Page 49 of Kiwi Sin
“Yes.” I laughed out loud.“Yes.Thank you. You won’t be sorry. I promise.”
“You know,” she said, “I don’t think I will.”
So that was it. That, and Honor’s reference. And, possibly, Iris. I got the job—a full-time job, arealjob, even if it was a short job—and I moved into the caravan with Prudence, while Frankie went to Wanaka to work for Honor and Gray and Daisy moved into the yurt. An all-Mount-Zion crew started work on the house, and I woke to the sound of their sledgehammers and the crash and clatterof lumber being tossed into a pile as they did their demolition. That was because they started before seven. I saw them sometimes when I came home, too, as they worked more hours than anybody did Outside. That was because they were trying to get Gray’s house done fast, so Gray and Daisy could move into it at the end of the school holidays. Gray was hurrying the job along, I was pretty sure, for Daisy. He worked with the crew sometimes on Saturdays, and he checked in with them every morning, but Prudence and Daisy and I weren’t allowed to look. “It’s a surprise,” he’d said.
For Daisy.
I caught a glimpse of Gabriel sometimes, on my way between caravan and car, and of the others, too. I waved, and they waved back, and that was all, maybe because I also caught glimpses of Uncle Aaron. And anyway, again … what else would I have done? Run up the steps, grabbed Gabriel’s arm, and asked him to kiss me? Baked them cookies, like the most obvious girl in ObviousWorld? Asked Gabriel if he’d like me to sew him something?
Never mind. I spent my days holding babies, rocking babies, soothing babies, changing babies, and I loved it. On the third day, Laila sacked her babysitter, and then Prudence had a job, too, so that was even better.
Three days before Christmas, after my last day of work for Laila, I’d drive Prudence to Wanaka, and we’d work for Honor until New Year’s Eve, when I had a longstanding appointment to babysit for Daisy’s friend Matiu and his wife, Poppy.
“Because that’s the worst of it,” Honor had told me when I’d rung her to let her know I’d got the job. “Can’t tell you how many Christmases I’ve been out there with the hoover and the toilet brush. Everybody’s always got ‘flu’ on Christmas.”
“I’d love to,” I said, and meant it.
She laughed down the phone, a full, rich sound. “Nobody’s ever told methatbefore. Not about working on Christmas Day.”
“We can have a lovely tea afterward, though,” I said. “Prudence and Frankie and I will cook it, and you can put your feet up, and it’ll feel like …”
“Like Christmas,” she said, gently now. “With your mum.”
I swallowed. “No. We never had Christmas like that. It’ll feel a bit like home, that’s all. At least … a kind of home.”
19
A HOLIDAY, NOT A HOLY DAY
Oriana
On New Year’s Eve, Priya—hopefully the final name—and I were just back from Wanaka as scheduled after ten days’ cleaning—some people were really surprisingly messy, and as for the bathrooms, I’d been glad for the rubber gloves Honor provided—with another satisfying chunk of money added to my bank account. Prudence, who’d spent most of what she’d earned on clothes, saying, “It’s Christmas. You’remeantto go shopping, and anyway, I did horrible cleaning for it. I’m going to find something to do for work someday that’s clean. Perfectly clean.Extremelyclean,” was now officially (I hoped) Priya, though her brand-new passport still said “Prudence,” just as mine said “Obedience.” Frankie wasn’t “Fruitful Warrior” anymore, but Priya and I still had to wait. Which meant that on the first day of Year 12, they’d be calling out “Obedience Worthy” again, and everybody would stare.
Never mind. Everybody probably knew already, and I’d handled more difficult things than that. Besides, in five months more, I’d be eighteen myself, and Oriana for real.
Priya’s name was Sanskrit—Indian, like our mum—and meant “beloved,” because she was. We’d come back for her because we loved her, though she could be a surprising person to love. Her once knee-length hair was cut in a sort of feathery way around her delicate face now, the shortest any of us had dared to go, and she’d spent that Christmas cleaning money on skin-tight jeans that she had to wriggle to put on, shirts you could see through, colored singlets to wear under the shirts, shorts that only came halfway down her thighs, and undies in red and black and bright pink.
She’d also bought some that were lace all over. They left marks on her bum afterward, which didn’t look comfortable to me, but she’d said happily, “Having thin legs is good, though, Outside, and having a small bum is, too. You’re prettier for Mount Zion, because they like that your bum’s bigger, but there’s nobody there to care except your husband. I’d rather be pretty to more people.”
As I’d rather be pretty to as few people as possible—men herelookedat you so much, especially on the bus—I didn’t have much answer to that, other than, “You do look pretty.”
Priya also wore makeup every day that took ages to put on, and was pretty disappointed to learn that she wouldn’t be able to wear it at school, and that she’d be in a uniform again. At every turn, her answer seemed to be, “Do whatever is the opposite of Mount Zion.” Like Frankie, only even more so.
Tonight, we weren’t being pretty to anybody, unless you counted five kids under the age of eight. We were babysitting Poppy and Matiu’s three kids, and, to my surprise, my employer Laila’s twins as well. I hadn’t realized Laila and Poppy knew each other. Poppy would’ve been a good reference, I guessed, except that she knew about Mount Zion, because Matiu did. So—not such a good reference.
Well, hopefully my one week of work for Laila was enough to overcome the “Mount Zion” hurdle, if that interesting fact came up.
Mount Zion hadn’t prepared us for Biology, but it had for babysitting, which meant that Priya’d been able to earn money instantly, something she loved almost as much as red underwear and TV. We didn’t have TV in the caravan, which Priya found extremely sad, but Poppy and Matiu not only had TV, they had one with a huge screen and all sorts of extra channels. We’d also make extra money tonight, with five kids, especially as Poppy and Matiu would be out late. New Year’s Eve had never meant anything to me other than that the year changed, but it seemed to be an excuse for a party here.
A party wasn’t a sweet being served after dinner and piano music and dancing amongst the married couples and unmarried girls. It was all the sinful things instead. Alcohol, and dancing with men youweren’tmarried to, and, in the case of Laila, going to the party in something that looked like a nightdress, with your hair loose.
Even after a year, Outside could still surprise me. I’d never seen Laila with her hair down before. I’d definitely never seen her in her nightdress, because normally, she dressed about like me. But then, everything here was odd.
There was also something called “flirting,” which was the most confusing idea of all. You glanced at the man, then looked down with a little smile. That was odder still, because it was what women did at Mount Zion, except that you never actuallylooked,you peeked. Everything at Mount Zion between men and women was wrong, I’d been told, yet this was, somehow, right. You were also meant to touch your hair, and thatwasdifferent, because at Mount Zion, there would’ve been no point. Your hair was under a cap.
Oh. Wait. Girlshadtouched their caps. I remembered Radiance, who was barely older than me, doing that at dinner sometimes, before the Prophet had given her to Raphael. She’d glance in his direction, then look down and touch her cap as if she were straightening it. Radiance had very pretty hands. Had that been flirting?
Priya asked me now, a couple of hours after Laila, Poppy, and Matiu had left and when the kids were finally in bed, “How late will they be gone, do you think? What if we can’t stay awake until then? And how do people wake up on time in the morning after they go to parties?”
