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outings to the nearby mall. Stuck in traffic, you might notice some other things about it—the reflective shades drawn down over the windows; the eighteen-inch caduceus stencilled above the license plates . . . the small blue light on the roof.
    While it was true that the Hollingsworth Centre had those other kinds of buses, the ones for the mobile residents—this one wasn’t one of those.
    Ann knew about this kind of bus. Point of fact, she knew
this
one. Ann recognized the attendants, although she couldn’t remember their names: the woman had short brown hair and a deep tan, she liked to snowboard; the man was black-haired and balding. He waved at Ann where she stood hesitating on the ramp to the winery, and jogged across the drive while the woman
(Ellen? Alana?)
opened the tailgate of the van and manoeuvred the hydraulic lift into place.
    “Hey there!” said Ann, and squinted at the name tag, and (when he was near enough) finished: “Paul.”
    “Hi, Ann.” He stopped and put a hand on the railing, looked around and nodded—taking in the grounds. “This is a beautiful spot. This where it’s going to be?”
    “This is it.” Ann spread her arms as if to indicate the world. “Ceremony and reception.”
    “Very nice.” He regarded the ramp and nodded again. “Elaine—”
(Aha! Elaine!)
“—is getting him ready.”
    “Was the trip okay for him?”
    “Very comfortable. Traffic was smooth, so we made good time; he didn’t need anything until the last leg. So he’ll be a little sluggish now. But trust me—he’s in great spirits.”
    Ann sighed. “That’s good,” she said, in a way that was apparently unconvincing.
    Paul suddenly became very earnest. “Ann—it
is
good. He’s very excited to be here for you today. He called this his ‘road trip.’ He’s been cracking wise about dancing at your wedding all week.”
    Ann laughed—more convincingly this time. That being the kind of gag she’d have expected, from him.
    Paul stepped back from the railing and beckoned her back to the van.
    “Let’s go say hello,” he said. “I’ve got to help with this next part.”
    “Let’s,” said Ann. And she smoothed her skirt, and crossed the drive to the van.
    “Hi Ann!” said Elaine, poking her head out of the back of the van. “Do you want to come up inside before we send him on his way?”
    Ann peered inside. The interior of the Hollingsworth minibuses were well enough lit for their purposes; but in the afternoon light, the compartment looked like a black pit. She swallowed, and drew a breath, and said: “I don’t want to get in your way.”
    “Okay,” said Elaine. “Paul, give me a hand?”
    And when Paul turned away, and it was clear no one was looking, Ann shut her eyes.
    She was in the corridor. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows facing the east. At the end of it, in a deep shadow, the ironclad door stood still. Ann walked carefully down the hallway, not tossing anything out this time, until she could lay a hand on the door, run her fingers over the cool iron locks and bolts there. She pressed her ear against the wood, and listened.
    Inside, it was silent.
    Good
, she thought.
Stay that way
.
    She opened her eyes at the touch of a hand. “Hey,” said Elaine, “say hello.”
    “Hi big brother,” said Ann, as the wheels of Philip LeSage’s chair rolled off the lift platform. She stepped closer, Elaine still holding her arm. Philip wore a green Roots sweatshirt that she remembered hugging his shoulders like a skin. Now, he was lost in it. His head lolled in its brace, and his lips pulled back over his teeth in the thing that he did these days to smile. His eyes blinked over hollow cheeks, under brown hair sheared competently, by the hand of a Hollingsworth nurse.
    Hello little sister
, came the whisper.

THE VOYAGE
OF THE
BOUNTY II
i
    Philip was tall for his age then, and strong.
    To Ann he’d been a giant. They lived in a giant house by a giant lake, with their mom and their