Juno of Taris (11 page)

But Jov’s rebellion fired my imagination. As I did the manual work in the afternoons, I thought my own thoughts, not those given to us by Marba. I designed a tunic with a full, flowing skirt. I would dye it green and gold and sew a pattern of flowers around the hem. I wove a story of adventure and heroism. I planned a painting, vivid with colours I’d never seen except in documentaries.

I survived. I went nowhere unaccompanied. Every day or two, one of my grandparents would turn up at home at the start of the recreation hour and take me to their house. Sometimes, Leebar came with me to the bay where she’d given me swimming lessons. These were the best times, because I could at last be alone in the water under her guardianship.

The weeks flowed onwards. I thought less of Irian and his selfless ancestor, Ibis, and more of rules and compliance. I thought too, of the mountain.

I lay on my back in the sea and wondered about it. Was it our guardian, the creator of our weather, our talisman? Or was it something more sinister, waiting with the mist covering its summit until the time was right to crush us all? The rock that had struck Aspa’s shoulder on the day of my sister’s conception had come from the mountain. The rock that had killed my aunt Oran had come from the mountain.

I put the question to my learning stratum. Marba was interested enough to postpone his own question, and told us to think about mine. ‘And think about why we’re not allowed to go up into the mist.’

Silvern flounced. ‘It’s obvious – climbing a mountain when you can’t see in front of you is asking for trouble.’ The others looked thoughtful. Nobody came up with any useful theories.

Mother’s belly grew so big I thought she would pop open like a lupin pod in the sun. She laughed at me and told me all was well. She continued to teach dance and lead the singing at meetings.

My grandparents made the things a baby needs. Squares of cloth for nappies, little garments, a bed and blankets. Tiny things. I smiled and went
ooh
and
aah
and was glad nobody could see into my heart. This child was going to be a smug bore. I really could do without a miniature Silvern in the house.

I walked to school with Mother as she grew bigger. I didn’t want something happening to her and somebody else having to help her.

Trebe said the baby would come on Sunday.

Friday. Shaving day. Mother and I walked to school together. She smiled at me. ‘Thank you for being compliant, Juno. We know how hard it is for you.’

I ducked my head, tears burning. I was fine so long as nobody told me how good I was. ‘Love you, Mother.’

Nixie came in – same old joke, but today he chatted to me about the baby. ‘Come Monday and you’ll have a sister. Well now, that’s exciting.’

I smiled. I agreed. But I died inside a little more as he shaved my head.

We went back to our work. Late in the morning, a child from the youngest learning stratum knocked on the door and came into our room. Justa smiled at him. ‘Greetings, Olly. How can I help?’

‘Please Justa, Sheen says can Juno come?’

I jumped up from my seat and raced out the door, pushing Olly out of the way as I went. I burst into the dance studio. ‘Mother?’

She smiled at me. ‘I’m fine, Juno. Truly. But the pains have started and I’d like to go home. Can you tell Justa and excuse yourself?’

A minute later, we were on the pathway heading for home. ‘Shouldn’t you go straight to the hospital?’ I was anxious. I wanted to tell Dad too, before he heard the news from someone else.

‘It’ll be hours yet,’ Mother said, pausing while a contraction tightened her belly. ‘Let’s get home and then you can fetch Zanin.’

Well, maybe she was right, but I’d be happier when she was at the hospital. I left her in the kitchen making a cup of tea and I sped up to the gardens without giving a thought to being alone on the paths.

Dad saw me coming, dropped a tray of seedlings and ran for home, leaving me calling after him, ‘She’s fine! She says it’ll be hours yet.’

‘Tell your grandparents,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

I remembered then about being alone on the paths. But Hilto wouldn’t know yet that I wasn’t at school. I ran to Leebar and Bazin’s first.

Leebar came home with me, while Bazin went to tell Grif and Danyat.

We met nobody, but when Grif and Danyat arrived, they were laughing. ‘We met Nixie! All the island will know by now.’

Mother wouldn’t sit down. ‘It’s better to keep moving.’

Dad paced the floor. I wanted to too, but I kept out of the way, huddled into a chair.

Grif smiled at me. ‘Don’t worry, Juno. This is exactly how it happened when you were born.’ She grabbed Dad’s arm and made him stop pacing. ‘Zanin, calm down. It’ll be hours yet.’

Time crawled.

We ate lunch. Mother wasn’t hungry. That fired Dad’s nerves all over again.

