Blooming Women

9. Pollination

Help.

Help was needed and it wasn't coming for some time yet. Amber was now truly worried that the only way she would be giving her rescuers a frosty look for taking so long was that they had taken too long and it was the last look she would ever wear. God, for something to wear... Something waaaarm...

'If you want to help, Samantha, tell me why the psychotic flowerchild here wants bunches of the things in the first place?'

I really have no idea, Dear. Why don't you ask her? I might also argue that she is sociopathic rather than psychopathic—

'Hazel?' It came out judderingly, not helped by the way Amber was forcing herself to keep moving.'

Why do you need more? Flowers, I mean.'

'A girl can never have too many flowers.'

'That's IT? I mean. That's. It? You just want flowers? In the middle of winter? Can't you just wait?'

Speech, at least coherent speech, was becoming harder. Amber's left hand, curled protectively into her sleeve, was merely aching, but her right hand was screaming as the flensing knife of cold slid into its flesh.

The face in the shadows laughed. It was a tinkling, delighted sound. 'I stay awake longer, with flowers, with offerings. We have so few offerings too – my mother told me of the days when people would bring us flowers and beer or bread.' She drifted thoughtfully for a moment. 'Some men brought beer this summer gone but drank most of it themselves. That can't be right...'

'You stay. Awake? From that?'

'Offerings bring me life, don't you know that? More people have brought me offerings than Mother ever said they brought even her mother's mother. I take those with death in them and their family sends offerings in thanks. It must be a hard thing to kill your family; mother never mentioned anybody she knew dying from family.'

'Hazel, I can bring you flowers. Lots of flowers.'

'Baz the man only offered money. I had to ask him what was money. Why are you jumping?'

'I'm dancing! To keep warm! It's freezing out here!'

'You could just curl up. Then people will bring me my flowers.'

'I'm not—' Amber bit back on the anger; her shoulders had been trying to curl in and double her up for some time. 'I said. I can get you lots of flowers?'

'I don't think you can; I think flowers must come from very far away because there are never any flowers like this on the hill.'

'But you just have to go—'

Don't tell her where! We shall never get free if you tell her about garden centres!

'— let me go and I can show you!'

'What dance is that you're doing?' Hazel's voice sounded puzzled but interested, as if the signal from her eyes had finally reached her brain. 'What does that bring?'

'What?'

'What does it bring for you?'

'Right now, warmth. Life.'

'I'm the same.' Amber could hear the nodding, empty-headed agreement in the voice. 'I dance to bring life back to my trees when the days get longer...'

I'll bloody settle for life until the sun rises and somebody comes by with a hedge trimmer!

'...and to bring flowers when people come in winter, now. Your life dance is very different – doesn't it work for trees?'