Chapter 23

“All of the issues that had been so important to us lost their momentum as people turned their minds to simple survival.”

History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss

TILLY HOPED THAT THE refugees did not bring bad luck with them, but it might be too late. The old man died that day before dinner. Dr. Jameson said it was malnutrition. It broke her heart that he’d managed to get to safety but didn’t survive the journey. Coco went into labor just as they started serving dinner. It took less than an hour to deliver a stillborn child. Coco was so exhausted and malnourished, Ruth warned they might lose her, too, before the end of the day. Tilly made arrangements for the bodies to be buried. She gleaned what information she could from the others for Angus’s research, but they were a closed-mouth bunch.

After dinner, Sadie staggered into the infirmary complaining of stomach pain. Tilly had tried to keep them all in bed, but they were too untrusting to stay put. Ruth declared it a case of too much food too fast for a starved body and that Sadie should recover soon. Since she was only six months pregnant by her accounting, it was a good thing she hadn’t been in labor.

By early evening, Tilly’s nerves were worn thin. She expected another tragedy any second. Nick and Wisp were due to return by dinner at the very earliest, but she worried anyway. Lottie came to tell her that the blight moved on to the potatoes now. That was disheartening. She could pick unripe tomatoes to ripen later, but immature potatoes were tiny things. Losing that crop put a dent in her forecast for the winter. Lottie warned her that peppers were in the same family and might be next.

She headed down to the kitchen, where she found Mary in tears. She was nearly hysterical about Coco’s loss. Tilly grabbed a loitering child and sent him off to find Joshua. Mary needed her husband now. “Sit,” she said guiding Mary to the padded chair they’d added to the kitchen for her. “Breathe.”

“Then he’s fine,” Tilly soothed. “He can feel how upset you are. You need to calm down.”

His presence set her off crying again. Tilly went to check on the prep for tomorrow’s meals. At this point, there was nothing she could do for Mary’s grief over Coco’s loss. An expectant mother took that kind of news especially hard. She wouldn’t be surprised if Mary went into labor herself.

William trotted into the kitchen. He took his job as Angus’s shadow very seriously. “Tilly, Angus says to come.”

When Tilly stepped into the hallway, three armed Watchmen passed her heading for the main entrance. She hurried down to Angus’s office. Martin was there, coordinating on the radio.

Angus sat in the discussion circle, in a comfortable old armchair. He waved her to the chair next to him. “Someone coming in from Creamery,” he murmured.

Angus shrugged. “Now you know as much as I do. I won’t be able to get down there fast enough. Will you go and help Martin deal with this?”

“Of course,” she said although she wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t ready for this.

Martin handed Angus a spare radio before leaving. Tilly trailed after him, not having the strength to keep up with his long-legged stride. She thought she’d been prepared for refugees, but they were not what she’d envisioned. High Meadow was prepared to take on twice its population, but she hadn’t thought about how that would feel to have so many strangers in her home.

When she got to the entrance, she was relieved to find that there were just five outsiders with Sam, one of the Watch they’d sent over to Creamery. All of them looked to be in good condition, three men, a boy in early teens and a nervous middle-aged woman. That was another relief for Tilly because more strong hands were always needed.

Martin turned from where he was speaking to Sam, to beckon Tilly over. “Too many refugees at Creamery. They sent this lot over, but there will be more.”

“Oh.” Tilly turned a congenial smile on the strangers. “Everyone is welcome.” She glanced back to Martin, who gave her a nod of assent. “Come into the cafeteria. Are you hungry?”

“Come on then. I’ll see what we have. We served dinner, and we’re working on breakfast already.”

The woman scurried up to Tilly. “Working on breakfast?” Her brown eyes were bright with curiosity.

Tilly put an arm around the woman’s broad shoulders. “We have some. Come and see.” The invitation eased some of her nervousness.

The men followed in a silent huddle as Tilly led them into the cafeteria. Learning her lesson with the first refugees, she had set up an orientation table just inside the room. It had all of her paperwork for assigning rooms and chores, a map of the building and the times for meals. Angus had made his slow way down the hall and was waiting for them.

“Please have a seat.”’ Tilly directed them to the table. In short order, she had their names and skills—a cook, two mechanics, a thin man who mumbled something about tailoring and the teenager, Lou, who said he’d try his hand at anything.

“Welcome to you all,” Angus announced. “Skilled hands are good, and willing hands are even better. Claude, you are a tailor?”

“Our population is increasing and very few of them bring clothes,” Tilly said. “We have been foraging clothes from the area, but it never seems to match what we need. Just the other day, someone brought us twenty pairs of black corduroy pants, all a women’s size eight.” Tilly shook her head. “Not to mention all the children that have arrived and will surely outgrow their clothes by the end of the season.”

“You have...” Claude stared at them, mouth open, unable to complete the sentence.

“We have a couple of women and a roomful of sewing machines dealing with a pile of clothes that doesn’t fit anyone. Can you help?” Tilly asked.

The sole woman had been staring at the far end of the cafeteria where she could glimpse the kitchen behind the pass-through. She looked back at Angus, tears in her eyes. “I was a chef,” she murmured.

“Well, we don’t do anything fancy,” Tilly said. “Just solid hearty fare.”

“Only in emergencies,” Tilly said. “We are trying to be as self-sufficient as possible.”

One of the kitchen crew, Sara, brought a cart to the table. Tilly gave her an approving nod as she handed out bowls of broth and the leftover biscuits from breakfast. Since the flu had hit, they’d kept a big pot of broth simmering on the stove for any emergencies. There weren’t enough biscuits left to feed everyone, so this was a good use of them. Any left now would end up as breadcrumbs.

Eunice bowed her head over the bowl placed in front of her, tears running down her face. The men sipped cautiously, but soon murmured appreciation and thanks.

“This broth is...” Eunice had to take a breath to steady her voice. “It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in years.”

“It’s not Stew-goo,” Lou commented. He slurped the last drops of broth and picked up a few crumbs off the table to pop into his mouth.

Lily arrived as if on cue. Tilly sent Lou off with her to meet the other children. Drew, from the newly formed Greeting Committee, arrived to give the men a tour. Tilly took Eunice into the kitchen where she nearly fainted from delight. Mary was trying to help, while still being weepy and a bit wobbly. Tilly paired the two. That gave Mary a chance to sit and still be involved, and allowed Eunice to be useful under a watchful eye.

Assured that the next day’s meals would be done on time and adequate for extra numbers, Tilly went to speak with the Greeting Committee about accommodations for the newcomers. As she came out of the kitchen, she saw Angus still seated at the orientation table. He raised a hand to catch her attention.

Tilly narrowed her eyes, trying to arrive at Angus’s destination. “Where were they before, and why did they leave?”