‘When I simply ask you, nothing ever happens. This isn’t about our morals, Richard Shanti. This is about raising a family. Caring for others.’
His temper snapped.
‘There is nothing, nothing, caring about feeding meat to our children.’
Maya snorted her disgust.
‘Really? Perhaps you can explain that to the doctor. Perhaps you can explain that to Hema and Harsha. And perhaps,’ her voice broke and she half screamed, half cried at him, ‘you can explain it to the Welfare when they come snooping into our lives next week.’
He grabbed the ragged old towel he used and ran past her into the house still dripping.
‘What doctor? What’s happened?’
She followed him up to the girls’ bedroom where he stood beside their bunks, alternately resting a slim-fingered hand on each of their foreheads.
‘They’re on fire.’
She stood in the doorway shaking her head.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ he asked.
‘It’s some kind of flu. Lots of kids have it at the moment.’
‘But they haven’t been in to the school this week.’
‘That’s what I told Doctor Fellows. He said the virus has a long incubation period. It’s not uncommon.’
He turned his head towards her.
‘Are they going to be all right?’
‘They’ll probably get over the virus, if that’s what you mean. But there are going to be other problems now.’
He stood up and faced her.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘The doctor was concerned that the girls were underweight.’
‘No. No, Maya. We’ve talked about this. Why didn’t you tell him that their weight is perfectly normal? I’ve told you it is a hundred times.’
Harsha tried to sit up. In the end she managed to stay up on one elbow.
‘The doctor man had cold hands, Daddy. He said we’re not eating enough poteem.’
‘Lie down, sweetness,’ said Richard, ‘You need to rest and then you’ll feel better. Daddy’s going to get you some protein.’
Maya signalled him to go downstairs and wait for her. She wiped the girls’ heads with a damp cloth and kissed their hot cheeks saying, ‘I’ll be checking up on you. Use this broom handle to knock on the floor if you need me.’
In the kitchen, Richard stood with his palms resting on the counter as he stared into the darkness outside. He hung his head low and Maya saw his shoulders trembling. Her heart was hard.
‘I can’t believe it has to come to this before you start to care for your own children. They’re too thin, Richard. We all are. And you, you’re killing yourself with this running nonsense. No man can keep up the kind of punishment you give your body. Why must you treat us this way?’
The man who turned to face her was a tired old derelict. There was no flesh on his face, only hollow lines. His skin was pasty and blotched red from crying. If she hadn’t seen him in the last ten years and then suddenly met him like this she wouldn’t have recognised him.
‘Because I care about you. I care about your spirits.’
‘Richard, in this life, talk of the spirit is irrelevant. You have to care about our bodies. You have to look after us. If you don’t, spirit is all that will remain.’
She watched his eyes. Dear Father, she thought, he really doesn’t understand. He’d rather see us die for some inexplicable righteousness than live a healthy life.
‘Richard, please. It’s your duty as a husband and father to look after us, to provide for us. You could not be in a better position to do that. Most of the men you work with don’t have the meat allowance that you have and yet you refuse to take advantage of it. Meanwhile, your family is starving.’
‘You are not starving,’ he whispered.
‘Tell that to the Parson of the Welfare. She’s coming on Monday evening. She’ll be here for dinner and I expect there to be meat on this table. Otherwise I’m going to take the twins away myself. And I swear to you now, Richard Shanti, if that happens, you will never see any of us again.’
The second milking of the day was complete, the dairy boys had clocked out seconds after the shift had ended and Snipe was alone with his herd.
He tapped the jar of Beauty Balm in his cow-gown as he paced the rows. Most of the herd were back in the feedlots or pastures but those he was concerned about remained. WHITE 1260, WHITE 091, WHITE 7650 and several others looked in need of his ministrations. He gave his full attention to each one but he looked up often at a milking stall on the far side of the parlour where WHITE-047 was still chained. He was saving her until last. After what the dairy boys had done to her she would be traumatised. It could affect her yield or make her more prone to disease. Cows were far more sensitive to stress than management made allowances for.
He moved from cow to cow trying to maintain his soothing tones and movements but all the time he thought about WHITE-047 and her clear, shining eyes. He thought about the way looking at her made him feel. He’d unloaded all his anger onto Roach and Parfitt. They’d made it to the end of the shift but every move they’d made had been in agony. The hoses had bruised their pale skins and forced their closed eyes almost from their sockets. He’d played the jets over every part of them making them move their hands from their crotches to their faces to protect themselves. He’d been one step ahead all the time. Water on their genitals would have been like a series of kicks. When they turned away from him he aimed at the backs of their heads where the pressure was almost enough to make them faint. Then the creases of their skinny arses where, no doubt, the jets of water would have forced their way within.
When he’d finished their skin was red and raw from the rucking of the icy barrage. They’d cried and vomited and shat pale brown water as they ran away from him. He’d stood there trembling for several minutes unable to move or turn away from the place where WHITE-047 had stood before them. In the changing rooms he’d threatened them both with their jobs and told them he was docking a day’s wages from their pay packets. Neither of them had spoken a word in response. He told them if they tried to take sick time, he’d report them.
There was a hiss from the cow he was working on and he realised he was massaging too vigorously.
‘Hey, now, I’m sorry old girl. Here, how’s this? Better?’
He eased off the pressure, worked Beauty Balm more gently into the cow’s swollen teats between his callused fingers. The hissing stopped.
One by one he led the cows out to join the rest of the herds. In time he was left alone with WHITE-047. His heartbeat quickened as he approached her and, for some reason he couldn’t explain, his lower back ached. He swallowed again and again but his mouth and throat refused to moisten. He tried to ignore the stiffness of his crotch and the strange heat there.
Standing in front of the cow, he was once more amazed by the look of her. She was definitely different to all the others. But what was it? He looked and looked until it was a thoughtless stare. Only her nervous shuffling against the milking restraints broke his reverie.
The damage to her was superficial fortunately. They couldn’t have had the jets on her for more than a couple of minutes when he’d caught them. He could see areas of redness where her skin was chafed by the high pressure and bruises beginning to flower on the strong curves of her thighs.
‘It won’t happen again, lass. Mr. Snipe promises you that. I’ve showed them the error of their ways. I’ve taught them some respect.’
He stepped into the stall with the cow and she backed away as far as the restraints allowed. Not her usual response.
Those stupid bastards.
‘It’s alright now. Mr. Snipe’s not going to hurt you. Mr. Snipe’s going to keep you healthy.’