Page 17

Amelia followed Tara into the building, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the place. Voices echoed off the high ceilings, a constant hum of activity punctuated by sharp bursts of laughter, and the clatter of shoes on the stone floor.

Amelia clutched her bag tightly, her fingers brushing against the rough fabric. ‘Does it always feel this… frantic?’ she murmured.

Tara, striding confidently ahead, glanced back. ‘Oh, yeah, any kind of big organisation like this has a lot of people in it. And they’re always doing… stuff. Slower pace on Solhaven, I take it?’

‘Well, I mean, it can get a bit boisterous at the exchange,’ Amelia said. ‘One time, Mrs Shellstrop claimed she was missing two eggs, and there was quite the to-do.’

Tara smiled at her, probably thinking she sounded stupid. Amelia really needed to stop talking so much. All that ‘I like you’ business, for example.

The second Amelia had said it, the quiet that followed made it clear that Tara had only said that initially because she felt obligated. Amelia had accidentally forced her into it. She was putting up with Amelia, at best. The blush had not quite left her face even now.

They moved toward a large board mounted on the wall, filled with names. Amelia watched as Tara’s eyes scanned the list, her finger coming to rest on one.

‘Geraldine Cooke, Department of Land and Community Relations, Floor 3,’ she said under her breath, then turned to Amelia. ‘Come on.’

The lifts were a bottleneck of frazzled council workers. Amelia found herself wedged between a man balancing a stack of papers and a woman holding a funny little tray of drinks with pictures of a green lady on them. It was so tight. Amelia had a strong urge to scream.

Then something worse happened. The McDonald’s food began to move in her tummy. Within seconds, out it popped. Wind.

When the lift dinged open, Amelia almost ran out.

‘Stinky in there!’ Tara said, joining her. I think someone farted, err, passed wind.’

‘I didn’t notice,’ Amelia told her. She could feel yet another blush creeping up her neck.

‘Good,’ Tara said, ‘Because it honked.’

Amelia forced a smile onto her face. ‘Ha.’

Tara’s smile slipped. ‘Ah.’

Amelia looked away.

Tara cleared her throat. ‘Right, let’s find the right office,’ she said and started walking.

Amelia followed her, hoping they would never talk about what she’d just done.

The corridors narrowed, lined with doors bearing engraved nameplates. Tara walked with purpose, and Amelia did her best to keep up, her boots clicking softly against the floor.

They reached a door slightly ajar, the sound of conversation drifting through. Tara knocked briskly before pushing it open, revealing a compact room. Behind a desk sat a woman with sharp features and short grey hair, her glasses perched low on her nose.

‘Mrs Cooke,’ Amelia began, stepping forward and extending a hand, her nerves only barely contained. ‘I’m Amelia Wells. Thank you for meeting with us.’

‘Please call me Geraldine,’ she said, reaching for her hand. Geraldine’s handshake was firm, her sharp eyes studying Amelia with interest. ‘You must be the new Solhaven representative. And this?’ She turned her gaze to Tara.

‘Tara Blake,’ Tara said smoothly. ‘I’m assisting Amelia on this.’

‘Assisting?’

‘Yeah, I’m a kind of… cultural guide,’ Tara explained.

Geraldine seemed a little thrown by that but only said, ‘I see.’ She gestured to the chairs opposite her desk. ‘Please. Sit.’

Amelia perched on the edge of the chair, her bag resting on her lap. The room was oddly flavourless in comparison to Tara’s place. Grey walls, a desk, and that was all.

‘I heard you had a little trouble finding us?’ Geraldine said.

‘Yes, I’m so sorry,’ Amelia said, ready to have to grovel.

‘She got robbed and lost the details,’ Tara told her.

‘Oh! That’s dreadful!’ Geraldine said.

Amelia was truly grateful for Tara once again. Because she wouldn’t have thought to explain that. Her mother told her constantly, ‘Excuses, excuses, they’re nothing but ruses.’

But excuses were clearly more acceptable on the mainland. Amelia quite liked that idea.

‘Well, we’re lucky you made it here, then. Though my predecessor told me to expect someone called Mabel?’

‘My grandmother. I’m afraid she died recently. So this task has fallen to me,’ Amelia explained.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Geraldine said with compassion.

Amelia relaxed a little. This lady seemed nice. Amelia wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but so far, the government person was pleasant.

Amelia didn’t have long to think that.

‘So, you’re here to discuss Solhaven,’ Gerdine began, folding her hands on the desk. Her gaze flicked between them, sharp and assessing. ‘Whether we continue to allow the residency of its current occupants.’

‘Whether?’ Amelia said with growing horror.

‘Yes. And it’s quite a big “if” at this point.’

Amelia hesitated, her mind racing to catch up with the moment. Formality. That was the word that had been used by the council and her grandmother. Always. But this? Defending Solhaven’s right to exist, its very place in the world?

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice quieter than she intended, her confusion slipping through. ‘We’ve been there for generations. Solhaven’s always been…’ Her words faltered.

Geraldine’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘The government doesn’t just keep communities around because they ask nicely, Ms Wells. Especially one like Solhaven. A community that is almost entirely cut off.’

‘But… My grandmother… The Elders said… This was supposed to be a formality.’

Geraldine nodded. ‘That might have been true in the past. But things have changed.

‘Changed?’ Amelia echoed, her voice trembling. The word felt heavy, like a stone sinking in her stomach.

‘Yes,’ Geraldine said crisply. ‘Priorities shift. Budgets tighten. Questions are asked.’

The words hit like a slap. Amelia’s vision blurred as the weight of Geraldine’s implication settled over her. Leave Solhaven? The idea was unfathomable.

She straightened, forcing herself to meet Geraldine’s gaze. ‘We’ve been caretakers of that land for generations. It’s not just where we live; it’s who we are.’

‘Be that as it may,’ Geraldine said, her tone clipped, ‘the decision will rest on whether Solhaven can demonstrate its relevance in today’s world. You’ll need more than sentiment to convince the council.’

Amelia clenched her hands in her lap, a wave of anger rising to meet her fear. She thought of Mabel—her strength, her conviction. What would her grandmother have said?

‘If that’s what I must do, then that’s what I will do,’ Amelia said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest.

Geraldine regarded her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen. ‘You’ll need a very compelling argument.’

Amelia nodded. ‘Very well, Geraldine,’ she said with all the confidence she could muster. Though the enormity of the task ahead of her loomed.

She had never thought of Solhaven as something that could be questioned. She had grown up surrounded by it, by The Elders’ steadfast leadership, by the conviction that their way of life was undeniable.

Now, standing here in this mainland government office, she was faced with the stark reality that nothing was guaranteed:

not the land, not the community, not even the people she’d always trusted to keep everything intact.