None of us went to work that afternoon, but we would not be expected. I couldn’t enjoy the novelty of it – not with the strain of watching Mother.

As the afternoon faded into evening, even I could tell that the contractions were harder to bear. Dad stalked from the room and came back with Mother’s bag. ‘Come. We’re leaving now and that’s final.’

Mother pulled a face – it might have been at him but it could have been at a pain. ‘I’m not going yet. Zanin, be sensible. I’ll get nervous if I go now. Two of us in a state won’t help the process at all.’

Grif glanced from one to the other. ‘Can I suggest a compromise? Sheen, dear daughter, soon you’re going to be too uncomfortable to walk very easily. You probably don’t want to be carried to the hospital, so how about this: we all come with you, then some of us will stay there and some will come back to be with Juno.’

She said it was a suggestion, but it wasn’t really – not when she used that tone. Mother screwed up her face. ‘Very well. I will comply.’

Creen and Trebe were waiting when we got there. Trebe laughed. ‘Well, it looks like this child will break my perfect prediction record by arriving early.’

I went with Mother to her room, but I didn’t want to stay. I hated seeing her in pain, and I hated seeing the worry Dad tried to hide.

Danyat walked home with me. ‘She’ll be fine, Juno. You’ll see.’

Yes. She would be, I knew that, but I also knew that I’d go crazy if I didn’t have something else to think about while I waited.

We were nearly at my house when we stopped to talk to Vima, Oban and Kalta. At the end of the exchange of the same old news, Vima said, ‘Danyat, if you’d like to go back to the hospital, I’ll stay with Juno.’

That caught my attention. ‘Oh, yes! Thank you Vima!’ We could talk about her work and that would keep my mind occupied.

Danyat tipped up my chin with a finger and considered my expression before he nodded. ‘Very well. Keep out of mischief, Juno.’ I knew what he meant by that but I didn’t think Hilto would bother me tonight.

‘I’ll take good care of her,’ Vima promised. ‘And tell Creen to take her evening meal with us.’ She tapped Kalta on the chest. ‘You can do without her for one evening.’

Kalta clutched at his heart and moaned, but his eyes twinkled. I didn’t think many of Vima’s stratum would gainsay her.

We’d begun to walk on when I thought of something and called back, ‘Danyat! Shall we bring food to the hospital for all of you?’

‘Thank you, dear child, that would be most appreciated.’

Good. That would give me something to do.

We made rabbit pies. Vima was fun to work with – full of light-hearted humour. My nerves settled as she ordered me about, pretending to be the bossy chef in an Outside restaurant.

We cooked sweet cakes and chose a selection of fresh fruit. I thought that perhaps raspberries might tempt Mother to eat.

We took the baskets and walked through the darkening day to the hospital. ‘I wonder if she’ll be born today or tomorrow,’ Vima said.

I shrugged. Who knew – I only hoped it would be today so that Mother wouldn’t have to bear the pain much longer.

Vima glanced around to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. ‘You’re not happy about this sister?’

If it hadn’t been Vima, I would have denied it. Instead, I said, ‘She’s going to be just like Silvern. Would you be happy?’

Vima pulled a face. ‘Give her a chance. She might surprise you. She’s arriving early and that’s a surprise for a start.’

I cheered up. One day I might tell Vima about how I’d tried to make my sister the child of Derrick and Margaretta, but not yet, not now. I shuddered when I thought of what could have happened if their embryo had been viable.

Creen met us as we entered the hospital. ‘Food! Fantastic! I’m starving.’

‘This isn’t for you.’ Vima shook a finger at her. ‘You’re coming back with us to eat your meal.’

‘If Trebe can spare you,’ I said. The hospital made me nervous. Maybe Mother should have stayed at home longer. ‘Is she all right? When will the baby come?’

Creen tucked her arm through mine. ‘Not for a few hours yet, but she’s doing well. They both are. Come and see.’

We found Mother sitting up in a comfortable chair. She smiled at me but I thought she looked tired.

Trebe told Creen to go back with us, and to stay away for a couple of hours. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’ She smiled reassuringly at me.

I kissed Mother and the three of us ran home through the dark.

We told Creen that Kalta knew she wouldn’t be home for the meal. ‘Well, I’ll just go and tell him I’ll probably be away all night. See you soon.’ She ran off.

Vima chuckled. ‘True love – ah, how sweet.’

