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Suppertime was intolerable. Their father insisted that they continue to eat at the table, as a family. As they and their forebears had always done. I think we should maintain certain standards, he often said, and it was meant both as a joke and not. They had not had any visitors for months now. It seemed to take all the energy out of their parents to confront the same three faces every evening, to hear the same remarks, the same rebukes, the same silences.

Lily had started trying to cook and one night made an attempt at a crumble with the first of the apples, though they were still tiny and painfully sour. There was no fresh butter for the topping, so Lily had made it using an ancient packet of crackers that she obliterated with a rolling pin.

Well, I think this looks jolly good, said their father. He smiled at Lily, but his eyes had a permanent look of sadness about them.

He tucked in with the serving spoon and filled their bowls. Their mother was scribbling something in a notepad and did not respond when Evelyn put a portion in front of her.

What do you call a homeless snail? said Lily.

I don’t know, Lily-bear, said their father. What do you call a homeless snail?

A slug.

Yes, of course, a slug, said their father, but he didn’t laugh.

Their mother looked up suddenly.

Any luck getting chickens? she said.

No, said their father.

Have you tried?

I have tried. I think we may have to cast the net a little wider.

Her mother put down the notepad and pulled her bowl toward her.

The shells will be good for getting rid of the slugs.

She tasted a little of Lily’s crumble and frowned.

Gosh, she said. This tastes very sweet, Lils.

I like it sweet, said Lily.

How much sugar did you put in?

She shrugged.

Mama got up and went to the store cupboard and took down the packet of sugar. It rattled hollowly when she shook it.

Well, that’s that, then, their mother said, and crushed the paper bag in both hands and left the kitchen without finishing her dessert.

The rest of them ate in silence. When Evelyn asked if she could get down from the table, her father suggested they go out and have a swim for an hour or so. A swim and a wash, since they were rationing what came out of the taps now. The girls did as bidden, but even with all the splashing and whooping they could hear the raised voices once more in the main house. Every time Lily’s name came up, Evelyn playfully dunked her little sister under the water so she would not hear what followed. It happened so many times and for so long that Lily started to get suspicious, and then angry, and she escaped Evelyn’s clutches and paddled to the bank.

Much later, Evelyn went looking for her mother and found her watching television in one of the sitting rooms. They had not watched any television for a very long time or listened to the radio. The electricity was rationed, too, but Evelyn suspected that nobody wanted to see what was being broadcast anyway.

She crept in silently but did not go and sit next to her mother. Instead she watched over the arm of the sofa. The TV’s sound was turned down, and she could hear her mother breathing as if she had recently finished some exercise. The screen showed a red map, the shade deepening in the south, so deep in places it looked almost black. In the past, she remembered, there had been a person in front of the map to explain the colors and the numbers, to give an outlook for the days to come, but either there was nobody left to do this or the television company wasn’t willing to put somebody through the misery of it.

There followed some pictures of a city in a desert, and Evelyn thought of her books on the Egyptians, and found herself intrigued, excited even. There were people moving about in the desert, too. They looked as if they had been raised from the sand, fashioned from it, and they trudged about with only their eyes showing that there was any kind of a soul beneath the crust of their skin.

Her mother noticed she was watching and quickly turned the television off. She held out her hand and wordlessly pulled her daughter to her chest and held her tightly.

Where’s your sister? she said.

I don’t know, said Evelyn.

Is she all right?

I think so.

Did she hear?

Evelyn shrugged.

Her mother squeezed her again and then got up and went purposefully out of the room.

That night Evelyn went along the landing and found her parents holding each other on the bed wearing all their clothes. The bed was shuddering, and she had no idea whether they were laughing or crying, but whichever it was, she did not want to interrupt and she passed by the open door and went to the bathroom without putting on the light.