Just ask Mr Frye to organise you some new staff. He’ll find some good people from the mainland.”

“I … I need someone who knows about horticulture. I was thinking about Jasmine Constable. She was with me in the colony. We worked together in the plant nursery and there’s nothing she doesn’t know about growing food. You see, if we can get skilled people to work with the plants, then I can focus on –”

“Jasmine Constable?” He steeples his fingers, his hooded eyes searching mine. “Hmmm. I wonder. Is this wise?”

“Oh yes, Your Righteousness.” I can hear the begging in my voice and I try to speak more firmly. “You see, I have to have someone I know and trust. I need someone who will know what to do if I’m not there, especially if I accept your very kind offer to move to your compound.” I know I’m about to be disloyal but I say it anyway. “Mr Frye isn’t very happy with the staff I have at the moment, and I’m not sure how much I can rely on them.”

His eyes narrow. He’s trying to read my face. I try not to look desperate.

The High Priest comes to a sudden decision. He sits up and writes something in a small notebook. “As you know, Ebba, we have very strict immigration laws in Table Island. Any outsider who wants to live within the settlement’s wall has to fulfil certain requirements and apply for a permit. If we elevate … what is her name?”

“Jasmine Constable, Your Righteousness.”

“Yes, Constable. She will not be given citizen status. She may not dwell in your house, but must live in the servants’ quarters, which must be separate from your house. You may not socialise with her. She may not leave your premises without her pass, which may be checked at any time.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“And you will have to pay a special tax for her because this is an unprecedented case.”

“A tax?”

“You will be required to pay to the shrine an extra forty per cent of all your earnings from your land. This is payable quarterly and is required to make up for lost labour capacity in the colony. A bookkeeper will be assigned to you to oversee the financials. Do you still wish to go ahead?”

Forty per cent. That’s such a lot. But I’m really rich. I can manage on what is left, especially if I’m making more from the new land. “Yes, Your Righteousness. I want to go ahead.”

“Lucas,” he calls across the room. “Make a note. See that Constable is equipped with the necessary documents and delivered to Greenhaven Farm.”

Lucas is hunched like a vulture at his desk, paging through a notebook. His leg is jiggling nervously. He glances at me, picks up a gold-topped quill pen and begins to write.

“Now is there anything else, dear?” the High Priest says.

I take a breath and wipe my sweaty palms on my robe. “Please, Your Righteousness. I have another request. I grew up with my sabenzis – the four of us were together from when we were babies. I … miss them. It’s lovely up here on Table Island, and everyone has been so kind to me, but there were four of us together down there and …”

“You’d like to pay a visit to the colony? I’m sure that can be arranged. Lucas, check the diary.”

I swallow hard and try to stop my voice cracking. “No, more than that. I want them to come live with me, at Greenhaven.”

“On your farm?” He laughs. “My dear, that’s just not possible. We can’t just elevate anyone at a whim.”

“But I was elevated. And you’ve agreed to let Jasmine out …”

“Yes, my dear, I know that,” he says irritably. “But you were chosen by Prospiroh. You are the blessed one in his eyes. And I’m allowing Constable out because of her skills.”

I feel the tears rising. “So I have to live up here without them? They’re my family.”

“My dear, don’t whine. It’s very ungrateful after all Prospiroh has given you. Nobody likes an ungrateful girl.” Then his voice softens. “You must forget about them. We are your family now. And if Prospiroh so desires, you’ll marry and start a family of your own. Don’t you want that?”

He doesn’t get it. I feel the tears start to trickle down my face. He leans forward and wipes my cheeks with his handkerchief. “Dear, dear,” he murmurs. “So many tears about nothing. I’m sure we can make a plan.”

“Really?” I sniff. “Can you make an exception?”

“My dear,” he says, “it’s not up to me. It is all in the hands of our Lord God Prospiroh. He has blessed you so richly already and now you ask for more? This won’t please him.”

I shift uncomfortably in the soft cushions. I am being greedy. That’s wrong. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but it means so much to me.”

He stares out of the window, deep in thought. His fingers thread through the beads one by one. “There might be a way,” he says at last. “If you were prepared to make a small sacrifice – to thank Prospiroh for his generosity to you. He would look kindly upon your request, I am sure. “

“Anything,” I say. Is he going to say yes?