I wanted to ask her if she was in love, but somehow I couldn’t. Vima kept her emotions to herself.

Creen came in just as we were setting the food on the table. Her eyes held a dreamy, faraway look.

‘Marriage is okay, then?’ Vima asked, sitting down at the head of the table.

‘Wonderful,’ Creen sighed. ‘Just wonderful. You should try it, Vima.’

Vima cut the pie and served a large slice to each of us. ‘No thanks. My apprenticeship takes all my heart right now.’

Creen shot her a look full of questions which she didn’t ask. Instead, she turned to me. ‘What apprenticeship will you choose, Juno?’

I didn’t answer for a moment. I waved a hand, pretending I had a mouthful. She laughed and answered for me. ‘You’ll choose dancing – of course you will. You made my wedding day so special with your dancing.’

I stared at my plate. ‘No. I won’t dance.’

Vima reached out a hand and took mine. ‘But why not? You’re so good. You love it, I can tell.’

Creen stared at me, her face concerned.

‘I have to do it the same. All the time.’ I took a deep breath. I needed to stop talking, right now – but I couldn’t. ‘There are all these dances inside me and if I do them, people withdraw. So I’m not going to dance.’

‘But you have to!’ Creen pressed her hands together. ‘We need a dancer. We need beauty in our lives.’

I struggled to organise my thoughts.

‘Tell us,’ Vima urged, smiling at me.

‘Dance and music. They have to be the same as we’ve always had. They’re the same as when our ancestors first settled Taris.’

‘But that’s good,’ Creen argued. ‘The dances and the music – they keep us together. They’re the things that bond us.’

She didn’t understand. ‘How would you feel if Trebe made you learn medicine that was the same as then?’

She laughed. ‘But we do. In a way. We use all that knowledge.’

Vima said, ‘Yes, you do. And we do the same with the technology. But Juno’s right, Creen.’ She prodded her. ‘Think about it – what would have happened if she’d done a tasty little pirouette all of her own discovery when she danced at your wedding?’

Creen shook her head and smiled at me. ‘But you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have spoiled the dance and spoiled our wedding. I know that.’

But she didn’t know how much I’d wanted to – how hard I’d had to work at keeping to the accepted forms. She just didn’t get it. Vima’s eyes were bright and thoughtful, but she changed the subject. ‘What will your sister be named?’

I didn’t know. ‘Mother and Dad couldn’t make up their minds.’

‘What about you? What do you want to call her?’ Vima asked, that intent look still in her eyes.

I leaned my elbows on the table. I was relieved she’d changed the subject, but I was in a contrary mood. ‘I would like her to have a name from history. Somebody there’s an exciting story about. But we don’t repeat names.’ I kept my eyes on the table in front of me. ‘And anyway, we have no stories. We don’t have our own dances, we don’t have our own music, and we don’t have any stories.’

‘Yes we do,’ Vima said. ‘Think about Irian’s memorial day – Fisa told the story of Ibis. Remember? His ancestor? The one who sacrificed herself to save the island? And other people told stories about him.’

‘But think! How many other people do we know stories about?’ I stared at her, willing her to understand.

Both of them were silent, their brains busy. ‘Akton. Wib. Tulan.’ Creen counted off the names on her fingers. ‘See? Stories.’

I slapped my hand on the table. ‘That’s five people altogether. Don’t you think that’s weird? Taris is more than two hundred years old, and we’ve only got the stories of five people – and how long will we remember the stories about Irian?’

Vima was quiet, but I could almost hear her brain ticking. Creen just shrugged. ‘It’s not important. People didn’t come here to be remembered. It’s not what we do. We survive. All our energy goes into making sure we do.’

What was the use of trying to discuss it? I began to appreciate Marba and the way he made us think about things. This was a question we could discuss under the tamarind trees.

‘There’s the story about the crisis,’ Vima said, watching me as if I was a computer program she was testing.

I hesitated. This was leading into dangerous territory where we could end up questioning the wisdom of our elders. ‘Well?’ Vima prompted, her eyes bright.

‘That story isn’t the real one,’ I began. Creen gasped and opened her mouth to argue, but I waved a hand at her. ‘Think about it! Think about that documentary on the September 11 terrorist attacks. Those people they interviewed. You know what happened to them – how they felt. They each had their own story. You could feel it – see it – when they spoke. They would never have forgotten, not even when they grew old. And I bet their descendants still talk about it.’