the back of the queue. A few rows ahead of her, a little boy was balanced on his dad’s shoulders, reminding her of a TV image she’d glimpsed on Friday: Syrian refugees standing helplessly in a deluge, a small boy on his dad’s shoulders, wearing a plastic bag tied over his ears as pathetic protection from the rain. A knot of painful feelings surged in her: sorrow, frustration at her helplessness –
‘Hey,’ a voice said.
It was Ferdia. ‘Oh. Hey, you made it.’
‘More than my life’s worth to miss it.’
Rare irritation spiked, erasing the cautiously positive opinion she’d had of him since Friday night’s apology. Him and his pathetic little war with Jessie. Would it kill him to be nice?
‘One minute to go!’ a man, who seemed to be master of ceremonies, called, and fresh energy snaked down the lines.
The kids took up a chant: ‘We want eggs! We want eggs!’
A nearby woman muttered, ‘I’ll give them eggs. Little brats.’
What if this were a real food queue? Nell thought. Because right now, at this very moment, in countless parts of the world, hungry people were queuing for food. Like Kassandra.
A whistle blew. ‘Seven-and-unders, go!’ Glass doors opened and the children surged forward, running as if their lives depended on it, Nell and Ferdia bringing up the rear.
‘First World children racing for chocolate they don’t need.’
For a moment Nell thought she’d spoken the words in her head out loud, then realized they’d come from Ferdia. He was the worst kind of hypocrite, playing at class outrage, while his mum paid his fees and living expenses. All around her, crazed kids were pouncing on hidden eggs and flinging them, rattling, into the bottom of their buckets.
‘Now the over-sevens!’ A whistle blew.
Within a second, Nell felt the whoosh of bigger children passing by and, momentarily, deep fear stirred. I’m hunting for food for my family but losing to a faster, stronger adversary.
‘They’ll get so much today they’ll be sick.’ Ferdia was still at her side.
‘Happy Easter!’ Jessie popped up, all sparkling eyes. Then, with a little frown, ‘Where’s Liam?’
‘Upset,’ Nell said. ‘Because of Violet and Lenore.’
‘Oh.’ Nell watched Jessie process her stuff from irritation to reluctant sympathy. ‘Oh. Okay. Well, at least you’re here.’
EIGHTEEN
Cara was feeling good. Great, even. This weekend had gone far better than she’d anticipated. On Friday she’d climbed to the top of Torc with Ed, their two boys and Liam and Nell. On Saturday, they’d done a full circuit of Lake Dan, which Ed said was eleven K and Liam said was fourteen K and she’d decided to believe Liam. Both days, as soon as she’d opened the packed lunch from the hotel, she’d immediately handed her cereal bar to Ed. She hadn’t even given herself time to grieve: it was gone as soon as she saw it.
This morning, even though she was hurting from the two previous days’ exercise, she’d shown up for a 7 a.m. yoga class in the fitness studio. Considering it was Easter Sunday, the turnout was high. It was no real surprise to see Jessie – who was dismayed. ‘Cara, don’t put your mat behind mine. I’ve the worst feet in the world – seriously, you’ll be traumatized if you see them. Take your mat to the other side of the room. We never saw each other, okay?’
That had suited Cara well: the class was tough and she had to spend an embarrassing amount of time recovering in Child’s Pose.
But all weekend she’d eaten with excellent moderation. No starvation, because that usually led to a binge, just plenty of healthy protein, lots of vegetables, no pasta, no potatoes, no bread, other than the sandwiches in the packed lunches. Most uplifting of all, despite being knee-deep in Easter eggs, she’d stayed away completely from chocolate.
It was now Sunday afternoon and the end was in sight. She’d be going home tomorrow, unscathed.
As the light glinted silver off the water of the lake, lots of the Caseys were lolling around on the hotel lawn.
‘There’s real heat in that sun,’ Jessie remarked.
‘Vinnie, Tom,’ Cara called. ‘Where’re your sun hats?’
‘Up in the room.’
‘I’ll just run up and get them.’
Cara took the stairs, raced into the boys’ room, grabbed their hats, turned towards the door … then noticed the two buckets of Creme Eggs standing on the dressing table.
I’ll just take a look.
Stealthily she crossed the room. I’ll just stand here for a moment and look in at them.
Keeping well clear, she stretched and silently regarded the Creme Eggs with the