His eyes are fixed on mine, and I feel the rest of the room disappearing as I focus on his pupils. He doesn’t blink as he holds out his hands. I don’t want to hold his hands. But our eyes are locked, and I have to. I hold his hands and watch his lips.

“Prospiroh commands me,” he says, “to release your friends. They can be up here tomorrow, but …”

I’m overjoyed. I’m about to leap up and hug him when I remember he hasn’t told me what my sacrifice is. I bite my lip.

“But you will have to pay.”

“Pay what?”

“Just a small thing. A piece of jewellery.”

I freeze.

He points to the amulet. “Prospiroh requires that trinket you’re wearing around your neck.”

“This one?” I gulp, tucking it under my robe. “But it’s not that special. I’ve got much more valuable jewels at home.”

His eyes stare into mine. “Then you won’t miss it. Take it off, and your friends will be with you by morning.”

From the corner of my eye I see Lucas’s leg jiggling faster and faster. I remember how he said the amulet was a witchcraft symbol. Something doesn’t add up. Why does the High Priest want a witchcraft charm so badly?

I feel the amulet burning on my breastbone. “I can’t give you my necklace,” I say. “It belonged to my mother. It’s the only thing I have of hers.”

“Oh, nonsense,” he scoffs. “Your house is full of things from your family. And you are choosing a commonplace little charm on a cheap chain over your friends. What kind of girl are you, Ebba? I thought better of you.”

“I … I’ll have to think about it,” I say blushing. I get up to go. I’m so confused. Something isn’t right, but I can’t work out what. Lucas is waiting already, holding the door open. As I reach it, I turn. The High Priest is standing against the window. Light is streaming in from behind him. He looks like I imagine Prospiroh himself might look, in his white robe, with his hair glittering in the sun.

“Great favour demands great sacrifice,” he says, opening his palms. “He who gives generously will be rewarded a hundred times more, overflowing, too great for measure. But he who withholds what belongs to Prospiroh will feel his eternal wrath.” And he disappears through the interleading door.

Lucas walks me back down the long passageway. He’s like a bird with his long legs and beaked nose, I think. Not like Hal at all. At the top of the stairs he pauses.

“You are going to need more staff,” he says curtly. “I’ll arrange to have some labourers sent over to Greenhaven with the bookkeeper.” He nods and turns back through the doorway, hurrying away as though he can’t wait to get out of my presence. If he thinks I’m so bad, why is he nervous around me? He seems to swing from being imperious and judgemental to scared when I’m near him. I wish he was easy-going and cheerful like his brother and sister.

It’s a relief to see Hal waiting at the colonnade. “They told me you were here,” he says, taking my hand and walking me down the stairs. “So, when are you moving in?”

“Um … we haven’t made a date yet.”

“Then what were you talking about?” he says, slightly irritated. “I thought you were here to talk about coming to live with us.”

I’m squirming as I tell him. “I can’t move to the compound, Hal. I need to get the farm running properly. We were talking about staff. Don’t be grumpy,” I say, squeezing his arm. “I’ve got wonderful news. He’s agreed to let my best friend Jasmine out of the colony. She’s going to be working with me on Greenhaven.”

He stops dead. “You’re joking, right?”

This is making him angrier? What’s going on?

“We agreed you’d move to the compound,” he snaps.

I stare at him. “I never agreed to anything,” I say, but his scowl deepens, so I lighten my voice. “Come on, Hal,” I say, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be an old grouch. Someone’s got to grow the food you like to eat. If I’m not there – or someone I trust – there’s no knowing what those two would get up to on the farm.”

He looks slightly appeased. “Okay,” he says at last. “You can stay there. Just until you get the farm settled. Then you’re coming to live here, with us, where we can look after you.”

We’ve reached the bottom of the stairs. I look back. The High Priest is standing in the window, watching us.

FOR ONCE, AUNTY Figgy is pleased with me. “Well done, Ebba,” she says when I tell her Jasmine is being elevated. “That’s wonderful news. You need to be around your old friends, people you can be yourself with.”

“I told you the High Priest was a good man,” I say, ignoring her jibe.

She snorts. “He’s got an ulterior motive,” she says.

