The Exiles

the table so it looks like we’ve done something.’
    She fetched five plates and set them round the table. Rachel found bread in a bin marked ‘Rubbish’ in which she had been searching for empty dog food tins. Naomi put five knives beside the plates and the loaf of bread in the middle of the table with the breadknife beside it.
    ‘She’ll have to have boiled eggs,’ said Ruth, ‘I don’t think I can do any other sort.’ Then Naomi discovered an egg cup and put one of the eggs in it. She put the other in a saucepan of cold water and stood it on the stove.
    ‘It’s no good cooking it until she comes in.’
    They stood back to have a look at the table. It seemed a bit bare. Phoebe fetched salt and pepper and vinegar all together in a silver stand and placed it carefully in the middle, just as they heard the front door open.
    Ruth noticed the butter on the sideboard and plonked it hurriedly beside the bread. That was all they could do.
    ‘Rachel!’ bellowed Big Grandma, who was suddenly standing by the doorway. ‘What do you think you’re doing in there?’
    Rachel emerged from the real rubbish bin which she had just discovered and was searching with care.
    ‘Looking for empty tins,’ she answered, startled into telling the truth. ‘Empty dog food tins.’
    ‘There is no need for you to do that,’ answered Big Grandma. ‘I intend to feed you, even if your sisters do not.’ Her eyes, one brown and one green, gleamed with amusement as she surveyed the breakfast table, and then she chuckled and rubbed her hands together.
    ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ asked Phoebe, delighted with the laughter. ‘I did most of it.’
    ‘Then you did very well,’ Big Grandma replied. ‘Right then, put the grill on, Ruth, and make some toast. Can you make toast? Good. Rachel, wash your hands and then come and finish laying the table. Egg cups. Tea cups. Milk. Sugar. Milk’s in the ’fridge beside you. Naomi, put the kettle on. Get me a saucepan, Phoebe, from that cupboard behind you. A big one. Eggs, Naomi, don’t just stand there!’
    ‘Ordinary or horrible?’ asked Naomi without thinking.
    Big Grandma glanced at her. ‘Horrible,’ she replied. ‘Duck eggs for me, that’s what I say. As many as you like. Bring them over here and pass me that box of porridge. Butter the toast, Ruth, don’t let it go cold! Use your brain! Five dishes out of that cupboard, Phoebe. Egg spoons and porridge spoons, Rachel! Fill the milk jug someone! Heaven grant me patience, with milk of course! Because it’s nearly empty. How you have survived so long in this hard cold world is beyond me! Tea, Naomi, four big spoonfuls and warm the pot first. In the tin marked “Tea”! Where else would I keep it?’
    In a few whirling minutes the table looked very different. Hot and bothered the children sat down to eat. Everyone had large dishes of porridge in front of them, and Big Grandma seemed to swallow hers down before the others were even properly started.
    ‘Hurry up!’ Big Grandma encouraged them. ‘Shove it in, you don’t need to chew porridge! Never mind if you splash it on the table, we haven’t laid a cloth I see!’
    Ruth and Naomi looked at each other but did not speak. Naomi was thinking that nothing would induce her to eat one of those eggs. Ruth was wondering if Rachel would choke. She could see that her sister was so flustered that she kept forgetting to take her spoon out of her mouth before she swallowed.
    At last the bottoms of the bowls began to appear.
    ‘Good-oh!’ exclaimed Big Grandma without even giving them a chance to breathe.
    ‘Toast there, here’s your eggs. Who can eat two?’
    ‘No thank you,’ said Ruth, Naomi, Rachel and Phoebe all together.
    ‘Eat them!’ Big Grandma ordered. ‘Come on, we’ll race, one for each of you and two for me. A prize for the winner!’
    ‘What?’ asked Phoebe.
    ‘Wait and see! Eat and see!’
    ‘You’ll win,’ said Rachel. ‘It isn’t worth it.’
    ‘All right, a prize for the first and second to finish. I’ll say “Go”.’
    ‘I’m not ready,’ Phoebe shouted. ‘Someone take the top off! I can never get the tops off!’
    With one swoop of the bread knife Big Grandma sliced the top off Phoebe’s egg.
    ‘Ready, steady, GO!’ she roared, and Rachel and Phoebe threw down their eggs, smashing off bits of shell with their fingers and swallowing whole.
    ‘Finished!’ they panted almost together.
    ‘Well done!’ applauded Big Grandma, clapping