rather be.
Heather comes from the kitchen door. In each hand she has a vase filled with flowers from the meadow. She’s woven some blue ones into her hair, the petals ducking in and out of her curls. Soon, I will be able to do the same.
When she has placed the vases on the table, Heather comes to me. ‘Nature has made you a woman,’ she says warmly. She kisses her palm and holds it on my stomach. When she hugs me, her curls fall over my face.
‘I’m so happy,’ I say, as she pulls me back to look at her. I am sure that I see the memory of the circle of earth in her eyes. Maybe it is a good place.
‘I am very proud of you,’ she says, and my smile is in every part of me.
Our arms empty, Jack and I head back towards the house. ‘What shall we do today?’ he asks, running a hand over his cropped-short hair.
I don’t answer him, because I have seen Kate standing by the kitchen door. I know she is looking at my skirt. I smile at her as she comes up to me.
‘You made it, then,’ she says. Is she talking about the hole in the ground? We are forbidden to mention it. ‘Now we are the same again.’
I feel her warmth as she hugs me. I imagine her stomach bleeding the way that mine is and how I never knew. But when she lets me go, there’s something different in her eyes.
‘I’ll be able to grow my hair,’ I say with a smile. ‘We’ll look like sisters again.’ I reach up to touch her hair. We are an identical colour of blonde, but my hair is so straight and Kate’s ripples slightly, like water.
Elizabeth stands by the cooker in the kitchen, stirring the wooden spoon through the enormous vat of porridge, humming quietly to herself. I watch the sun fall through the window onto her. It catches her red lips and almond-shaped eyes, and I know she’s the most beautiful being in the world. As I always do, I make a silent wish that she is my true mother.
I know that it is wrong to wonder. I know that we are gifts from the earth and we belong to all of the Kindred women. But I want to truly belong to her.
I push the thought away. Today there is space for nothing but happiness.
‘Right, girls. Carry this outside and I’ll go and tell Papa S that we’re ready to eat.’
Some of our family are already sitting at the table when we go out again. The porridge vat is heavy and pinches at my fingers, even through the cloth that I’ve wound around the handle. Kindred John gets up to help as we set it down with a muffled clunk on the end of the sturdy wooden table.
‘Thank you, girls,’ he says, gently laying his hand on Kate’s head. He is so tall, much taller than Kindred Smith, and his hand is so strong that he somehow makes Kate look like a child again. She winces slightly and moves quickly away. I don’t know what’s wrong, but she won’t catch my eye.
We sit down just as Papa S comes out of his door, and that wonderful hush swoops over us. He makes his way slowly to the head of the table. Today it’s Rachel at his side. Her eyes are smiling at him as she holds a flower to her lips, her other hand linked with his fingers. It seems like she has been his Companion for a long time.
Papa S is barely taller than her, yet his goodness stretches into the air. He wears his long hair loose today, flowing like white sun over his shoulders. The feeling of love and awe I have for him swells within me. I gaze at the intensity of his eyes, the deep lines on his face that celebrate his years.
I touch the material of my skirt and smile, hoping that Papa S knows. Hoping that he has seen. Maybe soon it will be me who holds a flower to my lips, and everyone will watch me and know that I am his Companion. The thought of walking with him spills sunshine onto my heart.
We all stand as he reaches his seat. As one, we kiss our palms and reach them out to the sky. Papa S sweeps a hand over all of us and we sit.
‘Begin your thanks,’ he says, his strong voice reaching out. So I lift my head and join the low murmuring around me. The air is warm. The long grass is silent around us. This is happiness.
I try to concentrate on my thanks, but my mind keeps drifting to Elizabeth’s swollen belly. I imagine the child, curled like a nut, growing day by day. Waiting and growing and blinking into the inky, wet darkness. I will look at its face when it’s born and see if it is like me. I’ll look for signs to see if it is my true blood sister or brother. Yet I won’t be able to treat it differently.
‘Begin to eat,’ I hear Papa S say softly, and so we all lower our heads and start to pass our bowls towards the vat of cooling porridge.
It’s not my favourite food of the day. Elizabeth’s magic has long gone by the time the bowls are put in front of us. There’s always a rubbery skin on the top and the spoon has to pop through to reach the slightly sludgy porridge below.
‘It’s delicious, Elizabeth,’ Jack says and I know he means it. He has a warmth you can almost touch. I eat mine quickly, looking forward to the fresh bread and melting jam.
When we have finished eating, we clear the plates and bowls quickly. There haven’t been so many warm days this summer, and as the Kindreds rest at the table, we want to make the most of our free time.
‘Thank you, Pearl,’ Rachel says, as she passes me her bowl. Papa S smiles at me, and my arms tingle with pride. But he doesn’t say anything and there’s no flicker of recognition in his eyes. I wish I had the courage to ask him. Have you seen? Have you seen that I am a woman? But I gather their spoons and walk back to the house without saying a word.
Even though it’s only mid-morning, the kitchen is becoming uncomfortably warm. Jack has hooked the door open, and the windows looking over the meadow are as wide as they can go, but there’s no breeze.
‘Hurry up, you lazy bunch,’ Jack says, tickling Ruby and Bobby until their legs give way and they collapse on the stone floor.
‘You’re not exactly helping,’ Kate says, flicking bubbles from the bowl at Jack. He laughs as he wipes them from the braces holding up his trousers.
‘That’s enough,’ says a voice from the doorway. Heather doesn’t normally sound annoyed. Earlier she had been so warm towards me, but now her eyes are dark and her mouth is tight. ‘Papa S would like some more milk,’ she says to no one in particular.
‘I’ll get it,’ Ruby squeals, dropping her tea towel on the side and running towards the fridge.
‘No, it’s OK,’ Heather says, reaching for a glass from a cupboard above the sideboard. Ruby’s face sinks into disappointment, but Heather doesn’t even seem to notice. She takes the jug from Ruby’s hand and pours milk into the glass. We all watch her as she puts the jug back, closes the fridge door and walks back towards the meadow.
‘What’s up with her?’ I ask.
‘She’s jealous of Rachel, I reckon,’ Kate says. ‘I bet she was hoping Papa S would choose a new Companion.’
A new Companion. Will it be me?
‘She can’t be jealous,’ Ruby says, her little face shocked. ‘It’s not allowed.’
‘You can’t stop your feelings, though, can you?’ says Kate. She looks at Jack, so quickly that if
