Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Seaside
“Sand at the seaside is not always a given.”—Cleaner One
Baby looked at the only window in the barracks—a tiny patch of light in the ceiling laughingly called a skylight.
“Where is this so-called seaside?” she said. “We were promised one, it must be out there somewhere.”
When no one paid any heed, she looked about, then nudged a bed. Light as a silk hanky. She pushed the bed under the window, tried to reach, then spied a large box in the corner. Ignoring the what do you think you’re doing glance from the others she pushed the box to the bed and, with a grunt, balanced it on top of the rock-hard bed.
The Voted Ins rumbled with disapproval as they watched with a dismissive air.
Baby clambered to the top and stretched to peer through the slit.
“You won