“Where is Jasmine going to stay?” Leonid asks. “Is she going to be a full citizen, like you?” He sneers as he says the word “citizen”.

I blush. “She’s not allowed to stay in the house with me …”

“So she’s being elevated to be another one of your servants? Lucky Jasmine.”

Aunty Figgy pats his arm. “It’s better than nothing, Leonid,” she says. “Let’s be grateful to the Goddess for small mercies.”

THE NEXT EVENING the army wagon pulls up at the front door and Jasmine climbs down, holding a small duffle bag. She’s looking bewildered, and when she sees me, her face goes white.

“But you’re dead!” she exclaims. “They sacrificed you.”

I grab her in a hug and lift her right off her feet. “I’m alive!” I shout. “I couldn’t get a message to you, but I’m alive.” My body can’t hold all my feelings. I want to laugh and cry and spin her around and throw her into the air.

“I thought you were dead,” she says again. Then she pulls away from my arms and looks up at me. “Are you sure this is you? You don’t look like you anymore. Your hair is funny, and what are you wearing?”

“It’s me,” I laugh. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Leonid and Aunty Figgy are standing on the stoep watching us. Aunty Figgy comes over and takes her hand. “Welcome,” she says. “I’m Aunty Figgy. Thank the Goddess that you’ve been released from that hell.”

Jasmine’s overwhelmed. “But they told us it was dangerous above,” she keeps saying. “They told us we had to stay inside the mountain or we would die of radiation sickness, or malaria, or influenza …”

“They’re lying bastards,” Leonid says, shaking her hand.

“Welcome to the real world – or what’s left of it.”

I don’t know what to do next. Is she allowed to use the front door? What did the High Priest say again?

“Come inside,” Aunty Figgy says, leading her up the stairs. “You must be tired and hungry. It’s almost suppertime. Ebba, show her around the house.”

Is that allowed? I check for the wagon. It’s halfway down the driveway. Nobody will see.

“What is this place?” Jasmine asks, pausing on the doorstep. She points to the date carved on the curly gable. “It was built in 1697? Why are you here?”

“I inherited it. When the High Priest saw me in the colony, he realised I was Ebba den Eeden, and that I was a citizen. He sent a message just in time. I was literally hanging on the edge of the ventilation shaft, about to be pushed out.” My stomach lurches at the memory. The thought of how close I came to death makes me feel sick. “You have no idea, Jas. It was so scary …”

But she’s not interested in hearing about the sacrifice. She looks around the hall and her mouth drops open. “This is all yours? Everything? Just the house, or the land too?”

“Everything,” I say. “The farm is huge. It goes right up to the mountain. Those Year Fives he selected? Two of them had already been sacrificed, and I saw their bodies and everything,” I begin, but she’s not listening.

“And those people,” she interrupts, peering through the door into the sitting room, “Aunty Figgy and that good-looking guy?”

“They work for me.” I straighten the edge of the carpet with my foot. I can’t look her in the face.

“Your servants?”

How do I tell her that she’s my servant too? She’ll hate me. Luckily she’s distracted by my bedroom and the big wooden bed with curtains. “Who sleeps here?” she asks, jumping onto it.

“Me.” I feel awful. She’s going to be sleeping in a tiny room far from the house.

“This bed is so soft,” she says, lying back among the pillows. “I feel like a kinetika star. Will I share with you or can I have a room all to myself? When are Letti and Fez arriving?”

My face is burning. I can’t tell her they’re not coming. “I’m sorry, Jas,” I mutter. “They’re very strict up here. You’re not allowed to sleep in the main house with me.”

She sits up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“The only way I could get you out of the colony was if you came to work for me. To help on the farm.”

“I’m working for you? I’m a servant? I’m your servant?” Her voice rises.

My face is hot with shame. “I’m so sorry. I don’t make the rules,” I stutter. “I have to do what the High Priest says.”

When Aunty Figgy calls down the passage that lunch is ready, Jasmine cheers up. “Still,” she says, “at least you’re alive, and I’m out of the colony, and the world isn’t destroyed.” She digs me in the ribs and lowers her voice. “And there’s a handsome guy in the kitchen for us to fight over.”

