Wildlings

54: Bad Rubbish

"I'm gonna need to get some of this online." Brock scowled at the paper Lintie had given him, scratching his head. "Bicarb? What the dag is bicarb?"

"Bicarbonate of soda." Sannah leaned over to study the list. "It is pretty useful. For cleaning and stuff."

"Thank God for same-day delivery," Brock sighed, typing into the screen.

Sannah kicked her heels against the stone, surveying their camp and the meandering river below them. They'd had to sit at the top of the cliff, as Brock couldn't get screen reception in the depths of the valley.

It wasn't such a hardship. It was nice up here, amid the branches of the trees, looking over the river to the forest. She thought of all the people, running around, fulfilling their orders in some windowless warehouse far off, driving it to them for a pittance. Was she sorry to leave the world? She wasn't.

"I'll have to get it all delivered to Reeta and Tooley's." Brock frowned. "I don't have an address. That means I have to sit there waiting for it all dagging day, just to make sure one of them skitting junkies dun't steal it."

Reeta and Tooley's. She'd thought about it a lot, since the last time she was there. About Saint, about that locked bedroom. They weren't happy thoughts, but something was pulling Sannah back. I have unfinished business.

"It's okay." Sannah looked over at Brock. She felt clear and calm in the cool, dappled sunshine. "I'll go. There's something there I want to do."

***

Sannah knocked on the chang-house door. She felt far away from everything, but not in a bad way. Just calm and collected.

"What do you want?" Reeta practically snarled at her when she opened the door. Their last meeting—or, more accurately, Sannah's departure—had clearly left a bad impression in Reeta's addled mind. Luckily Sannah knew just how to deal with that.

"I forgot I owed you ten digits." Sannah smiled breezily, handed the note over straight away. She didn't owe Reeta a penny, but that wasn't the point.

Her gamble paid off, and Reeta's snarl was quickly replaced by a wide, but in-no-way charming, smile. "Aw. Fanks." She snatched the note, almost taking the skin off Sannah's fingers in her haste. "You wanna come in?"

"Yeah. Brock's getting some stuff delivered here, if that's okay. I said I'd pick it up for him when it comes. He said to give you another five for the trouble. Just online shopping, nothing exciting," she added quickly, in response to Reeta's inquisitive look.

"Sure fing." Reeta stood back to let her in. "If you listen out for 'em. I'm gonna have to go up to bed soon, I'm skitting beat."

It was ten in the morning, licit the weirdest time ever to be going to bed.

The musty, dirty smell of the dim house, curtains always closed, snaked around Sannah as she stepped in.

"So you and Brock rubbing or summink?" Reeta asked as they picked their way through the corridor, which had acquired some bulky detritus since Sannah's last visit. They clambered over an unplugged washing machine, a smeared mattress leaning against the wall, and what looked like the remains of a couple of old bikes, Reeta muttering dagging rubbish under her breath.

"Yes I am," Sannah said blankly. It was easier that way. It would make sense to Reeta, and it wasn't like she was ever going to see her again, after tonight.

Reeta nodded and gave a gap-toothed grin, nursing her nugget of gossip. Sannah didn't care. She was too preoccupied wondering if the rando guy she rubbed with might be in the living room. He wasn't, thank skit.