The Legacy

herself and lit the candle on the kitchen table, took off Ben’s coat and gave him a drink of milk. Peter never used candles – he laughed at her attempts to save on energy, told her that a few hours on the computer and a few lights on weren’t going to make any difference to anyone, particularly as their energy came directly from a secret generator provided by the Underground. They were off the grid and no Authorities rationing could be imposed on them. But Peter didn’t suffer from the guilt that Anna did; she still felt the pressure to tread lightly on the world, to use as few of its resources as necessary. And anyway, she liked candles. They were cosy and reassuring.
    She picked up Molly and took off the layers of blankets enveloping her. Molly had been sleeping and opened her eyes, smiling in delight as she always did when she woke up. Anna found it amazing that a baby could be so entirely happy when it knew so little of the world; it terrified her that she was responsible for that happiness, for making it continue, for ensuring that Molly’s smile never faded.
    ‘There’s a good girl,’ she cooed, as she lay the baby down on a sheepskin rug on the floor. ‘I’m just going to scrape the vegetables. Good girl. Now, Ben, would you like to help me?’
    ‘Vegebles,’ Ben agreed. ‘Scape vegebles.’
    He started to rummage half-heartedly through the shopping on the pram, then wandered off to play with a wooden dog on a lead that Peter had made for him a few days earlier. It was too dangerous to take the children shopping. Underground supporters left dried goods and other supplies for them once every couple of months and they had to grow most of their food, but every so often, an excursion to the nearest convenience store was unavoidable and Peter would usually go alone with the fake identicard that Pip had given him. Today though, with no Peter, Anna had been forced to go herself, tying Ben to Molly’s pram and hiding it out of sight half a mile from the shop. People had looked at her – they always did – but no one said anything, no one challenged her. The village was sympathetic, Pip had told them; twenty years before Catchers had descended looking for Surpluses and a skirmish had ensued. Four Legal children had been killed, one just a baby, and that wasn’t the sort of thing anyone forgot easily.
    ‘Doggie!’ Ben yelped excitedly as he pushed it along the floor towards Molly. ‘Doggie roll!’
    ‘Careful of the baby,’ Anna sighed, then started to unload the shopping herself: a few poor cuts of meat, some milk, yogurt, bread. When she’d worked for Mrs Sharpe, she’d imagined that everyone on the Outside ate chocolate every day, that their homes would be brimming with wonderful food. But she’d soon realised that even on the outside food was scarce.
    That was fine with her. She loved growing her own food, loved watching vegetables and fruit ripening, nature at its proudest. She loved the feeling of control over her destiny, loved spending most of her life outdoors and the rest of it inside, cooking, cleaning, making a home for her family.
    She sat down and looked over at the children. Ben’s wooden dog was scampering all over Molly, who was giggling in delight. Anna found herself smiling too. She was so lucky, she realised. So incredibly fortunate. Perhaps she would start her diary again. She’d been meaning to for ages, but never seemed to find the time. Now, with Peter gone, she could write in the evening when the children were asleep. She could read, too, curled up in bed . . .
    Her thoughts were disturbed by a gust of wind that swept past her face and blew out the candle. Immediately Anna felt a jolt of fear – an irrational one, she knew. It would be a broken window, a gap in one of the dilapidated walls that they’d yet to fill. She had always been scared of the dark, a fear borne out of spells in Solitary at Grange Hall, a dark, dank, miserable place that aimed to break the spirit of its inhabitants and succeeded in doing so. All except for Peter, that is. Peter didn’t allow Solitary to break him; instead it was he who did the breaking – tunnelling out, taking Anna with him, giving her a taste of freedom and excitement that she’d never thought possible.
    Using this memory to steel herself, Anna got up and felt around for the matchbox then, using her hands to protect it from the wind, she struck a match and relit the candle. Immediately its warm glow turned the kitchen