I link my arm in hers and give it a big squeeze. She’s going to be so excited to taste real food at last.

And she is. She has two helpings of Aunty Figgy’s stew and a big slice of apple pie and cream. “To think that all the time we were eating protein pellets and dehydrated vegetables, and thinking the world up here was nothing but ashes,” she says, licking the cream off her spoon.

“They lie about everything,” Leonid says. “My dad taught me that when I was a kid. He was one of the heroes of the resistance.”

Jasmine looks at him admiringly, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. She’s my best friend, not his.

“What’s the resistance?” she asks.

“Well,” says Aunty Figgy, “it was formed about five years before the Calamity, when the High Priest and his followers took over the city council. This was the old city still – the sea was rising, but it hadn’t risen enough to cut Cape Town into three islands. Things were changing fast, though. When the last rainforests in the Amazon and Indonesia and Congo were chopped down in 2035, the weather went haywire, and terrifying storms wiped out whole cities, across the globe. There were hurricanes, tornadoes, floods – and the heat! Raging hot summers that destroyed crops, animals starving to death. Food cost a fortune. People were starving too, and hungry people are angry. There were wars breaking out everywhere, refugees were pouring into the countries that still had food. It was only a matter of time before someone somewhere deployed nuclear weapons.

“The High Priest saw this coming. There were rumours that the icecaps could melt entirely so he built the wall around the city to keep out the sea and underground bunkers to store supplies.”

“But that’s a good thing,” Jasmine says, wrinkling her nose. “Why would someone resist that?”

“If he had shared, it would have been wonderful, yes. If he was doing it to keep everyone safe, it would have been perfect. But instead he started passing laws. Only certain people could stay in the city; people who followed Prospiroh, people who had enough money to build their own bunkers and stock up their own supplies. That’s what Ebba’s great-aunt did here. And everyone else had to take their chances outside the wall as the waters rose and their homes disappeared under the ocean. The resistance formed to fight him. They wanted the city to be a safe haven for everyone. Ebba’s mother was one of the leaders, along with Leonid’s father.” She gets up and starts clearing the table, her face grim. I’m beginning to recognise that look, the one she gets whenever she talks about my mom.

I put the plates in the sink. Leonid carries hot water over from the kettle on the stove and fills the sink. I watch the plates sinking under the water and try not to think of the ocean rising until houses, shops, roads – until whole cities – are beneath the sea. The same sea that I can hear breaking against the wall at the end of the forest, that I can smell on the evening breeze.

Jasmine finishes drying up, and asks with a yawn, “Where do you sleep, Leonid?”

“In the loft above the stables,” he says. “But you’re not staying there. You’re with Aunty Figgy in the old slave lodge.”

There’s an awkward silence. The word “slave” hangs in the air.

“I’m a slave?” she says slowly. Her voice is cold.

“Of course not,” Aunty Figgy says firmly. “The last slaves were emancipated over two hundred years ago. It’s just the name of the building. You’ll be paid, just like me and Leonid. Now come along. If you’re finished, we can go and sort out your room. Ebba, bring the broom. Leonid, fetch a bucket of water from the pump. This way, Jasmine.”

I follow them out the back door, across the yard, through a gate and into the orchard. Jasmine’s walking briskly, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. In one hand she’s carrying the small kit bag. I can guess what’s in it – two changes of clothes, her memory box and her passbook. The sum total of her possessions.

All our lives, Jasmine has been the one who made sure everyone got their fair share. Once, on the Feast of Prospiroh, we were each given a bag of sweets. It was the most exciting thing ever. We were small – about five years old, but we got the same share as the older kids.

But then Tanaka tricked Letti and stole hers. Letti was too short-sighted to see what had happened, but Jasmine went crazy. Tanaka was four years older than her but Jasmine didn’t care. She marched into the Year Two sleeping cell, opened Tanaka’s locker, grabbed her memory box and ran to the bathroom. The toilets were holes in the floor that dropped straight down to the composting level along with all the other waste. It stank down there.

“Tell Tanaka to give Letti her sweets or I’m dropping this down here!” Jasmine shouted. Tanaka was there in three seconds flat. By then Jasmine had taken out a painting of Tanaka’s parents and was holding it over the pit.

