Born too late

Chapter 1

She knew she would be in trouble soon or late. She knew that punishment would hit her. However, she had not thought of the consequences too much.

She fled work just after lunchtime. She run to the river, even though of course there was no river left but only a giant valley like a wide - open mouth. Of course, she would not be afraid.

She was with two girls her same age, who had acquired names only recently: Rose and Emma. Those days everyone had to have a name. If you did not have one, people from the Mall would choose it for you. She did not need one, for she had been Marsha since the day she came to life.

They sat on a large red iron plate making a funny noise whenever they stepped on it. Those days the wind was still cold, although everyone said the weather was changing, and in fact, at that time of the day, you could see a large shiny spot in the sky, behind the layer of clouds. It could be the sun, someone said. The sun hiding behind the clouds, along with other secrets of the world.

Why they run to that place, Marsha could not explain.  There was not much to there, surrounded by old ruins. Lately she felt like doing pointless things, like singing songs that were only lalalalalaaaa or pumpumpumpum. This she was doing with her friends, or they would look at each other's shins, if there was nobody looking and they could uncover their legs from the skirts and several layers of socks and other garments.

That day, they certainly took advantage of the confusion caused by the arrival of the foreigners. They were very many – a hundred? A thousand? You could not tell. Foreigners hardly spoke the language from London. They had their own language instead, a funny language with lots of words, that seemed to make their throat fizz whenever they spoke. They would speak a great deal of words, loudly and with a funny look in their eyes. The foreigners had moved to London a few weeks earlier, from a region Marsha did not know, and they had started taking shifts at the fabric plant.

Actually, confusion was not just at work. Some other strangers had turned up with their moving machines and had started to rebuild old buildings for the foreigners who meant to stay (or else there wouldn't be much room for everyone.) By that time, all the talks had already started, about the Mall and people from the Mall who wanted to fix things up and give everyone a name. All was scary and exciting at the same time.

However, even if they now knew there was a Mall and people checking that nobody hurt nobody, it was still dangerous to be in a place like that, unwatched, unattended.

This thought came to Marsha's mind when she spot a man from the management team at a distance. He looked normal all right, with proper eyes, mouth, legs and arms, seemingly with all the fingers and toes, and greenish hair, so he wasn't much older than them. He did not approach but stayed distant as ignoring them. In truth, he was looking at them out of the corner of his eye. Three young girls with cheering and doing nothing, with their legs exposed up to the knees, like three cats (except that there were not many cats around any longer.)

That man wouldn't rape or assault them, but certainly went to report them. This is what Marsha thought when she returned home and had not yet stepped that the old hag was already behind the door to hit her on arms and legs with a broomstick. The hag was hitting her as she would hit a mouse, although she mercifully spared her head. Her usual smell – the same you could sniff around old ruins – was getting stronger, that made Marsha hope she was rotting from inside and was to die soon. On the other hand, her grandmother was the oldest in the world. It seemed she would never die.

Marsha knew she had to stand still until the whole thing would be over. After a few minutes, the hag was finally done, and breathless. She reached the bed she shared with Marmite. She would be fast asleep.

It was dark since the hag had already put off all the chandeliers. Marsha's body was burning with pain. She crept to her room without a sound, and once on the floor she tried to sleep. But she had been tired, too tired even to sleep, and her stomach was empty.

Some days were hard. She did not have to say "hard", the hag used to argue. Since Marsha had never known worse than that, how could she call it 'hard'? After all, who had been born without eyes (a couple of generations before) had never mentioned missing the sight.

When it came to that kind of comparisons, Marsha would feel sick and she would creep inside her room, which was just a tiny corner but was still enough to her, since she wouldn't bear being with the hag and Marmite all the time. Of course they were still there, behind the fabrics, she could hear them, the hag nagging and the other humming or weeping. If only her room would have walls, real walls, she would be the happiest child in the world.

Not quite a child, she had to admit. She was eleven years old, according to the marks on the wall. Marmite had only been 12 when she had given birth to Marsha. However, it had been different back then. Besides, Marmite had been born with a brain as liquid as boxed food.