Simi looks around the little group. She sees Marybelle undaunted, standing beside Fred who is pale and creased, next to the blanketed Bernard. On the other side of Bernard is Tim, his glasses spattered.

What keeps these people going? Place is ruined. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No blue lights in sight. I feel like I’m about to fall over. About as much use as a bread stick stuffed in water. Why are they still standing? And anyway who’s going to pay for all this?

She doesn’t mean to ask the question, but she does, and too abruptly. Marybelle, turns and stares at her, then echoes the question, as if she can’t understand it. “Who’ll pay?”

Come on … surely. Surely somebody’s thinking like me.

“There must be insurance?” Simi tries to make the question a little clearer, to unhook herself from Marybelle’s question mark eyes.

“What? Insurance? Doubt these guys had any.”

 “Maybe they do,” says Tim, with a shrug. “Maybe. Anyway, the big thing is everyone’s okay … at least I hope there was nobody in that squash court.”

“Oh no! I hope not …” A flash of horror crosses Marybelle’s face then vanishes. “No. We would have heard by now. Thank you God,” she says closing her eyes.

“Not sure what God’s plan is,” says Fred, “but I think he’s going to need a hand here. We’ll have to make the plan. Help Rudd sort himself out.”

 “Hope it works,” Simi mumbles, trying to smile.

“Well, nothing much we can do about any of it right now.” Tim, voice energetic, turns to his charges. “Priority is to get you two gentlemen to a place to rest. That’s my plan. Let’s go. Hope to catch you ladies later.”

Together Simi and Marybelle watch the trio squelch slowly across the verandah, towards the stairs down to the bedrooms.

“Shall we go and check on our rooms?” Marybelle asks.

Simi nods. She is glad to feel the small arm loop again through hers, glad to be able to think of a bed at last.

At the top of the stairs, they pause to look out over what was once the swimming pool terrace, with the angled height of the squash court along its far end. Now there is just a small lake, with a pile of bricks in the distance, and a group picking its way over them. Simi recognises Rudd out in front. They hear him call out to the others. “Hey guys, doesn’t look like there’s anything here. Think you’d be better off searching in the other area. Be careful though. More may collapse.”

The five or so move off, weary as flags at half-mast. Rudd does not follow. Instead he begins to head up towards the Lodge. Then he turns and calls back to them. “I’m going to see if I can get breakfast together. Give me an hour and I should have something ready for you.”

A few replies bounce back as he continues on towards the kitchen. Marybelle shouts across to him. “Rudd, can we give you a hand with breakfast?” Rudd stops and waves. Even from a distance Simi can see the strain on his face.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

The sound shocks Simi to her feet, her body responding before her mind can catch up. Stunned, she tries to hold her bearings as bodies rush past her towards the door. Marybelle is beside her, and behind her she can hear Tim urging Fred and Bernard to their feet. She turns around and sees them coming towards her, blankets draped awkwardly, a trailing edge dragging in the wet.

 “I think we should go,” Tim calls to her. “Check what’s happening out there, and I need to get these two properly dry.”

Marybelle nods, and hooks her arm through Simi’s. “Let’s go,” she urges, turning her towards the door. “I don’t know what that noise was, but I want to find out.”

Simi lets herself be led towards the rectangle of grey sky, her good hand lifting her kaftan as far out of the damp as she can. They step through into the dawn, and are utterly unprepared for what they see. Around the swimming pool, trees are snapped and broken. On the verandah, smashed tables mix with sodden tablecloths and the glint of broken glass. Above them, cracked gutters spill and drip, tangled in broken fairy lights. Windows are smashed, and the walkway roof gapes in toothless squares.

Simi, hearing voices in the distance, turns towards the swimming pool. Beyond its flooded terrace she sees Rudd picking his way over tree limbs towards a pile of red brick rubble. She stares in disbelief, her brain resisting the knowledge that what she is looking at was once a squash court. She turns to Marybelle. “What a nightmare,” she whispers. Marybelle, looking in the same direction, says nothing, her expression so sad that instinctively Simi puts an arm around her shoulders. “Shouldn’t be long before the emergency services get here,” she says.

Marybelle shakes her head. “You kidding? Not here. Poor Rudd.”