Tanaka grabbed Jasmine’s hair, but Jasmine had had her cornered.

“You can pull as much as you like,” she snarled. “Give back the sweets you stole.” Tanaka handed over the bag of sweets to a dumbfounded Letti and slunk off, holding her memory box so tight I thought it might break.

As I follow Jasmine, Leonid and Aunty Figgy through the rows of orange and lemon trees, my feet drag. I feel like Tanaka. I’ve snatched Jasmine’s share of everything.

“Here we are,” Aunty Figgy says as we reach a long white building with five doors running along the front, and a series of poky windows. She opens the second door and gestures for to us to enter. “This is your room. We share a bathroom – it’s the last room at the end of the stoep.”

A single bed stands against one wall. There’s a small wooden cupboard, a plain chest of drawers and a threadbare carpet on the floor. The room is about a quarter the size of my bedroom.

Jasmine takes one look and turns to me, hands on her hips. “How is this fair?” she demands. “How can this be right?”

I bite my lip, my face burning. “I … I know it’s wrong, Jas, but I can’t help the rules.” My voice sounds pathetic, like I’m pleading with her. And I am. She has to see this isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this. But as far as she’s concerned, I’m no better than Tanaka.

“Here you are,” Aunty Figgy says, taking sheets and blankets from the cupboard. “Help me make the bed.”

Jasmine turns her back on me. I start sweeping the floor, wishing all the bad feelings could just get swept out with the dust.

“Do you know my family?” Jasmine asks Aunty Figgy as they throw a sheet across the mattress and start tucking it in. “My parents’ names are Jeremy and Beverley Constable. They used to live in a place called Mitchell’s Plain. Maybe I can find them.”

Oh no. She wants to leave Greenhaven. If she finds them, I’ll be all alone again.

Aunty Figgy shakes her head. “Mitchell’s Plain is long under the sea,” she says. “It was one of the first places to go.”

“So where did the people who lived there go?”

“To the mainland, or maybe to Boat Bay, but it’s unlikely. We’d know them. We know everyone in Boat Bay.”

“They could be on Silvermine Island too,” Leonid says. “I’ll try and find out when next I go to market.”

Jasmine gives him a warm smile, and my heart shrivels.

“I’ve got a headache,” I say. “I’m going to lie down.” And I slink off back to the house.

I’m miserable as I lie in my comfortable bed in my enormous bedroom. Has this been a terrible mistake? Jasmine hates me because I’m a citizen. She was my best friend. I don’t want to lose her, especially not to Leonid.

AUNTY FIGGY MUST have talked to Jasmine because the next morning, she’s friendlier. Things are still awkward, but I’m so relieved we’re not fighting. I ask her to come with me to the new land that I want to develop. We set off through the orchard, Isi running ahead of us between the rows of apple trees.

We keep off the subject of the old slave lodge. Instead we talk about the plants and what we can grow and which vegetables will bring the best prices. I’m starting to feel optimistic. We can find common ground. Maybe we can build a new relationship up here.

We’re on our way back to the barn to find the seeds and potting bags when we see a wagon rolling up the driveway.

It’s the staff Lucas promised to send. I stop behind a tree and watch three men getting down. I bite the skin around my thumbnail and wonder if it’s too late to back out. How am I supposed to be boss of six people? And Jasmine is going to be so angry when she finds that we’re taking on new staff while the twins are stuck in the colony.

I feel like running into the forest and never coming out.

But then I think of my mother, joining the resistance at my age, and standing up against the government. So I start walking, and when I reach the kitchen, I take a deep breath, straighten my back, lift my chin and greet them, hoping I sound like a confident, mature woman.

“Hello,” I say. “I’m Ebba den Eeden. Welcome to –” Then I stop dead. The guy with the straight black hair.

It’s Micah. Micah, the boy I loved.

Jasmine is staring at him too. “Micah?” she gasps. “I thought you were dead!”

His eyes widen briefly. But he recovers quickly. “Dead? Hardly,” he says with a grin. “You’re thinking of someone else. I’m Mike Patel. I come from Bellville settlement, on the mainland.”

“But before that,” she babbles. “How did you …”

I know that chipped-tooth grin. But before I can argue with him, I catch Aunty Figgy’s frown. She gives a tiny shake of the head and her eyes flicker to the other two men standing in the kitchen, caps in hand.

