The short story was recently published in the ‘PAUSE’ anthology, a collection of short fiction and poetry by New Zealand authors, featuring strong female characters. A great collection worth buying.
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TELL IT TO THE BEES
In the attic, the crackle of static was drowned out by the sound of someone hammering on the front door and then echoed by the pounding of fear in Julia’s ears.
She switched the radio off, threw a cloth it and flung a carton and some old clothes over that. In a rush, she lifted the trapdoor and slid down the ladder skinning her shins. She eased the trapdoor shut. Had she been heard? She stood, stock still, listening. From below, voices found their way up the stairs.
“Yes, it’s another freezing night… No, sorry, we haven’t any coal to spare. In fact, my wife has gone to bed to keep warm and I’m about to join her.” She heard Aaron, lying to Mrs Macrae, again.
Julia tiptoed into the bedroom, avoiding the squeaky plank in the floorboards and stripped off her outer clothing, pulling her nightie on over her underwear. She crawled in under the covers, between the freezing sheets, in case Mrs Macrae decided to come upstairs to wish her well. Her concern could sometimes be a step too far and Mrs Macrae’s excuse for nosiness was often expressed, by her, as ‘being neighbourly’.
The voices rumbled on; Aaron’s deep sonorous tone and Mrs Macrae’s higher pitched whine. Not a nice description, but the woman was prone to complain, and if the weather was warm and sunny, she reverted to denigrating her family. Men were better at this sort of thing: refuting knowledge, denying possession and refusing to open doors wide enough to let people slip in. At last, the sound of the front door being shut and the locking bar being slid into place echoed up the stairs.
She stayed in bed until she heard Aaron’s footsteps on the treads, firm and resolute. He stopped in the hallway and grinned at her tucked in bed with only her head showing.
“You heard me, I see?”
“Yes, and this bed is so cold I’m going to get a warming brick…if she’s gone.”
“She has. Poor soul, but it’s not my fault her useless family can’t provide her with adequate heating. Besides I saw the MIC’s there the other day, so she might be snooping for them.”
“The Mick’s? Are they new neighbours?”
“It’s the group’s new name for the ‘Men in Charge’. You know, the local police. Apparently, checking on your neighbour is now a national pastime, worth a few kiwis in your pocket, some Sulphur rock for your infections, or even a lump of coal or two, especially if you find anyone hoarding food or being ‘unneighbourly’. His fingers made speech marks in the air.
He sat on the side of the bed and searched for her hand under the bedclothes. “She may report me for not letting her in tonight. We will have to hide the radio, before dawn.” He stroked her face and tucked strands of hair behind her ear. “Did you reach Doctor Annabelle? She might have a recipe for an herbal tonic, to get rid of your tiredness.”
“I think I reached her, but when I heard the knocking, I turned it off and hurried down here. Where can we hide it?”
“I’ve built a false panel in Walter’s stall. He’s such a bad-tempered stallion, I reckon anyone searching will steer clear of his hooves. I’ll take it out there in about an hour. The wind is strong and I can feel snow in the air. It’s a good reason to be out checking on the stock in the night, in case Mrs Macrae sees the lantern moving in the stables. Hopefully she will have gone to sleep by then.”
“We need to let Annabel know about the meeting, at the waterfall.”
“Stop fretting. You’ll make yourself sick. We can use the radio tomorrow, perhaps during the day. At least we have crystal radios to hear the true news, and to keep in contact with patriots, not those idiots converted to the New Dawn Disciples.”
Julia shuddered and Aaron wiped a tear that slid down her cheek.
“I miss Grandma,” she said, “and her stories of the old life, before that Korean idiot launched a nuclear rocket and started World War III, which filled the air with radiation. It sounded lovely before the Nuclear Dawn. They had so much: food, medicine, doctors, heating. I’m sure people were nicer then.”
“It will come again, if we all practice kindness.” He wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders.
Julia scoffed, “You’re beginning to sound like Saint Jacinda Ardern, the New Zealand Prime Minister who preached kindness during the first Covid epidemic. Didn’t do her any good. She was voted out of power.”
“But the world loved her.”
“Well, I’m not looking for world love, just a hot brick to warm the bed,” and she eased out of Aaron’s embrace. “Want one? I put them by the fire. They’ll be warm by now.”
He nodded. “I told Mrs Macrae we’re going to harvest kawakawa and horopito leaves in the bush this weekend. I promised her some tincture and ointment.
Julia paused at the doorway and screwed her face in distaste. “I resent parting with our hard-earned medicines, not to mention the precious beeswax to make the ointment.”
“That’s not kind,” Aaron teased, then added, “It was the only way I could get rid of her. I know she’ll notice we’re away.”
“And what do we get in return? Life is full of exchanges. What is she offering?”
