‘Why do you do that?’ he said to Zac, who was squatting by his door.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Zac. ‘Why don’t we get out of here now? We can go to my house. My brother, Anthony, wrote a thesis on the Telling for his post-doctoral degree. He could give us a lot more information.’
Luke shook his head. He wanted to say: One, why didn’t you tell me this before? And two, are you for reaclass="underline" elves study prophecies that human beings have never heard about?
Instead, he said, ‘I am so hungry.’
‘Me too,’ said Zac.
They made their way downstairs, Luke’s face brightening with every step. He didn’t notice that Zac’s became more morose. All his senses were acutely focused on the kitchen. The smell was absolutely amazing.
‘Roast lamb,’ said Georgia as they rounded the entrance to the kitchen.
Glowing flames spattered and sparkled merrily in a modern gas fireplace set into the wall closest to the ocean. The whole kitchen radiated warmth and comfort.
‘I didn’t see a fireplace there last night,’ said Luke, rushing over to it and warming his hands.
‘I forgot to turn it on,’ said Georgia.
Zac frowned.
‘Roasted potatoes and pumpkin and buttered corn on the cob,’ said Georgia, pointing to the dishes that sprawled across the table. ‘I’ve made heaps too much gravy, that’s cheese bread and it’s freshly made, and I found a jar of a secret-family-recipe mint jelly. Oh, and I’ve made butterscotch pudding with banana custard for dessert.’
Luke grinned. ‘You don’t really look domestic.’
‘Boarding school,’ she said. ‘Zac, could you bring the lamb over? It’s just resting there by the oven.’
‘No,’ said Zac.
‘Whoops,’ said Georgia, smiling, with a hand on her hip. ‘I forgot. You’re vegan. Oh well, you can still eat the vegetables.’
‘Not when they’re covered in butter,’ said Zac.
‘Well at least you can eat the bread. It’s still warm.’
‘Pass,’ said Zac. ‘It’s cheese bread. Vegans don’t eat any animal products.’
Georgia laughed. ‘No wonder you’re so skinny,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing in the whole world you can eat.’
‘I’ll have a banana,’ said Zac.
‘Except that I used them all for the custard,’ said Georgia, grinning. ‘But it’s great custard.’
‘Made with milk,’ said Zac.
‘Of course! How else do you make custard?’
Zac sighed. ‘Enjoy your murdered baby sheep,’ he said, stalking from the kitchen.
‘He’s a weird one,’ shrugged Georgia, scraping a chair out from the table.
‘You know, he really is,’ said Luke, carrying the roasting tray over, dodging the cats twirling and twisting about Georgia’s chair legs.
He grabbed a plate and piled it super-high.
Outside, the wind howled.
Heathrow Airport, London, England
In Terminal Five of Heathrow Airport, Samantha White cleared the covered walkway for the British Airways flight, and froze, wild-eyed and panicked. A sea of people frothed and boiled around her. She stood stock-still in the middle of it, drowning. She had never seen so many people, so many signs, so many moving walkways in all directions. The worst thing was she had never felt so many emotions, all undercover in some hideously huge building. They darted, seeped, echoed and flung themselves at her from every direction. She thought she might vomit.
A motorised cart driven by a man in a grey uniform whizzed past her and she spun, tracking it with her eyes. But now she’d turned herself around, and she didn’t even recognise where she’d come from.
She read English well and spoke it clearly, as did all the gypsies in her camp. English-speaking tourists always had money to spend or to steal and it paid to be able to communicate well with them. And she’d rote-learned that she was supposed to make her way to Terminal Three and find the Qantas Club so that she could wait out the hours until her next flight. In Romania, that waiting time had seemed like it would take forever. But right now, she had palpitations – would she get to where she needed to be on time?
There were supposed to be a few options to make her way there – a free shuttle bus, an underground train, or else a terribly long walk for the very bored. Problem was, she couldn’t see a sign for any of these selections; everything had blurred together into one horrible, colourful, nauseous mess. She knew she had three hours before she had to fly again, but she figured it was going to take her at least that long to move from this spot.
I am so lost, she told herself.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, miss, you look very lost.’
She spun around. A man wearing a grey uniform stood behind her. He had an Indian accent, dark eyes and a warm, comforting smile.
She shrugged, then nodded and gave her best shot at a smile. She didn’t have a lot of faith in her attempt.
‘Very lost, indeed,’ he said.
‘Um, thank you?’ she said.
The Indian man gave a laugh.
‘My name is Amit,’ he said. ‘And I am especially interested in the lost.’
Samantha eyed him cautiously.
The man laughed again. ‘I am very sorry,’ he said. ‘My wife tells me to not all the time tell jokes. My name is Amit and I can help you to get to where you need to go. That’s my job here at the airport. Would you please show me your travel documents?’
Samantha pulled the plastic wallet from her satchel and handed it over.
He studied her flight ticket and the Carnivale Admit One ride pass and beamed.
‘Oooh, you need to get to the Business Class Qantas Club,’ Amit said. ‘Aren’t you a lucky young lady?’
Yeah right, that’s exactly what I am, Amit, very, very lucky. Sam tried her best not to scowl.
‘Do you know where it is?’ she said.
‘I know where everything is, Miss White. Follow me.’
Amit set off at a rapid pace. Samantha trudged along behind him, her mind numb. She thought she now knew how the horses must feel when Milosh and Besnik ordered that they pack up camp to move on. Mustered. Herded. She’d been herded and mustered a couple of dozen times already today and it was only a little past ten a.m. She kept her eyes on the back of Amit’s shoes.
A woman carrying a red-faced, screaming baby girl stepped into Amit’s path.
‘Excuse me,’ the woman said. Samantha could feel the woman’s fear and fatigue emanating in waves. It was so strong she could almost see it. ‘Could you please tell me where -’
Amit stepped around her as though she and her distraught baby were completely invisible.
A tiny tingle buzzed at the back of Samantha’s neck and her footsteps slowed.
Why would Amit ignore the woman if it was his job to help people who were lost?
Suddenly, the tingle became an electric jolt. Why couldn’t she feel him?
She stopped walking.
She could clearly sense the emotions of this woman and her little girl. She widened her awareness – and felt the sadness of an old lady just over to her right, taking a breather on a bench. And why could she feel that a man talking on a phone nearby was ashamed, and that the woman walking beside him seethed with quiet rage, and yet from Amit: nothing?
He noticed that she wasn’t following him and he turned, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows.
‘It’s this way, Miss White,’ he said, smiling widely. ‘I know you have a while until your flight, but you’d be surprised how quickly the time passes, and I’m sure you’ll want to spend some time enjoying the amenities of the Qantas Club lounge.’
‘Um,’ she said, heart pounding. ‘Actually, Amit, I think I’d prefer to do some shopping first, look around for a bit.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’ he said. The tiny wrinkle had become a deep scowl. ‘We’ve got to get you to where you’re going next. I have a car waiting.’