“Must have been your doppelganger,” I say quickly and shake his hand. “Don’t take any notice of Jasmine. We once knew a guy called Micah who looked a bit like you. Welcome to Greenhaven Farm.”

“You can call me Micah, Michael, Mike,” he chuckles. “I’m easy.”

Next in line is a short little guy. He’s kind of round – his face, his belly, even his eyes, are big and round like a baby’s and his hair is blond and downy like a duckling.

“Good morning, miss,” he says in a squeaky voice. “I’m very excited to be joining your staff. My name is Troy Julius, but everyone calls me Shorty, you can see why. The High Priest sent me to do your books.” He gives a strange, nervous giggle.

“Thank you, Troy,” I say. From the corner of my eye I see Jasmine and Leonid exchanging glances. He’s the one to look out for, the one the High Priest has sent to spy on us and report back if we break any laws. The third guy seems nice – he’s shy, and he keeps his eyes down as I shake his hand. “I’m Victor,” he mumbles.

“The first thing we have to do is find somewhere for you to sleep,” I say. “Leonid, the empty rooms above the stables – do you think you could clean them up?”

He sighs like it’s so much trouble, and I clench my fists. The last thing I need is Leonid making me look stupid in front of my new staff.

“Can you three get going on that today?” I nod to the new guys. “Jasmine and I will start working out a plan for the new plantings.”

As soon as they’ve gone, Jasmine leans close to me. “I swear that’s Micah. He’s got a new scar on his cheek, and I think he’s broken his nose, but it’s the same guy from the colony. The one you used to drool over.”

“I did not drool over him,” I exclaim, swatting her away. “But that’s definitely him. Remember when he broke his tooth? Jarrod was bullying one of Micah’s sabenzis so Micah jumped onto his back and tried to throttle him.”

“You thought he was such a hero,” Jasmine laughs.

We’re getting on like old times again. I decide to take a risk. “Hey, Jas,” I say, leaning forward and dropping my voice. “There’s this guy I’m seeing – his name is Hal.”

“Really? What’s he like?” She’s ready for a good gossip. Her eyes sparkle. “Have you kissed him?”

“Jasmine!” I exclaim, swatting her away. “Of course I
haven’t.”

“You have!” she laughs. “I can always tell when you’re lying. Is he good-looking? Is he more gorgeous than Leonid?”

“Leonid!” I make a face.

She scowls. Damnit. She thinks I don’t like him because he’s not a citizen. “Leonid’s too grumpy,” I say quickly. “Hal’s lovely – he’s always cheerful and he’s totally positive all the time. His dad is the High Priest.”

“Wow,” she says. But her voice is flat and she’s turned back to the planting plans I’m drawing on a piece of paper.

We stick to work for a while, deciding where to plant what, and trying to work out how long we’ve got before the winter rains begin.

“I wish the twins were here,” she says, after a while. She’s biting the pencil. “I worry so much about them.”

I’m doodling on the edge of the paper, worrying about Micah. Is it him? I’m sure it is. He must have escaped somehow, and he doesn’t want Shorty and Victor to know. But he’s a farm labourer and I’m a citizen so …

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s two years since he disappeared. He’s probably got a girlfriend … and I’ve got Hal. But if I had to choose …

“They’re so vulnerable if the authorities decide it’s time for another sacrifice,” Jasmine says.

The words escape before I have time to think. “I tried to get them out,” I say. “When I asked the High Priest to elevate you, I asked for Fez and Letti as well. He said only if I gave him my amulet.”

She stares at me with disbelief. She points to the chain around my neck. “That amulet?”

I realise what I’ve done. My heart drops.

“He asked you for that amulet in return for the twins, and you didn’t give it to him?”

“Aunty Figgy says it’s sacred and …”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it. You’re making excuses.” She jabs the pencil in my chest. “You’d rather let Fez and Letti die than give up a piece of old jewellery.”

“It’s not like that,” I mutter.

She stands up, pushing back her chair so hard it clatters to the floor. “I thought I knew you,” she spits. “I really thought I knew you. But I don’t recognise you anymore, giving orders, making your sabenzis your servants, keeping the best rooms for yourself. And now choosing jewellery over the people who love you. No wonder you’re mixing with the citizens. You’re just like them.”

