The boys all stay over at our house that night. Three in Priscilla’s old room, three in Dad’s study, and Black Cat on a mattress on the stoep. I tell him he can sleep inside, but he doesn’t want to, so I don’t push him on it. I want them to know what it feels like to sleep in a soft, warm bed for once.

Once they are all asleep me and Dad have hot chocolate in the living room. We sit on the couch, our feet touching.

My dad is back in my life. I’m so grateful I want to weep, but I don’t, because I am still hardcore from earlier.

“Dad,” I say.

“Mmm?” he murmurs back. He’d had his eyes closed and was dozing.

“Can the boys come and work on our farm? Maybe, like, as garden staff? I know they’d be good at it.”

My dad opens his eyes to look at me properly. His eyebrows go together, the way they do when he is thinking.

“That might be a good idea, Ol. But they are children. Is it allowed even? We’d have to check with their parents first.”

“They don’t have parents! They’re all abandoned children,” I begin, the words tumbling out. “Nobody wants them. They live in a cave. They come from broken homes where people hit them and hurt them.”

“Hmm,” considers my father. “I’d have to check with our lawyer, who’d have to check with Social Services. It might be alright. Certainly it would keep them off the streets and out of trouble. I’ll talk to Benning tomorrow. Then I’ll let you know. OK?”

Benning is my father’s lawyer. He’s nice and sometimes gives me sweets. Once he gave me a book called The Diary of Ann Frank, but I haven’t read it yet.

“But he’ll say yes, don’t you think?” I press. “I mean, it won’t be against the law to hire them, if he knows that they’re orphans, right? They could live in the barn. Or in the house with us. Maybe we could build them a wendy-house.”

“Have you ever thought that your friends might want not want to live here with us?” my Dad asks, his eyes closing lazily.

I hadn’t thought of that. But they must stay. I want them to live here. I want them to be safe. I want them to be happy. How can I send Finkie, sensitive little Finkie, to live in a cave again?

“They might want to hold onto their own freedom,” my Dad says. “The Council might insist they get put in an orphanage. They may not want that. We’ll have to approach it delicately.”

I ponder my father’s words. I’ll invite them to come live with us tomorrow – over breakfast.

*****

A rooster squawks. It is morning. I’m in my bed. Dad must have carried me up, like he used to do when I was little.

I run to Priscilla’s old room, where Yster, Blommie and Engel slept. I knock on the door three times. No answer. I nudge the door open with my toe, just a crack, so I can see. The bed is empty, and neatly made. Maybe they’re up already. Or downstairs. I try the study. I don’t knock. I barge right in. It’s empty too.

No! They can’t have left. They can’t have.

There’s a note on the desk, written with black pen on a piece of computer paper. My eyes fly through the text rapidly. My throat is tight and tears threaten as I smile at the spelling. Genius Modem didn’t write this one, I think.

Der Olive. We had to leve. We dont want to go into a home or orfanage. We would like to stay wit you but ppl will find us and split us apart frm each otha.

We want to stay together because we r a team. You are part of our team 2 but you must stay at yr house because u have a DAD who luvs you. Stay with him, olive, ok? Promis!!!

We luv u n think u asweom n brave and really clever (for a girl).

Pls don’t tell anyone where our cave is. If you ever need us – u know wher to find us.

Signed: BLACKCAT, YSTER, BLOMMIE,MODEM, FINKIE, STOMPIE + ENGEL.

PS pls u must BURN THIS PAPER

I feel very serious, as though I might really cry. I won’t though. I will first obey the orders of Black Cat, my friend, comrade and chieftain.

I go downstairs with the note. I fetch a lighter from the kitchen drawer. I go into the garden. The morning is clear and fresh. There is cool dew on the grass, and chinks of silver sunshine emerging through the branches. Everything is very still.

A stillness enters my heart. I feel like I’m in church, but I’m not. I go to where I have buried Toby. The little stone I used to mark her grave is still there, the flower all shrivelled up now. I kneel.

I hold the note from The Unwanteds up in one hand. Then with the other hand I hold up the lighter, positioning it near the corner. I roll the metal roller under my thumb, and a little flame springs to life. Fire starts to eat the bottom of the note.

I watch as the orange-black waves of flame lick higher and higher. I drop the note before the heat reaches my fingers. It falls to the soil, smouldering, then goes out, leaving nothing but ash.

“For my mother, for my Toby, for my friends The Unwanteds, for my father.”

I sit still and think of all that has happened to me. A ladybird lands on my hand.

“Olive!” I hear my father call from the kitchen door, which I have left open. I go inside. My father is making scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and coffee.

“Don’t go running away on me again, Olive,” he says winking, and although he is joking, there is ten percent seriousness in his comment.

“I won’t ever again. Just so long as you don’t get engaged to any psycho murderers with big black dogs.”

My dad looks embarrassed, looks down at his toast. I’ve made him feel stupid. Well, he was stupid. He drank too much, forgot I existed, and was seduced by a woman who pretty much invented evil. But that’s all over now.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” I declare. I’ve shot a crossbow. I’ve slept on moss. I have escaped the police. I can do anything.

My father smiles at me. I smile back. We both then tuck into a hearty breakfast. We are a family once more.

I am Olive Wilmien Trighart. This is my story.

***

Tell us what you think: Priscilla’s punishment was quite severe and mean. Do you think it was fair? Have you ever met someone as nasty as Priscilla?