Read Online The Flood by Maggie Gee - Free Book Online Page B

Mum knew practically nothing of any use, except about paintings, and clothes, and money. She would surely fail, and be disappointed, and then she’d take it out on Dad. In the meanwhile, who would look after Lola?
    ‘I’m starving,’ Gracie said at seven o’clock.
    ‘Let’s go and get chips,’ Lola said. It didn’t seem much fun, on a February day. She cast about for something to cheer them both up. ‘And let’s do, you know, an action somewhere. A protest thing. Our first protest.’ (That would show her mother for not feeding her, and punish her weedy father, too, for skulking uselessly in his study.)
    ‘Oh cool, cool, that’s a great idea.’ Gracie thought for a moment. ‘What, though?’
    ‘We ought to, like, hit at commerce,’ said Lola, parroting the phrases she had read on the net.
    ‘What’s commerce exactly?’ Gracie asked.
    ‘Banks. Shops.’
    ‘But Lol, we like shops.’
    ‘Advertising, I suppose,’ said Lola. ‘It’s “The Great Evil”, like the web-site says. It sells powdered milk to Africa.’
    ‘Does it?’ This didn’t seem quite right to Gracie. Surely the powdered milk was something different. ‘So have they all got TVs in Africa?’
    ‘Yes.’ Lola didn’t believe in backing down. ‘If we were there, we could smash their TVs.’ Actions would be easier, if they were in Africa. Here things seemed more complicated. After all, she got her allowance from a bank. If they hit banks too hard, she might lose her money, just when she was planning on going to the sales.
    But Gracie had an idea at last. ‘Well didn’t you say that woman was in advertising, that one who yelled at you for having the party, who came in here and snatched the plug from the wall? And your mum called her a silly old fool?’
    ‘Oh, Gloria. Yes. Our next-door neighbour. They made friends after that. Mum said we had to. She sent her about a thousand dollars’ worth of flowers. But Gloria still moans if I play loud music.’
    ‘So why don’t we go and like do her over?’
    ‘Cool,’ said Lola. ‘Yeah, cool.’ But she didn’t move. She knew Gloria. Gloria had sponsored her on charity walks. Knowing her made her seem somehow less capitalist. Most anti-capitalist actions seemed to involve paint, or posters, or flour. She imagined flour all over Gloria’s sofa. And the indigo stair carpet, crusted with paint. Poor Gloria had only decorated last year. Couldn’t they find some capitalists who weren’t their friends?
    ‘You’re scared,’ said Gracie. ‘Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go for the chips and like see how we feel.’
    ‘Let’s take off our uniforms and put dark clothes on.’
    Giggling, looking at themselves in the mirror, jumping on each other to make themselves scream, they both dressed up in head-to-toe black, tights, roll-necks, gloves and hoodies. The gloves were cashmere, lined in silk; Lottie had two dozen pairs like that, in shades from black to ice-cream pink.
    ‘We look like cats.’
    ‘We look like burglars.’
    ‘We could be anyone, dressed like this.’
    Suddenly they felt they could do it. If they weren’t themselves, they could do anything. Two panthers prowled into the darkening city. They left the lights on, and both doors open.
    Ten minutes later, Dirk strolled through, after a cursory ring on the front doorbell. He had found something he was good at, at last. It no longer mattered if Dirk was wanted; he got in anywhere, and took what he liked, remembering tips he had picked up in prison and learning quickly as he went along, for his brain had always been good at some things, though life had never given him the chances. Small, wiry people were good at burgling. It wasn’t really burgling, since it was for God. Father Bruno had explained all that. They needed funds for their posters and leaflets, their fares and food, and the leaders’ salaries. In any case, Dirk only burgled rich ponces who didn’t deserve nice things in the first place. Now he had a profession,