She storms out, slamming the back door behind her.

I hang around in the kitchen for a while, hoping she’ll come back and talk to me. But she’s gone.

I’m devastated. Jasmine is my dearest friend, but now she thinks I’m a terrible person. There’s a gulf between us and I don’t have a way to bridge it. I throw myself on my bed and cry until I’m so tired I fall asleep in my clothes.

TWO DAYS LATER, it’s Shrine Day. Shorty has offered to drive me – I suppose he’s going to report back to the High Priest on what he’s observed so far. He’s always hanging around, chattering away, while his big eyes watch everything.

At breakfast he won’t stop talking, but it’s quite a relief to have something to distract me from Jasmine’s brooding silence, and to stop me staring at Micah, trying to figure out why he’s pretending not to know me.

“I come from the mainland,” Shorty says. “I worked as a clerk at Stellenbosch Harbour, and I have to say I was very surprised when we arrived here.”

“Why is that?” Leonid growls. He’s taken an instant dislike to Shorty.

“Well, in the mainland almost everything is dry. If it wasn’t for the goats and ostriches and the prickly pears, ordinary people would starve. There are a few huge farms owned by the Syndicate. Before the Purification, they bought all the land over the aquifers so they’d have enough water for their crops. Very smart thinking. Perfect for growing wheat and mealies. Prospiroh has blessed them mightily. And Table Island is even worse, because it’s all rocks and mountain. But then you get to Greenhaven, and there are trees and flowers and vegetables, and it’s like being back in the day. How do you get it so green, Miss Ebba? Do you also have your own aquifer?”

I glance at Aunty Figgy. I don’t know the real reason, only her airy-fairy explanation.

“I have no idea,” I say finally. “I only just got here myself.”

But Aunty Figgy isn’t letting me get away with that. “This land is sacred,” she says, “to the Goddess.”

Shorty’s eyes flicker over to the statue in the window. “Her?”

“Yes. Theia. Who made the world.”

Shorty laughs. “That’s witchcraft, isn’t it? Or superstition.” He giggles again. “I didn’t think anyone still believed those old tales.”

Aunty Figgy glares at him. “Eat your eggs,” she says.

I keep hoping Jasmine will talk to me, or even just look at me, but she’s ignoring me. It’s a relief when the meal is over.

Hal meets me outside the shrine a bit later. “You look miserable,” he says, searching my face. “What’s wrong?” His kind voice melts me.

I tell him about fighting with Jasmine. “It’s just so hard,” I sniff. “I’m trying my best but I don’t know how to run a farm. I don’t have a clue how to be a boss. And everyone picks me out all the time.”

“You poor thing,” he murmurs as I bury my face in his shoulder. He feels so strong and comforting. “You shouldn’t let them upset you so much. They’re your servants.”

“But Jasmine was my best friend,” I say, trying to swallow my tears. “We’ve been best friends for sixteen years. And overnight I’ve lost her.”

“Ebba,” he says, rubbing my back, “it’s tragic that you had to spend your childhood in that hellhole, but you’re out now, with your own people. Of course the people who work for you will be jealous. That’s why we want you to come and live here with us – to protect you.”

Before I can answer, the bells ring to announce the arrival of the procession, and we hurry inside.

As I sit there among the High Priest’s family, surrounded by his wives and children, I feel like I’m part of a family. Nobody criticises me, and when he greets everyone at the door after the service, the High Priest kisses me on both cheeks and tells me he’s expecting great things of me, and he knows I’m capable of taking on this daunting task. It’s like he’s reading my mind. Hal puts his arm around me and says, “And I’m here to help you, Ebba, every step of the way.” It seems like all the citizens I greet that morning feel the same. We’re all together, helping one another. No fighting or jealousy.

IT’S A LOVELY autumn day and as we set off home in the buggy, Shorty puts down the folding roof.

