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They sat on either side of their mother and listened to the wind trying to force its way through the shutters. The flames of the candles slanting and righting themselves with each new draft. Like someone was coming and going, opening and shutting doors, though everything was locked and sealed. The dust sounded like water cascading from the roof and mocked their thirst. Evelyn shifted her weight one way and then the other because the sofa was broken and a spring had forced its way up through the upholstery. Lily was perched on the sofa’s arm, braiding her hair. It was long enough now that she could tuck it into her waistband.

How long do you think it will last? she asked.

I don’t know, said Mama.

Will the garden be OK? Evelyn asked.

I don’t know, said Mama again. If it isn’t, we’ll just start again. Nothing else we can do, is there?

The storm went on. Great, yawning periods of silence between the three of them.

I’m bored, said Lily.

Their mother slapped her. Evelyn watched and waited for Lily to retaliate, but she didn’t. Nobody spoke for a minute or two.

Give me strength, Lily, said Mama. Bored, are you? Would you rather be out there?

That’s not what I meant.

Would you rather be outside with that lot, tearing each other limb from limb? You wouldn’t last five minutes. How many disgusting things do you think I’ve chased from our door while you’ve been napping or swimming or dancing around like a floozy?

What’s a floozy?

Are you listening to me, Lily? They’ll eat our food and sleep in our beds and have their wicked way with you as soon as they see you. They’ll suck the marrow from your bones given half the chance. Evelyn, knock some sense into your sister, for God’s sake!

Mama looked at Evelyn as though she was expecting her to recount what had happened at the gates. Evelyn could barely recount the horror of it to herself, let alone to her little sister. She pictured the bloodied T-shirt and shorts that she had scrubbed and scrubbed but been unable to get clean. In the end she had buried the clothes by the wall without Lily’s knowledge, standing over the hole as if attending her own funeral.

Tell her, said Mama.

Evelyn didn’t say a word. She wondered why their mother wouldn’t tell Lily herself. She suspected that beneath the irritation and the resentment, she was just as protective of Lily as Evelyn was. Perhaps even more so.

Mama shook her head and chewed her lip. Then she got up and left the room, taking one of the candles with her. The sisters sat in silence for a moment or two, the storm shivering through the walls of the house.

What did she mean by that? Lily asked.

By what?

What were you supposed to tell me?

I don’t know.

About the men outside?

I don’t know, Lils. You know how confused she is.

I don’t think she’s confused about how much she hates me.

Stop it. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just worried about you.

I wish Papa would come down sometimes. At least he was on my side.

I’m on your side, Lils.

Lily looked at her with huge and shining eyes. Evelyn hugged her. Outside the room the landing creaked, and Evelyn looked over her sister’s shoulder. In the doorway the shadow of their father shifted and withdrew. As if one of the monsters was already in the house.