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Smelling of bees when you're not actually with them can attract unwanted insect company: already there are some green flies trying to settle on her, and some interested wasps. Toby goes over to wash her hands at the pump. As she's scrubbing, Ren and Lotis Blue come in search of her.
"We need to talk to you," says Ren. "It's about Amanda. We're really worried."
"Try to keep her busy," says Toby. "I'm sure she'll be back to normal in a while. She's had a shock, these things take time. Remember how you were at first, when you were recovering from your own Painballers attack? I'll give her some mushroom elixir, to build up her strength."
"No, you don't understand," says Ren. "She's pregnant."
Toby dries her hands on the towel hanging beside the pump. She does it slowly, giving herself time to think. "Are you sure?" she says.
"She peed on the stick," says Lotis Blue. "It was positive. The fucking thing showed a happy face."
"A pink happy face! That stick is so mean! It's horrible!" says Ren. She starts to cry. "She can't have that baby, not after what they did to her! Not a baby with a Painballer dad!"
"She's walking around like a zombie," says Lotis Blue. "She's so depressed. She's just really, really down."
"I'll talk to her," says Toby.
Poor Amanda. Who could expect her to give birth to a murderer's child? To the child of her rapists, her torturers? Though there's another possibility, as far as the father goes. Toby recalls the flowers, the singing, the enthusiastic tangle of Craker limbs in the light from the campfire on that chaotic Saint Julian's evening. What if Amanda is harbouring a baby Craker? Is that even possible? Yes, unless they're a different species altogether. But if so, won't it be dangerous? The Craker children are on a different developmental clock, they grow much faster. What if the baby gets too big, too fast, and can't make its way out?
It's not as if there are any hospitals. Or even any doctors. As far as facilities go it will be like giving birth in a cave.
"She's over at the swing set," says Lotis Blue.
Amanda is sitting on one of the children's swings, moving gently back and forth. She doesn't quite fit the swing; it's close to the ground, and her knees are sticking up awkwardly. Slow tears are rolling down her cheeks.
Standing around her are three of the Craker women, touching her forehead, her hair, her shoulders. They're all purring. Ivory, ebony, gold.
"Amanda," says Toby. "It's all right. Everyone will help you."
"I wish I was dead," says Amanda. Ren bursts into tears and kneels down, throwing her arms around Amanda's waist.
"Don't say that!" she says. "We got this far! You can't give up now!"
"I want this thing out of me," says Amanda. "Can't I drink some kind of poison? Some of your mushroom stuff?" At least she's showing some energy, thinks Toby. And it's true, there are plants that were once used. She remembers Pilar mentioning various seeds and roots: Queen Anne's lace, evening primrose. But she's not sure of the quantities: it would be too risky to try such a thing. And if it's a Craker baby, none of that may work on it anyway. They have a different biochemistry, according to the MaddAddamites.
The ivory Craker woman stops purring. "This woman is not blue any more," she says. "Her bone cave is no longer empty. That is good."
"Why is she sad, Oh Toby?" says the gold woman. "We are always happy when our bone cave is full."
Bone cave. That's what they call it; beautiful in a way, and accurate, but right now all Toby herself can visualize is a cave full of gnawed bones. Which is how it must feel to Amanda: death in life. What can Toby do to make this story better? Not much. Remove all knives and ropes, arrange constant companions.
"Toby," says Ren. "Can't you ..."
"Please try," says Amanda.
"No," says Toby. "I don't have that knowledge." It was Marushka Midwife who did the ob/gyn, at the Gardeners. Toby herself stuck to illnesses and wounds, but maggots and poultices and leeches are no use for this. "It might not be as bad as you think," she continues. "The father might not be a Painballer. Remember that night, around the campfire, on Saint Julian's, when they jumped on ... where there was a cultural misunderstanding? It might be a Craker baby."
"Terrific," says Ren. "Great choices! An ultracriminal or some kind of gene-spliced weirdo monster. She wasn't the only one, anyway, with the cultural misunderstanding or whatever you want to call it. For all I know, I've got one of those Frankenbabies inside me too. I'm just scared of peeing on the stick."
Toby tries to think of something to say - something upbeat and soothing. Genes aren't a total destiny? Nature versus nurture, good can come of evil? There are the epigenetic switches to be considered, and maybe the Painballers just had very, very bad nurturing? Or how about: the Crakers may be more human than we think? But none of it sounds very convincing, even to her.
"Oh Toby, do not be sad," says a child's voice: Blackbeard, nudging up beside her. He takes her hand, pat
s it. "Oryx will help, and the baby will come out of the bone cave, and then Amanda will be happy. Everyone is very happy when there is a baby that has just come out."
Farrow
"Lift up, you're lying on my arm," says Zeb. "What's wrong?"
