“Thank you,” she answered, her voice shaky. She wrapped her arm around her older daughter and pulled her closer.
“Let’s find you a place to sleep, get some rest. I’ll understand if you’d prefer to speak to us after that.”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed several frowning faces, the others were clearly just as curious and didn’t want to wait for Sanne’s story any longer, but they didn’t say anything.
“That’s alright,” she said, tired, and the girl yawned as if to contradict her. “My name is Sanne. This is Marijke,” she gestured to her daughter, about four years old, and then to the baby: “And Anouk.”
“Three women, dear me,” Billy said warm-heartedly. “How old is Anouk?”
“Four and a half months.”
María cleared her throat. “That must have been terrifying… giving birth all on your own, nobody to help.”
“It was painful, sure, but terrifying?” Sanne disagreed. “I’m a midwife, well, I used to be, before all of this, and I’ve been to so many births I’d lost count. I knew what to do. It was quick, no complications.”
Despite her own words, she shuddered a little. Poor thing, I thought, she was trying to put on a brave face, not let on how scary it must’ve been. She was unconsciously combing her long hair with her fingers, like a wide-tooth comb. “We were just hiding on a farm, in the attic, when I went into labour.”
She then stopped talking and shot a significant look towards Marijke. Her gesture was saying I don’t want to say any more in front of her.
“Where are you from?” Akio wondered. “I mean, originally.”
“Holland.”
The baby in her scarf started fidgeting, then the little mouth in a tiny scrunched up face opened into an oval and let out a quiet cry. Sanne took the baby out, undid her shirt and offered it her breast, never mind the spotlight she was in.
“How did you find us?” Billy asked. “Were you at the blue tree?”
“Yeah, I was. I read your sign. I’m afraid I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“How did you find us?”
“I was following the kind of hum only people can create,” she smiled again and added: “We could hear the children.”
“Each of us received instructions to hide away on a farm, orchard or vineyard, there were shelters waiting for us there with provisions for half a year. How come you’ve…” María paused and focused her eyes on the eagerly feeding baby.
“How come I decided I’d rather wander around in the wild?” Sanne finished her question. “It wasn’t voluntary, believe me. I got into Auckland on the last plane still allowed to land in New Zealand. I was lucky they even let me on board because I was already seven months pregnant. Right after that they declared a world-wide state of emergency and nobody was allowed to travel or even go out. Marijke and I were stuck in a hotel and stayed there until the staff… I mean, until there was food. Then we…”
Her eyes blurred with tears. She was silent for a moment and I could only guess why she wasn’t sharing any more.
“Marijke?” I spoke to her daughter. “Did you know that there are lots of children here that would love to play with you? Would you like to go outside with them? Or maybe do a bit of colouring, or read a story?”
The girl’s eyes lit up but she didn’t move an inch away from her Mum.
“Shall I get Ruby and some crayons?” María offered.
I nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”
Soon after, Ruby was cheerfully bouncing around the cafeteria, acting as if Marijke and her have been best friends since forever. She was hurling various details at her, each unconnected to the other, but Marijke was clearly fascinated. We set up some papers and crayons for them a few tables away and after Marijke’s Mum reassured her with a smile, she started to draw with the passion of a child who hasn’t had a chance to be a child in a long time.
Sanne put the baby on her shoulder, rearranged her breasts under her clothes and kept talking. “When there was nobody left to make us food in the hotel, we took over the kitchen ourselves and stayed there until there was no more food left. Then we went on our way… I know that Rotorua isn’t really that far from Auckland but it takes a while if you’re on foot, especially with a child and a huge belly. Plus, we weren’t the only ones scavenging in the area, looking for food. We came across other people, just as hungry and desperate as we were, but they were also ill…”
Her chin shook. Whatever had happened to her along the way, whatever kind of violence she’d witnessed or experienced, I was determined not to ask her about it, not force her to remember, to relive it.
“The farm we were supposed to wait out the epidemic on was much further south than I was able to walk to before the birth.”
She told us the address, it was the southernmost edge of all of our shelters. What unbelievably bad luck. If I had had any idea about Sanne and her troubles, I would have offered to help and then looked after her, even if that meant less food for us. Maybe then I wouldn’t have had to think about Connie and the forest so much.
Don’t you think it’s weird they didn’t put four of us together in the shelters? Wouldn’t that save them a lot of trouble? And protect us from loneliness? I thought, but saved it for later.
“And after the birth…” she paused again. “Anouk was only a few weeks old when I hurt my leg. For a while I