There is a shuffle of feet and blankets behind them and Tim emerges from the billiard room with an exhausted Fred and Bernard. At the sight of them Marybelle unhooks her arm from Simi’s, and steps towards them, hands out in front of her in a wide greeting, all signs of her shock vanished.

“What a mess!” Tim says, gesturing towards the crumpled remains of the squash court.

“Terrible,” says Fred, as Bernard shakes his head slowly, tongue clicking against his teeth.

“Don’t know how they’re going to sort this,” saysTim.

“They will,” says Fred. “We’ll help.”

 “You’re right,” says Marybelle, giving the old man a hug. “We’ll all help. It’s the only way.” They stand together and survey the wreckage for a while longer

 “You okay, Simi?” Tim asks quietly. “What’s happened to your hand?”

“My hand?”

“Yes. The bandage there?”

“Oh, that …” says Simi. “Just a splinter, but Marybelle’s taken it out.”

“Do you want me to have a look?”

“No. All fine. Forgotten about it until you asked. Anyway, it’s nothing compared to all this,” she says, her good hand gesturing towards the former squash court, her kaftan abandoned to the wet.

“Not good,” says Fred, “but it will fix.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

“Grandpa thumps his fist again!” Tonderai slaps his hands on to the bench where he sits. “Crash!” he shouts. “The Table wobbles and Grandpa’s gold, his cars and his mansions fall to the floor. The Favourites scrabble to hold on, but they too are falling. Knowledge and Hope cannot believe what they see, for all they have known is shadow.”

Rain thunders over the roof again, leaving the room frustrated and fidgeting. Rudd thinks he hears Jacobus snoring. He looks towards the door but cannot see him. There is no firelight now, just the dull orange of the single remaining torch beam. Should be dawn soon, Rudd thinks.

When the rain clears eventually Tonderai begins again.

“Girl sees that Uncle’s carving makes each leg of the Table weaker and shorter. She knows now that, together, they may bring it down, and she hopes that soon there will be no more Snake, and no more Wife of Snake, and no more Favourites stealing, stealing. She dreams that all gold bars will be melted down to buy hospitals, and schools, and books, and teachers for the People.

She is happy dreaming, and then suddenly she remembers the Bones, and she is frightened. They jump in her head, shaking, shaking. Shaking so much that they shake in a new idea. A brave idea. And with it another, and another. Now Girl is not frightened. These ideas come from the Bones. It is they who talk to her now. It is the Bones who know their time has come. It is their time to be laid to rest, and they will not be silent until it is done. It is they who will bring down Grandpa’s Table, and it is the People who will help them.

How does Girl know these things?” asks Tonderai. “I know and bus-stop Gogo knows, for she told us that Girl knows these things for she has Ancestors of Fire in her blood – Ancestors who will not let her be pushed this way and that by those who think they are mighty, for this reason or for that. No. Those who came before Girl, have given her the power to see what is right and what is wrong. And now Girl knows that the Bones have Ancestors too.”

Tonderai stands and crosses over to the billiard table. He rubs his hands together and turns to face the youngsters who are half-lying, half-sitting, half-awake on the bench along the wall. “So,” he says to them, “this is how this story ends.” Then he turns towards Bernard and Simi. “Girl, who does not know if she matters at all, and Uncle who is not strong, have done what they have done, and soon it will be done. Grandpa and the Favourites will be gone. That is what Girl believes.”

Tonderai lowers his head and stands, hands behind his back, and his eyes on his gumboots. He says nothing.

 “Is that the end?” Marybelle asks.

 “Yes. That is the end,” he replies, lifting his head. “That is the end.”

“Oh … thanks,” says Marybelle, and starts to clap, applause rippling around the room with her.

“Good. Very good,” says Bernard.

“I like those Ancestors,” says Simi. Tonderai smiles.

“Must be nearly mor …” Marybelle never finishes. A thudding roar from outside, shocks over them. Rudd is on his feet before he can think.

“Yassus …”

“What’s that?”

 “Squash court …”

“I bet …”

Voices shout out as they jumble towards the door. Rudd joins Jacobus and others heaving at the stove. In seconds the door flings open, and they sweep out into the dawn like seagulls in a storm.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023