“As yet, nothing, but I’m hoping it will stop her running us down with made-up stories to the MICs.”
Julia shrugged. Another of life’s compromises in today’s reality.
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The group met at the waterfall, two dozen like-minded souls. The shared luncheon included biscuits, fresh citrus and sun-dried summer fruits. The apples had been preserved by burning Sulphur in a covered box. There was homemade bread, home-cured ham and elderberry juice. William had laced it with a dash of alcohol from his illicit still, so Julia had spring water instead. Their radio broadcasting station was powered by a stolen solar panel which was installed on the roof of Simon’s tree house and the aerial twined through the tree-tops. Simon risked his life broadcasting the real news and those with radios were also risking imprisonment if discovered. The Electromagnetic Pulse from the nuclear bombs had disabled every electronic device around the world. This in turn brought industry, transport, production, even the care of livestock, to a grinding halt. The old ways had become the normal way once more.
As far as Julia was concerned the best thing was the way horses, and all animals, were now valued. Today they had left Walter in his stall to protect their radio’s location, knowing he was very territorial about his living space. They had tramped instead, through the back trail to the waterfall. The watercress was fresh and crisp, liberally salted and sandwiched between slices of bread. Even salt had become a tradeable commodity and Aaron’s recent trip to the saltpans in Motueka had acquired plenty to share, It had been a good exchange for some of their honey.
To Julia’s relief, Annabelle arrived, her face lined with exhaustion, but her smile as bright as always. Her greying hair was plaited into a thick braid which hung down her back ‘out of the way’, she said.
“Can I see you, privately?” Julia asked, her face close as she admired the fineness of Annabelle’s new jacket, handwoven in wool.
Annabelle nodded, murmured ‘later’ and said aloud “It’s a bit bulky but it’s almost waterproof. I’m now in debt to the weaver for a year’s medical attention.” Then she laughed, so Julia wasn’t sure if that was a joke, or an actual contract.
A thread of worry crawled through her chest. They didn’t have money to spare. Would she be able to pay for Annabelle’s services; but first she had to get a diagnosis.
Two hours later the men decided to climb the hill to Simon’s house and do some maintenance on the radio mast. Once they were out of sight and earshot Julia and Annabelle left the others to chat and retired to a sheltered dip in the hillside where Annabelle examined her.
“Yes, you’re pregnant. About three months. I notice your breasts are developing well and the aureoles have darkened. Are you pleased?”
“I’m stunned. Frightened. Concerned. Worried about this child’s future. Will it be alright? Everyone’s fertility is so low these days and the authorities blame the radiation everywhere. I never expected to get pregnant.”
“What does Aaron think? He’ll be very supportive. And will make an excellent father. You only have to see how he looks after your animals to know that.”
“I haven’t told him.” When Annabelle raised her eyebrows, Julia added, “I’ve made sure we make love in the dark and the rest of the time we are dressed because of the cold. If you hadn’t been here today, I would have said something to him, but I’ve been holding it close, like a forbidden secret, for weeks now. Too scared to believe it’s true. Too anxious about how to look after a baby. There are so few about.”
Annabelle, squeezed her hand, holding her gaze. “You only have to raise the child one day at a time, Julia. Everyone has to learn with their first, and the old saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ is true. We are your ‘village.’” She waved her hand in the direction of the other women. “We will all help you. What a joy this will be for all of us. The first of the next generation. Perhaps fertility is returning?” Her gaze drifted over Julia’s shoulder as if she could see another future on the horizon. “I hope so.”
“I’m not sure how we will pay you,” Julia mumbled.
“Oh, you foolish child. Pay me? Don’t be silly. I will raid your ointment, tinctures and herbal tea remedies. I will enjoy your hospitality, stay overnight and devour your honey. I might even try your cheese and I will always take a loaf of bread with me when I leave.” She pulled Julia to her feet. “No money will be exchanged – ever,” and they rejoined the women to relax in the watery sunshine until the men returned.
Once they returned home, she slipped away and told the bees, because that was what you had to do with family news. Later that night, in front of the dying coals in the grate, Julia shared her secret. Aaron wept with her. Tears of joy, mingled with whispered worries, until later, when they dozed wrapped together, feeling more confident, they listened to Walter snickering.
“There’s a mare nearby, in heat. Walter is calling to her,” Aaron murmured.
“Then tomorrow you can give him a lecture on the responsibilities of fatherhood,” Julia quipped, “And you can ride him to the mare. He’ll know where to go, and you can collect a fee for his services. There seems to be an uplift in fertility around here. Perhaps the radiation is dispersing.”
On that hopeful note, they slept.
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Cheers, Deryn Pittar
An enriching story for young and old. I would love to see it published in the Papamoa monthly newspaper, and a copy in the YA section of the library!
An enjoyable read Deryn, well done.