‘That’s got nothin’ to do with it. Lone told me to.’
‘You’ll be happy here,’ she said. She gave me an up-and-down. ‘I’ll see to that.’
‘Okay. Shall I go get the other kids?’
‘ Other kids—children?’
‘Yeah. This ain’t for just me. For all of us—the whole gang.’
‘Don’t say „ain’t”.’ She leaned back in her chair, took out a silly little handkerchief and dabbed her lips with it, looking at me the whole time. ‘Now tell me about these—these other children.’
‘Well, there’s Janie, she’s eleven like me. And Bonnie and Beanie are eight, they’re twins, and Baby. Baby is three.’
I screamed. Stern was kneeling beside the couch in a flash, holding his palms against my cheeks to hold my head still; I’d been whipping it back and forth.
‘Good boy,’ he said. ‘You found it. You haven’t found out what it is, but now you know where it is.’
‘But for sure,” I said hoarsely. ‘Got water?’