“So, miss,” he says as the horses set off down the hill. “I hope you enjoyed that. I was lucky enough to hear the service from outside, and it sounded very jolly. It’s certainly pretty up here on the mountainside, isn’t it? But I’m certainly looking forward to lunch. Aunty Figgy is such a marvellous cook, isn’t she? This is my dream job, miss. I can’t thank you enough for employing me. But enough about me. Let’s talk about the farm. What are your plans for the week? Are you going to put Victor and Mike to work? I hope so.” And he giggles.

“We need to prepare the new lands,” I say, thinking through my list. “I hope Leonid can set up the old plough he’s found in the barn, and then we’ll have to plant the seedlings. I want to get the three big fields under cabbages and carrots. Luckily the store room has plenty of seeds.”

“Table Island produce is the best,” Shorty says as we canter along the mountain road. “Across in the mainland people queue for hours on market days to get their hands on it.”

“But who is producing it?” I ask, puzzled. “I seem to be the only one with arable land on the island and hardly any of Greenhaven’s land has been cultivated.”

“It’s from the colony, miss.”

I go cold. “The colony? You mean inside the bunker? The food they grow there?”

“Yes of course, miss. It’s the city’s chief produce. Almost all of Table Island’s income comes from sale of dehydrated produce grown in the bunker. Surely you knew that?”

I had no idea. I try to let the thought sink in. All those years I worked in the nursery, growing seedlings under artificial light, transplanting them into the revolving cultivators, getting the hydroponic mixture just right; the hours I ran on the treadmill to generate the power to turn the cultivators and work the dehydrators … that food I grew for the good of the colony was sold?

“And who gets the money?” I ask finally. “Where does it go?”

“Goodness, miss, I thought everyone knew about it. It’s how the citizens make a living. They trade the colony’s produce with the mainland. It commands premium prices.”

I’m shocked. So shocked I can hardly speak. The High Priest must know about this. Does Hal know? Is that why he got cross when we saw the army wagon on our picnic, and I asked him about it?

“Are you alright, miss?” Shorty asks, turning around to look at me. “You’re very pale. Would you like to turn back to the shrine?”

“No, no.” I can’t face them, not knowing this. Not until I’ve thought it through and worked out a response. “I want to go home,” I say, wiping my face with the sleeve of my robe. My hands are shaking.

“Right you are, miss,” he says, flicking the reins. “Greenhaven, here we come.”

And finally, I see what’s really going on. Leonid and Aunty Figgy are right. The High Priest, his council and the citizens of Table Island are living off the sweat of my people. That’s why they wanted us to believe that everything is ash above. They need us below, working ten hours a day. Now I know why the storage gallery is out of bounds. So they can cream off what we grow and sell it without us knowing.

It all makes sense. The bunker is running out of food because most of what we produce is being sold. Sold, so that citizens can live a life of luxury.

I feel like crying, but I can’t let Shorty see that I’m upset. He’ll report me to the High Priest.

It’s lunchtime when we get home, and everyone is in the kitchen.

“Miss Ebba isn’t well,” Shorty says. “She went white as a sheet in the buggy. I thought she must have a bit of carriage sickness, but she’s still pale so it must be something else. Look at her.”

I wish he would just shut up. Aunty Figgy gets all concerned. “Off to bed with you, my girl,” she says. “I’ll bring you your lunch on a tray.”

Jasmine looks at me like I’m a spoilt cow, making a fuss about nothing. She and Leonid exchange glances. Victor eats quietly, minding his own business. Only Micah is concerned. “Can I do anything, miss?” he asks. “Don’t you worry, Aunty Figgy,” he says, taking the tray from her. “I’ll help Miss Ebba.”

He follows me into my room. I climb into my bed and he plumps up the pillows and lays the tray across my knees. He looks at me with those deep brown eyes I remember so well. They’re full of love.

“Did something happen?” he asks gently. “You seem so upset.”

Can I trust him? Should I tell him what I know? I want to unburden my heart, tell him everything, share this awful truth with somebody. But I can’t risk it.

I’d better keep my mouth shut until I’ve got proof. Shorty might be talking rubbish. If I’m wrong, the High Priest will be furious.

I’ve got so much to lose – Hal, my place in the shrine, my new friends. So instead of confiding in him, which every inch of my heart wants to, I smile weakly and say, “No, nothing happened. I’ve just got stomach cramps.”

“Okay, then,” he says. “I’ll leave you to rest.”