Marta and the Bug (9)
For a few days afterwards Marta was sad. She was sad that she’d never see Bug again; sad too that she wouldn’t see the twins. But she was pleased that Bug had fulfilled her destiny. The queen had nurtured thousands of embryos. Even now the hatchlings were flying around, in places far and wide, tending shrubs and flowers, harnessing the power of the sun.
Marta was also pleased that her dad had come back to live at the house. After a long talk with Marta’s mom he’d collected all his possessions from Gillian’s. Then they’d sat Marta down in the living room and said they’d decided to make another go of things – a return to the old situation.
As Marta helped her dad unload the car, she asked him if Gillian and James had been scared when they were trapped in the translucent bubbles. Her father stood looking at her in a slightly bemused fashion (even though he was holding a heavy box) and said he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.
The old situation was quickly re-established. Her parents were able to remember that Marta liked pizza but didn’t like fish and chips and the cravings she had for sugar, sap and nectar slowly disappeared. What’s more, at school she received a gold star for a talk she gave to her class about insects, even though her demonstration of how bugs were able to climb walls didn’t work out as she wanted.
Then, when Easter came, Marta’s dad packed the car for a weekend trip to the seaside. It was to celebrate new beginnings, he said, although Marta thought it might be more to do with her mum who’d been suffering from morning sickness, whatever that was.
Just as her father started the engine, Marta shouted ‘Wait!’, jumped out of the car and went up to her room. She pushed the smallest window so that it was slightly open and placed the jam jar – minus its lid - on her desk.
It was a precautionary measure for while they were away. Because who knows: something – anything – might feel lost and alone and be seeking a place of sanctuary.